Chapter 94 ...Or victory?

There was a spectrum of emotions flooding through his mind as he sat in the field that stunk of death, finding crimson having painted portions of the foliage.

He didn’t know the man very long, nor did he share many nice moments with him, but he still felt grief and lamentation–he instantly blamed himself. It was due to his desire to become an adventurer that this person was sent on this journey with him, and why that person was now dead.

Or, so he thought.

Wriggle. Wriggle.

“–” He looked up with a perplexed expression.

The pieces of the dark-skinned man that were on the grass began to convulse, crawling across the soil as it seemed as if they were reattaching to the body of Vandread.

It was a disgusting, confusing, inexplicable sight before his eyes, but he found himself experiencing some glimmer of hope.

There were black threads that sprouted from the flesh of the man, connecting the various pieces of his scattered body and reassembling himself whole once again.

“…No way…” He muttered.

He watched the act that was by all means supernatural, witnessing the mincemeat reform into a whole body before–

Those platinum eyes opened once again below the moonlight.

Like a corpse risen from a grave, Vandread sat up, sitting still for a moment and blanking staring off into the distance.

Seeing how still the man was, etched in silence, he kept his fingers wrapped around his catalyst, gulping.

Don’t tell me…is he a zombie now?! He thought.

“–” He watched anxiously.

Expecting the man to growl or begin salivating while muttering “Brains”–he was surprised to hear a sigh leaving Vandread’s lips. Finally moving, the black-haired man dressed in dark clothing, which had stitched itself back together as well, cracked his neck side-to-side before standing up.

“Talk about overwhelming. Who would’ve thought we’d run into one of the “Ten Disciples” out here in the boonies?” Vandread spoke casually, stretching his arms across his chest as his joints cracked.

He was still left in disbelief with his mouth agape, staring at the man without a single word having yet formed in his throat.

Vandread raised an eyebrow, rolling his shoulders as he finished his stretches, “What’s wrong? Looks like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“That’s because I’m looking at one right now! I thought you were dead–how are you not?! I saw you get chopped up into a dozen pieces by that guy!” He yelled out.

For a moment, Vandread looked at him before casually replying, “Right. Forgot to tell you: I’m immortal.”

“…Immortal?…Immortal?! Don’t you think that’s something you tell somebody you’re traveling with?! Especially in life-or-death stuff like this?!” He yelled out frantically.

“You’re giving me a headache,” Vandread exhaled.

Without even making a case for himself, the dreary-eyed man began moving back towards the carriage.

“Huh…?” He let out in disbelief at the man’s complete lack of urgency.

Scrambling to his feet, he winced as pain coursed through his sore body, prompting him to cast a continuous healing spell throughout his body. It didn’t mend his expended physical state, but it helped.

Vandread seemed to notice this, “…So, it’s true. Julius mentioned this “dragon blood” of yours. Seems like you don’t have much control over it yet.”

“Yeah…Wait, how did you see it?” He asked.

“I was conscious the entire time,” Vandread answered.

For some reason, he began to realize a fact that struck him as odd: the man only reformed once it seemed the hero-rank swordsman had left the area.

“…Hey, you could’ve reformed way earlier, couldn’t you?” He asked, squinting up at the man.

Vandread didn’t answer for a moment, “I could have. It would’ve been pointless, though. That man wanted me dead–he would’ve just continued cutting me up until I somehow died. It was my best move to wait him out.”

“–” He didn’t reply.

They returned to the carriage, which hadn’t moved from its original spot, with the silent steed standing like a statue at its forefront.

As he got in after Vandread, he could still feel the chills from the encounter with the legendary swordsman.

“I’m going to make a report of what happened here today, for the Guild Foundation,” Vandread told him.

“…Of that Siegmare guy?” He asked.

Vandread snapped his fingers to command the carriage to begin moving, shaking his head, “About the Hunting Party being vanquished. That kind of news will be valuable; trade routes will reopen and some will stop wasting their time trying to hunt them.”

“Why aren’t you going to report that guy…? He’s dangerous, isn’t he?” He asked.

“That’s not how this works. The ‘Ten Disciples’ are seen as the paramount heroes of the human world. They’re the strongest swordsmen, and our first line of defense in the case of powerful threats. Because of that, they’re exempt from the same laws we have to abide by. Practically only the King can persecute them–even then, I doubt it’d go down well.”

“That doesn’t–”

“I know,” Vandread cut him off, understanding his sentiment, “‘Siegmare, the Reaper’–he’s the worst one we could’ve run into. There’s no rationalizing with him. The Two-Faced God followers are all like that; they enforce the whims of their god, slaying and saving.”

The carriage began moving through the forest once again, returning to a proper trail between the valley of colossal trees that loomed overhead.

“A guy like that is a hero…?” He asked quietly.

“Believe it or not; yes. While he’s got a few screws loose, we ran into him on a bad day, I suppose. He was out looking for something–it seems he found it,” Vandread explained, “Let’s just count ourselves lucky we survived.”

“Lucky?”

He said this sarcastically as his body was still utterly in pain, definitely out of commission for the day as pain ran through the marrow of his bones.

Vandread stood by his words, “Siegmare wasn’t taking us seriously. Count that as a miracle. He didn’t use his Two-God Style at all; let that be a lesson of what kind of beings you’ll find in this world, kid.”

He couldn’t deny this, as he did remember most of what happened during his time in the Dragon Flow.

…I was powerful. That kind of power…It made me feel invincible–yet that guy toyed with me as if he was babysitting a toddler throwing a tantrum. He didn’t use his swordplay against me at all. That’s the strength of a hero-rank…He thought.

“Still…” He said, “You’re immortal? How–”

“Not answering.”

“–” He looked at the man.

It seemed the topic of Vandread’s death-defying regeneration was not something the man wanted to bring to light as he could see fragments of memories etched into his platinum eyes.

“Alright,” he said quietly.

“We’ll continue moving as planned. This was a success,” Vandread said.

Before he could say anything to reject that notion, or at least make light of it, the scar-covered man continued speaking:

“The Hunting Party isn’t on our trail anymore, and we’re both alive–in this world, that’s a victory,” Vandread told him.