It was so funny the way Ainzach and Osk both looked at him that Ainz let a chuckle slip out. But then he was worried it sounded like a scoff, so he rushed to gloss it over by adding a few more audible nose breaths.
But it was impossible with just holes in his skull.
He quit trying and decided to gloss it over with words instead.
“Apparently, you didn’t hear me. This is what I said: It’s fine by me.”
Osk’s expression didn’t change, but it was clear that his head was hard at work.
“…Is that a promise on your honor?”
“You want me to swear on my honor? …All right. I, Ainz Ooal Gown, swear not to use any magic during the fight with the martial king.”
“Wait a—! Your Majesty! You can’t make a promise like that without even seeing what the martial king can do!”
Ainzach’s comment was certainly true. But if the information he had on the martial king was reliable, then he didn’t seem like such a challenge.
“Well, I’m sure it’ll work out somehow.”
“Surely ‘somehow’ isn’t good enough!”
Ainz was a little moved by Ainzach’s comeback. Since he became the ruler of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, no one had given him their opinion in that way. As Momon, he had gotten a bit of it at first, but once his rank jumped, it stopped completely.
“And you’ll be in awfully hot water if the king of another country dies in the empire’s arena!”
That’s true. Ainz and Osk looked at each other.
“Well, it’s only natural that you would say that. What do you think, Your Majesty? I don’t mind if you take your loyal retainer’s advice and back out.”
In response, Ainz shrugged. He could understand Ainzach’s concern, but he was the one who came up with this idea in the first place. He may have planned it with him casting in mind, but did he really think Ainz was so weak without magic?
“It’s no problem. Or rather, Ainzach, you’re embarrassing me, so quit shouting. And Osk. There’s something I’m not clear on: How would my death benefit you?”
Osk blinked. It wasn’t endearing at all for a man of his age to react that way. “There seems to be a misunderstanding, Your Majesty. There’s not a single benefit-like outcome for me. As the guild master said, the cons are far greater.”
He must just really have been thinking as a promoter and not scheming to have Ainz fight at a disadvantage.
“I see. Then that’s fine.”
“…Do you have a way to win against the martial king without magic? He’s stronger than Gazef Stronoff.”
“…Stronoff? I was jealous of how strong he was.” Ainz noticed Ainzach next to him looking shocked, but he continued his reminiscence. “If the martial king is stronger than him, I’ll need to be on my guard. But I’m saying he’s strong in terms of his heart not his combat ability. If you’re saying the martial king is stronger than Stronoff in terms of brawn, then it will be a simple matter for me to kill him instantly.”
“I see. By the way, I have an additional answer to your question from before.” Osk lifted his arms up—his meaty arms with no hanging flab. “I love pitting sword against sword and fist against fist. But I don’t have a crumb of aptitude for hand-to-hand combat, so I can’t win even if I work hard. So I had an idea: I could just create a warrior to represent me and have him win.”
Osk sneered in satisfaction. His face was no longer that of a merchant. It was him as a human being.
Ainz had never met a human this strange before, but he knew everyone had their kinks. In other words, this guy has a weird fetish, thought Ainz, creating a folder for deviants and throwing Osk in it.
“Which is why…if you lose to the martial king who I trained, it will feel amazing for me.”
“Oh?”
Osk and Ainzach both looked at him in surprise.
You guys have been acting weird for a while now, thought Ainz.
“Don’t make that strange face at me. If there’s something you want to say, go ahead.”
“N-no, just, is that all…?”
“I have no idea what you want from me, Osk. I really do struggle to comprehend humans. So? Does ‘is that all?’ mean you wanted me to say something else…? Then how about this? Will you be happy to win against me if I don’t use any magic?”
Ainz didn’t really get it, but Osk seemed a bit confused.
“Er, uh, that is… I don’t really care for magic that much…”
“I see. So that’s where this conversation ends, then.”
Osk and Ainzach exchanged glances. If there’s something you want to say, spit it out, he thought, but this was how society worked. If someone without much right to speak revealed their honest feelings, they would be tucked away somewhere they wouldn’t cause too much trouble.
“We’ve spoken so far without concealing anything, so let’s continue to be open and to the point. When can I fight the martial king? If possible, I’d like it to be a major event.”
“Then I’ll announce at today’s match that a challenger has appeared, and we can set it up right away. But I’d like to keep your identity a secret until right before the fight.”
“I can’t fathom why. Isn’t that kind of a waste as a promoter?”
“The king of an allied country appearing at the arena flies in the face of common sense, so… Hmm? I didn’t hear anything about a welcoming ceremony. Are you doing it later on?”
Ainz looked down in spite of himself.
Crap.
Thankful for his lack of a heart, Ainz spun up the gears of the undead brain he had to have somewhere in his empty skull. Then he shrugged cavalierly.
“I snuck in, so Sir El Nix probably doesn’t know I’m here.”
Osk’s face was devoid of expression. He must have sniffed out something fishy. As a merchant, he surely had a nose for profit. He wouldn’t go along with this if there were only losses in it for him.
“Understood.”
Huh?
“If I publicize the fact that Your Majesty is the challenger, there will surely be people poking their noses in, so I’ll keep it a secret. Any issues that come up after that I’m putting squarely on you.”
“Of course. You can leave all of that up to me.”
“Okay. Then can I have a bit of your time? Let’s decide the date of your fight.”
“Has he gone?”
“Yes, sir.” It was the butler, who had returned after seeing off the King of Darkness, who answered Osk’s question.
“I see,” he said, his eyes shifting to the maid behind the butler.
“Decapitation Bunny.”
What? He cocked his head.
Yes, “he.” It was a man who looked very good in a maid uniform.
According to him, the benefit of wearing women’s clothing was twofold: Opponents would underestimate him, and they wouldn’t attack his crotch. Apparently, it was only that and not his preference. But since he often made such adorable gestures like the one just now, was it so groundless to wonder if he actually did like it?
Osk wasn’t particularly put off by it, so he didn’t care either way, but still.
Now then, his nickname: Decapitation Bunny.
It didn’t go with his cute appearance at all, but he was a mercenary warrior-assassin known by that name who hailed from a country east of the city-state alliance.
Osk had paid a fortune to summon and contract him. He had personal escort deals with other worker teams and swordsmen, but this man was paid more than anyone.
That’s how strong he was—at least orichalcum level. And since hiring him, Osk hadn’t gotten mixed up in any trouble.
“Tell me what you think, having seen the King of Darkness.”
He possessed other abilities besides the ones he had as a first-rate warrior-assassin.
He could see through people. He had the power to appraise people, which came from all the bloodbaths he had fought through as a warrior-assassin—he could tell who was strong.
“He’s transcendently yikes.”
The only other one to ever get that rating was the martial king. In other words, this was the second person ever this man couldn’t defeat. Incidentally, the next level down were the empire’s Four at “yikes.”
“Is he a powerful warrior, as well?”
“I don’t know. From his footsteps, he didn’t seem strong. They weren’t the footfalls of someone who has been trained as a warrior or assassin. The older fellow next to him was more of a warrior. But—yikes. I felt sick when he was standing behind me. To the point that I wanted to get out of there as fast as I could.”
He quietly showed off his arms.
Osk’s eyes were drawn to his fists.
Round fists.
Perhaps he had punched tens, hundreds of thousands of times into blunt objects; his fists had transformed into perfect spheres. They were the hands of a fighting creature.
Osk shuddered, unable to hold back his arousal.
“What are you lookin’ at, pervert?”
“I was just thinking you had nice hands.”
He was really into hands, but unfortunately Decapitation Bunny wasn’t his type.
Sex wasn’t a big issue, but Osk’s ideal was the warrior from the Blue Roses. Decapitation Bunny wasn’t bad, but he was simply too slight compared to Gagaran. The martial king, on the other hand, was a bit too thick.
“…I won’t renew my contract for next year.”
“I can’t have that! There’s practically no one on your level… The woman heading up Ijaniya is about the only one. Oops, we’re off topic. So—” Osk averted his eyes from those round fists and looked up. Decapitation Bunny had goose bumps.
“I still don’t feel better. I’m really sick to my stomach.”
“So he’s not much of a warrior but still a dangerous opponent…?”
“He’s honestly another martial king.”
Osk realized what Decapitation Bunny meant. He really was another martial king.
In this world, there were strong races and weak races.
The weak races, of which humanity was representative, were meat bags who had neither special powers nor hard armor protecting their bodies nor the ability to see in the dark.
Meanwhile, a strong race was one like the dragons. Protected by hard scales, agile but still immensely powerful physically. Their claws and fangs could easily cut through steel; they possessed special abilities like fire and chill breath; they had wings for soaring across the sky.
They, as a species, didn’t need to train as warriors to be strong.
Decapitation Bunny was saying that the King of Darkness might be from a race like that.
Osk’s knowledge said that undead were physically weak, but apparently the King of Darkness was different.
“Sir Osk, why did you take on this fight? The King of Darkness probably knows about the martial king, but we don’t know anything about what he can do. It seems to me the odds are against you?”
“Wha—? You don’t know why?!” Decapitation Bunny said in exasperation. “If it were me, I wouldn’t be thinking about that nonsense.”
The butler’s questioning eyes turned to Osk. So he smiled and answered.
“Are you saying the champion should run from a challenger?”
“Is that all?”
“That’s all. But it’s important. If it were just to have a fight to the death, I wouldn’t do it. But having a challenge declared as a match means I can’t run away. I’m sure the martial king would agree.”
“You’re so stupid.”
“Maybe. That’s what it is to be a man. But we’ve seen that His Majesty is the type to put more of his powers on display outside a match setting. So would you rather fight him in a match setting or in a secret fight where anything goes?”
“Neither, thanks. I’ll curl my tail between my legs and run away.”
Osk smiled. That was the smartest move.
“All righty. Now it’s your turn. What did you think of the king?”
It wasn’t the tone to use with one’s superior, but the butler standing behind him didn’t change his expression.
He used to give off a silent disapproval—You shouldn’t talk that way to your employer—but at some point, that had dropped off. Perhaps since the time Decapitation Bunny picked off an assassin.
“He does have charisma.”
“Hrrrm.” Decapitation Bunny made a strange sound.
Osk had been watching Ainzach, but there was no sign of him being forced to do anything. In other words, the King of Darkness had something that made the people of a city he had occupied want to cooperate with him only a few months after being conquered.
“Did you see how confident he was? He definitely knows he’s strong. You can see it in the way he didn’t bring anyone besides Ainzach, the way he was able to promise not to use magic against the martial king. And he’s got a head on his shoulders, too. He seems to excel at these sorts of negotiations.”
He felt it was strange even as he said it.
The King of Darkness had treated him, a merchant, as an equal.
Usually, even nobles made more of a show of the hierarchy.
So he had a hard time understanding that.
If the king had at one time been a merchant, it might have made sense, but that couldn’t be. So maybe he really was just good at negotiating.
“Overall, I’d say he’s on the same level as our emperor.” Of course, he hadn’t seen the true extent of the king’s abilities, but he was frightening enough to make Osk feel that. “No, we should probably say he’s at least on par with the Fresh Blood Emperor.”
If, at the very least, he was equivalent to the empire’s most powerful emperor ever, this was a nightmare.
Osk shook his head. Thinking about it any more would paralyze him, and it wasn’t as if he wanted to peer into the abyss that was the King of Darkness anyhow. There was only one thing he needed to do now.
“…I’ve got to tell the martial king and make sure he’s in top condition for the fight.”
“Won’t he be annoyed?”
“He’s a warrior. If he learns we’ve accepted a challenge, he won’t run.”
“Hrrrm, well, I hope he can win.”
4
On the day of the match with the King of Darkness, Osk asked the same question he always asked.
“How are you feeling?”
“No issues. I’m in perfect condition.”
The one answering was a giant monster.
He was a troll, but there was something definitively different about him—that presence that only warriors who have battled through numerous fierce fights have.
But of course he would have that. He was a troll adapted for and specialized in combat. Of all the troll-derived races, his was the most exceptional—he was a war troll.
This was the martial king, the strongest warrior at the arena.
Osk gazed intently at his flesh.
Certainly in terms of caliber, there were many who outstripped him. At the head of that group came teams of silver or greater adventurers. But the martial king had beaten even them. The reason he could do that was extremely simple.
Basic war troll specs far surpassed those of humans.
Not only in brawn and endurance but also the wide-ranged attacks due to their enormous size.
They also had all sorts of special abilities that humans did not.
First, their skin. If the martial king wore armor on top of his thick, hard skin, he could repel nearly any blow; however, since his joints, where he needed mobility, were soft, many opponents aimed for those. But the wall that had thwarted all of those challengers was his regeneration ability.
Even if they took a hit that would definitely kill a human, a troll wouldn’t die. Their astonishingly powerful regeneration ability would heal the wound. It was impossible to stop it without fire or acid.
Because of these creature strengths, the current martial king was the strongest in all of history.
>
The warrior whom Osk was so proud of suited up before his eyes.
It was enchanted armor made with materials Osk had hired an adamantite-plate adventurer team to collect. He had put 20 percent of his assets at the time into it. The magic metal club he held in his hand was the same.
The troll put on all his gear, including a magic ring and a magic amulet.
“I’m equipped now.”
He spoke much more intelligently than he used to.
This always happened, but Osk felt warm in his chest when he looked at the martial king’s brawny figure—thinking, I’m the one who trained him to this level.
“Then shall we get going, King?”
He walked with him—it was just the two of them—up to the entrance of the arena. That was their ritual.
The martial king kept silent after they left the room.
The reason he didn’t speak was once anticipation of his opponent and excitement. Somewhere along the line, that shifted strongly toward disappointment in them. But what about this time?
The martial king suddenly stopped in his tracks.
As far as Osk could remember, this had never happened before.
Unprepared for this new behavior, when Osk anxiously looked up at him to ask what was wrong, the king slowly lifted the visor of his armet, revealing his face.
“I’m grateful to you…”
His voice was strained.
Osk blinked.
He had heard those words only three other times: when he gave him his weapon, when he gave him his armor, and after the fight with his strongest opponent yet—the previous martial king, Rotten Wolf Kullervo Parantainen. This was the fourth thank-you.
“F-for what, King?”
His eyes were fixed on the end of the hallway.
“Phoo, phoo.” His body shook slightly with the faint laughter.
He must be trembling with excitement.
That’s what Osk thought, but he was wrong.
“What a… What a challenger. No, am I the challenger?”
“Wh-what?”
“Phoo, phoo… I’m scared. Osk. I’m shaking in fear.”
Osk couldn’t believe his ears.
“This must be my instincts as a living being. My feet won’t move right… They’re telling me that if I go in there, I’ll die… Phoo, phoo…”
The Ruler of Conspiracy Page 27