“Cover me.”
“Oh, may I?” Laminitus asked quizzically, the surprise evident on her face. “We would think you’d insist upon a one-on-one to maintain chivalry or some sort of other masculine pride.”
“...This isn’t the sort of battle one can win while clinging to such notions.”
†
The place where the western gate once proudly stood had completely changed now. The square on the inner side of the gate, where the regional knights now stood, was riddled with cracks. The knights were quite trained by the standards of the races, but weren’t even an option when it came to fighting powerful Fallen and large-type magical beasts.
Laminitus stood before them, armed with her magi gun, her sights fixed on the enemy. Emile and his fellow adventurers were near the gate where rubble littered the ground beneath them. Protecting Laminitus at their back, they kept a path open for her magi gun.
Lastly, before the western gate was the hole blown open by the Demon Overlord cannon. The rubble of what was once the gate filled the place, leaving not a single trace of the beautifully maintained highway leading up to the entrance to the city. At the center of that site of ruin was Galford’s battlefield; a sight where he had yet to pull out the sword sheathed at his waist.
Galford silently surveyed the gap between them. Ten steps.
“Hmm, looks like you’ll be fun♪” Ryoka, who stood opposite him, narrowed her eyes.
“...I cannot say I agree... I have never once found battle to be enjoyable.”
“Well that’s ‘cuz you’re weak, ain’t it? You better not let me down!”
Vigorously calling out those words, Ryoka kicked the ground, charging in Galford’s direction. She was moving slower than expected, however.
Did I train too much? Emile pondered as he looked on.
Galford had thought he wouldn’t be able to match this powerful Fallen head-on, but somehow, she didn’t seem all that quick.
“Yah!”
Ryoka swung down her Chinese longsword. There was still some distance between them, but her blade suddenly shined. The slash connected, a single step’s distance earlier than it should have.
A surprise attack?!
“Raaah!” Galford yelled out as he unsheathed his sword.
Emile’s eyes widened. Galford’s speed was in a completely different dimension than when Emile had trained with him.
I knew he was taking it easy on me, but I didn’t think he’d be that fast!
Galford’s sword deflected Ryoka’s slash. The air quivered as metal clanged against metal, and another blow soon followed. It was a combo of two swings from Galford, so rapid Emile could hardly follow it with his eyes.
Blood burst from the back of Ryoka’s right hand. Her eyes widened.
“I’m cut?!”
“Hm.” Galford looked down at his blade. The tip of his sword had been cracked.
“Heheheh... Not bad.” Ryoka’s wound disappeared quickly. “Let’s speed this up a bit!”
She attacked again, this time noticeably faster than before. She stepped forward, with Galford definitely entering the range of her Chinese longsword.
“Nng... Aaah!”
Galford deflected her sword. He then shifted around her in a fluid, circular motion, slashing and cutting into her upper arm. It looked like a deep wound, but didn’t quite sever it. Her left hand drooped down powerlessly.
“How?! I’m faster than you!”
It was simply a gap in technique. Being a Fallen, Ryoka had the advantage when it came to physical strength and endurance, but there was a fatal difference in the level of their swordsmanship. Galford’s swordplay was a mix of defense and offense; there was no difference or transition between an attack and a guard. Whenever you thought he deflected a blow, his movements flowed like water and naturally shifted into a counterattack. It was beautiful swordsmanship one wouldn’t expect from his strict features.
But since the blade didn’t cut through bone, Ryoka’s left arm had regenerated in the blink of an eye.
Is she immortal?
“Looks like you’re not some loser small fry!” Ryoka said, her lips curling upward in an ecstatic smile. “This is what battle is all about!”
She slashed again. Did she think the counterattack earlier was a fluke? It was the same type of attack as before. Galford easily staved it off once more, his counterattack cutting through Ryoka’s left shoulder this time around.
The Fallen’s attacks gained momentum, and Galford hastened his slashes to adjust to the change. Their slashes clashed time and time again, the sound of metal striking itself booming around them like a cacophony.
Their fight was on a different level. The sounds were no light clicks; rather, they were heavy, resounding gongs and bangs. With each exchange, Galford’s sword was being chipped away. Ryoka’s Chinese longsword, by contrast, was enchanted and didn’t have so much as a scratch. He was beating her when it came to swordplay, but there was a difference between their weapons. Was there anything Emile could do to help?
“Tch...” Ryoka suddenly backed away.
“Hm?” Galford, staying cautiously on guard, didn’t chase her down.
“I give up.” Ryoka lowered her Chinese longsword.
“Hmph... If you’re leaving, the races have no interest in detaining you.”
“You’re not fighting me seriously, are you?”
“What makes you say that?”
“You’re keeping track with me, always topping off at just the right speed. And when I leave an opening, you don’t try to break through.”
“...I’m a cautious man. I only see overly obvious openings as traps.”
“Is that right... I guess I’ll have to make you play for keeps then.”
Ryoka shifted her gaze behind Galford, fixing it on Emile and his group.
Wh-What?!
Of course, they weren’t caught completely off guard. They were exceptionally cautious, or so they thought... Ryoka’s eyes glittered dangerously at them.
“Dodge!” Laminitus cried out.
“Gah?!” Eristoff the enchanter coughed up blood. A hole opened up his left breast, and he toppled face down to the ground.
“Eristoff!” Emile kneeled beside him, calling out his name as though in pain.
“Gragh...” In response, what came out of his mouth wasn’t words, but more blood.
“E-Eristoff!” Turon the healer waved his staff over the injured enchanter, offering up his prayers to God. A faint light enveloped Eristoff, who simply lay there in silence.
“God! Your mercy be upon us!”
Only silence...
“Heal his wounds, God! Please, God!”
Turon weaved his healing spell earnestly, but Eristoff didn’t move. The man’s breath wouldn’t return.
“Uuu... Kuh...” Turon fell to his knees.
“H... He’s dead?!” Emile couldn’t recognize his own voice as those words escaped his lips. His comrade had just passed before his very eyes.
“Well?” Ryoka asked, her lips contorting into a heartless smile. “If you don’t get serious with me, I’ll kill you one. By. One. You races hate that, don’t you? Seeing your friends die.”
“Don’t do anything foolish!” Galford gravely warned Emile—
But the grieving soldier had already broken into a sprint.
†
“Daaaaaamn yoooooou!”
Emile’s blood was boiling in his veins. He rushed at Ryoka, his broadsword swung upward.
“Idiot...” Laminitus clicked her tongue and fired her magi gun.
“Ah?!” Ryoka recoiled backward as the shot thundered in everyone’s ears.
She hit her! Didn’t she evade it?! Couldn’t she respond in time?! Or maybe she was just careless! No matter, this is my chance!
“Sword Smite III!” Emile rushed her, using the warrior-class martial art to close the gap between them in one bound.
“Don’t get close to her so carelessly!” Galford shouted.
&n
bsp; But Emile’s mind was too stained in wrath to care. Ryoka, whose stance had been disturbed, swung her Chinese longsword over her head with one hand. Their swords clashed ferociously.
Then, Ryoka’s massive blade approached Emile’s eyes.
“Hah!” He’d deflected the Chinese longsword with his broadsword. He then interrupted his horizontal slash in mid rush and shifted to another martial art.
“Quad Slash!”
This was a martial art that purportedly required one to be a warrior of level 80 or higher. It was a skill that unleashed four concurrent slashes that came from a superhuman warrior capable of handling a broadsword with ease. Ryoka blocked one of the slashes, but the remaining three had hit their mark and sent her flying.
“Kah?! You cheeky little small fry!”
“I’m not through with you!”
It was the effect of his long training. Ryoka was far stronger than Gregore, the Fallen that had attacked Faltra last time, but here Emile was, pushing back such a mighty opponent in this heated battle.
Now, some of the credit went to Eristoff’s enchantments. Emile’s magically-enhanced broadsword didn’t crack from clashing against the Chinese longsword, nor did it fracture from striking against Ryoka’s tough body.
I will avenge you, Eristoff!
His broadsword struck against the Fallen’s flank, and her body bent in an unnatural direction. Had she been one of the races, she would have been severed in half.
I can win this!
Emile took a stance with his broadsword aiming upward: the martial art, Alps Fall III. It packed exceptional power, but took a long time to fire off. In most situations, trying to use it would just result in you getting hit first. When Emile fought Diablo once before, he’d been punched before he could activate his martial art and was blown backward into a wall.
But Emile believed with all his heart that this supposedly useless martial art was the most suited for him. For that reason alone, he even extended his mastery to the special skill “Instantaneous Activation” which shortened its build-up time. Thus, when used against a staggered opponent, Alps Fall III would connect in time.
“Take thiiiiiis!”
Ryoka’s face entered his line of sight. She had horns as well as a dragon’s wings and tail. She was a Fallen, with the blood of the races on her hands. But her face...was that of a woman.
My name is Emile Bichelberger. Protector of all women!
“Kuh!” Against his will, Emile hesitated for but a moment.
Ryoka quickly bore her fangs. “You’re a letdown, small fry!”
The broadsword crashing down on Ryoka’s head was shattered by a blow from her Chinese longsword.
“What?!”
A pitch black aura that could only be described as repugnant flames had erupted from his enemy’s blade. Even as she was showered with attacks, Ryoka kept her strongest ace hidden. Was she going easy on them?
“Second kill!” The Chinese longsword enveloped with black flames bore down on Emile, who’d now lost his broadsword.
“Emiiiiiile!” Someone cut between the two of them, blocking the Fallen’s Chinese longsword with his massive shield.
...Or at least, attempted to block it.
“Gaaah?!” Grutas the blocker was summarily cut in half along with his shield.
“Gru... Aaah...?!” Emile’s vision was painted red.
Despite cleaving through a thick shield and the massive man holding it, Ryoka’s sword still swung down with terrifying momentum, tearing through Emile’s armor. It felt as if a rod of hot metal had been pressed against his chest. It wasn’t so much painful as it was horrifyingly hot.
“Aaaaaaaaahh?!”
Emile fell to the ground. The pain alone had sapped his body of all his strength.
“Looks like my second kill was some other small fry,” Ryoka said, looking down on Emile like an insect. “Well, whatevs. Whaddaya say now? Still feel like holding back on me?”
She no longer considered Emile’s existence. Her interest shifted back to Galford.
“...Ignoring orders to attack blindly, eventually going out of commission...” He sighed in response to her question. “I knew adventurers could not be relied upon. You weren’t even useful for buying us time.”
Buying them time... Galford was waiting—waiting for someone who could turn this fight around. But judging by his words, he’d decided to give up on that unfounded hope. He threw his worn out sword aside.
“I didn’t intend on using this until I fought the Demon Lord, but you’ve left me no choice...”
†
“Whaaat?” Ryoka tilted her head. “You’re throwing away your weapon...? Don’t tell me you’re thinking of surrendering. Like, we’re gonna massacre you all. Just saying.”
“So I’d expect... But let me say this: You fallen should expect no mercy from me.
Galford didn’t have a sword in hand. Despite that setback, he assumed a stance as if he were holding a sword at his waist.
“This...isn’t a bluff.” Ryoka’s expression turned all the more dubious.
Galford didn’t budge a muscle, but sweat began dripping down his face. His pulse was increasing, and his breath came out in shorter bursts. He stood at the ready, his muscles bulging out.
Martial arts consumed the stamina running through your body, known as SP. If used in an internal fashion, they could elevate your physical capabilities to their utmost limit. But when mastered, it unlocked another use for your SP.
“Haaaaaaaaah!”
Your SP could be concentrated outside your body and materialized.
Galford swung his arms as if drawing something out, then a shining sword materialized in his hand.
It was the Sword of Light.
“You’re finally taking this seriously.” The sides of Ryoka’s lips curled up as she grinned excitedly. “And to think I was almost about to butcher you like the useless sack of meat you are.”
Ryoka kicked the ground, taking off at a speed unlike anything she’d exhibited before. Emile knew she was holding back on him, but she’d still cut him down and took the lives of his friends, leaving him to crawl pathetically on the ground.
A monster...
Ryoka was on a level of her own, even among the Fallen. If a hero of the war like Galford were to unveil his ultimate technique, the races stood no chance against such a foe—so Emile believed.
“Show me your serious fighting technique!” Ryoka was the first to swing down. “Put a smile on my face, human!”
“Argh!” Twisting his body, Galford deflected the slash. Surprisingly, the Sword of Light was crushed, crackling away into fragments of light.
“Hiyaaaaaah!” Ryoka screeched in peculiar, high-pitched laughter.
“Cut!” Galford swung his left hand into the open air. At that moment, two Swords of Light were generated at his left. Blood sprayed through the air as both of Ryoka’s arms were severed.
“Wha?! How...?!” Her Chinese longsword fell to the ground loudly, her two wrists still gripping it.
“I won’t let you get away!” Galford glared at her with bloodshot eyes.
By the time he finished his shout, his left hand had already swung the Sword of Light. Ryoka’s head parted from her neck, flying high into the air before bumbling to the ground.
“It can’t be?! How did I...?!” Having been reduced to nothing but her head, Ryoka’s eyes widened so much her eyeballs looked propped to roll out. Seeing her speak as a severed head drove home how detached her existence was from that of mere mortals.
“What is it?” Galford was the one to look down on her this time. “Go on, laugh... Weren’t you speaking of how joyful and fun battle is?”
“Gah! You insignificant, little...”
“Your wounds healing as fast as they do makes your senses of fear and caution slacken, reducing your defense. Thanks to that, you lost your weapon.”
“You had two swords! You tricked me, you coward!”
“Coward, eh...? No compliment c
ould ever taste as sweet.”
“How can you enjoy yourself when you fight like that?!”
“I’ve already told you before: not once, not ever have I found battle to be enjoyable.”
Galford thrust his Sword of Light down through Ryoka’s head.
†
Sitting on the back of a massive magical beast, Lazpuras surveyed the battle. The first magical beast he rode was reduced to particles of light by the power of the Demon Overlord cannon, so he was now atop another grand turtle. At his side was the magical beast user Manuela, and the commander-in-chief of the army, Eulerex, was also nearby.
“A battle worthy of the hero of the glittering blade, Chester Ray Galford. To think Ryoka would perish after being strengthened past her limits...”
They were surprised, but this was all within their calculations. The commander-in-chief thought Ryoka to be an eyesore, after all. She was young, uninhibited, and had a nasty tendency to ignore orders. She was formerly of the Edelgard faction, and was obviously trying to elevate her position. Eulerex would have had to nip that talent in the bud eventually just to solidify the position he’d built up for himself. He likely let Ryoka fight on her own accord, anticipating she’d be defeated in the process.
Was this sly Fallen a shrewd tactician? Or perhaps a weakling occupied with his own self-importance? Lazpuras’s evaluation of him was balanced between these two impressions, but...no matter the case, Eulerex’s position was what held the army together. His leadership and resolve were absolutely necessary.
Lazpuras shifted his gaze to the box lying on the ground.
The Demon Overlord Modinaram is no longer in a state where he is worthy to be called our lord.
“Lord Eulerex, we must close the box.”
“’Tis too late.”
“What are you saying?!”
“It seems they’ve piqued the Demon Overlord’s interest.”
“I-Is that...acceptable?” Lazpuras spoke, putting his doubts into words. “Yet another town could be completely wiped out.”
It took a great amount of food to maintain the Demon Lord’s army, especially now that it had grown as large as it had. They had no provisions and needed to raid the races’ towns for food.
How NOT to Summon a Demon Lord: Volume 9 Page 5