Chapter 22

"Bell, we'll handle the baiting. Keep searching for the leader. Don't engage the moment you find him. Signal me first."

"Guess I'll have to play it by ear."

She shoved the canteen back into her jacket pocket and sprinted off.

A moment later.

I picked up the two-handed axe from the ground.

"Holding onto this in a fight would be suicide, but if I'm just throwing it once..."

I bent my torso back as far as I could,

then snapped forward like a released bowstring,

hurling the axe with everything I had.

The spinning blade split an orc's forehead clean open.

Their eyes locked onto me in an instant.

"Over here!"

I drew them into the open.

"One, two, three... six."

Kinzo counted in a low mutter.

"Kinzo, only six?"

"For now. I'll keep an eye out for reinforcements."

He climbed the tree with practiced ease.

"Mago, listen up. I need to conserve my mana from here on out, so this has to be fast."

Once he reached a high perch, his eyes flared to life.

He scanned the area, pupils darting left and right.

"Start from the left."

His voice dropped, announcing the briefing.

"Let me break it down."

His gaze was heavier than ever.

"First orc. He's got a sword in each hand, but there's a dagger hidden under his clothes. Watch for that."

He rattled them off one by one.

All six of them.

"Sixth orc. Lucky break — he's already wounded. Left femur has a hairline fracture. Focus on his left leg."

I nodded and stepped forward.

"The real problem is the armor. There's no gap for a blade to slip through."

"Figured as much."

But there was still a way.

I reversed my grip on the sword.

"Mago, what the..."

Not the hilt — the blade.

I'd wrapped my dog tags around both hands earlier.

The thin chain kept the metal from touching my skin.

The pommel at the end of the hilt — that heavy counterweight that balances the sword — I was going to use it as a blunt weapon.

"...That counts as swordsmanship?"

I nodded.

I'd never done it without gloves before.

"Where the hell did you learn that weird trick...? Amon teach you?"

"Someone else."

"But you actually trained in it, right?"

"I wouldn't use it if I couldn't pull it off."

"If you're that confident, I guess I have to trust you. Let's move."

I nodded again.

A style designed for situations where you need a blunt weapon like a mace.

But right now, its purpose was something else entirely.

This was a fighting style built for someone like me.

Someone who could never look his own sword straight in the eye.

"Eight years of running — it wasn't for nothing..."

I muttered under my breath and adjusted my stance.

First target.

The nearest one.

He was gripping a short axe in both hands.

I slipped inside his guard.

Swept my sword upward.

The pommel crashed into his armor.

The breastplate buckled with a dull clang, and a chunk broke off the edge.

The armor was weaker than I'd expected.

"Guess that's what happens when you rush out shoddy armor like this."

I kicked him in the gut, then struck again.

Each time the pommel slammed in, more of the chest plate flaked away.

Through the shattered gap, I saw an opening.

Left side of his chest.

I spun the sword around fast and drove the blade home.

Then pulled it out even quicker than I'd stabbed.

Filthy blood gushed out.

The orc toppled backward.

"Mago, next up is the twin-sword guy I mentioned. The one hiding a dagger in his clothes."

"I remember."

Kinzo wrapped the orc's blade in flame.

From that moment on, I kept hammering his armor.

After every hit, I'd leap back to create distance.

Over and over.

I dangled just close enough to be tempting.

Pushed him into being reckless.

Just as I'd expected, he hurled one of his swords at me.

I deflected it.

Then the second one came flying.

I twisted my shoulder back to dodge.

He must've figured he could afford to toss both blades since he still had that hidden dagger.

"Just as I thought."

He drew the concealed dagger and charged.

Aimed straight for my throat.

I was waiting for it.

I caught his wrist with my right hand.

With my left — the hand I'd used to throw and catch my own sword again — I spun the blade a full rotation, exposing the edge.

Then I drove it upward into his throat from below.

He clutched his pierced neck and collapsed.

I stomped on his face to yank my sword free.

The green hillside was starting to stain red with their blood.

"Four left."

They charged all at once.

A deafening war cry followed.

The one with the fractured left femur led the pack.

I jumped high, planted my foot on his bad leg, and launched myself even higher.

I landed behind the rearmost orc in one clean movement.

"Kinzo!"

The moment the words left my mouth, my blade burst into flame.

I slashed across both its eyes.

Next.

I drove my sword straight through the throat of the one that was screaming.

The scream cut off instantly.

Only a whistling leak of air remained.

I turned around.

The orc with the injured leg had already collapsed onto the ground.

I finished them the same way.

Smashed their armor apart with the reversed blade.

Then slid the tip into the gap.

Just as I thought I'd cleared them all,

one last bastard was crawling across the dirt.

I brought the pommel down hard on the back of its skull.

The crunch of bone collapsing was the last thing it heard.

"Mago. More coming."

The orcs' war cries echoed from right beside us.

They were charging through the forest, blindly smashing apart any branches in their way.

"How many?"

"Eleven. Maybe?"

"Then start from the left again like before."

"No time for that...! I barely have a second to cast Reinforcement Magic!"

"We need to finish this fast and join up with Bell."

I closed my eyes.

For the first time today, I opened the lake.

The sound of wind-blown leaves.

The rustle of them colliding became crisper, clearer.

My hair swayed, brushing against my sweat-soaked nape.

Every single footstep of theirs.

Every tremor in the ground.

I could tell exactly who had just taken a step.

It all came through, sharp and certain.

Every sense felt light, distinct.

I ran into the monochrome battlefield.

"Reinforcement's up. Just like before — call them out one by one."

*

"You...!"

The Head Instructor stared at the trainees with a hollow expression.

"Why did you come down...?"

He glared at Amon, who had taken the lead as the representative of the Assassination Squad.

"We had no weapons left, so we had no choice but to retreat."

"Amon."

"I determined it was unreasonable to continue fighting with wooden swords."

"Amon Coster...!"

The Instructor bellowed.

"Who gave you permission to descend the mountain?! You are soldiers who swore your lives to the Empire! Whether with wooden swords — or with your fists if you have no swords — you should have fought on—!"

"To live!"

Amon cut him off.

A day earlier, no one would have imagined such an attitude from him.

"We have to live in order to fight!"

"Is this anything more than abandoning the Guard Squad completely? Get back up there and cooperate this instant!"

"These are soldiers you trained yourself, Instructor! They're not that weak!"

Amon stood his ground, veins bulging in his neck as he shouted back at the Instructor.

He sucked in a deep breath and let it out.

"We're going down to get proper weapons...!"

"What did you say...?"

"We don't have time!"

Amon's eyes shook uncontrollably.

He bit down hard on his lower lip.

"All 66th Class trainees. We're regrouping and moving back up."

But the Head Instructor didn't budge an inch.

He didn't back down, either.

"We're going down...!"

"Amon Coster!"

Right then, a smooth voice cut through the two men's shouting.

"That's just a pointless death, Instructor. What's not possible isn't possible. You can't force it."

Golden hair. Golden eyes.

Louise stepped in, siding with Amon.

"We're not trying to run away. We just want to hold real weapons and fight the way we were trained."

"Disobeying orders carries severe punishment! You've already crossed the line—!"

"Instructor, we're going down. And we'll give it everything we've got to come back up. We don't have time to stand here arguing!"

Amon flashed a hand signal to the entire Assassination Squad without permission.

The signal to descend.

"Amon Coster. Weren't you aiming for the Special Forces for the glory of your family?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then what's this about?"

"The Special Forces don't want trainees who are good with wooden swords. They want soldiers who've stabbed one more monster than anyone else."

"And I'm the one who decides who gets sent to the Special Forces. Amon Coster."

"I know, Instructor. But sir — we're not going up there to spar with orc models..."

Amon dropped his gaze to the Instructor's sword.

"Then why are you holding it reversed? Planning to hit them with the flat instead of the edge?"

"What...?!"

The Instructor quickly hid the sword behind his back.

Then, discreetly, corrected his grip.

"How long has it been since you last fought a real monster, Instructor? That's understandable. It's been a hundred years of ceasefire."

"Shut your mouth!"

"I've fought them countless times. The Coster family has always raised monster hunters. Come to think of it, I might have..."

Amon took a step back and added one more remark.

"...taken down more than you have."

"Amon Coster! I hold the key to the armory. Even if you go down—!"

"The armory is already open, Instructor."

"What?"

"I'll see you in a bit."

A short while later,

the Assassination Squad flooded into the armory.

Each of them grabbed their weapon of choice and burst out onto the parade ground.

Amon raised his sword and shouted.

"Assassination Squad, all fifty of you. Thank you for making it back alive. For following my lead up until now."

He scanned the trainees lined up before him as he continued.

One by one, his peers nodded.

"We came down alive, but there's no time to catch our breath. We're going back up!"

The murmuring soon swelled into a roar.

*

Found him.

Though "found" was a clumsy way to put it.

I already knew the location, and I'd come straight here.

Maybe "arrived" was closer to the truth.

"There."

Kinzo's voice was low.

I lifted my head.

To meet the thing's eyes, I had to tilt my gaze upward.

Even Kinzo, who stood 187 centimeters tall, had to crane his neck back.

Around our necks: dog tags.

Around its neck: a necklace.

A crude, grotesque thing pieced together from animal bone and teeth.

A pearl before swine.

Bell's words from earlier came back to me.

The orc chieftain stood atop the hill.

Its eerie blue glare locked onto me.

"Kinzo, just in case — don't mention Bell's name if the chieftain gets close. I don't want it chasing after her. We got here first, so we'll handle it."

"Simple enough."

"Simple."

He was still using his clairvoyance magic.

"Mago, twenty."

"What?"

"Twenty goblins."

A horn blast rang out wide.

The sound twisted through the dense trees but still carried far.

I looked down the slope.

The layered footsteps of the goblin pack reached my ears.

Another horn blast.

Closer now.

Below, the goblins' shapes started to come into view.

I looked down at them from the high ground.

I'd been in situations like this before — in my past life.

"The only difference is the numbers."

Twenty goblins were converging on us.

But after fighting nineteen orcs in a row, my body wasn't in the best shape.

Those goblins scrambled up the hill with their usual speed.

The orc chieftain descended, gripping its axe in both hands.

Above: one orc.

The strongest fighter among them — the chieftain.

Below: twenty goblins climbing the slope.

The ones I needed to take out first were over there.

The ones holding bows.

Four of them, clustered together.

It was like the high-ground battles of my past life, but I had nothing to throw — no ranged weapons.

Nothing in my hands right now.

But...

"Kinzo, do you remember this place?"

"This place?"

"It's where we camped. During the first test."

There's something buried in the ground.