Volume 6 Chapter 12 The Left Behind Man
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
Swallowing the spilled red, a bitter iron tang spread across his tongue and flooded his sinuses.
”Just a little cut, huh,” he muttered, spitting blood and inspecting the wound.
His head throbbed faintly—had he hit it on something? No sharp pain in his gut. A dull ache pulsed through his joints, but nothing serious. Just bruises.
He judged nothing was broken. It’d heal on its own if he left it.
”Ah… this is the worst,” he groaned, dragging a hand through his hair.
Darkness blanketed his vision.
He stood in an unknown forest, in a clearing barely carved from wild undergrowth.
Stars shimmered overhead, and the moon—almost directly above—peeked through the canopy.
”…It’s been quite a while, huh,” he said, voice low.
He glanced around, but the blackness pressed in too tight to make anything out.
Though his eyes had adjusted to the night, it was still too dim to move freely.
He felt it—desperation, curling under his skin. Alone. Left behind.
Rain drummed.
”Guess I gotta chase after them,” he muttered.
”No, seriously, this sucks,” he added, biting back a groan.
A good stone caught his eye—he wanted to kick it. Instead, he tamped the urge down and moved forward, scanning the area.
He paused.
”Where exactly am I? Where did they go?” he murmured.
The forest was unfamiliar—none of the trees or terrain stirred a memory.
If there’d been a path, he might’ve tracked them. But here, no one had left signs behind. No trail. No direction.
”…No, wait. Tracking. Tracking, tracking…” he said, thinking aloud.
”If you’re chasing someone, what do you look for first?” he asked himself, crouching to study the ground.
Then, he spotted it—something out of place.
Tire marks.
The dirt was gouged, and weeds had been dragged up by force.
”Not dry ground… I’m glad,” he said. If they’d gone this way, at least they weren’t headed for Suzette’s destination.
”…Huh? Then which way is it?”
From Klock’s point of view, the tire marks stretched in both directions.
”Probably east… maybe,” he guessed, squinting. He didn’t know the compass points—never needed to.
He hesitated, then turned right.
”If it’s the wrong way, I’ll figure it out eventually,” he muttered. “And if it’s right, something’ll tell me. If I hit the river, that’ll prove it.”
”Still, how far did those guys go?” he wondered. “They’re probably safe.”
He tried to convince himself. “No need to worry too much… but still…”
He walked in short, careful steps, watching where he placed each foot.
The earth had been torn up—dry but scarred. Whoever drove the wagon must’ve floored it, panicked by the dragon.
Large stones jutted up through the soil, no doubt rattling around inside the cart, making the ride a nightmare.
”Had to be miserable, bouncing through this mess,” he muttered.
He pressed forward, silent, lips tight.
Now and then, he spotted splintered bits of wood—wreckage from a cart. Had the fight continued? Or had he gone the wrong way?
Anxiety crept in, slow and steady.
He wasn’t sure anymore. The signs of running were there—but they didn’t point in any clear direction.
Crickets chirred.
(I can’t shake the feeling I should go back. But if I keep moving forward, maybe—just maybe—it’ll turn out to be the right call.)
And just as that doubt began to harden inside him—
”…No way. Is this real?” he breathed.
The ground had caved in, giving way to a heap of wreckage.
A shattered carriage—wood splinters and broken beams in a tangled pile.
A torn tarp clung to a thick branch above, fluttering.
On the ground, the cart bed lay in fragments. Nearby, crushed wheels were strewn among the roots of twisted trees, misshapen and useless.
As he stepped closer, the stench hit him—burned flesh.
The moment he reached the debris, the cause became clear.
A headless horse. Just one.
Its torso was mangled, a chunk of charred flesh bearing clear gnaw marks.
Scorched. Blackened.
”This was… a dragon,” he whispered.
”…Suzette.”
The harnesses told the story—both horse and wagon were part of the rig they’d rented from the village headman.
He scanned the area, searching.
But only one horse had died. No sign of Suzette. No sign of Gildegant. Not even her pack.
Only a shattered water barrel, its contents long since spilled.
And then—something caught his eye.
”…It’s burning,” he said, lifting his gaze.
A glow flickered in the distance.
A flame—far off, but visible from here. Maybe during the day it would’ve gone unnoticed, but at night, it was impossible to miss.
It lit a narrow, unmarked path leading straight toward it, bathing the underbrush in shifting orange light.
”This… this is it,” he said.
”Suzette flew off.”
That was the most likely explanation.
They’d lost the carriage. No reason not to take flight.
Probably Suzette had grabbed her pack, climbed onto Gildegant’s back, and flown.
”Then what’s with the fire?” he muttered. “A decoy to lose anyone chasing them… or a counterattack by dragons.”
It might’ve been something else, but that was the most logical scenario.
”No corpse here. That means they’re alive, right?”
He scratched the back of his neck. “Wasn’t expecting her to die, anyway. But still…”
(Even knowing that doesn’t settle my heart. Looking at the state I’m in… It’s the one in hell.)
Barefoot. No weapons. Alone in unfamiliar territory.
His hand slipped into his pocket, feeling for what little he had left.
First thing he confirmed—his old knife, strapped to his thigh. A parting gift from his mentor. His only real partner.
Next, he brushed against paper.
A slip etched with a magic circle—Suzette’s gift.
Just holding it lifted his spirits. He could use magic. That alone made him feel a little lighter.
”…Huh?”
He fished deeper—and froze.
The hexagonal barrier charm was gone.
”Did I stash it somewhere else?” he muttered, checking every pocket, every fold.
Nothing.
”No way… R—really? Seriously?” he groaned.
He hadn’t known the thing long.
But it was precious. Bought with Klock’s money. Had saved his skin more than once.
And now… it was gone.
Maybe I left it in my bag, he thought. But I don’t remember.
He turned slowly, the dark pressing in from all sides.
Even if he’d dropped it, finding it now was impossible.
The realization sank in—a quiet farewell.
He exhaled, long and heavy.
He wandered near the carriage, regret shadowing every step.
Then, just as he was about to give up—
clink
He looked down.
A machete. His own.
He’d stuffed it in his bag earlier, but now it lay in the dirt, catching the moonlight.
Even if he picked it up, honestly, he wouldn’t know what to do with it.
Still, at that point, he figured he should take anything he could get. He slung it over his shoulder and left the spot.
”Ahh, damn, what a disaster,” he muttered.
How did it even get to this point?
He felt like he’d thought the same thing three months ago. But there was no point dwelling on the past. This time, it was no doubt Gildegant’s fault—but did he really want to blame her? Not really.
I’ll just be happy as long as I’m alive.
At least he hadn’t been attacked while he slept.
That thought hit him like cold water.
Thinking calmly, it was entirely possible he could’ve been devoured in his sleep.
He was standing here now, alive—but it wouldn’t have been strange if he were already dissolving in a dragon’s stomach. Even misfortune, it seemed, had barely brushed past him.
…Is that really true?
No. That wasn’t it.
It was because he was who he was that he hadn’t been attacked.
They’re dragons, after all.
Right—that’s why the older sisters left me behind.
Dragons are like monsters, but not quite. They have magic, sure, but at their core, they’re different.
Monsters are beasts. They hunt by scent and sound, then tear into their prey.
Dragons, though—they sense magic. They’ve got eyes and ears, but it’s their mana detection that’s razor-sharp.
Gildegant’s already skilled in magic. Suzette, too.
They probably drew the dragon’s attention.
Meanwhile, Klock… maybe the big one in the sky didn’t even register him.
That said, if Gildegant left Klock behind, it made sense. She was the target, after all. It’d be hard for her to spare a thought for a safe Klock.
And with how faint Klock’s magic was, not just the dragon—Suzette and the others wouldn’t have sensed him either.
In a forest this vast, once you’re separated, meeting up again is hard.
This… this is bad.
He might not be able to regroup nearby at all.
Worst case? They’re waiting at Boorinel.
If Gildegant and the others had been playing tag with the dragon that long, then yeah—meeting here was impossible.
Suzette would definitely want to search, but even by morning, combing a forest this size for one human would be a miracle.
Maybe they’d gone on ahead, waiting at the destination.
If so, Klock would have to get there himself. But… could he?
”Shit… seriously,” I breathed. “Too anxious. What the hell am I gonna do?”
It was about a five-day journey by carriage to the destination.
Somewhere near the dragon’s lair. No people. Just trees.
No supplies. No map. No way to defend myself…
I feel like I’m totally stuck.
He realized then that thinking about it was the real trap.
With a quick breath, he started walking.
Anyway, east it was. He’d decide to believe he could regroup—and just move forward.
Amid the shining stars, the moon hung enormous in the sky.
Unbeknownst to Klock, it tilted more and more, clouds passing now and then, quietly marking time.
As he walked beneath that deep-blue canopy, where most of the world still slept, a sharp premonition flitted through his chest.
(…What was that?)
The fire he’d been using as a landmark was out. Still, he pressed on, the path littered with gnarled roots.
The air around him had shifted.
(…This is bad. Should I turn back?)
Until recently, he’d lived with a kind of levity—but that instinct was real.
The air pricked his skin like needles. He knew the feeling.
A warning.
He scanned the area without moving his head.
Nothing seemed out of place. But that didn’t mean much—he could barely see at all.
In crisis, judgment and action were everything.
Retreat? Too late.
Run? Or climb?
If he climbed, something might lunge at him from below.
He stayed grounded.
hah-hah
He heard it.
Sharp breaths, like a dog panting.
His ears finally caught it.
He lowered the machete strapped to his shoulder.
He’d meant to swing it if anything came—but now, it might already be too late.
”──Damn it,” he hissed.
Gripping the blade with both hands, he turned it sideways—then ran.
He was probably already inside attack range. The fight had started.
He plunged into the dark forest, unseen shapes all around.
From behind—growls.
Dry leaves crunching under multiple feet.
”Damn, damn, damn! For real?!” he shouted, panic rising.
There was no time to look back, but the sound said it all—wolves.
Or maybe not just wolves. Monsters.
Monsters were worse. Stronger. Smarter. Crueler.
Normal beasts hunted. Monsters played with their prey.
The growling drew closer.
They were fast. Too fast.
There was no outrunning them.
He had to fight. But when?
He leapt over thick roots, arm up to shield his face, crashing through brush.
Spider webs clung to his clothes—he swatted them away blindly.
A tree loomed ahead. A huge one.
He made his choice.
”Hey!!” he shouted.
At the base of the tree, he spun and raised his weapon.
The machete sliced through air—missed.
Still, it had an effect. The two beasts in front skidded to a stop.
”Big as hell, huh. Don’t screw with me,” he growled.
The moon’s pale glow reflected off silver fur.
A massive wolf—its eyes glowed, locked onto Klock.
Two in front. At least. But others lurked in the dark.
From the glints in the trees, he counted four—maybe five.
But he felt more. Their presence. Closing in from the sides.
(No way, seriously bad situation. This became the pinnacle of a certified disaster.)
He realized he’d been too lax. Wandering the forest alone at night? Suicidal.
Chill ran down his spine.
Sweat trailed from his temple.
Lately, strong people had always been around him.
He’d leaned on that.
If something happened, he figured the girls would handle it.
Now, they weren’t here.
He had no counterspell, no miraculous last-minute trick.
No Bandit [T/N: skill class] skills, either.
Just a pile of borrowed gear and a worsening situation.
Only now did he realize how helpless he really was.
No way I’m dying here.
Suzette. Valerie. Lend me strength.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his last resort: a charmed talisman.
The knife—he’d throw it last. It wasn’t suited for throwing, but he grabbed one from the holster anyway.
Choosing tools with practiced hands, he paused.
Everything I’m carrying… all of it was given to me by those girls.
Even the barrier charm was bought with money he’d swindled from them.
Only now did that hit him.
He shoved the sweetness aside and locked eyes with the wolves.
Counterstrike—timing.
Strike first. Take control.
Klock narrowed his eyes, exhaled, and shifted his weight onto one leg—
”──Fire-style, cat punch!!”
A flash—like a blink of flame.
The wolf in front of him suddenly spun, head snapping in the opposite direction.
Its face burst into orange fire and collapsed, unmoving.
’Yelp?! yip-yip!!’
High-pitched cries pierced the night.
The other wolves backed off in shock.
One stepped forward—then froze, unable to approach the burning corpse.
”Sir Klock!! This way!!” a voice called out.
”──You’re…?” he gasped.
That voice—clear, ringing.
Golden hair fluttered into view.
Not human ears. Slender, sharp—elves?
”Lightning-style technique! Catwalk!!”
”Uwah?!”
She grabbed Klock and leapt.
A feral howl echoed from behind.
Two of the beasts gave token chase—then stopped. Gave up.
The monstrous figures shrank away.
The girl, lightning crackling at her feet, hoisted Klock over her shoulder and bounded along a thick tree branch.
”Sir Klock, are you okay? Are you hurt?” she asked.
”You… Mina?!”
He barely caught himself from blurting Who?
The name came to him—clear, immediate.
She smiled, almost smug.
Apparently, she was glad he remembered.
She gave a peace sign with a gloved hand, childlike glee written across her face.
Notes:
• Suzette – The older maid from Viscount Fennec. The head maid at the Viscount Fennec’s villa. She is confident, clear-spoken, and professional.
• Gildegant – One of the Four Generals of the Demon Lord. Flame General.
• Boorinel – A town east of Ryzan, where Lord Cattleya’s manor is located; said to be a long journey from Ryzan.
• Valerie – Female. Klock’s younger thief sister, dressed like a boy. Her appearance is aqua-colored hair, slender, and youthful. She is loyal to her brother and acts as his accomplice. She is bold, sexually forward, and protective of her brother’s interests.
• Mina – She is a golden-haired catgirl employee of the beastman (Larana the cat woman) Inn, appeared performing fellatio, desperate and tear-streaked, with an inexperienced yet earnest approach to her work.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
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