by Ao Jyumonji
1. Sometimes Like a Wild Animal in Heat
The enemy was—black.
No, not black; blackish, and he wore something that looked like a raincoat.
He stood at maybe 2.5 meters. Pretty tall.
More or less, you could have called him humanoid.
He had a head that was oddly small, as well as arms and legs. His shoulders were awfully broad. His body shape couldn’t have been more of an inverse triangle.
He was holding a weapon with a long handle. The blade was like a thick, sturdy knife, and, well, it was basically a naginata. He was leaning over, using his naginata like a cane as he walked.
There was no sound to his steps, and even as his naginata dragged along the ground, it made no noise. For some reason, he was silent. It was a mystery why, but Haruhiro had just decided to accept that was the way it was.
“Well, shall we?” Haruhiro asked.
Kuzaku let out a deep breath, lowering the visor of his close helm. Whew...
From deep inside Ranta’s skull helm—its visor had a skull-like design, so as a servant of Lord Skullhell, that was what Ranta had decided to name it—there was a low, menacing laugh. He had become fond of laughing like that, recently. Maybe he thought it made him sound cool. Maybe he was an idiot. Yeah, probably the latter. He had always been an idiot, and he probably always would be.
Yume drew an arrow from her quiver, nocking it to her elven composite bow. She was still better with her machete than her bow, but she had purchased a new bow along with her new machete a little while back. She’d learned two archery skills, too. Even if she wasn’t the best suited for it, she seemed to be trying to do something about that.
Merry checked the glowing mark on her left wrist that indicated her Protection spell was active, then made the sign of the hexagram. “O Light, may Lumiaris’s divine protection be upon you... Assist.”
Instantly, another little hexagram of a different color appeared on Kuzaku’s left wrist.
The enemy must have heard Merry’s chanting. He was coming their way, picking up speed as he approached.
Shihoru began to chant and draw elemental sigils with her elfwood staff. “Ohm, rel, ect, delm, brem, darsh.”
A hazy black elemental erupted forth, and it enveloped Shihoru’s body thinly. Armor Shadow. It would only work once, and there were limits to what it could handle, but it could neutralize an attack. For a lightly armored mage, it was a defensive spell that could make a world of difference.
The enemy was already getting close. Soon, he would be in striking range with his naginata.
“Get out there, Kuzaku,” Ranta said.
Rather than respond to Ranta’s spurring him on, Kuzaku moved forward with big, relaxed strides.
The enemy swung his naginata. Kuzaku didn’t back away. He stopped, and held out his shield. He didn’t so much block the naginata as knock it aside with his shield. It wasn’t the Block skill, it was Bash.
There was an incredible clashing sound, and the enemy’s naginata was knocked flying.
Kuzaku thrust out his sword towards the enemy’s exposed torso. The enemy leapt back with hardly a sound.
Yume let loose an arrow. It struck him in the left shoulder.
Haruhiro headed to the enemy’s right side, while Ranta tried to advance on his left. The enemy didn’t like that and withdrew even further.
“Now!” Merry cried. Of course, everyone knew what she meant.
“Suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu...”
He emitted that bizarre sound. Both of his arms stretched. During that interval while they were stretching, he was wide open.
“Press in!” Haruhiro called.
Haruhiro circled around behind the enemy. Kuzaku put his shield up in front of himself and charged. Ranta was—
What, again? He sure likes doing that.
“Bwaheheheh...! Slice...!”
He swung a longsword—which Ranta had decided to name Betrayer, just because its hilt was blackish and it kind of suited it, but was only of decent quality otherwise—as if he were drawing a figure-eight, a sword skill that was certainly showy. If it were any dread knight other than Ranta using it, it might have even looked beautiful. Ranta’s vulgarity lowered the grace and dignity of the Slice skill. But that was fine, as long as he wasn’t dragging down its power as well.
Betrayer sliced up the enemy’s right arm. Kuzaku’s longsword gouged the enemy’s flank, as well. The enemy’s left arm and head were tough, but the rest of him not so much; a blade would go through.
By the time the enemy’s arms had extended to half again their original length, Haruhiro had taken up position behind him. He wouldn’t attack immediately. It wasn’t time yet.
While Haruhiro was lying low, Kuzaku and Ranta moved in closer and closer. When the enemy was in long-arms mode, infighting was the best strategy.
Yume fired off another arrow, hitting him in the right shoulder.
Is he coming? Haruhiro thought.
About two seconds later, the enemy tried to pull back, but Haruhiro was right there in the direction he was trying to retreat. It seemed he had forgotten that Haruhiro even existed.
Haruhiro had been using Sneaking to try and get the enemy to forget, or to not notice him. It had paid off. Haruhiro was able to cling to the enemy’s back, stabbing his dagger into the enemy while he was still processing what had just happened. Haruhiro gave the dagger a sharp twist and he tore it free, then stabbed it back in again.
The enemy was probably going to do a vertical jump to try to throw Haruhiro off. He bent his knees and lowered his hips. That was a sign it was coming.
Haruhiro leapt clear before the enemy jumped.
The enemy sprung into the air for a half-hearted jump, then immediately lowered his posture again.
“Suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu...”
Both arms shrunk. That was another opening.
“Punishment!” Kuzaku shouted.
“Hatred!” Ranta bellowed.
Kuzaku and Ranta both sprang at the enemy at practically the same time, swinging their swords down diagonally. Kuzaku’s longsword struck the enemy hard on the head, blowing away his hood, while Ranta’s Betrayer dug into his right shoulder. After that, they both got in another two or three hits, then pulled back when the arms finished shrinking. The metallic skull that was his head was now clearly visible.
“Jess, yeen, sark, fram, dart!”
It was Shihoru’s Falz Magic. Lightning. The enemy was struck by the bolt and twitched.
His mouth opened, but his teeth were clenched tight.
Chik, chik, chik, chik, chik, chik, chik, chik, chik, chik, chik, chik, chik, chik, chik, chik, chik.
He started clicking his tongue.
“Kuzaku!” Haruhiro called.
Kuzaku replied, “Yup,” and charged at the enemy.
The enemy was in the middle of raising his left knee. That was the motion he made when preparing for a jumping knee kick. When Kuzaku crashed into him with his shield, the enemy was knocked over.
“Nicely done!” Ranta yelled with a vulgar laugh as he attacked the enemy.
Kuzaku was using his longsword to whale on the enemy, too.
Haruhiro made a decision. Let’s finish him here. He wasn’t really trying to set a record for time or anything, but it seemed pretty doable, and even if the enemy fought back a little, the party could more than recover from it.
Was he being overconfident? No. This was an enemy they had fought several times now. They more or less had what made this one different from the others down by now. Actually, they were well aware of how little variance there was between the different members of this race.
The ustrels.
They’re no match for us now, he thought confidently.
“We’re ending this!” he shouted.
When Haruhiro made that declaration, Yume drew her machete and closed in. Merry readied her short staff, not leaving Shihoru’s side.
The ustrel, of course, was trying to get back on his feet, but every time he did, Ranta would jeer and kick his arms or legs out from under him, keeping him from getting up.
Ranta always does these things with such glee, thought Haruhiro. It must come from his nasty personality.
Kuzaku was focusing his onslaught on the ustrel’s head and neck, not so much slashing him as bludgeoning him. Kuzaku had always been blessed with a tall, strong body. When Kuzaku swung down his longsword with all his might, the destructive force behind it was considerable. He lost the ability to talk when he got focused, but that wasn’t a shortcoming. Kuzaku silently continued grinding down what life force remained in the ustrel.
“Meow! Raging Tiger!” Yume called.
This skill of Yume’s, where she did a somersault followed by a powerful blow on the enemy, was pretty dangerous. Every time he saw it, Haruhiro thought, It’s amazing she’s not scared to do that.
While keeping an eye on his comrades, Haruhiro occasionally stared at the ustrel’s back. This was, well, just a habit. No matter what they were up against, if he observed closely, he could figure out what kind of creature it was—or at least he felt that way. It was only that he felt that way, and it couldn’t possibly be true, but it was strangely calming to stare at his enemy’s back.
Once in a while, a strategy would come to mind as he did it. Like, This guy seems weak here, or, He has this idiosyncrasy in the way he moves, or, This is where we ought to attack him.
And then, rarely, he would see that line. To be more precise, it was a dim light that was something like a line. It seemed to be a visualization, of sorts. My opponent will move like so, and has this sort of a weakness, so I should do this. It was a sort of instantaneous prediction. One he processed as if it were a single line.
Setting aside the question of whether it was actually a line or not, apparently everyone had these sorts of visualizations. Generally, they were easier to see when in a difficult situation. In some cases, he had heard it was possible to see multiple lines. In other words, some people were able to instantaneously make multiple predictions.
It differed from person to person. By a lot, actually.
Regardless, it was an ability every thief had. Nothing special.
Of course it wouldn’t be, Haruhiro thought. I’m fine with that, really. Haruhiro wasn’t disappointed at all. A special ability that only I have. It would be nice to have one, of course, but I doubt I’m going to have one. And, as a matter of fact, I don’t. That’s all there is to it. I don’t have what I don’t have.
That said, if you were to say I—we, have nothing, that wouldn’t be true at all. We might come up short in the quantity, quality, and variety of what we have when compared with a genius, but even ordinary people don’t have nothing. They have to make do with what they have. There are things ordinary people can do. Ordinary people can grow. We can get stronger in our plain, ordinary way.
There was a harsh, screeching sound. The ustrel was already foaming at the mouth and chattering his teeth. He was on the verge of death.
“Take that, and that, and that, and that, and that!” Ranta yelled.
He vigorously stabbed Betrayer into the ustrel’s back over and over. Kuzaku backed away, looking to Haruhiro. Haruhiro nodded. There was no need to waste more energy than they needed to. The ustrel was dying. Ranta could handle the rest. Ranta loved thoroughly tormenting a dying enemy and then snuffing the life out of them.
It wasn’t like Haruhiro didn’t question if he should really be acting like that, as a person, but his cruel mercilessness had helped them occasionally. Of course, if you asked Haruhiro whether he liked the guy or not, the answer would be that he truly hated him with every fiber of his being.
“Oh, yeahhhhhh!” Ranta shouted, mounting the motionless ustrel and starting to do something. Probably trying to get his hands on some loot.
That said, ustrels were not a good source of money. The only things they had that were worth a good price were their metallic skulls and the naginatas they carried. Both of those were bulky, and not worth the trouble of hauling back. Especially the metallic skulls. They might look like helmets, but they were actually something like an exoskeleton, and they couldn’t be taken off, so you had to carry them back with the head still inside. They had tried it just once, but for all the effort involved, they’d been disappointed with the minimal return on it. Haruhiro never wanted to do that again.
What Ranta wanted was to take a piece of the ustrel’s body, just because keeping trophies was his disgusting fetish—no, not really. Dread knights took an ear, claw, or other small piece of the enemies they personally killed to give as an offering to Skullhell. They would accumulate vice that way, which let them learn dread knight magic and fighting skills, or strengthened their dread knight magic with Skullhell’s blessing.
Well, he’s a brute, Haruhiro thought.
In a group of twenty volunteer soldiers, you would be lucky to find even one dread knight. It was easy to see why there were so few of them.
I couldn’t stand doing that, Haruhiro thought. Unless it really suits your personality, you can’t go on as a dread knight.
Worse still, even if you couldn’t go on, anyone who became a dread knight could no longer change to another job. They were forced to swear their loyalty to Skullhell alone, and to never betray him so long as they lived. In other words, their code said they couldn’t stop being a dread knight. If he left the guild, his fellow dread knights would chase him down. He’d be killed.
Scary. Dread knights were too damn scary.
“Uhehehehe!” Ranta cackled, lifting up something coated in blackish blood. A tooth from the ustrel, apparently. Haruhiro covered his mouth with the back of his hand, fighting the urge to vomit.
Yeah, I’m sure he’ll be just fine. The job really suits him. Actually, he’s a dread knight to the core. It’s his calling, I’m sure of it.
With Ranta’s work done, Haruhiro and the party decided to leave the ustrel’s remains and move on. This was the edge of the muryan nest. The muryans would clean up the body, no doubt.
The Wonder Hole. It had been more than four months ago that they’d first set foot here.
Honestly, it wasn’t very profitable. Actually, they were using all their earnings on food, drink, baths, equipment, and occasional trips back to Alterna to learn new skills.
The Lonesome Field Outpost had a branch of the Yorozu Deposit Company and, if they were willing to ignore the high fees, they could withdraw money they had on deposit at the main branch, but their savings hadn’t grown at all. Worse than that, Haruhiro’s had gone down, and he wouldn’t be surprised if his party members’ had, too.
We can go in a bit deeper now, Haruhiro thought. Kuzaku’s gotten used to the party, and he’s now a functional tank. Each of us have gotten stronger in our own way, to the point that we can easily wipe the floor with an ustrel. We’re making steady progress... maybe?
It’s hard to say. I think we’re going at a good pace, though. Sometimes things don’t go well, and that can be a real mess. There are times when I agonize over what to do, too. Then there are also times when I just accept that thinking too much isn’t going to change anything, and focus on that day’s work.
Are things okay like this? he wondered. The answer to that question changes every once in a while. Right now, yeah, it’s fine, or at least not bad, I’d say.
Not bad. At least, it shouldn’t be.
Haruhiro was standing at the front of the group, keeping a watchful eye on the area around them as they progressed through
the muryan nest with its many side tunnels. Because that ustrel had appeared, the muryans had all retreated. They wouldn’t show themselves.
“Man...” Ranta said with a sniff of his nose. “Things have gotten, I dunno, kinda repetitive, haven’t they? Lately, that is.”
“...Here he goes again,” Shihoru said with a sigh.
“Huh? Did you say something, saggy tits?” Ranta asked.
“Th... They are not saggy!” Shihoru exclaimed.
“I dunno,” Ranta said. “I haven’t seen them. You’d have to let me check ’em out for myself. Yeah, that’s it. That’s what you’ve gotta do. Can’t say for sure that they aren’t saggy otherwise. Am I right, Kuzacky?”
“Could you stop it?” Kuzaku asked. “Don’t call me that.”
“Kuzackyyyy!”
“What are you, a little kid?” Kuzaku asked.
“I. Am. An. Adult. I’m an adult, no matter how you cut it. I’m so adult, I’m way too adult. You can tell that, right, Kuzacky?”
“Man...” Haruhiro said, cursing himself for butting in when he knew it would do no good and it was best to just stay quiet. Of course, he cursed Ranta even more than that. Half a billion times more. “Can’t you do anything other than bother people? Aren’t you ashamed to live like that, as a person?”
“I’m not ashamed, clearly,” Ranta said. “I do it with pride, and you know it. I live without showing restraint towards anyone. Can’t you tell that, you moron?”
“You’re a fine example of evil thriving,” Merry said coldly.
“Your hate,” Ranta said with a deep, sinister chuckle, “it gives me strength. Do you get it? That’s because I’m a knight of darkness, a dread knight. I am the darkness. Got it? By the way, Yume, Shihoru’s tits, they’re saggy, right?”
“Huh?” Yume furrowed her brow, and then, probably without thinking, brought her hands to her chest and made a gesture like she was lifting something heavy. “Wait, there’s no way Yume’s gonna tell you that, Ranta, you perv!”
Haruhiro hastily looked away. His eyes met with Kuzaku’s by chance. They had an unspoken conversation.
“...Just now, they looked pretty heavy...”