Wortenia Senki (LN) - Volume 14 - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Betrayal and Friendship

Sparkling stars dotted the night sky. The air must have been quite clear for them to have been so visible. Had this been Ryoma’s home world, their glow wouldn’t have been so conspicuous.

It was a fantastic sight, and a love confession under this starry sky would’ve been wonderful. Sadly, the kind of plotting going on in a tent on the outskirts of Epirus didn’t fit the romantic sky in any way. In fact, their topic of discussion was the furthest thing from love; it was the act of killing.

“So, lad, what do we do next?” a redheaded mercenary asked her master in a vulgar tone. She spoke in the same laid-back manner as usual, like she was talking to a friend or a brother-in-arms—certainly not a tone one would use with their liege. But right now, Lione wasn’t speaking as a mercenary, but as a knight of the Mikoshiba barony.

No one present criticized Lione’s behavior either. Mike and the members of the Crimson Lions naturally didn’t mind. The Igasaki clan’s ninjas, who looked up to Ryoma as their new lord, remained silent. And Dilphina and the dark elves, whom Nelcius had dispatched to watch over Ryoma, were quite indifferent to whatever ranks humans assigned themselves.

Needless to say, the Malfist sisters, who had sworn fealty to Ryoma, merely watched the proceedings until required to do otherwise. Had anyone else spoken to Ryoma the way Lione had, the Malfist sisters would have severed their head right then and there, leaving no room for apologies or excuses, but when it came to Lione, the sisters were oddly tolerant. After all, they’d worked with her ever since Wallace Heinkel, the then-guildmaster of the trade port Pherzaad, set them up and got them involved in Rhoadseria’s civil war. They’d since shared the good and the bad, so their tolerance wasn’t without reason. Or maybe they simply knew Lione’s nature too well. The biggest reason they remained silent, though, was that their master allowed Lione to speak to him that way.

“Well...” Ryoma replied, not at all displeased with Lione’s tone, “based on what the Igasaki clan tells me, the tension between the refugees and the locals is already past the breaking point.”

Ryoma turned to the man standing behind him. Recognizing that Ryoma was urging him to go ahead, the man stepped forward and bowed to the group surrounding the table.

“It is as you say, milord. The plan is progressing smoothly. A brawl broke out yesterday in the refugee district, resulting in casualties among the locals. That seemed to have been the trigger. Half the knights and soldiers in Epirus have been sent out to maintain the city’s peace. So far, everything is going as planned.”

This man was a subordinate of Jinnai, who was currently stationed within Epirus’s walls.

His report made everyone sigh in relief.

“I see,” Lione said, shrugging as if she were disappointed. “After we pushed Robert and Signus back the other day, we were expectin’ them to counterattack, but it never happened. Here I was, thinkin’ the two of them were feeling the noose tightenin’, but I guess they were more occupied with the fact that their city’s become one gigantic volcano ready to erupt.”

“No, I’d say your work accomplished a lot,” Ryoma said, shaking his head. “Robert Bertrand and Signus Galveria are two of the ten houses’ most promising knights. If you hadn’t crippled their cavaliers in your battle, they could’ve sent their army to settle this war quickly on the field.”

“Was that part of yer calculations all along?” Lione asked.

Ryoma merely smiled. Lione was right, of course. This was all groundwork to lure Count Salzberg’s Twin Blades to his side.

“I gotta say, I feel bad for those two, with someone like you havin’ their eye on them.”

Ryoma snickered self-deprecatingly. “Can’t really argue with you there. I really did back them against the wall.”

Scheming against two skilled but underappreciated enemies required a great deal of spadework. First, Ryoma needed to figure out why, if they were so capable, nobody respected them. Then he would use that knowledge to lower their reputation among their peers even more. This was what their battle with Lione had been all about.

Signus and Robert were incredibly skilled warriors, so when they lost most of the knights the ten houses had lent them, their detractors had blamed them all the more. Ryoma had basically made them a bed of nails to sleep on.

“Are those two valuable enough to justify all that?” Lione asked.

“Yes, they are. But I don’t have to tell you that, Lione. You fought them, right?”

Lione placed a hand on her chin. Her thoughts wandered back to that battle and her impression of the soldiers Robert commanded.

He’s not wrong. They do have a tendency to power through situations with brute force, but based on how they fought, they know when to pull out. They’re first-rate warriors and commanders.

The biggest reason Lione beat them was because she’d prepared ahead of time. Robert had only chosen to charge because Ryoma hadn’t used any tricks during the first battle. Lione had been able to stop them because her soldiers had worn heavy armor with weight-increasing seals, which Boltz had brought from the fortress.

Yes, Lione the Crimson Lioness had beaten Count Salzberg’s Twin Blades in combat, but what had enabled that victory was Ryoma’s plotting. It was like she had cooked the meal, but all the ingredients had already been cut up and prepared for use. That wasn’t to say anyone else could have commanded the battle as well as she had, and her victory hadn’t been guaranteed. Lione certainly hadn’t thought she would win.

“Yer pretty scary, lad,” Lione said with an exasperated smile.

A few people chuckled.

“Anyway, let’s confirm our plans for tomorrow one last time,” Ryoma said. “First, Lione, you take position in Epirus’s outskirts and keep their army in check.”

“Got it! Leave it to me!” Lione exclaimed, tapping her fist against her chest.

Ryoma turned to Dilphina next. “About our attack unit, I’ll take Laura and Sara, as well as your group, Dilphina. It’s a dangerous role, so do take care.”

Dilphina exchanged looks with the other dark elves and nodded. Despite how perilous this task was, they were confident they could do it.

They’ve been hanging in the back so far, after all.

Nelcius, chief of one of the demi-human warrior clans on the peninsula, had handpicked Dilphina and her cohorts. They were few in number, but highly skilled. Ryoma normally would have delegated all sorts of work to them, but dark elves stood out in human society. Ryoma hoped to see mankind’s relations with the demi-humans improve in the future, but at present, he couldn’t ignore the fact that many factions were hostile toward demi-humans. At worst, he could be branded a traitor to humankind and a holy war could break out. As such, he was limited in how he could use Dilphina and her warriors. But a sudden golden chance to make use of them had finally fallen into his lap, and the demi-humans were quite willing to seize it.

“Understood. We will open the path for you,” Dilphina said, and the other demi-humans sitting next to her nodded.

Ryoma nodded back in satisfaction and turned to Sakuya. “Lastly, I need the Igasaki clan to infiltrate the city, link up with Jinnai, and execute that plan. Got it? This is the most important role out of them all.”

The Igasaki ninjas all nodded. It was time to set their plan into motion.

“So, if there are no more questions, let’s conclude this meeting. We begin tomorrow night, so prepare accordingly.”

Everyone raised their voices and pumped their fists toward the sky. They all knew how significant tomorrow’s battle would be, and their hearts burned with high morale—everyone except for Sakuya, who was there as Gennou’s proxy...

“Do you have a moment, milord?” Sakuya asked Ryoma after everyone had left.

Judging by Sakuya’s attitude, Ryoma already had a good idea of what she wanted to say. He nudged his chin toward the adjacent tent, the one where he slept, and with the Malfist sisters in tow, Ryoma led Sakuya to his tent.

After he told her to sit, he asked, “Are you against our plan, Sakuya?”

Sakuya gently nodded. Ryoma’s plan was a gamble, and even though preparations were already complete and all that was left was to carry it out, Sakuya doubted whether they needed to brave that risk right now.

“Yes,” Sakuya replied. “Sending a small force to infiltrate Epirus and assassinate Count Salzberg feels reckless.”

Sakuya recognized that Ryoma’s plan was the best possible option for the future, and she knew that canceling things now would create a plethora of problems. Nonetheless, if nothing else, she felt obligated to point out the inherent danger. Everyone present in the tent, save for Ryoma, felt the same way.

I would understand if this was our only way to turn the tables, but...

Infiltrating the enemy’s stronghold and eliminating their commander in order to finish the war was a well-known tactic, even in Japan. For example, in the battle of Okehazama during Japan’s Warring States period, Nobunaga Oda claimed the head of Yoshimoto Imagawa and declared victory. A similar example happened during the conflict between House Shimazu and House Ryuzoji. Both houses were competing for superiority over the island Kyushu, and during the battle of Okitanawate, Iehisa Shimazu claimed the head of Takanobu Ryuzoji.

Given that the tactic had been used successfully not just in Japan’s history but throughout history across the world, going after the commander’s head was a reasonable choice. However, in those two battles, the winning side had done so through a surprise attack. In the battle of Okehazama, Oda’s army had somewhere between 2,500 to 5,000 troops, whereas Yoshimoto Imagawa’s army had 25,000 to 45,000 troops—meaning Oda had to face an army ten times his size. The sizes of the two armies in the battle of Okitanawate weren’t as drastically different in size, but Shimazu’s army still had just 10,000 to Ryuzoji’s 50,000.

Historians have disputed the size of those armies, and the victors could’ve tweaked the numbers to make their victories seem more impressive, so it was hard to determine what the numbers actually were. Nonetheless, these cases proved that a surprise attack was a valid way of overturning a numerical disadvantage. But any surprise attack was, by its very nature, a gamble, equivalent to betting on the first three winners in a horse race. If one were to win, they would take it all, but in most cases, one was bound to lose. It was a high-stakes, long-odds bet.

And that was what Ryoma’s plan amounted to. The Igasaki clan had gathered information to boost their chances of victory, but even so, facing the enemy commander head-on was a gamble no matter what.

And besides, Count Salzberg is...

Sakuya’s heart was clouded with concern, which stemmed from some intelligence that the Igasaki clan had gleaned while looking into House Salzberg. The validity of that information was questionable, of course...

But if it’s true...

Sakuya knew Ryoma was a strong warrior. During Rhoadseria’s civil war, she’d failed to assassinate him and had been captured by the enemy without so much as injuring them. But even though she was confident in Ryoma’s abilities, if that information regarding the count was correct, even Ryoma would be hard-pressed to win this battle. His odds were fifty-fifty, at best.

If only he could awaken Kikoku’s full power.

Kikoku, the Wailing Demon, was the sword the Igasaki clan’s first leader had tempered. The legends about it were grand and described it as a cursed blade that could dispel evil, cut down gods, and sever all of creation. Yet no one alive had ever seen it exhibit its true strength; no one had ever been able to draw out its power.

The Igasaki clan had appraised dozens of warriors over the years, but Kikoku had drained every single one of them of their prana the instant they touched its scabbard—except for Ryoma. This was why the Igasaki clan had wandered this world for the last five hundred years, to find a master Kikoku would acknowledge. But even when they found such a person, the blade didn’t manifest the great powers spoken of in legend.

The only things that set Kikoku apart from ordinary katanas was that it repaired itself automatically and was sturdier than most blades. This did make it a useful weapon, because even though maintaining a weapon was part of a warrior’s routine, it was still time-consuming work. But if that was all it could do, there were other weapons capable of the same. The Igasaki clan wouldn’t have needed to fear, respect, and protect it for so many years.

The fact that they had done so implied that Kikoku still hid some kind of untapped power. However, no one knew what that power was. Was it sharpness that could cut through all creation, as spoken of in legend, or was it something else? What was necessary to draw out that power?

Kikoku certainly didn’t reject Ryoma as its wielder, but as one of the future elders of the Igasaki clan, Sakuya couldn’t disregard the current situation. Letting Ryoma die in battle because Kikoku refused to awaken was one thing Sakuya was determined to prevent.

Despite Sakuya’s worries, Ryoma smiled at her. “I do understand how you feel. I planned this out assuming I had a good chance of winning. See, you’re probably right that my victory isn’t certain, but if you’re gonna say that...starting this war was a gamble to begin with, right?”

Ryoma drew Kikoku from its scabbard. A gust blew through the tent, and in the whistling of the wind, Sakuya could hear what sounded like the wailing of a demon. She felt as if a cold hand had grabbed her beating heart. Her breath caught in her throat.

What...was that?

Sakuya had heard Kikoku’s cries before, but this was the first time she’d felt this suffocating pressure. It was like the hateful, grudge-ridden howling of a woman.

“Did you hear it?” Ryoma asked.

Sakuya desperately nodded as she gasped for breath. Something emanating from the blade had overwhelmed her.

“That’s Kikoku,” Ryoma said as he settled the sword back into its scabbard. “Just like its name implies, it’s a blade that wails like a demon.”

The moment Ryoma sheathed Kikoku, Sakuya felt her heart begin to beat again.

“You’re saying that just now was...?” If that was its power, then Kikoku truly was a cursed sword.

Ryoma shook his head. “Well, that was part of its power, but...it’s not all of it.”

“That wasn’t all of it?” Sakuya asked, puzzled.

“I’m working hard to get this sword to recognize me, and recently, I’ve started to realize, little by little, what it expects out of its wielder.”

In short, Kikoku demanded prana. The more prana it sucked up, the sharper its blade became. Someday, it could very well cut through all creation, like the legend stated.

“That said, this sword is one tough customer,” Ryoma remarked.

“What do you mean?” Sakuya questioned.

“Let’s just say Kikoku is something of a gourmand. Not just any prana will do.”

“A gourmand? It has preferences for the...taste of the prana it sucks up?”

Ryoma nodded. He’d first realized this during the expedition to Xarooda, when he slew Greg Moore, an O’ltormean knight and the commanding officer of Fort Notis’s garrison. When he killed Moore, he’d gotten the impression that Kikoku had become slightly sharper than before.

At the time, Ryoma had assumed he was imagining things. After all, Kikoku had sucked up prana even before they arrived at the Notis Plains, back when they passed through the mountain region south of Memphis and ran into an eagle lord. The Malfist sisters had beaten the creature using a Catastrophe Tornado spell, but Ryoma had dealt the finishing blow and fed it’s prana to Kikoku.

Therein lay the problem. Had Kikoku simply demanded the prana of any creature, it should have easily awakened with the eagle lord. Eagle lords were massive monsters, forces of nature, and they had vast amounts of prana. For as skilled as Greg Moore had been, his prana had been limited because he was human. Had he been one of the transcendents spoken of in legend, perhaps things would have been different, but as he was, he couldn’t have possibly had more prana than an eagle lord.

As Ryoma continued to wield Kikoku, he’d begun to speculate that it was feeding specifically on the prana of humans. He’d become convinced of it a few days ago, when he slew Vector Chronicle in Viscount Bahenna’s territory.

There was no doubt that Kikoku was beginning to exhibit a power unlike before. Ryoma wasn’t sure if “awakening” was the right word to describe it, but it felt like something akin to that. The pressure Sakuya had felt earlier was one of its emerging abilities.

“This sword wants the prana of warriors, and the more skilled they are, the more it longs for their prana. It’s like it wants me to kill powerful opponents.”

Sakuya gasped. “Are you saying it wants Count Salzberg’s prana?”

Ryoma shrugged. He couldn’t tell for sure what the sword wanted, but that was the feeling he got. Besides, he had other reasons to seek out battle with Count Salzberg. In fact, feeding Kikoku was almost an afterthought.

“The information the Igasaki clan discovered earlier was concerning, so I understand your doubts,” Ryoma said, “but we made an agreement with Signus, and we can’t go back on our word right now.”

Ryoma wanted Signus Galveria and Robert Bertrand on his side at all costs. Lione and the Crimson Lions were skilled; they were competent teachers for the slave children, and their experience on the battlefield had made them perceptive. Still, none of them stood out individually. Boltz and Lione were the most skilled, but Boltz was missing an arm, and Lione was—no matter how favorably one looked at it—a mediocre warrior. Both were capable commanders, and Ryoma deeply trusted and depended on them, but they weren’t suitable for leading a charge into battle.

Signus and Robert were the opposite of that. They were adept commanders, but their real value lay in their individual martial prowess. Once Ryoma had learned that, he’d decided that he absolutely wanted them as his retainers, and he was willing to brave a little danger to make it happen. If he had to go to extreme lengths to get them on his side, he wouldn’t back down. Settling for less would only make his survival later down the line uncertain.

 I have to keep the future in mind, Ryoma thought.

Count Salzberg was a formidable foe, but once Ryoma beat him, war with an even greater enemy awaited. To win that coming war, he needed Signus and Robert’s strength, so even if it meant treading down a dangerous road, Ryoma would unflinchingly do so. His future survival was on the line.

Watching her master, Sakuya silently bowed her head, swearing in her heart that she would put forth her best efforts in tomorrow’s coming battle.

And so ended that fateful night.

♱

Countless torches waded through the dark, their light like a river leading to the heart of Epirus. Angered shouts, jeering, and feverish wrath embroiled the city.

“So it begins... Just like he said it would,” Signus Galveria murmured, closing the curtains on his window. He then took out a letter from his desk drawer and sank into his sofa, looking up at the ceiling.

It had all begun a week ago, when the refugees stabbed a young man from Epirus’s slums in the stomach, killing him. Normally, the young man’s death wouldn’t have been this significant—people passed away every day—but in this situation, the way and the reason he died were important. Monsters infested the areas outside of cities, and medicine was severely primitive, so death was a very common occurrence. People felt angry and sorrowful just the same, but unfortunate as it was, this world trained them to come to terms with their emotions.

There were plenty of absurdities in this world, more than a person living in modern society would normally experience—things like frightening monsters, overbearing nobles, and the coldhearted ruling class. Earthquakes were rare, perhaps because the earth’s crust was firm, but typhoons and tornadoes occurred frequently. Not to mention, there was the possibility that one could lose their fortune or even their life in a war. All of those things were terrible and infuriating, but if one got angry at every single thing, one wouldn’t survive for long. Even the weaker classes of society understood this in their own way.

However, this time was different. Animosity and antagonism were already brewing between the residents and the refugees, and the discontent and anger in the residents’ hearts had finally reached critical mass. They’d picked up clubs and whatever knives they had at home and attacked the refugees, demanding that the refugees give back their normal lives. This, of course, had spurred the refugees to retaliate in defense, leading to a large-scale clash where each side inflicted casualties on the other.

Signus understood how the refugees felt. It had been a month since Ryoma Mikoshiba had raided the ten houses’ territories and left many of them without a home, forcing them to turn to Epirus for help. And during that month, the same rulers who’d extorted taxes from them seemingly did nothing to help them in their plight.

That wasn’t to say that the refugees got no help at all, though. They’d received food rations meant for disasters, and the knights had begun to patrol the streets to maintain the peace. But though Epirus was a major citadel and a key location in northern Rhoadseria, there was still a limit to the number of people it could accommodate within its walls.

With refugees from all across the north flooding the city, House Salzberg could do very little to help. This was the grim reality, despite Count Salzberg’s riches, especially considering that his expenses almost matched his income. While things weren’t nearly bad enough to bring about a total economic collapse, it was doubtful whether they had enough supplies in stock to withstand a catastrophe of this scale.

A noble’s duty...

Anger, sorrow, guilt, and conflict burned in Signus’s heart. Truth be told, he couldn’t quite put his emotions into words, but that did little to lessen their weight.

I knew all of this ahead of time. The discord between Epirus’s people and the refugees was reaching its breaking point, so all one would have to do is wait for the right time to tip the scales. And he could manage that with ease.

Everyone was desperate to protect their families, their lives, and their livelihood, and all it would take was the slightest poke of the needle to make the situation pop like a festering blister. Indeed, all that would remain was a terrible, unsightly scar.

This world is the direct opposite of the utopia the Church of Meneos’s clergy preach about it.

Here, the strong feasted upon the weak, the weak devoured those who were yet weaker, and the powerful cannibalized one another. Everyone had to fight for their own survival. That was true even for Signus Galveria, one of the strongest men in northern Rhoadseria. This was a place where the foolish and the weak were trampled on and taken advantage of.

In the end, it all went how he set it up. The only question is what I do next.

Conflicted emotions rushed through Signus’s heart like a muddy river.

Signus had first made contact with a man working for Ryoma Mikoshiba near the war’s beginning, soon after he first locked blades with Ryoma’s forces on Epirus’s outskirts. Clad entirely in black, the man had looked like an assassin, and he’d moved like a shadow, masking his presence as he made his way to Signus’s room in the castle.

Doing such a thing was difficult even during peacetime, and the masked man would have had to go past countless guards to reach his room. On top of that, they were in the middle of a war, so security was twice as tight as in peacetime. Under those conditions, and with no one noticing him, the man had managed to sneak into Signus’s room. It had been a frightening display of skill.

When Signus reached for his sword, surprised by the sudden, uninvited guest, the masked man had whispered, “Would you and Robert Bertrand be interested in serving the Mikoshiba barony?”

At the time, Signus had laughed off the idea. Ryoma Mikoshiba’s soldiers were surprisingly skilled, but that wasn’t enough to decide a battle. Ryoma might have been a difficult opponent, but Signus had no cause to admit defeat at that point. More importantly, he had reasons that prevented him from betraying House Galveria, and so long as those circumstances stood, he couldn’t afford to betray Count Salzberg, the alliance leader his family served.

Or rather, I couldn’t at the time.

When they first met, the man had silently accepted Signus’s rejection and disappeared. But on the night the refugees began flooding into Epirus, he’d appeared again to deliver a letter.

Signus had been shocked beyond all description at the letter’s contents. At first, he’d suspected that it was some kind of scheme, but it was certainly written in Elmada’s handwriting. Elmada was the wet nurse he’d known since infancy, and while Signus might mistake his estranged parents’ handwriting, he would never mistake hers.

Despair had overcome Signus; his beloved wet nurse was in the enemy’s clutches. Eventually, though, he began seeing things another way. Maybe this predicament was a chance to turn his life around.

The letter said she was fine, but the fact that Ryoma Mikoshiba’s people brought it to me can only mean one thing. 

Elmada was Signus’s one true relative. He felt nothing for either of his birth parents, but he saw her as a mother. And if it was for her, Signus would give up his life.

No, that’s just a cowardly excuse.

Signus had already decided on his new course the day he sent Ryoma his reply, and no amount of sugarcoating would change that. He’d made his choice to change his fate with his own two hands.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, Signus heard a loud knock on his door.

“Signus! It’s me, Robert. Things went south! We need to get going, now.”

The voice had come from a man Signus knew to be a cynical contrarian. As a noble, Robert was the most unenthusiastic about this war, but he was also one of Signus’s only friends, and Signus knew that contrary to what others thought of Robert, he was a proud and duty-bound man.

Robert had probably hurried over once he’d realized what was happening outside. Signus could hear him through the door, breathing heavily.

“I’ll open the door. Give me a minute,” Signus responded.

Signus had heard Robert complain about this war countless times already, but despite that, Robert had come in a panic as soon as he heard of Count Salzberg’s crisis. That couldn’t have been just his sense of duty as a general. It was proof that though Robert often criticized Count Salzberg as a shitty old man, Robert truly respected the count.

This was why Signus couldn’t mention the idea of betraying Count Salzberg to Robert. Doing so would surely fracture their long-standing friendship. However, at the same time, it was clear to Signus that Robert wouldn’t have a future if he were to stick to the count.

I guess I just have to go for it.

Ryoma Mikoshiba had ordered Signus to perform a certain task for him. Signus rose from his sofa, opened his desk drawer, and pulled out a slip of paper with powder on it. Signus silently apologized to Robert as he looked at it.

Robert, on that day, you told me to think of myself. I’m sorry, but this time I’ll take you up on that. And when it’s all over, I’ll let you pass judgment on me...even if you decide you want my head for this.

That was the greatest penance Signus could offer, but no one could understand how he felt. In the end, that apology was just his way of easing his guilt and shame, and he knew it.

Signus took two glasses from a nearby shelf and placed them on the table. Then he took out a bottle of alcohol from a cupboard, unsealed it, and poured the powder into it.

“Thanks for waiting. Come in,” Signus called.

As soon as he said that, Robert boisterously burst into the room. “What were you doing, Signus?!” he asked angrily.

“What’s wrong with you? You’re in a terribly foul mood,” Signus replied, sitting on the sofa and feigning ignorance.

“What are you saying?!” Robert lashed out at him. “Have you looked outside your damn window?!”

Robert reached for the bottle sitting in front of him and took a swig. His excitement had made him thirsty, it seemed. He then wiped his mouth roughly with the back of his hand and vigorously sat down on the sofa.

“Come on, Robert, I went out of my way to set a glass for you,” Signus said in exasperation.

Robert snorted at him, displeased with his attitude, and took a second swig from the bottle. Then he eyed Signus suspiciously. Maybe his warrior’s intuition had kicked in.

“You’re awfully calm,” Robert muttered, his eyes glaring into Signus’s.

Signus said nothing and grabbed the bottle out of Robert’s hands and took a swig. The alcohol overflowed from his lips, trickling down to his chest.

Perhaps sensing something strange from Signus’s behavior, Robert hurriedly got to his feet...but then all the strength suddenly drained from his body.

“Signus... You didn’t...”

Robert’s body went numb, and his tongue turned so heavy that he slurred his words. Before he knew it, he collapsed onto the sofa.

Signus silently glared at Robert’s limp form as he felt the drug begin to run through his own veins.