Reincarnated in a novel: I am the villain!-Chapter 266: Deadly Dance

And so his journey continued, the landscape was a monotonous, rolling ocean of grey.

There were no landmarks. No trees. No rivers. Just dune after dune of compacted ash that shifted underfoot like dry sugar.

Alfred knelt in the grit, examining a faint depression in the ground.

To the untrained eye, it was nothing.

To a Mage, it was devoid of information no mana signature to track, no elemental residue to analyze.

But Alfred was not just a Mage. He was the Head Butler of the Voss family. He had been trained in the a lot of other things, long before he had awakened his core.

"Weight distribution suggests a heavy stride," Alfred murmured, touching the edge of the footprint.

"The ash is compacted on the heel. He was carrying something heavy."

He stood up, pulling a silver pocket brush from his vest. He meticulously dusted the ash from his knees, frowning as a smudge remained on his trousers.

"Six hours ahead," Alfred calculated.

"If he maintains this pace, he will reach the rocky canyons by nightfall."

He put the brush away and resumed his walk.

He hated this place.

Here, the dust was omnipresent. It coated his glasses, settled in his hair, and worked its way into the seams of his shoes.

"To think the Elder lived here for sixteen years," Alfred sighed, adjusting his cuffs.

"It is a miracle he didn’t go mad from the lack of hygiene alone."

Skritch.

Just as Alfred was lost in thought, a soft sound came into his ear, Like sandpaper sliding over stone.

Alfred stopped.

Usually, his Mana Sense would have alerted him to a threat miles away.

He would have felt the hostility, the intent, the heartbeat of the enemy.

But here, he was blind. He had to rely on his ears.

The wind was howling, masking the noise.

But Alfred’s hearing was tuned to the silence of a manor house. He knew the difference between the wind and a footstep.

"It seems i am being hunted," Alfred realized, his expression unchanging.

He didn’t turn around nor did he draw a weapon. He simply stood still, looking like a lost nobleman contemplating the view.

From behind a dune, a shape emerged.

It was a Wasteland Stalker.

A mutated hyena the size of a pony. Its fur had fallen out in patches, revealing grey, leathery skin covered in sores.

Bone spurs protruded from its spine, and its jaw hung open, dripping saliva that hissed when it hit the ash.

It had no mana. It was a creature of pure biology and hunger.

It sniffed the air. It smelled expensive cologne and fresh meat.

It signaled the pack.

Five more Stalkers slunk out of the grey fog, surrounding the lone figure in the black suit. They circled him, their paws silent on the ash.

The Alpha, a beast with a missing ear growled low in its throat. It crouched, muscles bunching for a spring.

*Bang!*

The Alpha lunged.

It moved faster than a wolf, a blur of teeth and rot aimed at Alfred’s throat.

Yet Alfred didn’t panic, He didn’t even blink.

He pivoted on his heel, a movement as smooth as a waltz step.

"Down."

His right hand flicked out.

Between his gloved fingers, the Monofilament Wire glinted faintly, a thread of diamond-dust-coated steel so thin it was invisible against the grey sky.

The Alpha flew past him.

ZIP.

A soft, wet sound echoed in the dunes.

The beast landed behind Alfred. It tried to turn around.

Its head slid off its neck.

THUD.

The body collapsed a second later, blood spraying across the ash in a violent arc.

The other five Stalkers froze. They looked at their leader, then at the man who hadn’t even raised a sword.

"Come now," Alfred said, unspooling another three meters of wire, creating a deadly web around himself.

"Do not make me chase you. It ruins the shoes."

The pack roared and charged all at once.

It was a chaotic, savage assault. They came from all sides, snapping and clawing.

Alfred moved with the economy of motion he used to set a dinner table.

He ducked under a leaping beast, looping the wire around its hind leg and yanking. The leg was severed cleanly.

He sidestepped a bite, spinning the wire around the attacker’s snout. A sharp tug, and the beast’s jaw was gone.

He was a conductor of death. His arms moved in graceful arcs, the invisible wire singing a high-pitched song of dismemberment.

ZIP. SLASH. THUD.

It took twenty seconds.

When it was over, six carcasses lay in pieces around him. The grey ash was stained red.

To beat beasts like this, Alfred didn’t even need a speck of mana, in face, he felt he could beat them with his eyes closed, it’s just the lack of mana meant his stamina was much lower than usual.

Standing in the center of the carnage. He was breathing slightly harder than usual, a bead of sweat on his forehead.

Without mana to reinforce his stamina, even a short fight was taxing.

He looked down at his hands.

His white gloves were soaked in blood. A few droplets had splattered onto his cuff.

"Disgusting," Alfred whispered.

He peeled off the ruined gloves.

Taking out a small flint lighter and set them on fire, watching them burn to ash.

He reached into his pocket space, straining against the resistance and pulled out a fresh, crisp pair of white gloves.

He pulled them on, snapping the wrists.

"Sixteen years," Alfred looked at the horizon, his face grim.

"Elder Magnus" Alfred muttered as he thought about what he would have gone through everyday here

He would have had to fight the exhaustion of a body that could never recharge.

As every day in the Wastelands was a fight for survival against a world that wanted to consume you.

"However, you were indeed always a stubborn man, Elder," Alfred adjusted his glasses, turning back to the trail.

"But I suppose that is why you are the strongest of us."

He stepped over the severed head of the Alpha and continued walking east, a spot of pristine white in a world of grey.