“That would be an amateur play. Killing me, if they could, would indeed bring them much closer to victory. But they would have to sacrifice something valuable for it. Do you know what?”
“W-wëll…”
Tgurneu didn’t wait for Number Eighteen to reply. “Time. There are only fourteen more days until the Evil God’s revival. If they fail to reach the Weeping Hearth before then, we win. If the Six Braves had targeted me, I would’ve devoted all my resources to stall for time. As long as I remained alive, those precious days and hours would slip away.”
“…”
“Now do you understand what the best choice available to them is? It’s to run from us, ignore me, and head straight for the Weeping Hearth. As long as I don’t know where they are, even I have only so many options available.” Tgurneu’s beak moved. It seemed the fiend was smiling. “Not bad, Adlet. It seems you’re capable of simple reasoning, after all.”
“…I have a propósition, Commander Tgurneu. Why don’t we order the sevénth to tell us where the Braves of the Six Flowers are?”
Tgurneu’s shoulders slumped in utter exasperation. “Any further foolishness from you and I’ll squash you,” it threatened, raising one foot over Number Eighteen.
The snake-fiend placed its thin, twine-like arms on the ground and bowed its head in apology.
“Well, no matter. Let’s take it easy. You may conduct a search attempt to lure them out. We have so many ways to play with them.”
For two days after departing from the Bud of Eternity, Adlet’s party continued its flight through the Cut-Finger Forest.
Fremy guided them through the intricate and complex growths as Chamo’s slave-fiends hunted around for nearby enemies and unguarded areas. Mora’s power of mountain echo was useful in disorienting enemies, while Adlet and Hans put their heads together to deduce the enemy’s next ploy. When bad luck brought them into contact with the fiends, they fought with everything they had to kill them all before Tgurneu could learn about their position.
To completely kill a fiend, you had to find the core and smash it, since an intact body would revive again a few years later. But they didn’t have the time for that now. They tossed aside the corpses and pressed forward.
The Cut-Finger Forest was vast. No matter how great the enemy numbers, they couldn’t hope to guard the whole thing. For two days, Adlet’s party went undetected. As the night ended, the eastern sky swathed in red, the group neared the perimeter of the forest.
“There was no sign of fiends beyond the woods. I think we can relax and move on,” said Fremy when she returned from scouting ahead.
“None behind us, either. Guess we’ve totally gotten away,” said Chamo.
“Tgurneu probably thinks we’re farther neowrth. I think we can keep goin’ this way,” said Hans.
“So that’s one barrier down, huh?” said Adlet.
They all shared smiles and shook hands. Adlet offered his hand to Fremy, but she looked away, arms crossed. Equally stubborn, Adlet kept his hand extended. In the end, she reluctantly hooked her fingertips on his and gave him a weak shake. After that, Rolonia and Mora tried to get a handshake, too. Though she regarded the pair sourly, Fremy accepted the gesture. Hans’s offer was refused.
“The seventh still hasn’t taken action yet, though, have they?” said Fremy. As the party had proceeded through the forest, they had constantly observed each other for signs that they would attack under cover of night or help the enemy find them or covertly contact Tgurneu. But nobody had done anything suspicious.
“We don’t have to rush to find them,” said Adlet. “The seventh is bound to do something eventually. We just have to keep our eyes open to make sure we catch it.”
“I hope you’re right,” Fremy replied.
Adlet’s gaze happened to land on Goldof at the fringes of the group. They had not shared a handshake yet. When he offered, surprisingly enough, Goldof accepted it willingly.
“You’ve done well, too. Let’s keep on fighting,” said Adlet, but Goldof didn’t meet his eyes or reply.
During their advance through the woods, Adlet had kept a particularly close eye on Goldof. The knight had followed instructions faithfully and had done nothing at all suspicious. But Adlet still had no idea what he was thinking. Was that soulless attitude an act, or was it real? He couldn’t tell.
“It’s time to go, Adlet,” Fremy prompted him. “Once we’re through the forest, the ravine is next. Don’t let your guard down.”
“S-sure. Got it,” Adlet responded and started walking. But Goldof’s behavior wouldn’t leave his thoughts. What was he thinking? What was Nashetania to him now? Even after they emerged from the forest, pressing on westward, he had no answers.
Adlet was totally unaware of the situation that had already begun to unfold. In a corner of the Cut-Finger Forest, an unimaginable scene was occurring.
As the party escaped the woods, Tgurneu was reclining in a hammock with a book and a large fig on its chest.
An eagle-fiend descended from the sky. “I have a rèport, Commander Tgurneu.”
“Chamo’s slave-fiends attacked and killed the specialist tracking the Six Braves. You’ve basically lost the trail and the scent and presently have no clues at all to their whereabouts. Am I wrong?” Tgurneu answered with mild irritation, eyes still closed.
“Y-yës, Commander.”
Tgurneu withdrew a map from above its hammock and examined it. “Now, then, I wonder where they went. Are they still in the northern section of the forest, or have they already arrived at the ravine…?” It mulled over the map for a while.
“…Commander Tgurneu, your ordérs?”
“They’ve already left the forest. Leave half the troops there and send the other half to the ravine. We can make that our next playground. Let’s flank them when they’re vulnerable, right when they’re crossing.”
“Verÿ well, Commander.” Right as the eagle-fiend was about to fly off, Tgurneu reached out to grab its leg. “What iš it, Commander?”
Tgurneu didn’t reply but instead glanced around. Its inexpressive crow’s head revealed none of its thoughts. “I take back what I just
