v1.1.5

The grotesque black horse, which had been leaping through the forest with the speed of an arrow, halted its movements the moment Toru and the others vanished.

Standing there in stark contrast to its earlier ferocity, it exuded an eerie calm. Not a trace of the savagery it had shown while attacking Toru and his companions remained. Its eyes were hollow, as if it were standing yet devoid of life, drained of all vitality.

And then—

“……Fumu?”

With a rustle, a man emerged, pushing through the underbrush.

The figure was petite, draped in a cloak patterned with a mix of deep green and burnt brown. In such a dense, wooded area, his form blended seamlessly with the surroundings, making him difficult to discern. The cloak, which obscured the human silhouette, made its pattern all the more effective.

The man was thorough.

His face, and even his cleanly shaven bald head, were painted with the same pattern using some kind of pigment……and the long sack on his back, large enough to encase a greatsword, was wrapped in multiple bands of deep green and burnt brown, matching the same color scheme.

“Escaped, did they?”

The man muttered softly.

Due to the pattern painted on his face, it was impossible to discern his features, let alone his expression, from a distance. Yet, showing no fear of the Unicorn, the man stood beside it and gazed into the ravine where Toru and the others had leapt from the cliff to the river flowing below.

“Was my preparation lacking? Should I have waited for Gillette-dono……?”

As if organizing his thoughts, the man muttered to himself.

Eventually he changed his mind—

“No. This stroke of luck—I cannot let it slip away.”

A white crack split across his camouflaged face.

The man had bared his teeth in a grin.

“Well then. Shall we bind it tightly once more?”

As he spoke to himself, the man turned to the mencing Unicorn, still as a statue, and lowered the sack from his back.