The Obsessive Regressor of The Academy

44. The Nameless Village (2)

Fortunately, Asel’s fire had not spread to the kidnapped people. Rescued by the group, they repeatedly expressed their gratitude, bowing deeply.

“Thank you, thank you!”

“It’s nothing. We only did what we had to do.”

Saya and Warren took charge of dealing with the survivors. Asel and Quill began searching the charred corpses and the bandits’ hideout, looking for anything of value.

“…Is he really just a mage who holes up in his study? He seems awfully familiar with this sort of thing.”

Quill asked, rummaging through the corpse’s pockets. Asel chuckled softly and tossed him a retrieved coin pouch.

“I used to live like this when I was younger. Not exactly fond memories.”

The slums were a world of the strong preying on the weak. If you were strong, you took; if you were weak, you lost. Asel had survived in the midst of it all, like a hyena. Searching the dead for anything worthwhile, living as a low-level gofer for a drug organization, receiving mere scraps.

Thanks to that, he was immune to corpses. The smell of burning was a little much, but even that was better than the stench of decay. Asel casually dropped the corpse he was holding and brushed the ashes from his hands.

There wasn’t much to be gained from the bandits’ hideout. There was a little money, but even that wasn’t much.

‘Well, what kind of wealth would bandits hiding in a place like this even have?’

Even though it was part of the Empire, this was a mountain on the outskirts. Not exactly suitable for banditry. They probably kidnapped travelers or outsiders entering the mountain, selling them as slaves or devouring them to survive.

Of course, maintaining a livelihood in such a way was absurd, but human trafficking and cannibalism occurred more frequently than one might think. It was simply that it wasn’t widely known.

In places where the arm of the law was weak, acts of inhumanity were always liable to occur. Just as devil worshippers and criminals thrived, that much was the same in every nation.

It felt like the world had gone mad long ago. Asel thought, pushing aside the tent flap as he emerged from the hideout.

“Find anything?”

Quill asked. Assel shook his head, tossing him a leather pouch heavy with silver coins.

“That’s all I’ve got.”

“Is it?”

Quill stashed the pouch haphazardly, then rejoined Assel and the others. Saya, who was handing out water and rations to the survivors, called out to them.

“These folk, they say they’re from the village that sent the request. Claim they were gathering herbs when they were taken.”

“If they’re villagers, why not have them guide us?”

“Yes, and they’ve agreed to come along. That alright?”

With no reason to refuse, Assel and Quill nodded in unison. Saya, looking pleased, returned to the survivors.

Before long, they were marching again. This time, the rescued villagers took the lead, with Warren and Assel close behind. Quill, as Saya’s guard, brought up the rear. He listened intently to the sounds of the wilderness, his spear resting on his shoulder.

“Know anything about doppelgangers?”

Warren asked. The survivors turned to him, their eyes blank with incomprehension.

These were folk who lived not just in the countryside, but in a village cut off from the outside world. They might know simple basics, but knowledge of magical beasts, their traits, and their ecosystems was unlikely. Warren, realizing his mistake, dismissed the question as nothing important.

Silence fell again. Occasionally, a hungry bear or wolf would show itself, only to be summarily dispatched by Assel and Warren’s magic. Otherwise, nothing impeded their progress. They arrived at the village less than thirty minutes after dealing with the bandits.

“Good to have locals, that’s for sure.”

Quill muttered. Everyone agreed.

“Papa!”

“Husband! Where have you been?”

As they entered the village, the families of the kidnapped embraced the survivors with unrestrained joy. The party standing behind felt a little awkward, but Assel paid no mind, surveying the village.

The familiar reek of livestock and all manner of refuse hung in the air. A smell like this was what Assel remembered from the village where he had lived as a boy, before he ended up in the slums. It wasn’t a place with good memories, but he couldn’t help but recall it whenever he came to a place like this.

“We are honored by your presence.”

Lost in thought, a white-haired elder approached the group. He had the bearing of a village headman. He bowed deeply towards Assel, who was openly observing the surroundings.

“I heard you saved our people. I hardly know how to repay you…”

“We didn’t do it expecting repayment, so it’s fine.”

Saya replied. She stood face to face with the elder and began to speak.

“Even so…”

“If you insist, perhaps you could lend us an empty house to stay in for a while?”

“An empty house, you say?”

“Yes, we need a place to use while we resolve the request.”

“The request? You mean…?”

Instead of answering the elder’s question, Saya pulled the request from her pouch. The elder’s face lit up as he saw it. He led the group towards his own house as if they were royalty.

The timber lodge, twice the size of any other dwelling in the village, exuded a certain authority. More so than one might expect, considering the cheap trinkets and baubles adorning the interior. Mere trifles to the newcomers, but for the villagers, who rarely laid eyes on such things, they were enough to establish dominance.

“Please, take a seat,” the village chief gestured towards a sofa. The party, seeing no reason to refuse, settled onto the stiff cushions. The chief sat opposite them, and began. “I assume you have reviewed the details of our request.”

“Yes. We believe this is the work of a doppelganger.”

“A doppelganger, you say? Perhaps you could enlighten me as to what…?”

Saya kindly explained the concept. The chief listened, nodding slowly as if something resonated within him. “Indeed… the sudden appearances are not limited to those who have passed. There have been instances of living villagers manifesting in places they could not possibly be.”

“And where might these places be?”

“…It is difficult to explain verbally. I believe I should guide you myself.” The chief rose from his seat. Rather than moving as one, the party decided to split into two groups for efficiency. Warren and Quill would gather information about the doppelgangers from the villagers, while Saya and Asel would accompany the chief.

He led them to the precipice of a steep cliff. Not particularly high, but a fall would certainly break a leg or two. The chief stood at the edge and pointed downwards.

“The most recent sighting occurred here. A young man named Nom, one of our villagers, claimed to have seen his deceased wife. Startled, he approached her, and she bit into his shoulder.”

“…I see.”

“He is a hunter, always carrying a knife, so he fought back. Both bled, and the…doppelganger, as you call it, fled.”

“What became of this Nom?” Asel inquired. The chief answered with a hint of sorrow, “He passed away some time ago. Sickened and weakened until disease took him.”

The saliva and blood of a doppelganger carries venom. If Nom had been bitten and not received proper treatment, his death was all but assured.

Asel made a quiet noise, his gaze intently focused on the ground where the chief stood.

Faint, but present, bloodstains. The cliff face was rock, not soil, and so the red marks lingered, though faded with time. One would barely notice without a close inspection.

It was enough. Asel called Saya closer, who had been holding down her windswept hair. She hurried to his side.

“Did you find something?”

“Blood traces. Bring out the magic tool.”

“The magic tool?” Saya repeated, yet readily pulled a small item from her pouch.

A compass-like magic tool that tracked the owner of blood it consumed. Its effectiveness was undeniable, but it required the blood or bodily fluid to be in liquid form. It was useless with dried, lingering traces such as these.

Asel knew this well. Yet, he had a reason for asking Saya to produce the tool.

“If the form of the blood is the problem, then we shall return it to liquid, shall we not?”

“…What? How could you even suggest such a thing?”

Saya asked, an incredulous look on her face. Instead of answering, Asel grinned and reached for the bloodstains on the floor. He channeled his magic, shaping Elena’s blood art, the one he’d seen in the entrance exam, into a spell.

Asel hadn’t forgotten Elena’s technique. Though he hadn’t studied it in detail, borrowing a fragment of that power was easily within his reach.

*Huum.*

Following Asel’s will, his magic altered, taking on the properties of a vampire’s.

Not just any vampire’s, mind you. Direct line of the progenitor. Magic akin to a pureblood vampire, born without impurities. The incantation assembled itself accordingly, and Asel conjured the necessary effect on the spot.

“…Just who are you?”

Saya’s eyes widened as she realized what Asel was doing.

A power permitted only to a specific race. An ability impossible for others to use, let alone understand. Asel not only mimicked their unique qualities and nature, but elevated them into magic.

This was different from blood magic. That unsettling magic only manipulated blood through incantations. Asel, however, was transmuting his magic to resemble that of a vampire. A feat possible only through his extreme talent with magic.

“If vampires knew, they’d try to kill you.”

Ignoring the meaningless mutterings beside him, Asel separated the doppleganger’s blood from the other’s, both stained on the floor. He returned the separated blood into droplet forms, and activated his spell.

The dominion over blood of those known as the Night Clan recognised no species. The doppleganger’s blood bloomed without issue, reappearing above the cliff. The other’s blood remained a stain.

“Haa…”

Asel lifted the transformed blood droplets into the air and infused them into Saya’s magical artifact. Saya, having composed herself, looked down at the device.

*Drddddd!!!*

The compass needle containing the blood spun wildly. The embedded incantation activated, and a reddish eye in the center of the compass bloomed with a faint light. Various tracking spells, born of blood magic, squirmed, analysing the doppleganger’s blood and trying to locate its position.

Finally, the spinning needle came to a stop, pointing in a single direction.

Saya looked up at Asel.

“Are we going right away?”

“We should return to the village first. Get the others’ opinions. And from what I can tell from the eye inscribed on the compass, there is no worry about the compass shutting down unless the magical tool directly encounters the target.”

“That’s a relief then.”

Saya told the village chief they were returning, and he nodded, leading the way.

They arrived back at the village soon after. Warren and Quill, who had been gathering information from the villagers, had also finished their tasks.

All that remained was to decide when to hunt the doppleganger.

To hold the meeting, Saya requested the empty house she had asked the village chief about. The village chief gladly provided them with the vacant house.

It wasn’t large, but it wasn’t small either. The four of them sat around the wooden table, sharing the information they had gathered.

In reality, most of the information was useless. Aside from the blood Asel had obtained, there were no major breakthroughs. It wasn’t necessarily Walter and Quill’s fault, but rather that the stagnant village simply had no new information to offer. All they could offer were details already present in the request form.

Honestly, it didn’t matter. Now that he had the blood, finding the doppleganger was only a matter of time.

The only thing left was to decide when to begin the hunt.

Saya started by asking the others for their opinions.

“What do you think we should do? Rest up today and leave in the morning? Or head out right away?”

“I think we should leave right away.”

Quill was the first to answer. He chewed on a piece of jerky, eyes fixed on the still-lit sky through the window.

“Doesn’t seem much point in dawdling. We rested plenty during the carriage ride, and now that we know the location, no need to hesitate. Experience tells me it’s best to hit these things hard and fast, kill ’em quick.”

“I agree. I don’t want to be stuck in this town any longer than necessary either.”

Warren stroked his spirit and clicked his tongue.

“Frankly, this isn’t a pleasant village. I don’t know why, but the longer I’m here, the creepier it feels.”

“Hmm… Asel, what about you?”

At Saya’s question, Asel paused, considering, then nodded.

“I’m fine with it. I have plenty of mana.”

“Alright. Then let’s leave immediately. Everyone gather their things.”

Saya said this as she carefully packed the necessary items into her backpack. Asel watched her for a moment, then stood up, staring out the window.

*Warren said the longer he was here, the creepier it felt.*

Was it just his imagination that the statement bothered him so?

Spiritualists share, to some extent, the preferences of the spirits they contract, favouring clean and pure locations. Thanks to this, they could identify and avoid unsettling or tainted places in advance.

Warren’s contracted spirit was a lower grade, so his senses weren’t extraordinarily sharp, but he should still be able to distinguish things to a degree.

Yet he said it felt creepy. Asel had been sensing it vaguely, too, but wasn’t ready to commit to a certainty.

Still, he should remain vigilant.

“…”

He glanced at the setting sun, then tucked a dagger he’d brought into his coat.

So far, it was proceeding smoothly.

So far.