MPNS Ch 66

Chapter 66

“—Hhk!”

Nikiel gasped and froze, breath caught in his throat. Goosebumps swept across his body. The stag that chased him was colossal—so large that even Nikiel, who had majored in zoology and studied their biology in detail, found its appearance unnaturally alien.

The elk fixed its abyssal gaze upon him. It seemed to have forgotten the tree trunk it had been battering with its antlers; all of its being was seized by Nikiel alone.

Adrenaline flooded Nikiel’s body. But instead of fueling reflexes, the sudden surge paralyzed him; even breath halted. The massive stag did not blink, only stared with eyes darker than midnight sky, relentless, as though burning Nikiel into memory.

Were it not a moment of mortal peril, Nikiel might have admired it. Jet‑black antlers, glossy black fur, long pillar‑legs, and a chest broad as a fortress wall: this was a beast worthy of being called lord of the palace forest.

Instead, awe and terror tangled together. The immense stag looked not only powerful but majestic, strong enough to claim easily the role of alpha bull in any herd.

The admiration lasted only a breath.

The beast took a step toward him.

“Wh—what… coming this way?”

Beauty shattered into imminent violence the moment the stag lunged. Nikiel spun and hurled himself the opposite way, into the rows of tall firs.

He bolted with all his strength, heart lurching—but some part was grateful he had worn proper shoes instead of the ornamental silk slippers Paul always urged on him. Those would have sent him tumbling instantly.

Wind cut his ears. Autumn’s thinning canopy meant ground clear of slick leaves, moss dried with little recent rain: the forest, by chance, had become the perfect running course.

But that was true for the stag as well.

Behind him thundered lungs and hooves, so close his back prickled cold. He dared not stop; to escape into the palace grounds risked innocent lives. His choices split:

• Flee outside and summon others—risk being gored alive now. 
• Keep running inside the woods—risk being crushed under hooves in moments. 

Pinned between terrors, he kept sprinting.

On open plain, five steps was all the stag would have needed. But here, its enormous antlers snagged branches. Fortune, for once—antlers existed at all.

Still, trunks cracked and fell in quake after quake. The antlers seemed forged of iron; firs snapped like twigs.

Then:

“Aahhh!”

Nikiel’s foot struck wrong, body pitched forward, momentum tumbling him rough across forest floor until his back slammed a tree.

“Ghhk—!”

Stars burst behind his eyelids. Pain engulfed him, worse than fear for a moment. His ankle throbbed, twisted. Numbness spread fast through foot and metatarsals, then an insistent ache.

Groaning, he forced his eyes up—into the chest of the stag, looming directly above, flanks heaving.

“Ah… hell.”

Father, mother—your unfilial son visits you at last.

Nikiel’s pale lips shaped silent prayer to Kṣitigarbha Bodhisattva (지장보살)—lord said to guide souls out of suffering.

“May I not in my next life awaken inside a novel. Especially not one like this. The last book I read was about a man stranded on an island of cannibals!”

The stag moved closer. Suffocating pressure, pheromones pressing like invisible walls, wrapped around him.

Would it hurt? Perhaps if the hoof ended it instantly, he’d never feel a thing. If I had known it would end this way, I should have done more cardio—trained my lungs. I could have run farther…

Then:

THUMP.

Like a mountain, a hoof landed just before his foot. This was death, surely. Nikiel squeezed his eyes shut.

And flinched. Because warmth—gentle warmth—spread across his ankle.

“…What?”

Eyes opened. His jaw slackened.

The stag’s massive head was lowered, muzzle pressed to his injured ankle, soft as a kiss.

Trapped between obsidian antlers like prison bars, Nikiel froze.

“…Ah.”

The beast was bowing, reverent as a devotee touching lips to its master’s hand.

It stole his breath. No animal should kneel so devout. Yet here it was, stirring some deep resonance within. It felt like something lost was restored, a strange exaltation filling him.

Slowly, he raised his hand, brushing the sleek black fur by its antlers. It did not recoil. It lifted its head, and eyes like obsidian pierced him—sincere, absolute, speechless yet speaking more than words.

Then—a sound. A tearing shriek as black vine‑like aura began to evaporate off the beast’s body.

Nikiel blinked.

“What…?”

He reached again—but the stag convulsed, bellowing skyward, thrashing and striking firs until bark sprayed like knives. Nikiel shielded with crossed arms, skin nicked by flying shards.

The stag roared, stomping air, antlers smashing trees. Nikiel scraped backward, trying to drag his bad ankle, knowing staying still meant crushed bones.

And suddenly—the black aura vanished all at once. In its place: Raymon.

“Duke Boltwick—!” Nikiel shouted.

The man collapsed unconscious with a heavy crash.

Nikiel rushed to him, ankle forgotten. Raymon was naked, body covered with cuts, as if from his mad run. The fall had driven his knees down hard, but his spine seemed intact.

Half‑trained in practical care, Nikiel snapped branches into splints, tore strips from his tunic, bound a brace around the man’s neck to guard it, then laid him gently on his back. Raymon’s sheer bulk made it labor, but he managed.

He wondered if he must call for help—when footsteps approached.

Through the firs appeared Yullan Balt.

“Your Grace!”

For once, the enemy looked like salvation. Nikiel leapt up from beside Raymon. His tunic torn to bare his abdomen, but unbothered.

Yullan, deep‑creased brow, strode swiftly, unclasping his cloak and throwing it around Nikiel’s shoulders.

“I don’t need this! Look—Duke Boltwick—”

“Your Highness should leave the forest at once.”

“…What?”

His brows drew tight. To hear that, now—after he ran himself half dead, scattering servants to prevent casualties.

Nikiel’s chest burned indignation.

Yullan looked down at him. His gaze, Nikiel thought, was icy. But no—it was the opposite. Out of his molten eyes leaked lava, scorching fury falling drop by drop.

Notes:

• Kṣitigarbha Bodhisattva (지장보살): Bodhisattva who vows to save all beings from hell; Nikiel jokingly “prays” to him, in keeping with his Korean habits. 
• Obsidian stag: Raymon’s beast form, black hide and antlers, terrifying yet at moments oddly reverent.