WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator/Editor: Ryuu

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INFINITE MAGE

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 distances—close, 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 Freeman’s turf.

"There's no other way."

Amy stubbornly continued to snipe, but Freeman, who didn’t even need to dodge, was almost yawning.

Whatever method she thought up, it didn’t matter. Her snipes would miss, and if she approached, he could just evade with his Compound Eye.

"I heard that a mage’s mental strength has its limits..."

In the early stages of combat, a mage who didn’t 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 couldn’t 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 wasn’t 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 hadn’t 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 couldn’t evade the attack.

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

“Anyway, I’m 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.

***

Freeman’s 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, Freeman’s 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? It’s Freeman. The cowardly Freeman.”

“Unibrow Freeman! Why aren’t 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.”

“Don’t bully Marsha!”

“Stupid, Marsha’s the boss around here, who’d bully her? Plus, she’s 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! We’re going to play war.”

The children cried Freeman to bring Marsha out to play. Yet, despite this, Freeman always ran to Marsha’s 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, didn’t 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 Marsha’s 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?”

“It’s not by choice. They find me and bully me.”

“Alright. I’ll go talk to them. Where are they?”

Freeman, wiping his nose, pleaded,

“Can’t you just not go? If you leave, uncle will come in and beat you up.”

“It’s the same whether I’m beaten by him or the kids. I’ll tell them not to bully you anymore.”

“No! You don’t like playing with those jerks either. You’re 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. Don’t talk big if you need help.”

Marsha playfully poked Freeman’s forehead as he became annoyed and ran towards the door, spreading his arms and yelling.

“I still don’t like it! Don’t 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?”

Freeman’s 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, I’m 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 I’m 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. I’m 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, Freeman’s anger grew. She then chuckled and grabbed his wrist, pulling him over to sit in her usual spot.

“I wasn’t 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, I’ll just scold them a bit and come back. Let’s play together later.”

Freeman’s expression brightened immediately.

“Really? You have to come back soon!”

“Yes. If you’re hungry, eat the bread and milk. I’ve 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.

“She’s 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 it’s 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 didn’t 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 didn’t 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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