Even the Sword Saint had to admit that Inanna's technique for kneading a Puchi was truly extraordinary — no wonder No. 4 burrowed into her arms the moment it had nothing better to do.
Airaven, though, had never let himself sink into it. Even back when he was human he'd never set his mind on indulgence, and that was all the more true after becoming a Puchi.
Just like now — even while being rubbed and petted by Inanna, what he was turning over in his mind was still serious business.
"You're really not feeling unwell anywhere?"
"No. 14, why do you keep asking that?"
The Sword Saint didn't answer; he was busy working out where exactly the danger lay.
The Boss's "last time" shouldn't have been a lie — yet even now he hadn't detected any danger around Inanna.
He didn't dare relax his guard, and could only keep watch over her for the time being.
He sensed a powerful presence gradually drawing near. He could tell it was Alama.
[Energy Sense] couldn't identify a target's appearance directly. But as long as he'd memorized the intensity of someone's energy, picking out a powerhouse like Alama was easy enough.
Alama was heading toward the main hall, and the Sword Saint didn't react much.
It was no secret that Inanna spent her days rubbing one Puchi after another; the people of the ducal manor had long grown used to it.
It was only when Alama pushed open the doors that the Sword Saint realized he was fully armed — even that body-length greatsword was strapped to his back.
And once inside, contrary to his usual manner, he didn't speak right away. He just stared at them in silence for a long while.
Stared at for no apparent reason, Inanna couldn't help asking, "Old man?"
"Ah, Inanna—" Alama rubbed the space between his brows for a moment, then found an excuse. "Eric's got a fresh batch of magic items over his way. Go see if there's anything that suits you."
Inanna nodded and stood up holding the Sword Saint Puchi, only for Alama to stop her. "Leave No. 14 here for now. Over there—he doesn't have clearance over there—"
"Clearance? Uncle Eric is in the storehouse?"
"Right, right, in the storehouse. Go on, I'll look after No. 14 for you."
"No. 14 probably doesn't like being looked after by others," Inanna said as she left the room.
Unlike the oblivious Inanna, Airaven had noticed Alama deliberately sending her away, and wondered what he was scheming.
Alama activated the runes of the main hall, sealing the space off into a closed chamber.
Time ticked by, second by second. He opened his mouth several times, yet never got out a single word.
Just as the Sword Saint grew suspicious and was about to dash out to check on Inanna, Alama's gaze finally hardened with resolve.
With the speed of a thunderclap, he gripped the hilt at his back.
[Falling Slash LV10]
At the last instant the Sword Saint Puchi sprang violently aside; the blade grazed past the rim of his mushroom cap.
The long table shattered under Alama's strike, splinters flying. Amid the broken wood the Sword Saint's tentacles coiled around the several longswords that had been knocked loose — edges keen.
Alama's greatsword didn't stop. The first slash had barely passed when the second arrived, sweeping in with an air-splitting shriek.
The Sword Saint retreated, blades crossed to block, sparks scattering.
Alama's offensive was a raging storm — each slash heavier than the last, each slash swifter than the last.
The walls of the main hall cracked in the aftershocks. The pillars were carved with deep gouges, and the chandelier crashed down onto the trampled floor—
At first the Sword Saint didn't fight back. He merely dodged, blocked, and gave ground over and over, weaving between the shattered furniture and rubble.
He was rapidly trying to work out why Alama was attacking him.
One possibility flashed into his mind — mental control!
Inanna was in danger!
Even with the Element Lords guarding her, if a true expert struck from the shadows—
The Sword Saint gave no more ground. Moonlight kindled beneath his feet, dragging his form into a white afterimage.
He charged straight into Alama's onslaught, tentacles whipping out, all four longswords dancing at once.
[Moontread]
[Apex of the Sword]
Alama braced his greatsword against the two flashes of sword-light in front of him — but the other two blades were flung behind him by the Sword Saint Puchi's tentacles.
Blood sprayed. Alama's knee buckled and his body pitched forward; only by driving his greatsword into the ground did he barely steady himself.
The Sword Saint had just severed Alama's ankle — though he knew full well a wound this slight was nowhere near enough to take Alama out of the fight. Still, this brief moment was enough for him to break free and go after Inanna.
The frenzied battle had long since torn the main hall's runes to shreds. The glow of the magic array faded from the walls, and nothing stood in the Sword Saint's way any longer!
But at that very moment, the long-silent Alama finally spoke. "It's a little different—but swordsmanship of this caliber—and [Moontread], too—"
The Sword Saint screeched to a halt. The moonlight scattered beneath his stubby legs, the silver-white motes dimming bit by bit like fireflies blown apart by the wind.
His mushroom body stood rigid, as though hit by a binding spell. His mind, though, churned like a storm — finally settling on what the Boss had told him. So this really was something more "fatal" than a dragon!
"Old friend," Alama said, eyes brimming with tears, a tremor in his voice, "is it really you?"
Silence. Silence was the ducal manor that morning.
After a long while, the Sword Saint finally turned around, tentacles trailing on the floor, and dipped his mushroom cap in an almost imperceptible nod.
Alama dropped his greatsword. Heedless of his wounded feet, he strode over, knelt in the center of the ruined main hall, and pulled the Sword Saint Puchi into a tight embrace.
"Airaven, you bastard — you come back to life and don't say a word, just keep it from everyone like this! Do you have any idea how much I grieved back then? You really are—you really are—"
The big tough Alama wept, his voice full of heartfelt joy.
The Sword Saint was a little moved as well, but guilt outweighed it, so he didn't push away the embrace, even as it squashed his mushroom body quite uncomfortably.
"Old man! No. 14! What are you two doing?" Drawn back by the enormous racket, Inanna stood at the cracked-open doors of the main hall, a what-on-earth look on her face.
Behind her trailed the butler Eric and a clutch of ducal manor guards.
"Ah—it's nothing, nothing." Alama stood up to explain. "My hands were just itching, so I traded a couple of blows with No. 14 here, got a little carried away, and accidentally took the hall apart. It's really—hahahaha!"
"Itching hands?" Inanna's face was the very picture of doubt.
Eric eyed Alama even more suspiciously. But after exchanging a glance with him, he tactfully stepped forward to wave the guards off and set the servants to clearing the wreckage, as if nothing at all had happened.
Before Inanna could carry the Sword Saint Puchi away, Alama crouched down.
"Airaven, come by my study later. Let's have a drink, like old times—well, if you can even drink in that shape—and you'd better tell me properly: what in the world happened to you these past two years? Whatever it is, we can still face it together, the way we used to!"
"Oh, right," Alama's voice suddenly dropped a notch, "while you're at it, you can also explain why you keep ending up lying in my daughter's arms, time and time again."
Inanna stepped forward and scooped the limp, boneless Sword Saint Puchi into her arms, then left the main hall under Alama's gentle smile.
No one noticed that one ordinary Puchi — which had come in with the rest to tidy up — quietly rolled one, two, three, four recording crystals out of the rubble and swiftly stuffed them into its belly.
(End of Chapter)
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