The sound of the wind howled in his ears.
Flat felt like he had been stuffed into a high-speed centrifuge; everything in his vision blurred into a flowing mess of color. The only thing he could clearly perceive was the hand clamped onto the back of his neck. It didn't choke him, yet it ensured that no matter how much he struggled, he couldn't break free.
"Wait, wait—too fast! It's really too fast! I'm gonna barf!"
Flat yelled at the top of his lungs, his voice torn to pieces by the wind.
"Endure it," Olga Marie's voice drifted down from above. "You can't even handle this much, and yet you said you wanted to come with me?"
"I-I didn't say it would be at this speed—!"
Before he could finish his sentence, they came to a sudden halt.
At that moment, the laws of physics let out an overburdened groan. If Flat were capable of thought right now, he would probably remember the word 'Inertia'. But he had no time for thought. Because his stomach, his internal organs, and everything inside his body that wasn't bolted down slammed hard against his back in that instant.
"Urgh—!"
Flat dry-heaved. Nothing came out, but the churning sensation made his vision go dark. He lay sprawled on the ground, taking several seconds to recover before he finally opened his eyes.
The air was dry, carrying the scent of sand and minerals unique to the Gobi. Propping himself up with his arms, Flat slowly sat up. He looked down at himself. His clothes were perfectly intact, without a single wrinkle. There wasn't even a scratch on his skin.
"Ah..."
Flat blinked, realization dawning on him.
"A Magical Force Field," Flat muttered to himself.
He remembered now. Olga Marie's own mass was indeed of a terrifying magnitude. The reason she hadn't caused a devastating impact on her surroundings was entirely because she constantly maintained a Force Field constructed of Magical Energy. That Force Field was like an invisible cloak wrapping around her, distorting the surrounding laws of physics to a certain extent.
And now, this Force Field extended to him as well. From the moment he was lifted by the back of his neck, that invisible barrier had been enveloping him, neutralizing the wind pressure from the high-speed movement and the impact of the sudden stop. That was why he hadn't been crushed into a meat patty or torn apart.
Olga Marie stood with her back to him, her silvery-white hair dancing wildly in the gale.
"Are you back among the living?" She glanced at him with a slight tilt of her head, her tone full of disdain. "Your physical constitution is quite poor. You can't even handle this measly speed?"
Flat looked up. "Well, I am human... humans are fragile."
"You came along despite knowing you're fragile."
"That's exactly why I had to come." Flat wiped the corner of his mouth and straightened up. "After all, the enemy might be after me. How could I let Miss Olga Marie face the danger alone?"
"Besides, my Berserker is very strong, too!"
Olga Marie stared at him for two seconds, then clicked her tongue and turned her head away.
"Suit yourself."
Flat chuckled, climbed up from the ground, and patted the dust off his pants before looking toward the opposite side.
They were currently located in a typical Gobi valley. On either side were steep canyon walls exposing grayish-brown rock strata, and in the middle was a wide, dried-up riverbed filled with gravel and sand. The sky was a pure, unadulterated azure, with the sun hanging high and casting a blinding white glare off the rock surfaces.
And on the opposite side, beneath the canyon wall about two hundred meters away, stood a person.
Flat narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the figure. It was a man. He stood over two meters tall with bulging muscles and skin of an unnatural dark red. He was bare-chested, wearing only a tattered Animal Skin around his waist. In his hand, he gripped an ancient, crudely crafted Longbow that was nearly as tall as he was.
His head was also tightly wrapped in a dark red Pelt covered in black Incantation Charms. The Pelt hung down from the top of his head, trailing all the way to his chest at both the front and back, swaying silently in the wind. The image was eerie and horrifying, like someone stepped out of a primitive sacrificial ritual.
There were no openings in the Pelt, yet Flat could feel a cold gaze piercing through the fabric, locking onto him and Olga Marie.
"Oh?" Olga Marie raised her chin, drawing out her voice. "And here I was wondering who it was—"
She stood with her hands on her hips, her silver hair moving on its own behind her despite the lack of wind.
"So it's just a pathetic wretch."
"What?" Olga Marie continued, the mockery in her tone nearly overflowing. "Have you been so contaminated by that pitch-black Mud that you've reached the point of discarding your own glory? Hahahaha!"
Her laughter echoed through the empty valley, bouncing off the canyon walls in layers of reverberation.
The man opposite her did not react. He stood as still as a stone statue, only the Pelt on his head fluttering slightly in the breeze.
"How tragic."
"Tragic enough that I don't even have the desire to lift a finger."
Flat stood behind her, looking at her back and then at the silent man opposite them. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something. He could feel that Olga Marie's current mood was very... off. It wasn't anger, nor was it bloodlust. It was as if she were watching an absurd play. It carried playfulness, pity, and a high-handed indifference.
At that moment, the man opposite them moved. He slowly raised the Longbow in his hand.
In an instant, every hair on Flat's body stood on end—the most primal instinct of a living being facing lethal danger. He didn't even see how the man notched the arrow; he only saw the bow drawn to its limit—
And then.
Swoosh—!
The sound of the air breaking was piercingly sharp. An arrow composed of Mana condensed upon the bowstring, dark red light dancing at its tip. A concentrated torrent of dark red Magical Energy tore through the air, trailing a visible vacuum wake as it shot straight toward the space between Olga Marie's eyebrows.
The speed was too fast. So fast that Flat's eyes simply couldn't keep up. He could only watch helplessly as that red light rapidly expanded in his vision—
And then.
Olga Marie raised her hand. Her movement was as casual as shooing a fly.
Slap.
A soft sound. That arrow of Mana, capable of piercing through a city wall, was effortlessly batted away by her palm. The arrow diverted its course, shooting diagonally into the side of the canyon wall.
BOOM—!!!
The rock face exploded. Rubble flew everywhere, dust rose, and a giant crater over ten meters in diameter appeared on the mountainside.
As for Olga Marie, she hadn't moved a single step. She merely flicked her hand as if shaking off some filth.
"Ah, well."
She lowered her hand and sighed, the disappointment in her tone thick enough to overflow.
"Is this all you've got?"
She tilted her head back slightly and narrowed her eyes, her amber pupils gleaming under the sunlight.
"How truly weak."
"You can't even make me get slightly serious—"
Her eyes slowly opened. Deep within her pupils, something flashed by.
Then, she called out that name:
"Heracles."