by Ryota Hori
“And Helnesgoula won’t sit idly by, I imagine... They’ll invade Xarooda and take advantage of our invasion to further their own ends. Or perhaps Xarooda will go to them for help. Helnesgoula cares little of what will become of Xarooda, so long as they oppose us.”
Occupying Xarooda wasn’t all that difficult, in fact. Considering the Empire of O’ltormea’s strength, one could even call it simple. Even if Rhoadseria and Myest were to send in their reinforcements, the Empire would still likely win.
“What do you think Helnesgoula’s Vixen will choose?” Shardina asked.
“Well... She is one for seizing victory without dirtying her own hands...” Sudou replied, the image of the Kingdom of Helnesgoula’s young queen surfacing in his mind.
Her appearance was, honestly speaking, average at best. She was very much a plain woman when compared to Princess Shardina or Rhoadseria’s Queen Lupis. Sudou wouldn’t quite say the disparity was like night and day, but the comparison certainly wasn’t favorable.
But appearances were, in this case, quite deceiving. Helnesgoula’s queen was a terrifying presence. A cold-hearted, cruel woman. A born sovereign that would willingly sacrifice her own family if it would promote her goals.
In fact, Grindiana Helnecharles, the Queen of the Kingdom of Helnesgoula, earned the crown resting upon her head by slaying her own kinsmen, her blood siblings included. Of course, at the time the situation in Helnesgoula necessitated that this be done. But even to this day, that extreme choice was still an unforgivable act in the history of the country.
Sudou had only met the woman twice before, but the intensity of her personality burned a lasting impression into his heart. This wise, cunning and scheming queen was known as the Vixen of the North. And she wouldn’t easily overlook this perfect chance to strike a blow against O’ltormea.
“I don’t doubt she will march troops into Xarooda,” Sudou said. “She won’t allow us to be the only ones to annex more territory... Though I can’t say if she will do it as an invasion or as part of a mediated agreement with Xarooda.”
“And in the process, we will surely clash with Helnesgoula’s army, and that would give Xarooda the chance to negotiate with them... I swear, they’re so obstinate...” Shardina whispered angrily.
“Even weak countries have their own ways of ensuring their survival.” Sudou shook his head silently.
“Fine, so be it. For now we need to win this battle. Everything else hinges on that.”
Right now, they had to beat the Xaroodian army. All of their speculations would be meaningless unless they did that.
“Yes, unlikely as it may be, there is still a chance our forces will be overwhelmed by the Xaroodian army.” Sudou said.
And therein lay their greatest concern. Would Xarooda’s fervent charge break through their lines or not.
“I... will take to the front, too.” Shardina said, directing a gaze at Sudou.
Her expression was stiffened with suspense and fear. She didn’t need to be told how foolish of a choice that was. If the enemy was after her life, why would she expose herself to the enemy? But despite this, Sudou didn’t outright veto her decision. He had sensed her firm will, and also realized the advantages her proposal offered them.
“I see... So you’re willing to make that gamble.”
“If I take to the frontlines as well, the two thousand knights meant to guard me will also join the fold. And besides, my joining the battle will also serve to elevate our soldiers’ morale.”
O’ltormea’s forces on the frontlines already matched Xarooda’s, and thus there could only be one reason they would be overwhelmed. Xarooda’s knights were burning with high morale and didn’t fear death. That morale could be described as a sense of elation, but put more concisely, it was also a sort of frenzy, or perhaps bloodlust. The knowledge they had no other choice and their sense of duty to their country dominated their hearts.
Heart first, then technique, then body. And true enough, when it came to battle, one’s emotional condition was the most critical factor. And should one’s heart break, it wouldn’t matter how polished their skill may be or how strong their body was. Shardina only had one way of beating Xarooda now, and that was to light the fire of morale in her soldiers’ failing spirits.
“I’m sure the soldiers’ morale will rise should you join their ranks. And with your guards taking part in the battle, they should be able to hold on until the detachments arrive, but...”
Sudou trailed off. In terms of probability, they were likely to win. With their commander entering the front, O’ltormea’s knights would fight with renewed vigor. But from the perspective of being a field officer, Shardina’s offer was all too dangerous.
It was a question of risk versus safety, but whichever she might pick wouldn’t offer any absolute assurances. It was a situation where one couldn’t discern that she would absolutely win or lose this battle.
“I realize the danger involved in this...” Shardina said.
Those words made Sudou prepare himself for whatever might come as a tactician.
This is one of her finer points as a person... And for all the Organization and even O’ltormea itself are concerned, losing here is a minor setback... I suppose I should ready myself for whichever way this might turn out.
If they were to put off this decision, they would end up losing before they would decide anything, and that would be a foolish conclusion. All that remained was to believe in Shardina’s choice as their supreme commander.
“Very well, understood. I’ll have your escorts dispatched to the frontlines promptly.” Sudou said and bowed his head to Shardina.
That was the greatest honor he could exhibit toward his commander’s brave choice.
On that day, the battle of the Notis plains ended with an O’ltormean victory when their detachments caught the Xaroodian knights in a surprise attack and decimated their forces. However, it couldn’t be called an absolute victory for the Empire of O’ltormea.
O’ltormea gained victory by claiming the life of the Xaroodian general, Belares, but that was only the result of Shardina’s ploys. The Xaroodian army lost 16,000 men, while the O’ltormean forces lost 17,000 men. Their losses were roughly equal, but the casualties forced the Empire of O’ltormea to temporarily halt its invasion of the Kingdom of Xarooda.
Having seized control of the noble territories along the Xaroodian border, Shardina made the region her stronghold, where she hoped to rebuild her forces, but she could not immediately re-commence her invasion of the kingdom. As she’d initially suspected, the Kingdom of Helnesgoula — also known as the monster of the north — crossed Xarooda’s northern borders, baring its fangs against the empire’s forces.
It was the start of a three-way battle between the three countries of O’ltormea, Xarooda and Helnesgoula.
The fact the Kingdom of Xarooda became a crucible of turmoil would go on to grant Ryoma Mikoshiba much-needed time. Precious time that would ensure his survival...
Chapter 4: To the Peninsula
A dull sound, like that of a moist fruit being crushed underfoot, echoed through the dark forest. A rusty, sickeningly-sweet stench wafting up from the forest’s trees tickled Sara’s nostrils, prompting her to slightly contort her fair face.
“How do you feel, Master Ryoma? Does anything feel off in some way?” Sara asked, handing over a towel to the dark shadow standing before her.
“Everything seems fine, for now,” Ryoma replied. “But I gotta admit, martial thaumaturgy is really something. It’s like my body’s turned into some kind of wild animal’s.”
“You’ve already learned the basics. All that remains is to gain experience in using it through real combat.”
“Gain experience, huh... I can already kill beasts with my bare hands. I can’t even imagine what I’ll be able to pull off if I become skilled at this.” Ryoma said, his lips curling up in a satisfied smirk.
His expression was not unlike the ghastly visage of a sneering demon. His face
was covered in dark red splashes of blood. Both his arms were coated in red up to his elbows, and the red fluid was dripping from his fingers steadily down to the forest floor.
Scattered all around them were the remains of dead wolves — fifty-four of them in total. They were large creatures, each of them standing over a meter tall and weighing sixty kilograms. Giants, as wolves went. These beasts no doubt stood as rulers of this forest, but they now lay dead at Ryoma’s feet.
Such was the fate of those who lost in the struggle for survival.
Blood was flowing endlessly from their carcasses and pooling over the forest floor. Their savage faces were crushed to bits.
“Honestly, I didn’t think I’d kill them so easily bare-handed,” Ryoma said in an almost exasperated tone, gazing at the corpses at his feet. “It’s not just that my muscle strength increased, my senses are sharper too and my body feels so much lighter.”
Besides the elation rising up from within his body, he couldn’t help but feel that the sight before his eyes was some kind of illusion conjured up by his mind. There was a stark difference in muscle strength between humans and animals. Humans could only safely hunt down beasts when armed with firearms or a blade. The gap between man and beast was simply that vast.
But Ryoma slew such animals with his bare hands, and he was able to do so while handling many of them at once. And as Ryoma wiped his body clean with the towel, it became apparent he wasn’t injured in any way. This stood as proof that, once using martial thaumaturgy, Ryoma was stronger than a wild animal.
His hand felt vividly warm from having pierced through the stomachs of the wolves, crushing their entrails in the process. His fingers could still feel the shredding sensation from when he tore apart the jaws of a wolf that tried to bite down on him. And these weren’t normal animals, either. They were fearsome creatures, categorized as monsters.
Ryoma was filled with a feeling of definite achievement. He could do something he wasn’t capable of before. That sensation filled his body with elation.
“That is not something anyone can achieve, of course,” Sara said. “Your body is well-built and trained as it is, Master Ryoma, and you have combat experience.”
Ryoma’s body was well-tempered thanks to his grandfather, Kouichirou Mikoshiba’s training, and he’d braved dangers the likes of which he’d never be able to experience in his world. All of those aspects intertwined with him gaining the new power of martial thaumaturgy, and that synergy’s result was this newfound strength.
“And you can see it yourself. The children have also gained martial thaumaturgy, but... Hmm... It seems they’re very much struggling...” Sara said, her gaze wandering into the dimly-lit depths of the forest.
The way she trailed off carried an uncharacteristic tinge of criticism toward Ryoma.
“Struggling, huh...? Does it bother you?” Ryoma furrowed his brows as he looked at Sara.
He could tell she was displeased with his decisions, and Ryoma wasn’t foolish enough to believe his choices were inherently correct. But even if it was the wrong thing to do, Ryoma had no choice but to make that decision. Even if Sara were to judge him for it, there was no other path he could have chosen. He was in no position to save the weak right now.
Faced with Ryoma’s unyielding gaze, Sara looked away. She understood the problem perfectly well, but her emotions weren’t so easily convinced.
“I know why you brought the children here, Master Ryoma... And I... I understand why it was necessary, but...” Sara muttered hesitantly.
This was something that didn’t seem to affect Laura as severely as it tormented her, but their past as slaves was a great source of trauma for Sara. The lustful, lecherous expression on the slave merchants’ faces. The anxiety of not knowing when they might be sold away. The despair of being treated the same as livestock.
Every time she saw the children being trained, those memories flooded her heart. But when Ryoma ordered that the children be taught how to fight, Sara didn’t openly object to it. This wasn’t so much due to her debt of gratitude toward him, but simply because she realized that, as much as she might hate this, they didn’t have another choice.
The rule of this Earth was survival of the fittest. Even one’s right to life had to be earned by one’s own strength, and being weak was very much a sin. Perhaps one could be allowed to remain weak so long as they didn’t mind being trampled on by the strong. To bear being pillaged, ravaged and killed.
So long as one realized those things could befall themselves and those they wished to keep safe, they didn’t have to be strong. So long as one could accept having their safety and fortune threatened by bandit raids, having their spouses and daughters raped as part of the nobles’ oppression, having their children devoured by monsters... If one chose not to earn the means to fight while being aware of all this, perhaps they could be forgiven for staying weak.
Most people in this world, and namely the commoners, chose this fate for themselves. Or rather, they had no choice but to make that choice. But if one wished to claim their human rights, to live with pride and be able to defend what they held dear, there was only one option.
To grow strong. Power came in many forms. It could be through money, through violence, through wisdom or through authority. But might, and might alone, made right. And from the perspective of those that understood this truth, Ryoma’s actions came across as almost kind.
The slave children were weak. But he made them literate, taught them how to fight and granted them the power of thaumaturgy. His actions gave weak people a thread of hope to cling to, and that held true even if Ryoma only did it to suit his own ends. His actions, in and of themselves, didn’t call for criticism. The children were lucky. They were weak, but were given a chance to become strong.
And right now, those children were straddling the line between life and death as they were about to make that transition. By surviving in this monster infested forest, they would either die as weak people, or be reborn as strong ones...
Sara once again looked into the dim forest, and prayed for the children’s safety.
Ye gods, grant these children even a sliver of your power...
Sara’s wish was to see as many of these children as possible survive this trial.
♱
“Melissa, what are you doing?! You’ll die if you keep your head in the clouds! Keep your sword up, it’s coming at you again!”
Melissa couldn’t react to the boy’s shout in time. The sight of a large, dark beast and its furled fangs filled her field of vision. Standing before her was a black-furred tiger. A pair of large, curved fangs stuck out of its mouth as it rushed toward her with the intent of tearing her apart. This large beast, exceeding three meters in height, rushed toward Melissa like the wind.
“Aaaaaaaaah!” A scream of terror escaped her lips.
Her grip on her sword reflexively tightened, but the terror prevented her from doing anything else. The tiger’s gaze. The glint of its fangs. A body mass that far exceeded her own. All of those facts coiled around Melissa’s inexperienced heart like shackles.
“You idiot...! Cran, pull Melissa back! Coile, help me block it!”
Pushing Melissa, who was frozen in place, aside, one of the boys tried to ward off the tiger with a swing of his sword. His body gave off bloodlust, meant to intimidate the tiger. It did not come across as much of a threat to the tiger, of course, but it was enough to change the way he perceived the children. They weren’t just prey anymore. The tiger stopped advancing, instead electing to circle them, waiting for a moment where they would show a sign of weakness.
“Melissa! Hurry, get back!” The boy called Cran wrapped his arms around Melissa’s body and pulled her back forcefully.
“O-Ouch, wait, stop it!” Melissa raised her voice in pain as he grabbed her a bit too hard.
The boy facing off against the tiger reflexively responded to her yelp, tensing up for a moment. Seeing this as its chance, the tiger lunged at the boy like an arrow l
aunched from a strained bow.
“Damn it!”
The next moment, the boy thrust his sword into the tiger’s opened mouth. The boy was pushed down under the tiger’s weight, but the other boy, Coile, sank his blade into the tiger’s stomach. The moment the tiger lunged at them, the children thrust their blades forward. It was a reflexive act done to guard themselves, but the goddess of fate elected to spare their lives.
The sword sank deep into the tiger’s open mouth. But with the creature bearing down on him weighing several hundreds of kilograms, he was knocked down to the ground and hidden from sight by the tiger’s body.
“Kevin, are you all right?!” Coile called out to the boy lying under the tiger.
Coile’s sword already killed the tiger, but he didn’t have the time to take pride in this achievement. Coile’s heart was full of concern for Kevin.
“Cran, come on, help me move the tiger! Melissa, you keep watch, all right?! More monsters might show up. Don’t let anything creep up on us!”
The fact the enemy before their eyes was defeated didn’t mean they were safe. This forest was infested by countless monsters, and the dead tiger’s blood could easily draw them out.
“A-All right.” Melissa said with a nearly inaudible voice as she gave a frail nod.
Coile and Cran turned their backs to Melissa and pressed their hands against the tiger’s body.
“Ugh, it’s so heavy...! Cran! Put more force into it!”
“I know!”
The boys raised their voices at each other as they lifted up the tiger’s body.
“Kevin! Kevin! Now! Crawl out of there!” Cran called out to Kevin the moment they were able to lift a gap between him and the carcass.
They may have mastered martial thaumaturgy, but their ages ranged from twelve to fifteen. They weren’t fully physically matured yet. This, coupled with their harsh lives as slaves, meant their muscle strength was still relatively underdeveloped. They were only able to barely lift the tiger’s corpse thanks to the several months of training they’d received.