18 12

He encountered the enemy as soon as he turned the first corner. But Haruhiro was in Stealth, creeping along the edge of the road, so they didn’t seem to have noticed him. There were undead, orcs, and gray elves too. The undead standing at the front, his entire body wrapped in blackish leather or cloth, didn’t have just one pair of arms. He had two. He was a four-armed undead—a double arm.
Haruhiro recalled there was an awfully skilled double arm in Forgan. What was his name again? Oh, right.
Arnold.
Undead were pretty hard to tell apart, and it had been quite some time since they’d met. Haruhiro didn’t remember him clearly, but that double arm wielding four katanas looked familiar to him. Was it really Arnold?
The double arm that seemed to be Arnold was leading a unit of around thirty enemies. There was one orc at the very rear of their formation who was larger than the rest. That build. The deep-blue kimono with silver flowers. And the massive katana he carried over his shoulder with ease. There could be no doubt. It was Godo Agaja.
Arnold and Godo Agaja. Jumbo, Takasagi, and the goblin beastmaster Onsa didn’t seem to be there, but this had to be an elite unit from Forgan. There was a hethrang with them too, right behind Arnold. Was he their guide?
Where was Arnold’s unit heading? Haruhiro didn’t have to ponder that one for long.
The Great Ironfist Gate.
They were going to attack the gate from behind. That was what Arnold and his team were aiming for.
There was a barricade in front of the large tunnel leading to the Great Ironfist Gate, and dwarven gunners manning it. But more than a dozen of Arnold’s men had guns, so who knew if they could defend it.
It seemed kind of iffy. Haruhiro had a feeling they couldn’t.
If Arnold and his unit got past the barricade, defending the Great Ironfist Gate would become awfully difficult. In the worst-case scenario, the dwarven forces might completely collapse in no time flat. If enemy forces were able to flood in all at once, the resulting chaos would make evacuating the iron king impossible.
Obviously, that was only the worst possible outcome. Maybe the dwarven gunners would be able to hold out. If they could call for reinforcements, Rumeia and the elven archers might come to their aid. Maybe then they’d be able to hold out for at least a little while.
Arnold’s unit turned the corner one after another, heading toward the barricade. The enemy hadn’t noticed Haruhiro yet. He could likely wait for them to pass him by. Was that okay? He needed to go back to the Iron Palace and tell Captain Rowen and his comrades about the situation. Someone else, not Haruhiro, would decide how to act on that information.
What if Haruhiro needed to make a decision right now?
Arnold and his unit were likely going to wipe out the dwarven gunners. That would put the Great Ironfist Gate under attack from both inside and out. However valiant their resistance might be, the dwarves and Rumeia’s elves would fall one after another. No dwarf would surrender. No elf either, most likely. That was their decision. He couldn’t do anything about it. It wasn’t Haruhiro’s problem.
Godo Agaja was about to round the corner. Haruhiro hid by the side of the road, holding his breath as he watched the massive orc go.
“Damn it...” he muttered.
Godo Agaja stopped.
Haruhiro regretted it, but it was too late. To be fair, he would have ended up regretting his decision no matter what he’d done. Whether he let Arnold and his men go, or didn’t.
Godo Agaja turned and instantly spotted Haruhiro.
“Agajjahh!”
That was Orcish. What had he said? Haruhiro had no clue, but Godo Agaja came at him brandishing his massive katana. The orc was awfully light on his feet, given his size. It was probably time for the thief to throw away any preconceptions he had about the limitations of that massive body.
Haruhiro started running. Godo Agaja’s massive katana tore into the ground where he had been just a moment before. The sound it made was insane. It was like the carved stone floor had exploded. He had to flee.
Godo Agaja chased after Haruhiro. Would Arnold’s unit fire at him? They shouldn’t have been able to, with the giant orc in the way. Haruhiro was able to surmise that much, but that was about all the thinking he could manage at the moment.
He’s fast.
Faster than I imagined.
No, unimaginably fast.
Godo Agaja’s legs are incredibly powerful.
Haruhiro turned at every corner he could. Every time he went right or left, he pulled away a little more. But the straightaways were trouble. He wasn’t getting away on those. The gap was actually closing.
Godo Agaja didn’t waste his breath speaking. The way he didn’t swing his massive katana around any more than absolutely necessary was worrying too. This orc knew his reach precisely. If he swung the katana and missed, that would delay his next chance to strike. That was why he was watching like a hawk for any opportunity. He meant to end this with the next stroke, guaranteed.
It was possible that Haruhiro had taken this too lightly.
Let the orc chase him for a while, then escape at the right moment. That was all Haruhiro had been thinking. He should have thought harder. He had to admit that to himself. Had he known the Ironblood Kingdom like the back of his hand, he might have been able to come up with something he could still do, but he only had a rough idea of what the area was like. The enemy was probably just as unfamiliar, but Godo Agaja wasn’t his only pursuer.
“Cowahrd, nawyousrunyaway!”
He heard a voice to his left. Not Godo Agaja’s. It was probably an undead.
Most of the dwarven workshops facing onto the street which doubled as homes were row-houses. An undead was dashing across their rooftops. The double arm with four katanas. Arnold. He was running essentially parallel to Haruhiro.
Haruhiro wished he could just let his eyes roll into the back of his head and pass out. He couldn’t, though. Obviously. He knew that.
But this is just hopeless.
I’m screwed, aren’t I?
What am I supposed to do in this situation?
Unfortunately, rack his brains though he might, no idea was forthcoming. He didn’t have the composure left for thinking. But perhaps he might or might not have had the vague notion that he should do the most unexpected thing possible and catch his pursuers off guard.
Haruhiro came to a sudden stop, then somersaulted backward. In the direction of Godo Agaja, obviously.
He wouldn’t get cut. Probably. But he might get kicked away. Eating a kick from that orc wouldn’t be something he could just shrug off. It was dangerous. But there were no safe choices to be had here anyway. Whatever he did, there was going to be some risk. It was a gamble. He wasn’t fond of gambling, but he didn’t have much choice now.
“Duowah?!” Godo Agaja exclaimed in surprise. Haruhiro didn’t get kicked. The orc, perhaps instinctively, jumped over Haruhiro as he suddenly came rolling at him.
Haruhiro couldn’t say this was “just as planned.” He’d gotten lucky. That was it, really.
Haruhiro got back on his feet, turned right, and took off. There were orcs, undead, gray elves, and hethrangs from Arnold’s unit in that direction, all looking just as surprised as Godo Agaja. They had no idea what had just happened, and had been thrown into confusion. Even so, charging would be suicide. He wouldn’t do that. Obviously, he’d never do something so foolish.
Dwarves were shorter than humans, so the ceilings and roofs of their buildings were generally on the low side, perhaps even more so in a mine city like this. The roofs of the workshop houses on his left were especially low, maybe two meters high, if that. Haruhiro jumped and grabbed the edge of one, quickly pulling himself up. There were pipes sticking out of the roofs here and there that served as chimneys of a sort. They snaked around every which way, crawling across the roofs, connecting to other chimneys, or forking off in different directions as they ultimately headed toward the ceiling of the mine city.
Haruhiro weaved between the complex system of pipes as he ran. He leaped from roof to roof, dashing as fast as he could.
Five or six pursuers—a mix of orcs, undead, and gray elves—climbed up onto the roofs after him. Godo Agaja tried to do the same, but at his height his head would end up scraping the ceiling of the mine tunnel, so he gave up on that. It didn’t stop him from running after Haruhiro along the road, though. Godo Agaja’s head was higher than the roofs, so Haruhiro could easily see where he was. The orc wouldn’t give up easily. But Haruhiro figured that now he could find a way to shake him somehow, along with the guys who’d climbed up top in pursuit of the thief.
The problem’s Arnold. That double arm’s bad news.
Arnold was behind Haruhiro, to his left. But only a little behind. They were almost neck-and-neck. Only about three meters separated them. That didn’t feel like anything at all.
Arnold had two of his four katanas sheathed. He was still dual wielding, though. Who knew when he’d strike. Haruhiro was running with pretty much all his might, but Arnold looked like he still had strength in reserve.
He’s coming.
Any moment now. I’m sure of it.
I’m screwed.
If Arnold struck first, he probably wouldn’t be able to dodge.
“Ngh!” Haruhiro grunted as he drew his normal and flame daggers, then jumped from the roof.
Arnold followed without missing a beat. Haruhiro landed, and then he must have deflected Arnold’s katanas with the flame dagger in his right hand and the other in his left. Or so he assumed. He didn’t actually see it happen, though. Honestly, Haruhiro didn’t even know how Arnold had swung, or from what position. He ran past him, fleeing.
“KYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY,” Arnold vented with a strange noise, still giving chase. Haruhiro wanted to flee into one of the workshops facing onto the street, but he didn’t know anything about how they were designed. If there was no back door, he’d be like a rat in a trap.
He couldn’t help but blame himself. It had been so obvious this would happen, so why couldn’t he have just left well enough alone? Was he stupid? Yeah, I must be, he had to conclude. But not only was he stupid, he kept on getting dumber.
Haruhiro was just running around, turning corners at random, at this point. He wasn’t headed anywhere. He simply did whatever seemed like it would work. When he got back up on the roof again, it was only because it felt like the thing to do at the time. He’d just gotten the vague feeling, If I don’t get up on the roof now, I’m gonna get slashed. The chimney pipes spread out in front of him like spider webs, and it didn’t seem like he could get through. That he managed to force his way between them to the other side without getting stuck was a complete fluke.
Arnold must have decided he couldn’t squeeze through, and he took a short detour around. That bought Haruhiro some distance, but, yeah, it was pure luck. Wasn’t there anything he could do, now that he had some room to work with? It’s not like he didn’t think about that. But it was impossible. His only option was to run for his life. Nothing else.
I mean, I don’t even know where I am.
At the very least, he was trying to head toward the Iron Palace. Was that a good idea, or a bad one? It probably wasn’t all that great. He’d be bringing the enemy—Arnold, Godo Agaja, and their men—to the Iron Palace, after all.
The thought, Maybe I should just let him cut me down, went through his head.
No, why would I do that?
If I get cut down, I’ll die.
I don’t wanna die. Or rather, I can’t afford to. I can’t die without my comrades around. I wanna see Merry. I don’t wanna make her sad. But it’s not just about Merry. I’ve got so many reasons I can’t die.
Still, it was impressive he hadn’t run out of breath. Wait, he hadn’t? Seriously? Was Haruhiro really still breathing? Maybe he’d already stopped.
He couldn’t see well through his sweat. If he was sweating, did that mean he was alive?
It had to. Yeah, of course it did. His body was still moving. How was Haruhiro’s body moving? That was a mystery at this point.
Haruhiro had reached the limit of his ability to run while dodging chimney pipes. He rolled and got down off the roof as if he were falling. When he landed on the carved stone floor, his knees and ankles must have failed to absorb the impact or something, because he ended up pitching forward. Haruhiro couldn’t catch himself. He tried, but failed. As he was falling, he realized Arnold was closing in on him. He didn’t so much see the double arm as sense him, though. However he knew, it was right at the edge of his perception.
I’m gonna get slashed, he thought.
Haruhiro wanted to use his momentum to roll and get back on his feet so he could flee. But would he be able to run? He wasn’t confident of that.
“Hahhhhhhhh!”
So he should’ve gotten slashed.
Yet, despite that, Haruhiro heard Ranta’s voice.
Ranta?
Why Ranta?
“Huh?”
He’d have loved to jump to his feet, but Haruhiro was still lying where he’d fallen. He wanted to take a breath first. Or did he need to exhale? He didn’t know how to breathe anymore. That, or maybe his respiratory system was busted.
It hurt, of course.
It had been hurting so much all this time, and yet, strangely, now it didn’t hurt quite so much.
He felt sleepy. No, this was something else. Maybe he was losing consciousness? He wouldn’t have minded passing out, really. He almost felt like he wanted to.
“Rueahhh! Keyahhh! Surahhh! Fiyahhh! Tsohhh!” But Ranta was too noisy.
What was with those shouts?
Was he fighting?
Yeah.
Ranta was trading blows with Arnold.
Why would Ranta be doing that?
Haruhiro didn’t know.
Was he hallucinating?
Even if he’d wanted to check, he couldn’t. His vision was blurry. What was going on?
“Ahhh!”
Haruhiro rubbed his cheeks with both hands.
I can’t breathe? Yeah, right. Breathe in, then out. Breathe out, then in. Then breathe out again. Just repeat that, over and over. I can do it. It just hurts, that’s all.
As he endured the pain, breathing became easier. He got ahold of his slipping consciousness and pulled it back to him. Haruhiro forced himself to sit up.
Ranta.
Ranta was leaping to and fro around Arnold. He was using the style particular to dread knights, or to Ranta at least, where he moved like a small woodland creature, or perhaps a grasshopper, trying to get behind Arnold. Arnold was using his four katanas to keep Ranta in check and prevent that. However, Ranta would dodge at the last possible second, or turn Arnold’s katanas aside using his own, as he doggedly aimed for the double arm’s back. That was why it looked like Ranta was jumping around near Arnold.
A double arm’s extra pair of limbs weren’t just decorative. The only place that Arnold’s katanas couldn’t reach was a very narrow area behind him. Ranta knew that, and was solely seeking to attack that weak point.
Arnold had to be aware of his weaknesses too. He was focused entirely on fending off Ranta’s attacks now.
“Ranta...”

 

Go for it.
All Haruhiro could do now was cheer him on. His body still wasn’t moving properly, so if he carelessly tried to get involved he might just get in Ranta’s way.
Ranta was focused. His moves toward Arnold’s back constantly got faster and sharper. More specifically, every time Ranta stepped in, it was with larger strides that took him deeper.
Arnold, on the other hand, was barely moving. No, he couldn’t move. Ranta was slowly closing the net around him. All Arnold could do was turn and swing now. Ranta had the double arm on the ropes. That was how it looked.
But they’re just getting started.
Haruhiro had seen Arnold fight. The double arm got stronger when he was pushed into a corner.
“Careful, Ranta!”
Ranta didn’t need Haruhiro to tell him that. But the thief couldn’t help himself.
Ranta darted in like a flash of light. Arnold moved, deliberately no doubt, to stand right in front of him. He caught the dread knight’s katana with two of his own, then struck back with the other two. It was a move only a double arm could execute.
“Personal Skill!” Ranta’s katana arched upward from the bottom right. “Flying Lightning God!” No, that’s not it.
For an instant, Ranta’s katana seemed to vanish. The next thing Haruhiro knew, the dread knight was holding his weapon in two hands. For a thrust?
That’s the stance for a thrust.
“Hk!”
Arnold tried to back away. Ranta’s blade thrust after him, driven by both the dread knight’s hands. And not just once. Arnold was twisting, deflecting with his katanas, and doing whatever else he could to evade Ranta’s flurry of attacks. The double arm had managed to avoid any direct hits, but the black leather, or cloth, or whatever it was Arnold had wrapped around him was getting torn up as bits and pieces were cut off. Black lacerations were carved into the ashen skin underneath.
Ranta was pushing him back.
Please, keep pushing. Haruhiro would have been lying if he’d said he didn’t wish that. He hoped for it, but he didn’t think Ranta had won yet. Their enemy wasn’t that weak.
“Whuh?!”
Ranta’s katana was knocked back. It was like Arnold had suddenly turned into a whirlwind as he jumped while spinning.
Had Ranta seen it coming? He instantly did a backflip diagonally to his rear. He then followed it up with a rapid series of steps, taking him farther away from Arnold.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH,” Arnold
bellowed, rearing back. His four arms and their four katanas reached out, stretching as far as they could—way too far, in fact. It gave Haruhiro goosebumps.
“You’re finally getting serious, huh?!”
Ranta laughed. It was amazing he still could, even if it was just a bluff. The man had incredible guts. Not that Haruhiro would try to learn from his example. He couldn’t have imitated that if he’d tried.
“O Darkness, O Lord of Vice, Demon Call!”
Even Ranta, stout-hearted as he was, must have been feeling intimidated. Something like a blackish-purple cloud appeared and formed a vortex. The maelstrom rapidly solidified into the demon Zodie.
Thanks to all the vice Ranta had accrued, the demon’s appearance was now different from how it’d used to be long ago, though the similarities were there. Zodie wore a suit of armor that seemed to have been made by scraping together dark purple bones, and carried a long-handled scythe in both hands. Haruhiro was shocked. Zodiackun had been kind of cute, but now the demon was something else entirely. If the Dark God Skullhell led his forces into battle, the soldiers would probably look like Zodie.
“Sic ’im, Zodie!” Ranta sent his demon after the enemy.
“Eh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh!” Zodie the demon raced at Arnold, scythe held back, ready to swing.
It was two on one now. When things got tough, dread knights always had this trick up their sleeve.
“KOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.”
Arnold unleashed his full power as a double arm, as if to say, So what? He was like an arrow loosed from a bow drawn back as far as it could go. Four katanas swung at Zodie from four different directions. But it didn’t look like that to Haruhiro. No, to him it seemed the four blades had become one surging wave that engulfed the demon.
Whatever had happened, Zodie got hit with all four blades. But the demon didn’t dissipate immediately. Zodie was like a wooden training dummy. They didn’t move, and you could ram as many swords through them as you liked, but cutting them in two wasn’t easy.
Arnold probably had the strength to do it, though. Zodie was going to get sliced and diced soon. It was just a demon, after all. It didn’t have the skill to fight someone as experienced as Arnold.
“Eh... Heh heh...”
“NNNNNNG?!”
Arnold, however, didn’t mince Zodie. Instead he froze, stock still.
“Personal Skill!” It was Ranta.
What had he been doing since sending in his demon? Haruhiro had been so distracted by Zodie he hadn’t noticed. Although, that was exactly what Ranta had been aiming for.
He’d used Demon Call, turning it into a two-on-one fight. His next move would be to execute a skillful series of combo attacks with Zodie and overcome their powerful opponent.
No.
That wasn’t Ranta’s plan at all.
“Deviously Evil! All-in-One Slaaaash!”
Ranta slammed into Zodie’s back. But obviously, that wasn’t all. His katana. His katana was stabbing through Zodie. He’d impaled it. Ranta’s katana went through the demon to Arnold on the other side. Ranta held the hilt at waist height, thrusting upward diagonally. The tip of the blade was under Arnold’s jaw.
“But that’s not really a slash, is it?” Haruhiro couldn’t help but quip.
“Shaddup!”
With that, Ranta pulled his katana out, and it disappeared in a flash, moving faster than Haruhiro’s eyes could follow.
Zodie crumbled to pieces.
Ranta raced past Arnold’s side, falling to one knee.
He’d cut the undead—or had he?
It seemed so.
Arnold’s severed head fell, spinning slowly as it did.
His now headless body didn’t go down, though. In fact, it looked more like it might turn and keep attacking.
It was a strange, disgusting sight, and a horrifying moment. Multiple competing feelings and thoughts left Haruhiro a bit confused. It seemed Ranta had saved him. But Arnold wasn’t just a simple enemy to Ranta, was he? Besides, he was an undead. Was that enough to kill him?
Haruhiro saw Arnold’s severed head opening and closing its mouth. It had no voice, but it was moving.
“That’s the thing about the undead...” Ranta said as he stood up.
He walked toward Arnold’s body, which was still standing. Using his left hand, the one not holding his katana, Ranta gave the body a push. Not a violent one. Just a nudge. Arnold’s body finally keeled over.
“So long as you leave their head intact, they can recover.”
Ranta rested the flat side of his katana’s blade on his right shoulder and cocked his head.
Arnold’s severed head looked up at Ranta.
“Ranta...”
Haruhiro tried calling out to him. But what was he supposed to say?
Honestly, he had no idea. Or rather, he ought to leave this to Ranta. Whatever the dread knight chose to do, Haruhiro had no right to decide if it was right or not.
“This is war. I’m sure you understand, right, Arnold?”
Ranta narrowed his left eye and raised the right side of his lips to form an expression Haruhiro couldn’t have made if he’d tried.
“The Friendly Fire Slash. That’s the killer move I’ve secretly been working on to use against old man Takasagi. I used you to practice it. Looks like I win this one.”
Arnold’s severed head opened its mouth. It moved its jaw. Was it trying to smile?
“So long.”
Ranta switched his katana to a backhand grip and stabbed it into Arnold’s forehead.
What was death like for the undead? Haruhiro didn’t know. But if the undead had life in them, then this one’s had just been extinguished. Ranta had just rendered Arnold inanimate with his own hands.
Ranta took the mask he’d been wearing on the back of his head and laid it on top of Arnold’s.
“You’re okay with this?”
That was a really vague question, Haruhiro thought after asking it.
“Yeah.” Ranta nodded. Then, suddenly remembering something, he turned to look behind him. Haruhiro looked in the same direction. There was a rumble that threatened to drown out the gunshots echoing from around the city, and it was coming straight toward them.
“Godo Agaja?!” Ranta grabbed Haruhiro by the arm. “Let’s go! I may be a badass, but that guy’s way too dangerous! I can’t even imagine how I’d kill him!”
“Wait, what are you even doing here?!” Haruhiro asked as they ran. Ranta was racing so fast he was threatening to leave Haruhiro behind.
“They’ve already left the Iron Palace! You were being slow and not coming back! So I came looking for you! You better be grateful!”
“Where is everyone?!”
“They went on ahead to the Bratsod mansion!”
“So they’re okay, then?!”
“You’re the one who wasn’t okay, dumbass!”
“Yeah, sure, but...!”
Haruhiro suppressed the urge to argue and started pumping his legs. His stamina hadn’t recovered yet, so he was sure to get winded in no time. Following Ranta was all he could manage. This was going to be hell. He didn’t even want to think about what would come next. He had to, though.
Merry. She must be worried about me. I need to hurry and reassure her.
Anyway, he was going to be able to see his comrades again. All he could do now was draw on that motivation and run.



15. HATE THE WORLD
Yume, Merry, Setora, Kuzaku, and even Itsukushima and Neal were waiting for them in front of the Bratsod residence.
“Haruhiro!” Kuzaku shouted, hugging him.
“Uhhh...” It was a bit annoying, but Haruhiro wouldn’t have felt right pushing the guy away. “Yeah...” He patted Kuzaku’s way-too-broad back, and put up with the embrace for a little while.
In all honesty, if he was going to share a hug with someone to celebrate his survival, he really would have preferred Merry. Obviously, he couldn’t do that in front of everyone. But did she feel the same way? Based on the look she was giving Haruhiro, she probably did.
“Thought you’d be okay, but still, thank goodness.” Yume put a hand over her chest and sighed.
Ranta rubbed his nose with his thumb, trying to act cool. “Heh. And he’s got me to thank for it!”
“Mew. Y’think so?”
Much as it galled him to admit it, it was the truth. Haruhiro was going to have to accept it. “Well, yeah...”
“Pah! I deserve more than a ‘well, yeah,’ Crapu-piro! It oughta be, ‘Thank you so very much, I swear I’ll be grateful until the day I die, oh great and mighty Ranta,’ and you know it!”
“It’s because you act like this...”
“’Cause I act like this, what?!”
Axbeld, the red-bearded minister of the left, had managed with great difficulty to persuade Rowen, the black-bearded captain of the royal guard, to let him take the Red Beards from the Iron Palace to the Great Ironfist Gate.

Chapter end