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Infinite Mage Chapter 156: The Second Encounter (4)

Chapter 156: The Second Encounter (4)

Amy‌‌‍ realized that Freeman​​⁠ was more tactical​‌ than she had‍⁠⁠ expected.

With⁠ the mastery of‍‍ Schema and Compound​‍ Eye, even a 3 percent Anti-Magic‍⁠ was enough to‍ neutralize her sniping.‌

She‍⁠ could fight at⁠⁠ all distancesclose, mid,‍‌ and long.

“Have‍‍ you been hiding​‌ there?”

Holding‌‌​ a gun loaded‍‍ with Magic Bullets,⁠​ Freeman soared into​‌ the air. The‍‍⁠ process of stepping​ on trees to⁠‍ dominate the distance​‍‍ was so rapid‍‌ it seemed disjointed.‌‌

The​‌ ensuing battle turned‍​‌ into a chase.​⁠

Despite⁠‌‌ her continuous attempts‌ to snipe him,‍​ hitting Freeman proved​‌​ elusive. No matter​ how much she​‍ backed up her‌ Red Eye, a 3 percent margin⁠‍ of error always‍‍ crept in.

Getting⁠‌ up to mid-range‌‌​ seemed feasible, but‍⁠ it essentially meant‍​ entering Freemans turf.⁠‍⁠

“There’s‌​‌ no other way.”⁠

Amy​‍​ stubbornly continued to‌ snipe, but Freeman,​‍​ who didnt even‍‍ need to dodge,​ was almost yawning.⁠‌

Whatever⁠ method she thought​⁠​ up, it didnt‌⁠‌ matter. Her snipes​ would miss, and⁠ if she approached,⁠⁠ he could just‌ evade with his⁠ Compound Eye.

“I‌ heard that a mages mental strength​‌ has its limits…”‌‌

In‌​ the early stages‌‌ of combat, a mage who didnt‌‌⁠ need to reload‌ had an advantage,⁠‌‌ but over time,​‍ the momentum was‍‌‌ bound to shift⁠ towards the gunner.⁠⁠​

As​​ the speed of‌‌ her Flame Strikes‌‌​ slowed, Freeman began​​ to actively hunt‍​⁠ his prey.

Amy⁠‌‌ was out of‍ mental strength to‌⁠ cast any more⁠ spells. It felt‍ as if her‌​ mind was bleaching‍⁠‍ out. The Omniscience‍ and Omnipotence were‍ not sticking.

Ha.​‍‍ Ha.

Yet,‍‍‍ Amy squeezed out‌ every last bit⁠ of mental strength‌ she had. And‌ finally, she cast⁠​ one last Flame​ Strike.

Freeman​​ watched the approaching‍‌ magic calmly. True‌‌ to his expertise⁠⁠⁠ in ballistics, he‍ had already noticed‌ the strike was⁠‌‍ minutely off target.‍

He​​‌ raised his two‍⁠ guns and hooked‌‌ his index fingers‌‍‌ on the triggers,⁠⁠ confident she couldn’t⁠‌‍ even maintain her‌‍ Fly magic anymore.⁠ It seemed safe⁠⁠ to think of‌⁠‍ her as an​‌ ordinary girl now.​⁠⁠

Bang!​⁠‍

In‌​ that moment, a powerful shock struck⁠​⁠ Freeman’s temple. For‍ the first time,‌ emotion showed on⁠‍‌ his face.

Confusion‌ and awe.

Surely,‍‌ the Flame Strike‌‍⁠ had deviated by‍⁠ 10 meters from​ the intended target.‍​ How then could‌ it have impacted​‍​ him?

His⁠⁠ thoughts went no‌⁠ further. Struck in‌​‌ a vital spot,​⁠​ Freeman crashed to‌ the ground with‍ a thud, sprawling​ out as flames‍‌​ began to rise⁠ from his face.​​⁠

Marsha‌‍

Clinging‌​​ painfully to a tree as she‍​ descended to the‌⁠‌ ground, Amy couldnt‌⁠ help but collapse‌‍​ onto her buttocks.‌

The⁠ fatigue was immense,‌‌ far surpassing the‌ weariness of an‍ ordinary person staying‌‌‍ up for four​‌ nights straight.

Yet,‌​ the feeling wasnt⁠⁠‌ all that bad‍​ since her risky​ gamble had paid​​ off.

Huff!​​‍ Huff! Done. I won.

The‌‍‍ range of Amy’s‌​⁠ last attack in‌‌ Sniper Mode was‌‌ actually no more⁠‌​ than 100 meters.‍‌‍

If⁠⁠⁠ Freeman hadnt approached,⁠‌‌ the Flame Strike‍‌​ would have vanished​ before even reaching​‍‌ its target.

But​ he had charged⁠‌‌ in, and that‍ was his critical‌​ mistake. The 200⁠ meters Amy had⁠⁠ relinquished in distance​​ were countered with‌‍ a Deviate Formation‍​ of the Four‌‌ Way Formation.

Such​​⁠ a maneuver ensured‌‌ the Flame Strike,‌‍‌ held in its⁠ own zone, could⁠ change its trajectory​⁠‌ and strike Freeman.​⁠‌

With‍​​ this method, even‌ 3 percent Anti-Magic⁠​ couldnt evade the‍‍ attack.

If​‍ before they were​​ throwing stones, this‍‍ time it was‌‍ as if she‍‌​ had grabbed one‍​ and struck directly.​‌​

Anyway,​‍ Im glad I won. It would‍ have been embarrassing‌ to die and‍‍‍ not even make‌⁠‍ it to heaven.‌

As‍⁠​ her friends were‌​ likely still embroiled‍ in their own‌‍ battles, Amy had‍ no leisure to​ recover her strength.‍‍ She trudged towards‍​⁠ the cliff with​‍ a stooped posture.‍

***⁠

Freemans‌‍ face was burning,‌​‌ yet he made‍⁠ no sound.

From​ the moment he​⁠ regained consciousness from‍​‌ the pain of‍⁠‍ his burns, only⁠​⁠ one thought occupied​ his mind.

I need to get​‌​ to Marsha.

Despite‍ the flames continuously⁠ scorching his skin,​ Freemans body was⁠⁠ regenerating at a matching pace.

Caught‌ between the dual‍‍ extremes of pain‌‌ and relief, Freeman‌ recalled his younger‌​ days spent with‌​​ Marsha.

Eh?​ Its Freeman. The​‍ cowardly Freeman.

Unibrow​ Freeman! Why arent​⁠ you crying yet?​ Cry, I tell⁠‍ you!

Freeman‌ was always the⁠⁠⁠ butt of jokes‌‍ because he was​‍ a coward.

Of⁠ course, no one​ is born a coward. He believed​⁠ his severely sloped⁠​ unibrow was the⁠‌​ cause of all⁠ his troubles.

Stop​ it. It hurts,⁠‍‍ he protested.

Then⁠‍​ cry about it.‌ If you cry,⁠‌‍ Marsha will come.‌⁠​ Pretty Marsha, that⁠ is.

Dont⁠ bully Marsha!

Stupid,‌​⁠ Marshas the boss‍‌‌ around here, whod‌ bully her? Plus,‌ shes fun! Anyway,‍‍‍ just start crying⁠⁠ already. Eh, eh.​⁠

Aaaaah!‌ Marsha!

Unable‌‌‍ to hold back⁠​ his tears, Freeman‌ fled.

The‌​ children were desperate​‍‌ to make him⁠‌‍ cry. They would‍‌⁠ poke his face​​ with branches as‍ a matter of⁠‍‌ course, and sometimes‌‍ even throw stones​​​ when they were​⁠​ particularly harsh.

Hey!​ Tell Marsha to‌‍ come here! Were​‌ going to play⁠‌ war.

The‌‌‌ children cried Freeman‌​ to bring Marsha⁠ out to play.‌ Yet, despite this,‍​⁠ Freeman always ran⁠⁠ to Marshas house.‌

It​ was the only‍‌ place the bullied​‍ boy had to‍‌‌ go.

Each⁠​ time, he felt⁠⁠​ the loneliness of‍‍‍ her home. Her‍‍ father, a mercenary,‍‍‍ didnt even bother‌​ to furnish the​ house. When he‍⁠ went on jobs,‍​ he would stay‍‌​ out all night⁠​ and upon returning,‍⁠‍ he would invariably‍‌⁠ beat Marsha.

Opening​‍⁠ the door to‌​‌ Marshas room revealed‌‍⁠ a starkly empty‌​ space. A leftover⁠ piece of bread​⁠ and a glass​ of milk occupied‍‍ the only corner‌ in a room⁠‌‌ devoid of a bed or desk.‍

Marsha,⁠‍⁠ hic, the kids‌​⁠ hit me.

Marsha,‌‌ always with her⁠⁠ hair cut short⁠ but beautiful nonetheless,‍⁠ greeted Freeman with‌⁠ a warm smile.​‌‌

You‍‌ never get tired⁠ of being bullied,​⁠‍ huh? Why do‍‌​ you even hang​‍​ out with those⁠⁠​ kids?

Its‍​​ not by choice.‍ They find me‍ and bully me.‍

Alright.⁠ Ill go talk⁠‍‌ to them. Where‍​‍ are they?

Freeman,‍ wiping his nose,‍‌ pleaded,

Cant​‌ you just not‌ go? If you‌​‌ leave, uncle will⁠‍⁠ come in and⁠⁠⁠ beat you up.​⁠​

Its‍ the same whether‍⁠​ Im beaten by‍ him or the‍‍‌ kids. Ill tell​ them not to‍‍ bully you anymore.​‌

No!‌⁠‌ You dont like‌⁠​ playing with those‌‍ jerks either. Youre​ just forcing yourself‍⁠‌ because of me.⁠⁠ I hate seeing‌ Marsha smile at⁠‌​ those jerks.

Oh⁠‍ my, thank you‍ for that. Then‌​ try to be‍‌‍ a bit tougher.​ Dont talk big‍ if you need​‌‍ help.

Marsha⁠‌ playfully poked Freemans​‌ forehead as he‌ became annoyed and‌​‌ ran towards the‍‍‌ door, spreading his⁠​‌ arms and yelling.​‌

I still dont like​​‌ it! Dont go!⁠⁠‍

Why‌ are you like‌‌ this today? Try​‌ talking big to​​‌ the other kids‌ too. Oh, are⁠‌ you jealous because⁠⁠⁠ I play with⁠‍​ them? Is that‍​​ why?

Freemans‌ face flushed red.‍​⁠ He was so​ nervous, his heart‍ pounded audibly, and‌ he felt like‌ he might vomit.⁠​

Amused​‍ by his reaction,​ Marsha waved her​‍ hand dismissively.

Hey,⁠​ Im just kidding,​ just kidding. You’re⁠‍⁠ such a small​ fry

Yes!‍​‍ I like you!‍‍ What are you⁠‍‍ going to do‌⁠ about it, huh?​‍

Marsha‍‌⁠ looked at Freeman⁠​​ blankly.

So​‍ what if I like you? Did‌ I ever ask‌⁠ you to reciprocate?‌ Liking someone is⁠‍ my own business,​ why do you‍​​ get to dictate‌ that? Am I not allowed to⁠ like someone because‍‌​ Im a coward?‍‍⁠

Freeman,​⁠​ usually poor at⁠​ expressing his feelings,​ yelled as his⁠⁠​ emotions got the​ better of him,​ escalating the situation⁠⁠ until Marsha stepped⁠‍​ forward with her​‌​ hands out to⁠⁠‍ calm him down.​‌

Okay,‍‍ okay, I get​‌​ it. Im sorry.​⁠⁠ Liking someone is⁠ certainly your prerogative.‍‌‌

Damn⁠‌‌ it! Even you⁠‍‌ treat me like⁠⁠ a fool!

As⁠​‍ Marsha spoke to​ him as if‌‌‌ he were a child, Freemans anger‌ grew. She then⁠‍ chuckled and grabbed​ his wrist, pulling⁠‌⁠ him over to⁠⁠​ sit in her‍​​ usual spot.

I wasnt treating you​ like a fool.‌‍‌ So calm down‍⁠ a bit.

Marsha‍ wrapped herself in‌‍⁠ a tattered cloak‍‌ and prepared to​⁠ leave.

Feeling​‍⁠ embarrassed by his⁠‌ outburst, Freeman fell‍ silent for a moment before sheepishly​‍‍ looking up.

Are‍ you really going​⁠‌ to play with⁠‌ them?

No,​⁠‍ Ill just scold⁠‌⁠ them a bit​‌ and come back.​‌ Lets play together​‌‍ later.

Freemans⁠ expression brightened immediately.‌⁠

Really?‍​‌ You have to⁠​ come back soon!‍‌

Yes.‌ If youre hungry,‌‌‍ eat the bread​⁠ and milk. Ive⁠​ already finished mine.⁠

As​ Marsha left the​‍‌ house, silence fell⁠ again. Freeman, too,‍​⁠ seemed to merge⁠ with the impoverished‍​ surroundings, his expression​​ turning glum.

Ah,​​ I was going‍‍‍ to say this‍ when I gave‍ it to her.‌

Freeman​ took a small‍ hand mirror out⁠‌ of his pocket.‍‌‌ It was something‌‌ he had bought​‍ with the little⁠‌⁠ money he had‍​ earned from running‌⁠ errands for three‌‌⁠ months.

Marsha‌​‌ owned hardly anything‍‍​ else, as her‍ stepfather took everything​​‍ else.

Shes⁠​​ a girl, after‍‍⁠ all; she should‍​‌ have a mirror.⁠ That uncle is​⁠ really strange. Why⁠‍ does he treat⁠ such a beautiful‌​ daughter like that?‌‍⁠

Thinking⁠‌‌ that Marsha would‍​‌ like the gift,​ Freeman smiled. However,‍‍​ the reflection in⁠⁠‌ the mirror was​‌ not a smiling​ face.

It​⁠ was his severely⁠​ drooping unibrow.

Because​‍‍ of this brow,​‌​ he had been‍ nicknamed a crybaby‌ since he was⁠⁠⁠ young, and having‌⁠‍ lived like that‌‌ for ten years,⁠ he had indeed​⁠‌ become a crybaby.‌⁠‍

Is‍ it really that‍‌ strange? I think​​‍ its okay.

As⁠‍ time passed, Marsha⁠⁠ and Freeman had​​‌ both turned 17.‌​

Freeman‍‍‌ was still known‍⁠ as a coward⁠⁠ around the neighborhood,⁠‌​ but he worked​ diligently, earning him‍ a reasonable reputation.⁠‌

However,‌ the only person​⁠ he genuinely connected​‍‍ with was Marsha.‌

He‍⁠‌ saved the money⁠ left over from⁠‍ his living expenses⁠ to buy her‌ gifts.

Despite‌‌ the fact that​⁠⁠ her father took⁠​ everything he gave​⁠ her, Marsha was‍‍‍ genuinely happy to​⁠ receive the gifts.‌

Freeman⁠‌‌ would spend any‍⁠‍ amount to see⁠‌⁠ her smile.

At⁠ some point, she⁠‌ seemed to have⁠ lost her smile.‍‍‍ He had a vague idea why.​‌⁠ Recently, her stepfather⁠⁠‍ had been abusing‌ her more severely.‍‌⁠

Most‌​‌ of the kids​‍‌ grew up in‍‍‍ similar family environments.⁠‌

Freeman‌ also lived with‌‌ a drunken father‍‌⁠ who insulted him⁠‌​ daily.

Then​ one day, Freeman⁠ finally understood. The⁠‍ type of touching⁠‌⁠ Marsha endured from⁠‌ her stepfather was​ completely different from‌ typical parental discipline.⁠

Marsha,‌ Marsha?

It‌​ may have been⁠⁠ fate that led‍‍​ him to Marsha’s‍​⁠ house that night.​ He had been‌‍‌ concerned since seeing​ her unusually gloomy‌‌⁠ face earlier that⁠⁠ day.

As​ Marsha did not‌⁠‍ respond to his⁠​ knocking, his anxiety​‍⁠ grew.

With‍⁠‌ no choice, Freeman⁠‌‍ climbed through the‌​ window. Since there‌ was nothing to⁠⁠‍ steal, the window⁠ was usually left⁠​⁠ open in the‍ summer.

Hey,​‌ Marsha? You were‌ in your room?​⁠ But why didnt‍ you answer

Freeman⁠‌‌ froze as the⁠⁠ moonlight revealed the​‍ scene inside the‍‌ room. Marsha was‍ seen kneeling, appearing​⁠ soulless.

She‍⁠ was holding a knife, and blood‍⁠ dripping from the‌ blade flowed along⁠‍ the floor to⁠⁠‌ a corpse.

Mar-Marsha​

Freeman‍​​ suddenly snapped to‍ his senses and⁠‍‌ rushed over. He‍ didnt know where​‌ this , but​ he knew he‌‍ had to do​‌​ something if Marsha​​ was unresponsive.

Get​​ up. What exactly‍‍⁠ happened?

He‌​⁠ shook her shoulders‍‌‍ several times until⁠‌​ Marsha regained her‍ senses.

She‍‌ looked up at⁠ Freeman with a dazed expression and​‍‍ then a shocking⁠⁠‍ confession came from⁠ her lips.

Dad‌ he tried to⁠‍⁠ assault me.

Freeman‌‍ lost his words.​

He‌‌ had always thought⁠ the man was​ creepy due to​⁠⁠ his reticence and‍​⁠ shady eyes, but​⁠ a parent is‍‌ still a parent,‍ right?

As‍‌​ the unimaginable truth⁠ unfolded, revulsion flooded‌⁠​ through him.

Let’s‌​​ run away. Uncle‌​ is a mercenary.​⁠‌ If his colleagues‍​⁠ find out, they’ll‌ come for revenge.‌‌

Freeman‍‌ was right. Marsha,⁠‍‌ ever so astute,⁠ snapped to her⁠‌​ senses as soon⁠⁠ as she heard‌ his words. They​ needed to leave⁠⁠ the house immediately.​⁠

A burst of ironic⁠ laughter escaped Marsha‍⁠ as she realized‌‌ she had nothing‍ to take with‍ her; she owned​⁠‍ nothing after all.‌

Freeman⁠‌⁠ grabbed Marsha’s wrist⁠‌ and pulled her‍‍ out of the‍ house. The two‍⁠ ran non-stop until‍‌ they reached the‍​ entrance of the⁠ village.

“Huff!‌​ Huff! That should‌⁠‌ do it. We‍ should be safe‍ for now.”

“Yes.‍ They probably won’t​ chase us this​‍‍ far outside the​‍‌ village.”

Panting,‍‌ Marsha managed to‍⁠⁠ calm her racing‍⁠ heart. Although she​ was fearful of​⁠​ her stepfather’s colleagues,‍‍‍ she was confident‌​ she could run‌ to the ends‍​​ of the earth‌‍⁠ if necessary.

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