-…Hhng…
A faint, barely-there sound. It was too soft to tell whether it was rustling underbrush or the cry of an animal.
With every step he took, the sound grew nearer. Banteon gripped the self-defense weapon tucked inside his chest pocket.
He’d already entered the outer perimeter of the Center, so if it was a person, odds were it was someone from the Center. Still, he had to consider other possibilities.
The Royal Esper Center was the heart of the kingdom’s entire power structure—it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say all their forces were concentrated here. To date, no one had ever successfully infiltrated it. But for that very reason, aside from the lodgings where Guides stayed, the place was practically unguarded. If someone were aiming for a weak point, there was no better place than this.
“…Ugh…”
The sound grew louder. It was now unmistakably human. For a brief moment, he wondered if someone was sneaking off for a tryst—but that notion vanished almost immediately.
No matter how oversexed someone might be, who would willingly choose a damp, fog-laced thicket for that? Especially when the Center was filled with plenty of cozy indoor spaces. There was no reason to be out here in the wet underbrush.
“Who… are you?”
As he got closer, the other person seemed to notice him, croaking the question in a rough, gravelly voice. Thankfully, they didn’t appear to be in any shape to cause harm.
Banteon returned the weapon to his chest and stepped toward the source of the voice. Once he was close enough for the figure to come into view, he spotted a man of formidable build sprawled out in the grass.
One glance was enough to see he was in bad shape. The unstable currents of energy swirling violently around the man pressed down on Banteon like a heavy weight. He didn’t even have to lift a finger for the air around him to feel aggressively oppressive.
Just my luck. Like the day wasn’t already going to hell.
Banteon cursed silently—something he rarely did—and stood before the collapsed man. The man’s features, which had been obscured by the churning aura, finally came into clear view. His hair was disheveled, and he wore nothing but sleepwear.
How he’d ended up wandering to the outskirts of the Center in his pajamas was a mystery, but it didn’t seem like he’d done so of his own will.
After asking who Banteon was, the man had apparently lost consciousness. Even when Banteon approached, he didn’t so much as twitch. Though the moonlight was faint, his silhouette was distinct enough to recognize who he was without doubt.
“Delroz.”
The main cause of 80% of Banteon’s recent headaches.
Just like the rumors claimed, the man was ridiculously handsome. Even lying down, his broad shoulders, chiseled jaw, and high nose bridge stood out. The gossip hadn’t exaggerated.
As the head of a mercenary unit, Banteon had expected him to look rough and unkempt. But if no one told you who he was, you’d easily mistake him for someone of noble blood. He looked like a finely carved obsidian statue.
Still bitter from earlier, when he’d made unexpected contact with an Esper and paid for it dearly, Banteon grabbed a nearby stick and poked Delroz’s head with it. Though his head wobbled under the pressure, he didn’t stir.
Now what the hell am I supposed to do?
If he followed his instincts, he’d just leave the bastard here—whether he froze to death or dehydrated, it wasn’t his problem. But it wasn’t that simple. Banteon folded his arms and stared down at Delroz.
The raging aura threatened to erupt into a full-blown outburst. If it happened, Delroz would be overwhelmed by his own power and go berserk. And when he did, the entire Center nearby would be dragged into the chaos.
Off in the distance, the Center still had lights on. It wasn’t just Esper Guides in there—countless employees worked at the facility. At any given time, tens of thousands of people were on site.
Banteon knew all too well what the rampage of an SS-Rank Esper could bring. Pretending not to see this and walking away had never been an option. Irritated at the hassle, Banteon scratched his head.
“Seriously, what a pain in the ass.”
Just existing is a public nuisance. Banteon grumbled but still sat down beside Delroz. The wet grass soaked through his pants around the knees, and he frowned at the dampness against his skin, but he settled into place.
Just a little. Just enough.
He wasn’t here to send good vibes or wish Delroz peace and wellness. Even if he had power to spare, he had no desire to waste it on someone like this. He was only aiming to stop the guy from going berserk—nothing more.
The moment he brought his hand near, Delroz’s energy clung to his arm like it had been waiting for him. Like a desperate rush toward an oasis in the heart of a desert, the violent surge made Banteon’s mouth harden into a grim line.
All this without even making contact.
A bitter hiss slipped between clenched teeth. He steeled his mind, which was starting to go fuzzy, and began calming the aura, bit by bit. Guiding an unconscious Esper was dangerous. Especially one of this caliber—one wrong move, and he could be swallowed whole.
Without touching him, Banteon stopped his hand just a finger’s width away and took a slow, steady breath.
Standard guiding took three forms: surface contact, mucous membrane contact, and as a last resort, sexual intercourse. Banteon didn’t want to do any of them.
But there was one more method—a nonstandard one. Something only Banteon, who could actually see Esper energy, could perform.
Espers calmed down simply by being in the same space as their matched Guide. The effectiveness varied by compatibility rate, but the impact was measurable. If he could direct the Esper’s energy using that mechanism, it could produce a guiding effect without any physical contact.
Thankfully, their compatibility rate wasn’t bad. Even without touching, Delroz’s energy began to settle, little by little.
At this rate, direct contact would probably stabilize him much faster—but Banteon still had no intention of laying a hand on him.
Touching an Esper in the middle of a rampage was suicide. Even if that weren’t the case, who knew what Delroz would do if he woke up and saw a male Guide near him—especially one who’d dared approach while he was unconscious? Just because he’d saved a man on the brink of death didn’t mean he wouldn’t end up the one dying instead.
Just until he regains consciousness. Just until this chaotic energy settles enough to avoid a rampage—that’s all Banteon intended to do. If someone found him in the morning, they’d take him back to the Center. If he woke up before then, he could walk back on his own. Whatever happened after that wasn’t Banteon’s responsibility.
The energy that had once surged like it would overturn the heavens was now transforming—no longer a storm, but a restless tide, flowing like a still lake.
When he noticed Delroz’s fingers twitching ever so slightly, Banteon straightened his back. At this point, it looked like the risk of rampage had passed, even if he left him here.
His body ached from remaining bent for so long. A faint dizziness swept over him. Calming such intense energy—even without direct contact—was no easy feat.
As he staggered to his feet, Delroz’s hand suddenly shot out and gripped his wrist with crushing strength.
“Gah—!”
The energy that had been gently flowing from Banteon’s body was instantly sucked out. Like a tub’s stopper being pulled free, it spiraled out of him with violent force. In a blink, the spiritual vessel that had only been rippling was completely drained.
His vision blurred, and a dizzying heat swirled in his skull. The world spun; sky and earth melted together.
Barely clinging to consciousness, Banteon shoved a hand into his chest pocket and felt for the hard, smooth surface. A compact self-defense device he’d brought just in case. A mini stun gun designed to knock out a target with a high-voltage electric shock.
‘Would it even work on an SS-rank?’
There was no time to hesitate. He pressed the button and jabbed the device into Delroz’s neck.
Bzzzzzt.
The sound of sizzling flesh was followed by a faint convulsion. The grip on Banteon’s wrist loosened.
Banteon quickly retrieved the device and scrambled to his feet.
“Ugh…”
A low groan rose from Delroz behind him. Banteon crawled toward the scattered clothes and personal items nearby, gathering them in a hurry.
“You… Gui…de…”
Delroz’s voice was growing clearer by the second.
Creepy bastard. Even at full output, the stun gun had only bought him a few seconds.
Banteon covered his face with his long, bothersome hair. Even if Delroz had momentarily regained his senses, it’d still take time before he could move properly. He needed to escape in that window.
But moving was just as difficult for Banteon.
His body, drained far too severely, refused to cooperate despite knowing how urgently he needed to get away. He forced one staggering step after another. A glance over his shoulder showed Delroz had once again fallen still—likely unconscious again.
Gritting his teeth, Banteon dragged his exhausted body forward. Sweat-soaked bangs clung to his forehead. The sight of the Guide wing, where his quarters were located, finally came into view—and with it, he exhaled the breath he’d been holding.
The dark sky had already begun to mix with a pale red glow. Dawn was breaking.
“…Ha.”
A sigh escaped him involuntarily. Back in his room, Banteon groaned in frustration and tore the wig from his scalp. The moment it left his head, it changed color and drooped, limp. He tossed it aside.
That had been too damn close. If he hadn’t managed to break free from Delroz’s grip, he might not have made it through the night alive.
He shed his outerwear and tugged off the bothersome pants. He ripped off the visual interference device as well—only then did the tension begin to leave his body.
Without even changing into proper sleepwear, he collapsed onto the bed. It was unthinkable behavior for him under normal circumstances, but right now, he didn’t have the strength to even sip water.
With the last sliver of awareness, he reached up and turned off the overhead light.
As the bright light blinked into darkness, the consciousness he had barely held onto finally slipped away, swallowed into black.
