Anagin Chronicles

Chapter 028. Invitation (1)

Spanich Dolos, who had been blown into a wall by the Witch’s magic, stared at the Witch’s severed head that had thud—fallen.

It had all happened in an instant.

Anagin stepped out from behind the shield, threw stones to provoke the Witch, and the Witch, instead, used that provocation to try to finish them all at once.

It was, in a way, remarkably skillful. Pretending to fall for the provocation just to counterattack.

Most likely, she wanted to end it quickly. She was too old to keep flying for long.

Yet he himself fell for it—approached rashly—and got beaten by the Witch… truly pathetic.

To aim to become a Hero, yet fail to read the intentions of a bird-brained creature.

But Anagin was different.

He looked like he had fallen for the Witch’s feint too, but shockingly, it had all been an act.

He pretended to fall for her acting and deliberately showed an opening to make her drop her guard.

The proof was that he acted hurt even though the wound on his side—cut by the blade of wind—had healed instantly.

‘A rare regeneration ability even among Gigants! And the ability to act according to the situation with such precision! …What is he? He looks about my age, too…’

Spanich had already heard the rumors of Anagin, but seeing it firsthand still left him in awe.

Just as the Witch swooped in to finish the job, Anagin grabbed the Witch’s feathers he had picked up earlier—and flung them all at once.

Contrary to expectations that they would be stopped by her magic, the feathers pierced her body.

He had exploited a loophole: feathers recognized as part of the Witch’s body were unaffected by her own magic.

It made perfect sense when explained, but was a nearly impossible idea to come up with in the heat of battle.

Anagin instantly exploited this blind spot and dragged the Witch—who had the advantage—down to the ground.

And that was it.

The Witch fell, rolled across the earth, and Anagin drew the Beast Cleaver from his waist and finished her.

Just before her head fell, the Witch screamed:

[Energy, Feathers, become an armor and protect me!!]

Her wing-arms hardened like steel in response to her spell.

But Anagin swung the Beast Cleaver as if it were nothing and sliced through both the wing-arm and the Witch’s neck.

So cleanly it was almost beautiful.

Spanich felt his mind grow faint.

He realized the reputation of the Hero of the Outskirts wasn’t exaggerated—if anything, it was understated.

He thought Anagin was just a Gigant who inherited unusually strong giant blood—but he was far beyond that.

Not merely physically strong, but possessing real experience and skill—the mark of a true hero.

The judgment and strength to topple a tower, the astonishing throwing ability, the acting that lured the Witch in, the logic to exploit a magical weakness, even the beautiful swordsmanship—he truly had everything.

Though brief, the impression was strong enough that a sliver of respect for Anagin took root in Spanich’s heart.

“Here, take this.”

Anagin checked the Witch’s head, then tossed it to Spanich.

Spanich stammered, unable to understand.

“W–why are you giving this to me…?”

“You said you needed proof you defeated the Witch, right?”

“Well, yes, but… you’re the one who defeated her.”

“I only came here to beat her up. I don’t need the head.”

“S–still, it would be good to keep it. If you bring it to the temple, the god will acknowledge your—”

“—Don’t need it.”

Anagin cut Spanich off.

“I don’t need that damn bird head. Keep it or toss it. It’s yours now. But the body, I’m taking that.”

Anagin spoke as if delivering an ultimatum.

At this point, Spanich Dolos had no way to refuse.

Spanich took out the magic tool Fresh Wrap from his Interspatial Bag.

A magical tool that keeps whatever it covers as fresh as possible.

He wrapped the Witch’s head with the cloth, placed it into his Interspatial Bag, then looked toward Anagin.

Anagin was speaking with the robed woman beside the Witch’s corpse.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s fascinating. The Witch turned her feathers into steel, so how did you cut them so cleanly…? Mister, you have good knife skills, don't you?”

“It’s the sword that’s good. It’s a Beast Cleaver.”

Anagin proudly showed the sword hanging at his waist.

Carved onto the blade were the words: “I strip the hides of beasts, carve their flesh, and cleave their bones.”

The sword performed exactly as the inscription said. He liked it.

“Harpies aren’t beasts, I’m telling you. Maybe she did enter the stage just before becoming a monster, though.”

“Doesn’t matter. I see her as a beast. Anyway, move aside."

Anagin pushed the robed woman aside, grabbed the Witch’s severed wing-arm, and began yanking out the feathers with his bare hands.

Like peeling off old grime, his rough, relentless motions sent the densely packed feathers scattering, leaving the Witch’s arm bare and exposed.

It looked like a giant plucked chicken—slightly grotesque.

But Anagin didn’t stop. He grabbed the other arm and the lower body and ripped out the feathers in the same rough manner.

“Pick these up.”

“Mister, I told you I only do laundry.”

“Damn it.”

The robed woman’s refusal disappointed him, but Anagin still gathered the plucked feathers into a large sack.

Then he drew the Beast Cleaver and brought it down on the chicken-like harpy’s limbs, chopping them apart.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Unhesitating strikes.

Anagin slit open the harpy’s stomach, drained the blood in one smooth motion, then stripped off the skin with a long, tearing pull.

He tossed the remaining entrails and flesh onto the ground.

Splatter!

Just like that, the aged tyrant who had ruled this region was reduced to a pile of meat in an instant.

An appalling sight, if anything. Spanich and the robed woman stared at Anagin.

He simply pulled out a cloth and wiped the blood from his hands as if it were nothing.

“What are you looking at?”

“…You’re skilled. Did you use to work as a butcher?"

“Pretty close. Whenever a beast harmed the village, I’d take it apart on the spot.”

“Heeeh… So what are you going to do with all this?”

The robed woman pointed at what had once been the Witch.

The plucked feathers, the wing-arms, the legs, the Witch’s wrinkled skin.

Anagin responded as if it were a stupid question.

“Put it in my Interspatial Bag.”

“It’ll rot if you just toss it in.”

“Then I’ll salt it.”

Anagin answered confidently—salt was among the loot he had picked up earlier.

“Hm, what a waste… If you salt it, the quality drops. Honestly, all of this is too much of a waste.”

The robed woman muttered as she looked at the collapsed tower.

Thanks to Anagin throwing the stone pillar and toppling the structure, they had avoided the trap and forced the Witch out at once, but in return, everything inside the tower had been lost.

The wealth the Witch had accumulated over the years, her collections—things the robed woman clearly understood the value of. A sigh escaped her.

“You were too reckless…”

“Then you should’ve suggested a better plan first. If you’re not going to do the work yourself, it’s better to shut up.”

Ignoring her complaints, Anagin reached into his Interspatial Bag, searching for the salt. It should be in here somewhere…

“Please accept this.”

Spanich handed Anagin a large cloth bundle.

Large enough to wrap an entire person. Anagin asked what it was.

“It’s a Fresh Wrap. It keeps whatever it covers as fresh as possible.”

“Is it alright to give me something like this?”

“I already received great help, and you even gave me the head, what’s one cloth compared to that? Please accept it.”

“In that case, gladly.”

Anagin accepted the wrap without hesitation, packed the Witch’s skin, wing-arms, legs with claws, and everything else into it, then stored it inside his Interspatial Bag.

“You want this?”

Anagin held out the bracelet that had been wrapped around the Witch’s wing-arm.

The robed woman blinked.

“Oh my, a gift?”

“More like something to keep you quiet.”

“…You know, just saying ‘yes’ would make us both feel better.”

“I don’t like that.”

The robed woman glared at him briefly, but still took the bracelet without complaint.

She fastened it around her arm.

Her tawny hand became fully exposed, with sharp, shiny nails that stood out strikingly.

Once everything was more or less taken care of, Spanich finally spoke. Updates are released by novel⁂fire.net

“I will visit the village the Witch ruled.”

“?”

“To inform them that the Witch is dead, and that they are freed from oppression and have become free people.”

Spanich spoke with a resolute voice, but Anagin felt no particular reaction.

He simply had no interest in the matter, and he even doubted whether they were truly oppressed… Above all, he doubted that the village would become truly free just because the Witch was gone.

Freedom wasn’t something gained by the disappearance of someone—it was something you seized for yourself.

Otherwise, it was nothing more than the master being absent for a while.

‘Not that it’s any of my business.’

Anagin gave a half-hearted nod and was about to leave. He was done with everything here anyway.

“Take care.”

“Would you consider coming with me?”

“Hm?”

“You should have your achievement acknowledged. You’re the one who practically defeated the Witch. Don’t you think people should know?”

“I’m not interested.”

“Fame does not belong to an individual.”

Spanich began speaking with a serious expression.

“On a small scale, fame seems like it belongs to one person, but on a larger scale, it belongs to everyone. When a hero rises and becomes known, the villains and monsters nearby become wary all on their own. It means you can save people you never even touch, just with fame alone.”

“Hmmm… Were you taught that at home?”

“Pardon? …Ah, yes!”

When Anagin hit the mark exactly, Spanich flinched in surprise.

“It is what the founding ancestor of our house, Dolos, said. Although calling him an ancestor, he’s just my grandfather.”

Spanich gave an awkward smile.

He had talked as if his family were an ancient lineage, but in truth, it was only a three-generation house—something he hadn’t meant to reveal.

“Ahem, ahem! Grandfather always said that those who protect others are true practitioners.”

“Impressive.”

Anagin nodded and expressed genuine admiration.

Hearing that from someone who didn’t seem the type to easily say such things made Spanich genuinely happy.

“Truly?”

“Yes. I like people like that, too. Those who help others.”

“Haha…”

“But I don’t intend to live like that. I’m a completely personal and selfish man. Becoming a practitioner is for that reason as well.”

“……”

Spanich froze, startled.

Not all practitioners were altruistic, but it was the first time he’d seen someone say it so bluntly.

To be honest, someone this shamelessly honest was more awe-inspiring than brazen.

Spanich even wondered why such a person wanted to become a practitioner at all.

But he couldn’t bring himself to ask directly. Such topics were sensitive among practitioners.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I really have no interest, so I’d rather you not drag me into it.”

“Th-then, would you consider coming to my home?”

As Anagin was about to leave, Spanich hurriedly suggested it.

Inviting him to his home.

It wasn’t because of any deep intention or plan.

He had simply blurted it out on impulse—he just wanted to invite Anagin.

Still, it didn’t seem like a bad idea. Networking with a renowned practitioner was also a form of cultivation.

Yes, not a bad idea at all.

“It’s embarrassing to say this myself, but my family is fairly well-known in the area. We know other practitioner families as well. Visiting might not be a bad idea. It may even become a good opportunity for you.”

Did the persuasion work? Anagin contemplated for a moment.

Then, after a long pause, he asked:

“I eat a lot, would that be alright?"