Another millipage segment fell off, only to be devoured by Nox. The panther had an elegant way of going about things. Its teeth never touched a single page of the guardian, nor did it even claw on them. Instead, it would burst into half a dozen kitten forms of itself, each kneading into various parts of the creature. Cracks could cut in from multiple parts, quickly reducing the guardian into a ball of confetti. Then, after the creature had completely crumbled to bits, Nox would reassemble again and wait for the next target.

His effectiveness had earned him a wave of praise from Lux, which was nothing new, and even a few good words from Gleam. The latter acknowledgement was a lot more valued. The shardfly had taken the role of the “big sister” among the familiars and with good reason too. While she wasn’t the one attacking, she was successfully stopping hundreds of razor-sharp pages of paper from slicing Dallion up. Even so, there were a few that bled through. One of them had even severed Dallion’s right hand, making combat a lot more difficult. As Nil liked to remind, there were many ways of losing a battle and level was only but a factor determining the winner.

“How much health do you have?” Dallion shouted as he flew at what was left of the millipage.

The creature had reshuffled again, transforming into a trio of paper caterpillars, each twisting around the rest. Its length had visibly reduced, but not to the amount Dallion was hoping. For all intents and purposes, the fight was still in its mid-phase. The echoes that kept shooting or throwing weapons at Dallion didn’t make things easier. Thankfully, the air battle also prevented them from going all out of fear they might hit the guardian they were allied to.

Targeting markers covered the sides of the guardian segments. Having fought the creature for over ten minutes, Dallion knew some of its weak spots. Unfortunately, the guardian knew his. Aware that it cannot defeat the intruder in a direct match, it kept aiming at his hands. At the moment, it was halfway to victory; while Lux persistently kept Dallion’s health to maximum, the firebird couldn’t heal a severed limb. As far as the realm was concerned, Dallion was going to have to win, or lose, without it.

Splitting into instances, Dallion slashed at a dozen of the target markers. In half of the attempts, the thread splitter sliced into the guardian. Of those, only two didn’t result in injuries. The guardian had gotten quite sneaky in countering attacks. Since it was difficult to get anything through Gleam, it took advantage of Dallion’s attacks to cut his hand off.

CRITICAL STRIKE

Dealt damage is increased by 200%

Nox, Dallion said, as another segment was split off. The rest merged back into the main body of the millipage.

The crackling leapt to its target. This was small enough not to require Nox to break up into more of himself. The result was no different.

Why does it keep fighting? Dallion wondered. I offered it to surrender.

Would you want a guardian that surrenders at the first sign of danger? Nil asked. Guardians share the characteristics of the purpose they were created. That’s what separates an apprentice from a master.

So, you’re telling me that I’m crap at forging. Dallion attempted another series of strikes, but the guardian moved too fast, leaving a trail of pages as a shield behind him.

For the most part. As with most things, you still don’t put in all your effort unless you really have to. The pieces of armor and all those trivial items you made to increase your forging skill, you couldn’t care less what the guardians turned out to be. The hammer, on the other hand. There you put in a lot of effort, and we can see the result. You got Onda.

There was no denying the fact. All guardians of the “trivial” were creatures. It was only when making the hammer that an actual banished race guardian had emerged.

Whoever had created the books used for the hunter’s record tomes had clearly put in a lot of effort, and one of the core rules was that only those strong enough were allowed to take advantage of the information contained there. It sounded like a typical thing a hunter would do.

Lacking most of its pages, the guardian merged into one again, as it had been at the beginning. No longer aggressive as before, it was relying on the echoes to create an opening in Dallion’s defense, for it to take advantage of.

Dallion noticed this, bursting into instances again. Only this time, he did a bit more. Of his hundred instances, in several, he went directly beneath the guardian. Once that happened, he took a deep breath and performed a point attack with his thread splitter.

FATAL STRIKE

Dealt damage is increased by 500%

The entire millipage popped like an egg in a microwave, sending pages of paper in all directions. Both Gleam and Dallion filled the air with slashes, slicing up as many of the paper pages as they could.

The seconds felt like minutes. For a moment Dallion felt completely overwhelmed as red rectangles stacked in front of him. Half informed him that his health had been reduced, while the other half showed it being restored back again.

Finally, it was all over.

BOOK Level increased

The BOOK has been improved to LEATHER.

Your ART skills have increased to 18.

That was a bit close, dear boy, Nil said.

Dallion was fully aware. For a brief moment, his health had fallen down to fifteen percent before jumping back up thanks to Lux. As much as he wanted to claim this as a clear victory, he couldn’t. If they had been on equal ground, he would have lost outright, while also being clearly superior. Both his traits and skills vastly outmatched his opponent. It was the restrictions of the environment that had hindered him—a fact that he was wise to remember. In the wilderness, it had always been Dallion, who had chosen the best terrain for a battle. In the realms, that privilege was given to the hunted, and the guardians were taking advantage of it more and more. After all, there was a reason that hunters preferred to fight in the real world. As much as nobles and sheltered awakened were mocked, they had a far greater advantage in the realms—that was the arena they were suited for.

A flash of bright light blinded Dallion for a second. Once he could see again, he was back in the chamber. The major difference was that this time he could see all of the echoes, and none of them had any ill emotions towards him. Of course, that wasn’t to say that they liked him; they had merely acknowledged his strength.

“You’re wasteful in your actions,” the guardian emerged from the ceiling. The caterpillar-like creature seemed a lot browner than before, its pages now made of fine leather with sharp metal edges. “But still strong enough.”

“Thanks,” Dallion replied, unsure how to respond. Guardians didn’t often praise others. “I still need the information.”

“You can ask them directly,” the millipage said. “You’re the owner of the realm now.”

“I’m looking for any information about phoenix hunts,” Dallion said loudly, addressing the echoes below. “Specifically, the missions of a hunter that mentored otherworlders.” He paused for a moment. “A fury and a gorgon.”

“You’re wasting your time,” one of the Vela echoes said. “No one here has gone on a phoenix hunt.”

“How’s that possible? Most hunters—”

“The aetherbird doesn’t stay in the same place for long,” another echo said. “The last time it appeared in Nerosal, a group was selected to hunt it. One person filled in the entry. That person is dead and the echo went with him.”

“That’s not what I was told. I heard that—”

“We heard what you were told. The fury lied to you.”

“Not lied exactly,” a Vela clarified. “Sooner or later every hunter goes on a phoenix hunt. Most of those are false hunts. People are sent out to a place, hoping to get lucky. It’s like a big game for the nobles. People bet on who will actually see it, who might find a feather, who will get to keep it and so on. That’s nothing to do with a real hunt.”

Dallion’s eyes narrowed.

“Tell me about the real hunt,” he said.

“There was one thirteen years ago,” an echo of the gorgon said. “It was done by the person you suspect. In fact, it was at that time he noticed the Eury and Jiroh.”

That was too far back for Diroh to have been involved. The girl was probably five at most back then, and living with her fury parents, or at least that was the story. Interestingly enough, Dallion didn’t imagine that a hunt would be the reason Eury and Jiroh would start on the hunter’s path.

“He saw promise, so he started training them, first in secret, then in the open.”

“Did he find the phoenix?” Dallion asked.

“Yes,” a Vela said. “He claimed that he did, and I’m inclined to believe him. He must have failed to catch it, for his name was erased.”

“That seems to happen a lot in this world.”

“Yes, but he’s the only person who had his name erased twice.”

Twice? Dallion blinked. Technically, there was no reason for it not to happen. Given how long people lived without their initial names, there was every chance for someone to mess up and suffer the same fate. Hearing it actually done, though, was disturbing, to say the least. If Dallion was prone to conspiracies, he’d say that the second erasure had been done, only to remove his name from all records or conversations.

“Shortly before his death,” Vela said. “When working with nobles, it’s inevitable that hunters get burned. The question is how much. Whatever he did, it must have upset someone with power considerably.”

Nil, if erasing is that common, why hasn’t my name been erased? Dallion asked.

It’s all based on the balance of power. As much as some people would want to erase your name, there would be others who’d be against it. It has nothing to do with the person, of course, but the political outcome. A bard that mocks will be hated by a noble, but supported by ten others. Just because something is easy doesn’t mean it’s smart. The countess could have erased your name after the festival fiasco. However, the Archduke would have preferred that news of her shame be well known. Now, it’s the Archduke who might want to erase your name, but that would make him appear weak, since the countess has openly backed you. As I told you, it’s nothing but a big game. A game of nobility.

“Where did the hunt take place?” Dallion asked.

“That’s something that wasn’t shared,” an echo replied. “It might have been in this province, it might have been outside of the empire. Only the original hunting party would know, but they’re all dead.”

That’s not ominous at all, Dallion thought. Two things were starting to become clear. The phoenix was one of the best guarded secrets in this world, and the countess hadn’t hired him to succeed. As far as she was concerned, it didn’t matter whether he failed or succeeded. The only interest she had was for him to survive long enough to cause as much ripples on the political scene as possible. It was looking as if in the end he’d either end up dead or have his name erased.

“If there’s anyone who might know, it’s his apprentices,” an echo of Vela added. “He definitely didn’t tell me anything more.”

“Thanks.” Dallion nodded.

In the end, it had come to that. It was possible that hunter dens in other provinces had more information, but that was a long shot. The alternative was to talk with his trainees, which, with Jiroh gone, meant Eury… even if she didn’t like talking on the topic.

“Why was his hunt a true hunt?” he went on. “Did he just get lucky?”

“No,” the gorgon echo replied. “His hunting party was told exactly where to go.”