Chapter 67 March
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
”…Seriously. Who does this!?” Flatty-chan shouted, staring at the place where the dungeon door used to be.
”To prevent anyone from entering the town. It’s the obvious countermeasure,” Kaede-san said.
”Obvious? They collapsed the whole area around the door! Blocking their own road back to town? That’s insane.”
We stood before the spot that should have held the portal leading to town. I checked the map again—this time we were exactly where we’d aimed for at the start.
But dust hung in the air, and a mountain of boulders choked the ravine. The narrow gorge had become a wall of rock. It looked like a dam had burst and the flood had frozen mid-rush—a pyramid stacked by a madman.
When I looked up, both cliffs were shaved off at a slant, as if someone had cut them. The rocks must have thundered down from there.
”Damn it… there’s no way out to the surface now,” Flatty-chan muttered, a crease carving deep between her brows as she glared at the rockfall.
There should have been a door here—the one that opened near Isumi town. Through it, we could slip out to the outskirts and hide inside the neighborhoods, close enough to be useful, far enough to avoid patrols. It was the perfect breach.
Trash-san ran a hand over the stone. The gray boulders were piled well over twice her height.
”They blasted it the moment we heard that signal,” she said.
The door was somewhere inside this mess, buried and gone. Kaede-san called to Trash-san’s back.
”That death-scream earlier. We had no choice. And remember—we let the townsfolk escape last time. They know we have the door’s location.”
She sounded as if she’d given up from the start. Maybe she’d expected this.
”Could we dig it out…?” I asked.
”No. Even for us, it’s too heavy,” Kaede-san said.
”What if we charge a photon carbine—cut through?”
”Five of us, one full day.”
”Right. And we don’t know what waits on the other side.”
Trash-san and Kaede-san conferred in low voices.
The Imperial Guard’s raw strength bordered on monstrous, but without much experience your lift tops out at a few times a normal person’s—maybe a thousand kilos at best. Veterans like Kaede-san could do far more. But rock weighs over a ton per cubic meter, and the stones in front of us were several meters across. Ten tons each, give or take.
Not impossible to clear—just not in time.
Time we didn’t have. By now, every Psionic Power user in the dungeon would be hunting our trail.
”If only we’d finished off that ‘flycatcher’ woman a moment sooner,” Trash-san said.
”She disguised herself as a door. A good Psionic Power. Even on the mask’s long-wave view she had no seams. Mm. A fine Imperial Guard,” Kaede-san said, oddly pleased.
Her eyes shone. She was almost cheerful—talkative, even. As if watching a promising youth had put her in a rare, good mood.
Flatty-chan stared at her through a flat, unimpressed squint.
”What’s with the Kaede-san praise parade? Thanks to her, we’re sealed in the dungeon,” Flatty-chan said.
”…Hm? Young, but an admirable Imperial Guard,” Kaede-san replied.
”And that’s the other thing. Why did you let the townspeople escape last time? If you hadn’t, they wouldn’t be this alert now!”
”My whim,” Kaede-san said, as if commenting on the weather.
Flatty-chan looked at her like she’d grown a second head.
Her eyes said it all: Who ruins a plan out of mercy on a whim? And she wasn’t wrong. I felt accused right along with Kaede-san.
”So that’s why people in town call you lot ‘the eccentrics,’” Flatty-chan sighed.
Kaede-san didn’t flinch. Flatty-chan exhaled hard, the fatigue in her shoulders obvious—as if she’d finally given up on expecting sense.
Natsume-san, who’d been scanning the fog with restless eyes, protested like she’d been personally insulted.
”Hey, me too? I’m normal. A perfectly normal Imperial Guard,” she said.
”Liar. You act all sensible, but Flatty-chan sees you. You’re the scariest one under the smile,” Flatty-chan shot back.
”Eeeh?” Natsume-san pouted.
When she wasn’t high on her own adrenaline, Natsume-san could pass for sensible—but under it all she was a problem child. Most of us were.
Either way, standing around sulking wouldn’t help. Lingering near the door only made us easier to find.
We abandoned this entry point and pushed into the fog, moving fast.
Trash-san put a hand on Flatty-chan’s shoulder to soothe her grumbling.
”Flatty. Keep your voice down. We took down a titled opponent. That meets the bare minimum,” she said.
”Right, right. Which means Young Master should pat my head for bagging the enemy, yes?” Flatty-chan said, angling a look at me.
”No.”
”Excuse you! You didn’t even ask him—there wasn’t a conversation happening!”
Flatty-chan was always bright and loud—and that came with a small flaw: she was also loud.
If Yukari-san from Inubou town had her sincerity swapped out for pure annoyance, you’d get Flatty-chan.
The mimic who could become a door had been a true threat. Her change included illusion; if she could become anything, sneaking specialists didn’t get better than that. Taking her down mattered.
But it also blew our cover.
We moved as five through the mist.
When the fog thickened, monsters came. When it thinned, soldiers did. Either way, danger. Soon the mist that hid our shapes and swallowed our footfalls would burn away.
There were no safe hours left in this cursed valley.
Clouds smothered the sky. By noon, the sun shaved the gorge’s shadow short, the fog thinning to damp breath along the stones.
We had no choice but to aim for another door to the surface—a little farther from town.
We had a fallback if they found us. Cracks riddled the valley walls, deep enough to hold people. With Trash-san’s Psionic Power, we could hole up there as long as we needed, wait for the patrols to ease, then try again.
If we reached one in time.
By afternoon the mist would vanish. Town collectors and Imperial Guard patrols would sweep the routes for salvage. Even hiding, we’d need to slip from one key area of the dungeon to another, across open ground.
”Behind us. They’re tracking,” Kaede-san warned.
”Can’t we shake them?” Trash-san asked.
”No. We don’t know the terrain. They’ll catch us eventually,” Kaede-san said.
We’re moving farther from town,” I said, glancing back. “But they’re still tracking us… almost perfectly.”
We’d left traps along the path—crude grenades rigged with tripwires. No time to prepare the dead flycatcher woman’s body, but enough to plant some nasty surprises. Step on a line, pull a pin, boom.
Every so often, a dull explosion echoed through the crevices behind us. The intervals between blasts kept shortening.
For more than thirty minutes we crossed branching clefts, slipping away from the main routes we’d memorized from interrogation. Every step was measured, careful, silent. Even so, the sense of pursuit refused to fade. Five of us, and yet the pressure grew heavier.
”They’re faster,” I muttered. “Stronger legs. Maybe Psionic Power users too.”
We’d tried misdirection—leaving paths untrapped, doubling back—but it didn’t matter. The feeling of being hunted never left us.
”Trash-san,” I whispered. “How are they finding us so precisely?”
Either they had a psychic tracker, or something else—some mystical object tied to scent or sound.
”Tracking us isn’t difficult,” Trash-san said calmly. “They might have brought dogs.”
”Oh. That simple, huh? We did leave some cargo scraps behind at the last site.”
”I’ve tried masking our trail a few times, but it’s not enough.”
If they were following scent, they didn’t need magic at all.
Cold sweat slid down my neck. We were being cornered—slowly, inevitably. If they caught up… we’d fight. And if they had multiple Psionic Power users like the last one, we wouldn’t walk away.
”Trash-san, look,” I said.
She followed my gaze. “What is it?”
”Something’s flying. A bird?”
We’d been walking for a while when I spotted it: a dark speck drifting in the gray slit of sky above the ravine. At first, I thought it was a trick of the eyes. But no matter how far we moved, the speck stayed fixed, circling above us.
”Not a bird,” I said. “Wings don’t move like that.”
I squinted upward. My eyes weren’t enhanced like theirs, but I was shorter—and that meant I spent more time looking up. So I saw it first.
Something glided between the clouds, a vast, blue-black shape with finlike wings that rippled as it moved—like a stingray floating through stormlight.
Trash-san, whose eyesight was sharp as glass, frowned. “Psionic Power user. Bad news. We’re being watched.”
”Wait—it’s human?” I asked.
”I believe so. A flight ability—I’ve never seen one in use. Likely an aberration type. It’s flying under its own power.”
The shadow, realizing we’d noticed, dipped lower—brazen now. It circled directly above, wide loops like a vulture calling its pack.
Then it descended, close enough that we could hit it if we aimed well.
Kaede-san and Kiri-san raised their rifles in the same heartbeat.
”Every one of them’s a high-roll ability user,” Kiri-san muttered.
”Kill it,” Kaede-san said.
”With pleasure. Let’s be the ones to greet them for once.”
They braced against the cliff wall, gunstocks wedged deep into stone for stability. A brief pause—then twin beams of light shot skyward. Their visors locked aim in place where sights weren’t needed.
Two blazing lines crossed in the air. Both hit true. Trash-san’s supply ability let them charge for full-power bursts.
The target convulsed midair. Blue-black membranes shredded, liquid spraying like rain. A human silhouette plummeted from above, one wing torn away, spinning like a broken paper plane.
Kaede-san watched without emotion. Kiri-san just clicked her tongue.
”Hit confirmed.”
”Half-baked shot,” Kiri said. “You fired first—threw mine off.”
”Kiri, I hit it.”
”This dungeon’s windless. Photon rifles don’t drift. Even a blind kid could hit. Congratulations.”
”…It’s dropping nearby. I’ll retrieve it.”
Kiri-san acted smug about most things, but when it came to shooting, she was all discipline. Kaede-san’s shoulders slumped, a little hurt. Maybe she’d wanted praise.
A black dot bloomed on the ground. Then another. Rain? No—blood, falling faster than the body.
The crash came a moment later, hard enough to shake dust loose from the rocks. A woman had hit the ground beyond the ridge.
”Found her. Still alive,” Kaede-san said.
”Damn it—get off me! Let go!” the girl screamed.
Kaede-san dragged her into view, gripping her by the throat. Blood drenched her leg—severed below the knee. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen.
Translucent blue fins stretched from her back and arms like torn kites, slick with blood. Half were missing, cut through by the shot.
”Number of allies. Psionic Power types. Tell me, and it’ll be quick,” Kaede-san said.
”What the hell was that shot?!” the girl spat.
”Too careless. Wasteful,” Kaede murmured.
”You bastards! You ruined my wings! I’ll kill you—all of you—burn in hell!”
”Talk,” Kaede-san said.
”Shut up, intruder! Die!”
Blood spilled freely from the stump. Her pain dulled by rage, the girl glared around at us, her expression feral.
”They know where you are,” she hissed. “You’ll be torn apart. You’ll beg for death, sobbing like animals!”
Kaede-san’s tone was almost soft. “That would be nice.”
A dull crack echoed. Her fist drove into the girl’s face. Then again. And again. Each blow made a sound like snapping branches.
”Gh—bruh—”
”Clinging to life… enviable,” Kaede-san said.
”St—stop—”
”How many? Psionic Power? Positions?”
”Gh—bah—”
”Doors. Allies.”
Each question came with a punch. A normal human’s neck would have broken long ago, but Kaede-san kept going, precise, mechanical.
”Speak, and it ends painlessly.”
”…”
She gripped the girl’s throat with one hand, striking with the other. The pressure crushed her windpipe—words choked before they could form. Kaede-san didn’t care.
At last, the girl slumped unconscious. Kaede-san released her only to draw her blade and end it cleanly.
The body hit the dirt. The wings vanished, leaving only a bloodied human corpse. Kaede-san looked down at it with the indifference of someone stamping out a maggot.
”U-ugh… gross…” Flatty-chan’s voice trembled as she looked at what Kaede-san had done.
”What’s wrong?” I asked.
”N-nothing. Just decided maybe I shouldn’t make her angry,” she muttered.
”I’m not good at interrogation,” Kaede-san said simply. “And there’s no time.”
She turned back to us, her face spattered in bright, wet red. At that exact moment, a roar shook the ravine—a deep, furious bellow that echoed through the stone.
We couldn’t see it yet, but the sound vibrated in our bones. The malice in that voice was aimed straight at us.
They’d seen us shoot their comrade out of the sky—and now they knew exactly where we were.
The enemy was close. Too close. That roar came from one of the Psionic Power users who’d stepped right over our traps. Judging from the echoes, they were only a few kilometers away—nothing for someone who could run like a monster, even in this broken terrain.
”Move!” Kaede-san snapped.
We bolted, scrambling out of the narrow ravine and up a steep slope. When the incline ended, a barren plain stretched before us.
The sky opened wide, revealing a horizon of sickly red soil and poison marshes. Pumice stones littered the ground, and sulfurous mist curled in lazy veils across the flats.
I clung to Trash-san’s back, scanning the endless field. There were no cliffs here, no walls to funnel pursuit—but there were boulders, gray and jagged, taller than a man, scattered across the plain like a maze. Pools of crimson acid shimmered between them.
Here, at least, we could run in any direction.
Kaede-san looked to Trash-san running beside her. “We have a line of sight. I’ll stay and cover.”
”Kaede-dono,” Trash-san said, “do you actually think you can win?”
”Not against the horned one we saw earlier,” she said. “But escaping as we are now is impossible. A charged shot should make them flinch. That’s long enough for you to get away. We regroup at night.”
The others didn’t respond right away. No one liked what she was implying—it sounded too much like bait.
Trash-san frowned. “An ambush? Risky.”
Kaede-san lifted something in her hand. “We’ll lure them with this.”
Trash-san nodded grimly. “Ah. That’ll enrage them for sure.”
”The Imperial Guard in this town are young,” Kaede-san said. “Tightly bound by loyalty. Smaller towns breed strong attachments. It’ll work.”
In her hand dangled the severed head of the flying girl—skin gone pale blue, tongue grotesquely long and stiff. I didn’t want to imagine what a decapitation did to the human body, but here it was, undeniable.
She meant to leave it in the open—a beacon of revenge. A cruel answer to the deaths at Kujukuri.
”We’ve already killed two,” Kaede-san continued. “They can’t afford to pull too many guards from the dungeon.”
”Even wounded, they’ll be slower to replace their ranks,” Trash-san added thoughtfully.
Kiri-san, who’d been quietly watching our backs, finally spoke. Her usual lazy drawl was sharp with anger.
”Hey, Kaede. You planning to die easy or something?”
”No. Getting spotted this early wasn’t part of the plan,” Kaede said flatly.
”Too bad. If you’re staying, I’m staying.”
”Why?” Kaede asked—not coldly, just puzzled.
Kiri’s lips twisted. “You’re not Ichimatsu-sama’s Guard anymore. You don’t take orders.”
”I see.”
”You think you’re some convenient substitute, huh? But you don’t know how many are chasing us. Stay here and you die for nothing.”
Kaede-san paused, just a heartbeat. Maybe she wanted to argue—but time was too precious. Her reply came while running.
”Then we split up. Craftsman, take Natsume.”
”What!?” Natsume-san cried. The three of them were always together—she clearly hadn’t expected to be separated.
”Kaede-chan? I’m not leaving without you two!” she shouted, her voice tight, on the verge of tears.
”We’re changing plans,” Kaede said. “Natsume, you go with them.”
”No way! You need me! Both of you do!”
”We agreed before departure,” Kaede said calmly. “You must’ve not been listening.”
”I never heard that!” Natsume protested, her face twisted with frustration.
Kaede didn’t argue. She just looked back at her own pack—inside it was the mystical object Natsume treasured most. Kaede had confiscated it earlier during the mission to keep her focused. Her way of persuasion was always simple.
”Do as I say,” Kaede murmured, “or I break Monkey’s Electrode.”
”Wha—fine! Fine!” Natsume yelped, surrendering instantly.
She crossed to our side. Rank meant nothing now—only survival did.
The five of us stopped for a moment. Trash-san divided up the remaining mystical tools and supplies in practiced efficiency. Twenty seconds later, we were ready.
Kaede-san stood tall, composed as always. “We meet at night. If we don’t return within two days, follow the plan. Take Natsume to the designated town.”
She was reminding everyone of the fallback strategy we’d prepared before infiltration. Everyone, even Trash-san, nodded.
”Natsume,” Kaede said, “when you see the inn marked ‘Onjuku’ in Isumi Town, eliminate the residents. Craftsman, good fortune.”
”And to you,” Trash-san replied. “Kaede-dono, Kiri-dono—until next time.”
”Kaede-chan, Kiri-chan,” Natsume said, voice breaking. “Don’t you dare die. I can’t stand goodbye.”
We split.
Trash-san, Flatty-chan, and Natsume-san went one way; Kaede-san and Kiri-san another. The Ichimatsu group embraced briefly, then broke apart.
I watched the two vanish behind the rocks.
”Uh… Trash-san?” I asked softly. “What’s going to happen now?”
She carried me as we moved again, voice low and steady. “If we’re discovered or separated mid-infiltration, each group heads for the outermost gate. The further outskirts won’t be as heavily guarded. It’ll mean more time on the surface—but it’s our only chance.”
So that was the plan: divide, survive, and lower the odds of capture.
”From here,” she said, “we move separately.”
”If even one of us gets through,” she added, “that’s enough. It’s a small town.”
I glanced south, toward the distant frontlines. Kamogawa Town held twenty thousand souls. Its ally, Isumi, fewer than six thousand. Kujukuri, our target, had sixty thousand.
And the one we were striking tonight… was Isumi.
The politics didn’t matter much to me, but I’d heard that Isumi Town—being weaker—had been dragged into the war under Kamogawa’s command.
Isumi was ruled by two noble families: the Onjuku and the Katsuraura clans. Old houses from the Kamakura era, they were locked in a centuries-long feud even this far from the capital.
The head of the Onjuku family had taken a bribe from Kamogawa and pushed for open war. If we eliminated him, power would shift to the pacifist Katsuraura clan—and with that, Isumi could be made to switch sides.
If Isumi joined forces with us and called a ceasefire with Kujukuri, Kamogawa would hesitate. After all, the people they’d forced into battle would now be striking back with new allies and old grudges.
It might not end the war entirely, but it would buy us precious time. Time enough for Kujukuri to stabilize its northern front—and once that happened, Kamogawa would have no choice but to withdraw.
So our mission was simple and cruel: crush the weaker town until it turned against its master.
We would infiltrate Isumi and strike the Onjuku estate, killing its ruling line. None of the nobles there possessed Psionic Powers. Even a single infiltrator could devastate the town. That fear alone had driven them to seal their own dungeon gates.
A town that size—no, a village, really—barely six thousand people strong—couldn’t possibly have more than thirty combat-ready psychics. Losing even a few would cripple them.
To them, we were phantoms—unknown, unseen. Two of their precious Psionic Power users were already dead. They wouldn’t dare throw more into the fire when they’d still need them later for relic recovery and dungeon defense.
Even if they killed us, losing more psychic fighters would make the entire war pointless. To avoid further deaths, they’d have to act carefully.
But if they tried to bring Kamogawa’s forces to bear, flooding the area with troops to wipe us out, they’d weaken their own fronts. We had timed our infiltration perfectly, when surface battles demanded their attention.
That was the Ichimatsu group’s edge—Trash-san and Flatty-chan’s job was to slip someone through that gap and help a teammate infiltrate the town. Once they’d done that, they’d either secure an escape route or withdraw entirely.
”I just hope we don’t meet anyone like the horned man or the umbrella woman again. ” I whispered from Trash-san’s back.
”That depends on luck,” she said. “But, Young Master, you should return once your task is done.”
”I know. I’ll report to Sow-san and the others, gather what I can, then come back.”
She nodded, though her expression darkened. “That’s right. Your message is vital. Still…”
She trailed off, her face complicated.
With the dungeon gate sealed, the passage between the valley and the surface had become almost impossible. Even after killing those two Psionic Power users, the mood wasn’t lighter. She should have been proud—but her tone was almost scolding.
”Using your power to influence the war is dangerous,” she said quietly. “Please don’t forget that.”
Trash-san still didn’t like me risking myself for their sake. To her, an Imperial Guard’s purpose was to protect its master, not the other way around.
”The more capable you appear,” she continued, “the more Kujukuri will use you. And the enemy will see you as a threat. The only reason men remain safe is because they stay far from war.”
”You mean… if I stand out too much, I’ll be targeted?”
”I’m not saying that. Just—don’t get carried away. Understood?”
”Yeah. I understand.”
I nodded, meaning it. I’d help, but not cross the line.
”…Are you really talking to your master right now?” a voice said from beside us.
Natsume-san. She ran alongside, eyes wide with disbelief.
”What do you mean?” I asked.
”I mean that tone of yours! Ichimatsu-sama would never allow anyone to speak like that to him. No man would.”
She clearly couldn’t see me, but she could sense the exchange. It wasn’t doubt—just astonishment at how informal, how human, our rapport was.
”It doesn’t sound like a conversation between an Imperial Guard and her master at all,” she said.
I couldn’t tell if she was criticizing or admiring, but Trash-san’s expression stayed unreadable.
”Our Young Master is… special,” she said. “A blessing—and a burden.”
”…A burden?”
”Yes. Like the sun. Warm, radiant, giving hope every morning—and when he’s gone, the world falls into darkness. He shines as he pleases, and never once spares a thought for little creatures like me.”
Her tone was poetic, but the meaning stung—a veiled complaint disguised as reverence.
I winced inwardly.
”Is that flattery or a grievance?” I asked.
”Of course it’s praise,” she said with a faint smile. “No Imperial Guard would speak ill of her master.”
”That so?” Natsume said softly. “That feeling… it’s nostalgic.”
Her face softened, eyes turning gentle, like someone remembering a distant spring.
Then I noticed it—a thin white mist unfurling behind Natsume as we ran. The point where the ravine opened into the poisoned plain. The hunters had reached the surface.
Far back on the ridge lay the severed head of the flying girl. Kaede-san had trapped it—disturb it, and it would release lethal gas.
From that direction came a raw, furious scream—no echo this time. The enemy had reached striking distance. The traps and sniper ambush hadn’t stopped them.
”Eeeek! Run! Run faster!” Natsume shrieked. “Flatty-chan, don’t you dare die! The gods wouldn’t forgive such a waste!”
”Young Master,” Trash-san said sharply, “forgive me, but you make it hard to run while I’m carrying you.”
”I—I get it!” I said, hastily sliding off her back. My feet hit the ground and I almost fell.
”Right… I’ll go on ahead, then!”
I waved hard—though only she could see—and shouted after them.
”Don’t die! None of you! Promise me you won’t die!”
Trash-san smiled over her shoulder. “We’ve escaped worse things. This will be nothing.”
Then she and the others were gone—vanishing into the wind.
Notes:
• Kaede – A female psionic explorer known as Necksplitter, is a veteran assassin and messenger of Lord Ichimatsu. Her appearance is both young and old, with gray hair streaked through black and vibrant, unlined skin. She is graceful yet carries the fatigue of a long life in war, resembling an old hunting dog. Her psionic ability is mysterious and potentially dangerous.
• Psionic Power – Mental energy concept in Chapter 35’s lecture. Trash-san teaches it to strengthen the protagonist’s mind after dungeon ordeals.
• Natsume – A female companion and younger sister of Kaede-san, cared for by Kaede-san during their journey through the dangerous valley, at risk of infection from the parasitic creatures.
• Yukari – Dora’s imperial guard, the one who hide in MC’s wardrobe. Twintail.
• Kiri – A female sniper and member of Kaede-san’s team, white-haired with sleepy eyes, wielding a disguised sniper rifle, known for her quick hands and slow speech, often joking in dire situations.
• Ichimatsu – A high-ranking figure associated with the Imperial Guard, mentioned as having spineless guards around him, with no further details provided.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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