This Hero is Sleeping!

Chapter 36 35: Pictures Tell Stories

?Elric's feet soared through the ground. With every step, he kicked back the dust and the pebbles on the ragged paths. The screams of the people behind him filled his years, but after two years, he had managed to push his agility up to the level of an average adult.

Fighting them with just a bit of water wasn't going to work. He thought he could take them on one after the other while kicking back and pulling out some fantastic one-liners, but since they had prepared well, he had to crush that plan.

Luckily, there was water around.

Nope, there was a fuck ton of water around.

"Huehue… huehuehuehue!" Elric laughed as he thought of some more cool one-liners to strike them with.

"That evil person is laughing!"

"What a wretch!"

These water magic deniers, they were going to be fucked up.

Elric jumped to his side and dived into the rows of fields. Long blades of maize corps stretched out in between the fields as many other crops filled the sides.

With his head almost fitting inside the length of the crops, Elric shuffled through the farm and took a closer path to the river.

"That demon's taking our yield!!"

Did these guys have to complain about everything?

Elric was almost distracted by a cool blue bug feeding on the crops but managed to collect himself on time. He passed by the line of maize and peeked backward. All the chasers were stuck in the crops, and since he had taken many turns, none of them were on his tail.

A smirk left Elric and he rushed again. After crossing another field of a root crop, he skidded to a stop.

His feet pivoted and he smiled as the group of people finally came closer.

"For the divine beast!!"

"Haha… playtime's over."

A ripple spread through the air, forcing the villagers to stop in front of the auburn-haired beauty.

The beauty himself simply raised his hands in the air.

"Behold, the rage of the God of Water."

Behind him, stood the lake.

***

Claude's muffled footsteps continued as he slowly followed the old man of the village. His pursuit could have ended ages ago, but he decided to see what the old man was up to.

"Should I give them Elric…?" Claude thought, his hand resting against the stump of a tree as he sat on its branch. In front of him, the old man was rushing through the jagged paths, a hood of brown on his head.

It would be interesting to see exactly what they were up to. Claude didn't want to risk it with the snake, but he was sure he could handle the villagers before they could harm his friend.

Well, that was a thought that came too late.

The sound of water splashing resounded from the sides. Claude slightly turned to his side, an enormous pillar of water streaming out into the skies.

The old man seemed to have noticed it too as he stopped in his tracks. Then, he quickly shook his head and rushed ahead again.

Claude ignored the fight and followed behind the old man.

Eventually, he was led back into the abandoned manor that now served as the office building for the town.

"Interesting…"

His people were facing big trouble, yet he went inside this place.

The old man scrambled as he unlocked the paddle and shoved the door open. Loud thuds echoed through and out of the mansion with each booming step.

"Go, follow~"

"Shush…"

Claude hissed the Lord of Shadows shut and closed his eyes. He channeled his mana toward his ears and expanded his senses.

Mana resonated with the world. The one and only force of nature. And those who could control it were people who could control nature.

Claude enhanced the 'nature' of his hearing. Like a ripple spreading through a silent lake, his senses expanded all over the mansion.

'Haah'

Loud heaves.

'Tak Tak.'

The sound of hands slapping against the walls.

'Thud thud thud'

The rumbling of the staircases as feet clashed against the stairs.

"He's at the top floor." Claude slowly opened his eyes and looked ahead again.

In a swift move, he took a long run-up and jumped. His feet took to the skies as he landed on the fence of the mansion, and then kicked off again.

Claude reached out and grabbed the eaves above the windows of the first floor. Soft, quiet, his body dangled in the air before he clasped his other hand down too, and pushed himself up.

Slowly, he climbed over the building and reached the edge of the top floor. Claude pulled off his cloak and pressed it against the window before breaking it in with his elbows. He undid the hatch and jumped inside.

Claude's eyes flitted over the room he had entered.

Tiny spiders danced around in their webs illuminated by the moonlight. Dust bunnies scuttled all over the creaky wood boards while the elaborate wallpapers seemed to be falling off from the walls.

He moved over, his hands grazing over the rotting bed and the closet with its cutesy carvings.

Claude's eyes narrowed. The old man was in a room on the same floor, but this one caught his eye.

"A child's room?" He thought as he gazed at the different toys. Dolls with their heads snapped off, plushies with mold sticking to their cloth. Drops of water dripped from one end of the room at all times, as if counting its days of abandonment.

Claude's eyes fell on a few sheets of paper splayed over the bed. A layer of dust hiding it.

p?nd?`no??1--?o? He gently picked up the sheets and brought them in front of his eyes. The browned, jaded sheets were rough to the touch.

"Drawings…"

Stick figures etched with crayons.

A young girl with blonde hair, a lady holding her hand, and a stick man next to them. Behind the trio stood a house that bore a strangely intangible resemblance to the place he stood in.

Claude switched the pages, checking the different drawings.

Some in a flower garden, others with a dog.

All of them had the same blonde girl, and all of them were set in someplace inside the village.

Childish, young paintings told a story. They told the story of a young blonde girl living with her parents. In a far-off village, the young girl played in the fields of the farmers or with the fish of the rivers. Sometimes she would visit the streets with her mother and other times she would spend the day in the fireplace with her father.

A peaceful, young life of a child. The child that should have lived in this manor.

And then, he saw.

A page with dozens of stick figures.

Haphazard lines of red scribbled over the image, as dozens and dozens of figures circled the house, their hands holding stakes and ploughs.

Claude's mind rushed back to the sight he had seen not long ago. The ghost girl with blonde hair.

"My dear Claude, did you notice?"

The Lord of Shadows spoke up, his voice a suppressed giggle.

Claude felt a deep sense of unease climbing up his stomach and gripping at his throat. Urgently, he flipped the pages back.

The rivers were drying up.

The fish were running out.

The flowers were rotting away.

With each drawing that happy child made, the world around her was losing its color.

Claude pursed his lips and looked away. Then, his eyes fell on the final drawing. It was incomplete.

One of the child's mother and father. But before the child could draw the father's face, drops of dark red had scattered on it while the line of the crayon stretched outside.

"Blood," Claude muttered.

Frowning, he shifted his gaze toward the door of the room.

More.

A dried-up puddle. And a few buzzing flies.

Not even stench remained in this place, but the signs of death weren't gone.

He could see clearly the head of a man, the skull that was wiped clean.

"What the fuck man… I didn't come here for this…"

Deep discomfort filled Claude's chest.

That damned old man, what was he up to?

Claude dropped the drawings in his hands and shoved the door of the room open.

Rustlings rang out from the room adjacent to this while the old man's low laugh spread through the air.

Claude's feet pushed him on their own as he reached the next room over. There, under the grim moonlight, he could see.

The old man with his hunched back, reached his hands out on the table.

"Damned snake. I am bringing… hehehe… I am hehe… bringing your mommy…ehehehe."

And on the table.

Was the ripped head of a blonde woman.