Mountains and Buffalo.

Chapter 31: Run for the Weakling.

"..."

"..."

I couldn't explain how it wound up this way. Maybe it was how I always lagged behind, or that other members were simply more courageous than Juke and I. Maybe it was bad fortune becoming of me, an ugly trait that reared its head in inconvenient times. Pondering an explanation was a useless endeavor anyhow. At this point, I realized it just wasn't always needed.

But still, to think Juke and I were the final two members was absurd.

I didn't have any evidence, but my gut screamed at me that the final floor would be the most challenging to combat. I readily acknowledged that the Harbinger was on a lower floor, but all the suspense that had been accumulating in my body informed me that wasn't the worst of it. Perhaps it was a superstition– no, it absolutely was –but I was still compelled to tell Juke of my hypothesis.

"I have a feeling–"

"This next floor's gonna be a pain in the ass, eh?"

I was momentarily stunned at his read. Only in mind of course, because my legs didn't dare to stop climbing.

"Do you also have that feeling?"

"Nothin' like it. I could just tell by the look on yer face. Either way, I don't think we're gonna deal with somethin' so meddlesome."

"I don't know, Juke. I just don't know."

His words appeased me a little bit, but I still found it nearly impossible not to wonder and assume the worst.

But, ultimately, I reminded myself yet again that that hardly mattered. Now that we'd arrived on a flat surface, there was nothing to do but to walk through that door and eliminate whoever was behind it. So we made sure to make a loud entrance. As I was able to match his pace, the both of us busted the door down. We ran into the master's room, a spacious office stacked with papers. It was different, and far, far messier than the Foreign Pillar's.

"Y-You!"

I was shocked by a sudden voice from my left. I turned my head and saw a skinny gentleman, one I could only assume was the Pillar's Dean.

"T-Thank goodness! Please, release me from these ropes!"

"A-Alright!"

Whether his words or his pathetic visage swayed me, I ran to untie him all the same. But I was stopped in my tracks by a hand grabbing my shoulder.

"Hey! Juke, what are–"

My question was cut short the moment I looked at where he was point. Now, I was looking at the reason behind the different papers, the reason why the dean was tied in rope.

A man stood on the desk. A man with a robe I knew all too well, but more importantly, with a style of hair that I recognized. He turned his head towards us as he put a paper down, and frowned.

"You two... I figured it would be you that I meet."

With almond-shaped eyes and a jagged, unusual hairstyle that screamed "punk," the Bringer in the streets of this city right as this mess began glared at us with the sheen of his blade.

"He's alive!?"

The shock of it all was one thing, as the last time I saw him, I was sure he was pulverized and left to bleed out. But what truly made me yell in such volume was that he still had both of his arms.

"How the hell? I cut yer thing off, didn't I?"

"My 'thing?' It was my arm, you ass! But never mind that. What matters now, is that it's back."

He said it matter-of-factly as if none of it should be a surprise. And in many circles, it wasn't. Missing limbs weren't impossible to restore with highly potent, albeit rare and extremely expensive potions, but processes like that took months, often years to complete. And they would only proceed smoothly with frequent tending and doctoral observation.

And yet, it had only been a little over a day since I last saw him.

"Kid, that ain't possible, is it!? Tell me I'm hallucinatin'!"

"...Well, not exactly."

I could see his mouth agape through the steel of his helm.

"Restoring limbs isn't impossible; I tried and failed to make a few like that myself. But to be able to do it that fast, there's only one explanation."

"Tell me, won't ya?"

"There's someone in Hard-Bringer who's a Grade Zero mana spinner."

"...Seriously? I thought they were one-in-a-million rare."

"It's something like that. I'd call ourselves lucky if they weren't our opponent."

"You got a sharp mind, child– Bison Frost, right?"

I clicked my tongue at the mention of the name. And to think I forgot all about it.

"There's someone among our ranks who's a world-class healer. It's phenomenal to see her work, really. I was out like a light, but by the time I woke up, I was better than new!"

He pulled the sleeves of his robe back to show his vascular arms.

"A her, eh? Looks like I know who ta' look for."

The Bringer's enthusiasm dwindled with Juke's remark.

"Right, I need to watch my tongue. I can't be too safe."

The Bringer hopped off the desk and reached for the other scabbard on his belt. Wielding two curved blades yet again, he stared at us with crazed, narrowed eyes.

"If you two are the last of your platoon, that's perfect! It means you won't get any help!"

He took one step forward, a clear indication that he was going to charge.

"If I can chop you two up here and now, then we can pack up and go home!"

And then he broke into a sprint, igniting our unexpected rematch.

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