Chapter 4

Although he rushed after his friend, Halon arrived too late.

“My… trial,” said the Pilgrim, blood gushing from his mouth and coloring his beard red.

Arfu pulled the sword from the other man’s back. Spraying blood, the Pilgrim collapsed.

“A-Arfu, what have you done!?” Halon said, his eyes going from the dead man back to his companion. Arfu looked so calm that it gave him a chill.

“What d’you mean? —We must not allow the existence of any gods,” Arfu chanted. “I had to stop him.”

Halon shuddered. “But… like this? We could’ve talked to him a bit, we…” he trailed off as he saw Arfu’s cold but slightly regretful expression.

Neither of the men were any good at dealing with people; that much was true. They were bred and trained as hunters first and foremost.

Perhaps they grew so used to dealing with monsters that even humans were nothing more than a different kind of beast to them. This was one of the dangers for those who ventured so deep into the Corelands.

Halon cast a pained glance upon the body. Even now, a crimson flower bloomed around it.

He passed a hand through his hair. “That’s… certainly one way to stop him, Arfu. Dammit. This place isn’t right for any human, even us. We… need to finish our task.”

The other man nodded gravely, slightly frowning as he looked down at the body.

Even from where they stood, their goal was visible: a great luminescence, almost if the forest was burning. The place that had drawn to it not just monsters, but even men.

Closing his eyes as he stepped past the poor Pilgrim, Halon renewed his resolve. “Yes. This man wasn’t lucky, and we may be just as unlucky… but it’s time for us to face our fate.”

“Heh, that almost rhymed.”

In spite of himself, Halon smiled.

Even if they arrived at the very end of the world, at least he had his best friend by his side.

They stepped forward—ready to be blinded by the blazing light.

Their expectations were betrayed.

Despite how things were until then, for some reason, as they finally reached a small clearing that looked far too normal, they could see fine. No, they doubted their eyes, but there was another reason for that.

The source of such a major light appeared to be a small, white sphere emitting rays of gentle warmth. Small enough to be held in a hand. And the holder of that light turned toward the pair with inquisitive eyes.

Eyes that belonged to none other than the Old Man.

*

“Old Man?!” sputtered Arfu, the first one to recover. Halon was still too shocked to speak.

Yes. Standing right there was a man so thin and wrinkled it was hard to believe he’d been a legendary hunter who slayed more than 100 beasts alone—a record since broken by the pair of hunters, but still.

They would never forget his figure. It had been engraved deep into their minds and souls. They knew every wrinkle, every scar, and of course the red and blue tattoos that marked his achievements.

But to think that he of all people would be here…

“Old Man!” called Arfu, taking a step forward. “How are you… we were at your funeral, we saw you getting buried!”

But Halon, who sensed some sort of indescribable danger, grabbed Arfu’s shoulder and stopped him.

“You’re not actually him, are you?” he spat.

The man holding a sphere of light who looked like an exact copy of their past chief opened his mouth to speak. Even his voice was just like they remembered it was over a decade ago. His words, however, were not.

“I do not know how I appear to you,” said that familiar voice in an unfamiliar cadence. “I do not know what I am to you. I do, however, know what you are.”

Both men stood there frozen for a few moments.

“So you’re not really the Old Man, right?”

“You are the two hunters,” the glowing man continued, ignoring him, “who were drawn here by this power.” He directed his gaze at the glowing sphere, and his eyes seemed to glow as well.

“You’ve sent us all the way here… your words pushed us forward,” said Arfu, apparently refusing to accept this being as anything else than the Old Man.

“No, Arfu! It’s not him!”

Just like the real one, this Old Man wore no expression.

Instead, all he did was stretch his hand forward—as if he was offering them the light.

Both Arfu and Halon gulped at once.

“I am but a reflection of your souls,” the glowing man spoke. “Even these words are ones not drawn by me, but by what lies deep within you. I am formless and reasonless.”

“What are you?” breathed Halon.

“Only you know the answer. And if you do not—that might mean no answer exists.”

That made no sense.

None of this made sense.

When they came here, they expected to find another target—another beast to slay, perhaps a gigantic monster of light. Instead, they found what seemed to be the source of everything.

Was it luck or misfortune that let them reach this place?

“My existence is tied to yours,” the Old Man-shaped creature continued. “I cannot exist without you, but you cannot exist without me, either. I symbolize your life in the truest sense. —Destroy it.”

“Arfu,” said Halon urgently, drawing his bow with shaking hands. “We must… destroy this thing.”

Arfu looked at him as if he was looking at someone who wasn’t there at all.

“What’re you talking about?” said his friend. “You’ve heard the Old Man. We must claim what is rightfully ours.”

It was at that moment that Halon finally understood part of the fake Old Man’s words.

Everyone saw him differently. This piece of information seemed impossible, considering it didn’t come from Halon’s own knowledge, but it meant that…

“…What did he tell you, Arfu?”

Although they were as close as brothers, the two hunters did live in two different worlds as individuals. Their worldviews differed just as much as their hunting styles did.

One lucky, the other unlucky?

Halon recalled what happened with the Pilgrim and felt a chill. Therefore, he decided to take action first.

Throwing his bow to the side, he took a running start. Arfu seemed taken aback by this, while the creature wearing the Old Man’s appearance looked almost resigned, extending his hand with the ball of light…

“Ah—”

A step before he reached his target, Halon stepped on a pebble, stumbled and fell. His fingers grazed the ball of light, but were unable to grab it.

What a ridiculous situation.

Why would something like this happen now, of all times?

But something was odd. As though he’d scooped some light with his fingers, they became covered in that divine glow, and a great heat started assaulting his entire body, leaking out of his eyes.

“Ah,” grunted Halon on the ground, “ah, gah, wahh?!”

Now there were footsteps—no, the sounds of running.

“Ah,” said the Old Man, looking down at Halon with the ball of misty light still grasped in his hands. “So you were the lucky one after all.”

A moment later, Halon’s burly fist closed entirely on the sphere of pure energy, blocking all light.