by Ryota Hori
“Aaaaaaaaaah!” Roaring like a beast, Ryoma threw the sword in his hands into the stupefied face of another soldier.
Shock filled the soldier’s expression. He surely never predicted Ryoma would throw his own weapon away. He hurriedly raised his halberd in Ryoma’s direction, deflecting the thrown sword with its guard.
But that too was exactly what Ryoma had expected him to do.
The soldier bent his body backwards to evade the sword, consequently shifting the armor around his throat, exposing it to Ryoma. No matter how much of the body a suit of armor might be able to cover, there had to be gaps somewhere, and if there were none available, they could simply be made.
Ryoma swung his right hand like a spear with all the force he could onto the soldier’s exposed throat. The distinct sensation of the man’s windpipe breaking ran through his body.
That’s two down. Now the real fun starts!
It wasn’t an instant kill, but now that the soldier had had his windpipe broken, there was nothing left for him but death by suffocation. Ryoma pulled his hand away from the soldier and readjusted his stance. Only three remained, including the old man, and the surprise attack’s initial shock had worn off for them by now.
“Die!” Someone suddenly shouted behind him, and swung a halberd in his direction.
The soldier’s expression was filled with wrath at the murder of his comrades. But Ryoma, thanks to his perfect awareness of his surroundings, easily evaded the attack. Ryoma grabbed the soldier whose throat had been crushed by his shoulders, and leapt over his body, positioning it in front of him as a shield.
A blunt noise rang out. It was the sound of the halberd lodging itself with full force into the doomed soldier’s armor, stabbing into his body.
Moron.
Ryoma moved around the soldier, who was desperately struggling to pull his halberd out of his comrade’s body, and once again struck a spear hand at his exposed throat.
The human body can be surprisingly sturdy, and a blade thrust too deeply into a person’s abdomen can prove very difficult to pull out indeed, as the contraction of muscles is more powerful than the common person may assume. And this time it also thrust into layers of armor, making it even harder to extract.
Two left.
Ryoma glared at the remaining two. The soldier with the differently-decorated helmet, whom Ryoma assumed was their captain, and the old man in the robe.
The captain threw the halberd in his hands to the floor and unsheathed his sword. Seeing Ryoma’s attacks probably made him conclude that a more agile and flexible sword would have greater effectiveness against him. He, the fourth among them, would likely be more challenging than the previous three. He truly must have been the captain. He had made an optimal assessment of the situation.
The captain shifted his sword’s tip downward, and shifted the blade inwards under his flank, as if trying to hide it.
A flank stance... He doesn’t want me to see how long his sword is. He wants to cut me down in one strike.
There was little point to using a flank stance in kendo. The length of the wooden swords was regulated, and the valid hitting points were limited to parts like the gauntlets and helmet. The flank stance was useful for hiding the length of your sword and hitting the legs and lower half of the body, making it mostly unviable.
But Ryoma now held a sword in hand in a battle to the death, which made things entirely different. Especially when it came to swords, where not judging completely or blocking the opposing slash would lead to an injury. And that injury would lead to loss of blood, which would result in his stamina plummeting and his concentration being disturbed by the pain. No, even before that, if he were cut along the leg and had an artery severed, that would decide the battle right there and then.
Looking at the captain’s stance, Ryoma accurately realized his intent. There were two optimal slashes that could stem from this stance. A horizontal slash from right to left, and an upwards slash from the right leg to the left shoulder. Any other slashes would require changing stance, and that could create a fatal opening. The man before him would never make such a foolish decision. Ryoma could almost feel the suspense in the air prickling against his skin. While Ryoma couldn’t read the opponent’s range, the captain stood poised, waiting for an opening to present itself. The only thing that seemed to move sluggishly in this stalemate was the flow of time.
But the situation suddenly changed. While Ryoma was focused on the opponent before him, the old man’s voice suddenly reached his ears.
“Spirits of thunder! Spirits of wind!”
Turning around, he found the robed man had brandished his hands towards him and begun reciting what sounded like a prayer aimed at some kind of transcendent being.
What? What is he... No, crap!
Ryoma had no way of knowing what thaumaturgy was at this point in time, but his survival instincts were screaming within him.
Get away!
Ryoma poised his sword and ran towards the captain. It was all or nothing. Charging at his opponent when he stood at an ideal stance was leaping into death’s maw. But now a dragon was about to blow fire at him from behind; he had no other choice.
Ryoma dodged the captain’s slash, aimed at his abdomen from a right flank stance. Slipping to the captain’s left side, his body slipped below the blade, evading it. The sword skimmed inches below his head, cutting through strands of his hair.
It was a risky gamble. Had the captain went for a horizontal slash, Ryoma’s body would have been cut in half. But he had went for a slash from the right leg to the left shoulder, and that choice decided the duel.
Having slipped behind the captain, Ryoma delivered a kick to his exposed back. He did it to position the captain’s body as a shield. And that decision was the correct one.
“Gather together at my side. Abide by my will and crush my foe! Bolt Storm!”
Just as Ryoma dove to the ground, the old man finished his incantation and blades of violent wind and heavy lightning shot from his hands.
“He dropped dead!” The old man spat out after firing his powerful spell.
In contrast to his heavy breathing, the old man’s face was distorted in a smile, evidently pleased with his successful kill. Among the thaumaturgy in his arsenal, he chose this spell due to it being a particularly lethal one, and having a very short incantation. No one could take it head on and survive. He was confident in this spell’s power.
Hence, the old man lowered his guard without confirming he’d actually killed Ryoma... Little did he know how fatal of an error that would be.
Realizing the old man had let down his guard, Ryoma leaped to his feet immediately with the agility of a wild ape lunging at his prey. He closed the distance between the old man and himself in the blink of an eye. The old man, realizing what was happening at once, began reciting another incantation, but it was far too late.
“What? That’s impossible! How could you survive that... Damn it. Almighty— Ngh?!”
Overwhelmed by the wall of flesh closing in on him, the old man’s face distorted with pain. A low, heavy sound came from the old man’s right flank, and his body stiffened as he became unable to move. Ryoma’s ruthless punch forcibly knocked all the air out of his right lung, interrupting his incantation. It was easy enough to prevent once you knew the trick to it.
After kicking away the captain, Ryoma dove to the floor. That was all he needed to do. Had the old man released a fire spell instead, its high temperature would cause great damage to Ryoma’s body even if he evaded a direct hit. Had he used an earth spell to skewer him with countless spears of stone, Ryoma would have surely been run through by them.
But the old man used a wind and lightning spell, which he considered an instant, lethal attack. The soldier’s armor had served as a lightning rod and absorbed the attack, while Ryoma had evaded the wind blades by diving onto the floor. Ryoma instinctively picked up on the words the old man uttered in the incantation and knew he had to dive down.
People are most careless when they’re confident. The old man believed his thaumaturgy was absolute, and that any hit on his opponent would mean an instant kill. Those two pieces of overconfidence robbed the old man of his victory.
“Say, old man. What is this place?”
Several of the old man’s ribs were likely broken. As the old man scrambled around on the floor, holding his injured right side, Ryoma spoke to him in a serene voice. But his eyes had a cold glint that would freeze the blood running in the veins of anyone who dared look at them.
“Gaaah...” The pain robbed the old man of his words.
“Hey? I’m talking to you.” Ryoma didn’t seem to care much for the old man’s poor condition, though.
A loud snapping noise rang out in the room. It was the sound of the old man’s left elbow being shattered from a kick by Ryoma’s leg. He then unflinchingly poked the old man’s wounded side with the tip of his fingertips.
“C’mon, old man. Answer me. You shouted at me to ‘die’ and ‘drop dead’ earlier, so I know we can understand each other’s language.”
The old man’s appearance didn’t look even remotely Japanese, but Ryoma didn’t much care about that for now. All that mattered was that they were capable of communicating.
A soft smile played over Ryoma’s lips. A truly gentle, amiable sort of smile. But to the old man’s eyes, nothing could have been more terrifying.
“Guuuh...”
Refusing to answer Ryoma’s question was not an option for the old man. He immediately realized this wasn’t an opponent he could pretend to be silent against. But he couldn’t speak through the pain. All he could do was curl up and withstand the agony suffered from the kick and his broken ribs.
“Come on, old man. You know, I don’t really like doing this sort of stuff!”
Ryoma grabbed the reclining old man’s left ear and twisted it up. It began tearing up from having to support his whole weight, and slowly began bleeding.
“S-Stop. Let me go.”
There was no telling what would happen if he’d kept his mouth shut. The old man’s heart had filled with terror at that thought.
“What? Let you go? Don’t you know how to ask a little more nicely, asshole? I thought greater wisdom went together with your age.”
The smile remained on Ryoma’s lips, but his eyes narrowed down to a slit and froze over in a dangerous glint. That may well have been Ryoma Mikoshiba’s true nature, which had never been seen by anyone before— sealed away by the chains of reason. And this old man would be the first unfortunate victim of that primal nature.
Another dull sound resounded from the old man’s flank, and he let out a scream that didn’t sound possible for a human to make. Ryoma’s well built body unleashed a left punch that knocked the old man, all 170 centimeters of his height and 60 kilograms of his weight, a full two meters away.
A puddle of red spread across the floor. Ryoma had continued to grip the old man’s ear as he punched him away, tearing it off. The bloodied, severed ear remained in Ryoma’s hand.
“Now, old man. Let’s be real honest with each other. It’ll just be a few questions.”
Ryoma strode confidently towards his injured victim. To him, this old man was nothing more than a thing in the shape of a human being. A prime example of how the moment a person stops seeing another as a fellow human being, they become capable of any atrocity.
“S-Stop... p-please. I’ll talk... I’ll tell you... everything...”
His broken ribs probably stabbed into his lungs, because with every word the old man uttered, blood oozed out of his mouth. His face was smeared red from the bleeding coming from his missing ear. It was unlikely he could withstand any more pain. The old man spoke, each word steeped in agony.
“Oooh. Well, that’s a relief. All right, so, question number one. What is this place?”
That was Ryoma’s first question. He needed to know if this place was Japan. Depending on whether it was, his treatment of this old man had the potential to significantly change.
“This is... the Empire of O’ltormea’s... palace, in the capital...”
“The Empire of O’ltormea?”
The old man’s words made Ryoma’s expression turn quizzical. Ryoma liked social studies, and geography was one of his stronger subjects. He prided himself on being able to recite the names of almost every nation on the planet. But he’d never heard of this Empire of O’ltormea the old man spoke of.
“That’s... right... Ruler of the... center of... the western continent...” The old man said, spitting out more saliva mixed with blood.
Hmm... So this isn’t Japan. Well, that’s a relief.
Japan had the concept of legitimate self-defense, but compared to the United States, it applied in very limited cases. He’d just killed four human beings in self-defense, and was now torturing an old man, even though he had attacked first. It was dubious whether this situation, were it to be investigated by the police, would count as legitimate self-defense or even an act under a state of emergency.
Thinking of it rationally, it would likely get judged as a case of excessive self-defense, with a suspended sentence. At worst, the positions of the assailant and the victim could even be reversed. Of course, a close inspection would reveal Ryoma was certainly the victim, but it would take a long time for that to be proven. Ryoma didn’t want to lose precious time off his life just because he’d fought to keep himself alive.
But if this was not Japan, none of that was any concern. Whatever the laws were in this country, Ryoma had every intent of ignoring them and returning to Japan as soon as possible.
“Next question, then. Why am I here?”
That, too, was a fairly obvious question. Ryoma should have been at school, but suddenly found himself in some Empire of O’ltormea he’d never seen or heard of before. He wanted to know why. And the answer he received was...
“B-Because I... summoned you...”
It was a peculiar, if unexpected, claim. But Ryoma’s expression didn’t change.
“Hmm. Well, I suppose that adds up.” Ryoma responded to the old man’s words casually.
But no one could tell what he was truly thinking in his heart of hearts, within which brewed emotions he would not dare bring to the surface. There was no way to read into those depths, but his third question made his feelings all too apparent.
“Right, here’s a third question for you. And it’s the most important one, so you’d better answer. It could influence your immediate future.”
Ryoma stared the old man directly in the face before asking.
“I can go back to the world I came from, right?”
His tone was serene. His words may have been rough, but they didn’t feel menacing. And that made him all the more terrifying. The old man’s heart was beating fast enough that it could burst. That was the question he wanted to hear the least right now. The old man tried to think of a lie that would get him out of this situation.
Should I tell him he can go back? No, if I were to say that, he would tell me to send him back right now. What do I say, then? If I tell him the truth, he’ll kill me without a second thought. What if I tell him I need time to prepare?
Gaius Valkland, the man praised as the brains and intellect of the Empire of O’ltormea by their neighbors, and court thaumaturgist of the O’ltormean court, could not meet his end at the hands of such a foolish man. The future of the empire rested on his shoulders.
I need to buy myself some time... Once they notice the disturbance, the guards will surely rush in here.
But Gaius’s wish would not come to pass. As he wracked his brain while staving off the pain from his fractured bones, Gaius suddenly noticed Ryoma’s fingers were coiled around his neck. He simply hadn’t tightened his grip, so the old man failed to notice.
“C’mon, old man, that’s no good. Lying won’t get you anywhere.” Ryoma whispered, peering into his face as he grabbed him roughly by the hair.
“I-I did... not lie...”
Those confident words riled up Gaius’s nervous heart further.
“But you were thinking of doing it, weren’t you?”
Seeing through Gaius’s intentions, Ryoma continued.
“I could tell from your blood. You were afraid I’d see through you if you lied, weren’t you? So your pulse quickened.”
The complete certainty and confidence behind those words rendered Gaius completely and utterly speechless as he looked away uncomfortably. And that attitude told Ryoma his assumption was right.
In truth, Ryoma’s words were little more than a bluff. Ryoma did notice the old man’s pulse had quickened, but he had no way of telling if that was because of the pain from his broken bones or his fear of the man currently clutching his life in the palm of his hand.
But Ryoma knew he would be right. And that was owed to the expression of terror that overtook Gaius’s features when Ryoma asked his third question. The answer to that question was one that would spur Ryoma to kill him. And had he refused to answer, it would have been because he was trying to think of a lie that would get him out of this.
“Y-You... How do you... have that ability...”
Just as Ryoma intended, Gaius’s face clouded over with terror towards some unknown power.
“Now, answer me. Can I go back, or not?”
“That is... not possible.” After extreme hesitation, Gaius finally spoke those words. “At very least, it is not within my ability...”
His expression was full of resignation. But despite having heard the worst possible news, Ryoma’s expression still wasn’t overcome with anger. At least, on the surface.
“Hmm... Well, I suspected as much, given your attitude and all. So, is there any way for me to get back home?”
Even after the old man’s absolute words of denial, Ryoma’s tone remained calm. And that attitude only made the fear thicken all the more in Gaius’s heart.
Why...? Why isn’t he getting angry? Why isn’t he surprised?