by Fuse
“Oh? I’m not sure if sending Shogo alone would be wise. He may spout a great deal of nonsense most of the time, but his strength is genuine. We can’t allow him to go out of control and lose him for good.”
“Indeed. Well, you know the number of monsters involved. We might be able to flee back home, but one bad decision and he might just be killed. With Kyoya along, I doubt we will run into any issues. Besides, we have the perfect person for a mission like this.”
“Ah. Her, you mean? I see.”
King Edmaris nodded his agreement.
The mission of this military strike was to sap the enemy’s will to fight. If they could subjugate Tempest without any bloodshed, they could hope for nothing more. They had the numbers to guarantee victory if push came to shove, but as the king theorized, the fewer casualties they could get away with, the better.
“Yes,” he said. “We may not need to target our full forces upon these creatures after all. But keep your guard up.”
“Worry not, sire. We have taken every possibility under consideration. I ordered them to simply spread a little havoc and then return to us.”
As the king hoped, Razen was planning to take a wait-and-see approach.
The three of them were then interrupted by Reyhiem and his near-inhuman smile. “My lord,” he said, “if possible, would I be able to test out one of my secret spells?”
“Secret? What sort of spell is this, Archbishop?”
“What are you scheming now, Reyhiem?”
“Well—”
He gave them a full rundown, his smile growing ever more cheerful. It proved contagious, spreading to King Edmaris’s face, then Razen’s and Folgen’s as he continued to speak.
“Heh-heh-heh… I like it.”
“Your answer?”
“Very well. Go right ahead! I will allow it, Reyhiem.”
“It gladdens me to hear that, sire. I promise it will bring you the utmost of glories!”
And so Reyhiem’s pawns slowly, secretly began to move themselves.
Following King Edmaris’s missive from on high, a vanguard force was quickly formed. It consisted of a hundred mounted cavalry, plus a breakthrough force consisting of several wagons. Three otherworlders were among them: Shogo Taguchi, Kyoya Tachibana, and a woman named Kirara Mizutani.
“Umm,” Shogo griped, “I haven’t been on a trip in, like, ages. If they chose me, does that mean, like, it’s that kind of thing?”
“Yeah, no doubt about it.”
“You hear anything, Kyoya?”
“…You were there, too, weren’t you? The Kingdom of Farmus is stepping up to wipe out that slime.”
“That’s crazy. All these forces just to squish a slime?”
“Well, who can say? If it’s got ten thousand or whatever monsters under its control, that’s gonna be a pretty decent threat.”
“Yeah, whatever. I mean, the knights in this country are just pathetically weak! Seeing that, it makes me think—like, the humans in this world are such massive wusses that even dinky little monsters are enough to make ’em crap their pants.”
Kirara laughed. “That, or maybe you’re just too damn strong, Shogo. I mean, that unique skill you got for battle is nuts.”
“Ahh, I’m more scared of your skill than Shogo’s.”
“Yeah. Even I wouldn’t like my chances against you.”
Kirara was still young, aged eighteen. Just like Shogo, she had been summoned into Farmus-controlled land three years ago. Her skill—which involved influencing people’s thoughts during negotiation—wasn’t directly related to battle, which led to rough treatment and assumptions that she was just another failed summon. At first.
Then it happened. It was too much for her to put up with—and that had made her use the power right. “Stop screwing with me, you assholes!” she’d screamed. “I just wish anyone who messes with me would die!” The nature of the resulting Bewilder skill ensured that the effect was immediate. Anyone who’d failed to resist it immediately committed suicide.
A negotiation skill? No way. All she had to do was bark out an order, and she could make anyone do her bidding. It depended less on the actual words and more on what Kirara wanted on the inside. The results were nothing short of a massacre until Kirara’s summoner managed to place a locking curse upon her.
All three of them had had their powers checked from the moment they were summoned. The first few months were devoted to magic-assisted language lessons, along with a wide array of testing. The locking curse could not be resisted. Any order made with it simply had to be followed, whether you wanted to or not—and as part of that, Kirara was forced to reveal what her skill really was.
She revealed it, but she was inaccurate on a few of the details, thanks to her unfamiliarity with the language. As a fifteen-year-old at the time, for Kirara, learning a foreign tongue was a struggle. Even with the magical support, the mere act of studying was pure torture to her. The results led to that “I hope you all die” tragedy, and ever since, Kirara’s skill had been sealed away, restricted from activating without permission.
The same was somewhat true of Shogo, but (whether it was lucky for him or not) it didn’t take long for Shogo’s full strength to become obvious to all. That was what happened when you killed the thirty magicians surrounding you the moment you got summoned. It was the work of the unique skill Berserker, and as the name suggested, it simply provided a massive boost to the wielder’s physical strength and abilities.
He had been seventeen then, a delinquent from a failing high school, and his discontent and lust for violence had awoken the skill in him. Combined with the karate Shogo had studied since childhood, Berserker provided a massive boost to his fighting strength. That led to thirty massacred sorcerers. If Razen hadn’t been there, it would have been even worse.
It was never a given that people summoned into this world would just go quietly with their new guardians. They were taken from their own lives for purely selfish reasons; anyone could see the effect that would have, and the people on this world knew it well. To handle it, each set of summoning-ceremony spells came with a locking curse included that made the otherworlder do the summoner’s bidding.
“I swear,” muttered Shogo, “I wanna kill that old man. Just ordering us to do whatever he wants…”
“Yeah, seriously. One of these days he’s, like, totally goin’ down.”
“Oh, don’t be like that,” Kyoya replied. “At least if you do what he says, you’re guaranteed the best food and accommodation this world has to offer.”
They had gone through this conversation before. It was never enough to leave Shogo or Kirara convinced.
“Huh? Yeah, no shit! Especially when the ‘best they have to offer’ is garbage compared to our world.”
“Oh, totally,” Kirara added. “There are no cute stores, no cosmetics… No TV, no Internet, no smartphones. This world’s, like, completely devoid of entertainment. I’d be totally fine if this planet just exploded.”
The complaints had piled up to the point where all three could blow up at any time. Being forced to carry out orders with no free will, in particular, was proving unbearable. And Kyoya knew that much—but unlike the others, he was willing to take a more flexible approach to his plight. There was nothing he missed about his old world; he was far more interested in the powers obtained on this one—Shogo’s, Kirara’s, and his.
He had observed them, researched them, and thought about what could be done with them.
And as he had, this current incident occurred—a monster-slaying quest, their chance to work in the open. Finally, after two years, Kyoya would get to see actual battle.
Maybe Shogo and Kirara don’t like this, but I think this is our big chance. If it turns into a war, that’ll keep the guys with the locking curses on us too busy to keep tabs. Maybe we could even kill them—or maybe they’ll just go die themselves.
He couldn’t discuss this much with the other two. There was too much of a chance they were being m
agically eavesdropped on. Which wasn’t a bad thing exactly. But there Kyoya was—seeing this as a chance, waiting patiently for the exact moment he could strike and reclaim his freedom.
Soon, the wagon carrying all three of them—each with their own thoughts in mind—set off for Tempest.
Mjurran had received an emergency contact from Clayman. He ordered her to deploy a special sort of high magic.
This magic involved taking the entire area within a three-mile radius and converting it into an anti-magic zone. Spells like these took time, so he ordered her to begin working on it at once. The purpose was to shut off communication with the outside world—there was more to it than that, no doubt, but the demon lord offered no further guidance.
It was clear Clayman planned something big—something that he didn’t want the people of Tempest to know about. It deeply concerned Mjurran, but she would never be allowed to ask questions. Orders were orders.
What’s more, this magic was meant as a defensive spell against other magic. It was being specially customized to fulfill Clayman’s request, and as a result, it would have to be launched around a circle with her at the center. There was the rub. To keep high magic going, Mjurran would have to reveal the identity of the high-level magic-born who drove it: herself. There was no way doing so wouldn’t draw the attention of the locals.
In effect, Mjurran, a magic-user, was being faced with a potential angry mob of Tempestians in a zone that she herself had blocked all the magic from. It was essentially being ordered to die. The magic Clayman stipulated was positionally based, so once it was launched, it’d last for several days whether Mjurran was around for it or not. She was, in effect, a throwaway piece of the puzzle.
Receiving this order crushed her. But there, yet again, the figure of a single man in her life crossed her mind. If she refused this order, it would bring that man an all-too-tragic fate. Mjurran knew this better than anyone else, and that was exactly why the only choice available to her was to accept it.
I knew this would happen. A suitable end for me, I suppose, but I wish at least he could be spared—
She recalled the face of Yohm, the man who claimed to love a woman like her, and smiled. For someone who had lived with the coldest of frozen hearts for the past several centuries, those words were as gentle as a spring breeze.
Those words are all I need…
Steeling her resolve, she began to walk off by herself.
“Where’re you going, Mjurran?”
“Oh, Gruecith. Did you need something?”
“Heh! Not exactly, no.”
But he was clearly trying to follow her.
She tried to get away, recalling how Clayman had acted around her just a moment ago. He was always so calm and collected, but his orders just now hid a twinge of panic behind them. “You will trigger the magic as soon as possible,” he had said before shutting off their link. Something unexpected must have happened.
“Hey, speaking of which, did you see the new dessert they’re offering at the dining hall? It’s called a ‘cream puff’ or something, and Yohm said it was the best thing he ever had. Wanna try it out with me?”
Gruecith couldn’t have acted more carefree. It annoyed Mjurran a bit. His smile was already starting to corrode her steely resolve.
“I appreciate the invite, but sorry. Yohm brought one for me last night. He said it was a present.”
“Pfft. That bastard… Trying to get a leg up on me again.”
“A leg up? What’re you talking about? I have a bit of an errand to do, so if we could talk later—”
“An errand? I’ll really get to see you later?”
“Er, of course. Why wouldn’t you?”
She did her best to brush him off, leaving Gruecith behind on the path.
“Well, I got the weirdest news just now, y’know?” He pointed his eyes at Mjurran. “Something about the demon lord Milim declaring war on my leader. It sounded insane to me, but you’re acting pretty weird, too, so I was just wondering.”
Ah. There we go. Now Mjurran understood. She had no idea why the demon lords Milim and Carillon were at odds with each other, but she was sure Clayman was pulling the strings yet again. He was pulling them—and then something happened that he hadn’t expected. Maybe Milim’s declaration of war was outside his prediction? Maybe his plan was to have Milim launch a surprise attack on the Beast Kingdom, with Mjurran launching a spell to coincide with that. But now that Milim was going off script, she imagined, the whole thing was falling apart.
But why does he want to cut off all communication from this country?
Englesia and Tempest had an agreement with each other, but against an angered Milim, they simply didn’t have enough war power. What would be the point of cutting their—?
Then it struck her like a bolt of lightning.
…Oh. He’s afraid of that slime Rimuru. That slime might just have the power to change Milim’s mind, after all.
The demon lord Clayman feared Rimuru, a presence increasingly becoming an X factor in his life, joining the fray. So he ordered Mjurran to prevent Carillon from contacting Tempest’s leaders, who’d then surely relay his SOS to Rimuru. The longer she dallied, the angrier Clayman would be with her. She needed to launch it at once.
“Plus,” Gruecith continued, “knowing you, I’m sure you’re already aware, but the top leaders in this nation are pretty damn busy right now. Do anything funny at a time like this, and it’ll be your life, y’know?”
He was right. The top staff in Tempest were, to say the least, flustered. Some mysterious armed group had been approaching their territory for the past few days, requiring the full attention of Soei and his agents. There were storm clouds ahead, it seemed, and everyone could practically feel the tension among the leaders.
“Oh? I didn’t know.”
Something was happening. Something beyond Clayman’s expectations. It unnerved her. There was no telling what it could be. She had to launch that magic at once, or else Clayman, crazed with fury, might just kill her and everybody else in this town. And Gruecith just refused to let her go.
“‘I didn’t know’ ain’t gonna cut it, lady. I can’t let you do anything weird right now—you got that?”
“What kind of nonsense is that…? If you’re fighting against Milim, aren’t you in much more danger than any of us?”
“Oh? You talk like you know her. Don’t worry about me. Lord Carillon is invincible. I don’t care how strong Milim is; I couldn’t even think of my lord tasting defeat. What I care about more right now is you, Mjurran!”
“Look, really, what are you—?”
“Let’s stop playing games here. You’re magic-born, aren’t you?”
Maybe she’d be able to talk her way out of this. But right up to the end, Mjurran never considered the option of deceiving Gruecith.
“Huh. Your mind’s always the sharpest when it comes to things like that, isn’t it? Well, no point hiding it. I think the ogre mages spotted it, too.”
“So why?!”
“Because I have to. Listen, Gruecith, I like you a lot, too—as a friend. But if you’re going to get in my way right now…I’m ready to kill you.”
With that, Mjurran did away with her magic-driven human disguise, revealing her original magic-born form.
“Ah…?!”
Gruecith quivered under the pair of large eyeballs boring down into him, virtually roaring with flame.
“Why are you so ready to…? Are you preparing to die? What for? What…? You’ve got a master giving you orders, don’t you?”
“I don’t see any need to answer that.”
For Gruecith, that was as good as a yes.
“Y’know, they said Lord Clayman’s notorious for using his minions like throwaway cannon fodder. You aren’t—?”
“Enough from you! Say one more word, and I will kill you, Gruecith!”
Seeing the normally immovable Mjurran descend into such a panic told him everything else he needed to know.
He was interrupted before he could finish.
“—Let me hear more about that.”
It was Yohm, using all-but-perfect camouflage skills to trick them as he strolled out from underneath the trees. He usually took great pains to look out for Mjurran. There was no way he wouldn’t notice her bizarre behavior.
“Yohm…”
She had revealed her secret to the one person she least wanted to—but, oddly, it filled her with a sense of relief. A relief that turned into surprise at what he had to say next.
“Mjurran, you have to believe in me. I swear I’ll protect you.”
“What are you, crazy? You can see perfectly well by now—I’m a high-level magic-born! How is a human weaker than me supposed to keep me safe?!”
Yohm ignored the frantic plea, growing unusually passionate.
“Human? Magic-born? None of that stuff matters, man! I fell in love with you. I love your face, I love your scent, I love your warmth. The way you live, the way you hold yourself all proud like that. I love all of it. And that means everything to me!!”
“…What are you saying? All that was just a fantasy created to trick you.”
“Don’t worry, Mjurran. I’m prepared to let you keep on trickin’ me…right up to the day I die!”
“Nh…!!”
What an idiot, she thought from the bottom of her heart. But it was such a bold, pleading declaration that it struck her completely dumb.
“Heh. I won, didn’t I? You’ve fallen for me?” He flashed her the biggest smile she had ever seen. “I swear I’ll believe in you until I die. If I do, then how’s that any different from it being the truth, huh?”
Mjurran still lacked the words. You’re so stupid. So, so stupid. But if that’s how you are, then I…
“Heh-heh-heh. What a pitiful man you are. I approached you because I wanted to take advantage of you. You’re so pathetic; it makes me laugh. This is ridiculous. Enough of this charade!”