Grimgal of Ashes and Illusion - Volume 15 - Chapter 16

16. Another

Around the same time, there might have been a masked man, a fierce tempest of swords, creating a fine red mist and unleashing a torrent of screams as he continued, still, to slash, or perhaps there wasn’t.

No.

The masked man existed. He existed, all right?

Riverside Iron Fortress.

The hardened fortress along the Jet River which was now a den of kobolds was exposed to a violent assault before dawn. The unrelenting torrent of Blasts, Detonations, and even high level Arve Magic like Blaze Falls, as well as Thunderbolts, Thunderstorms, and Icicle Downs was highly effective. The kobolds’ earnest attempts to defend the fortress were meaningless before it, and they were broken in no time. But the battle was actually just getting started.

The kobolds had an especially strong pack instinct. When they were led by one of the high-ranking kobolds who lived in the depths of the Cyrene Mines, not just the countless worker kobolds, but even the elder kobolds who stood above them would fight without fear of death. In no time, the inside of the fortress turned into utter pandemonium. The kobolds piled up their own corpses to defend their positions, and while the attackers were busy removing them, more kobold reinforcements would arrive to launch a pincer attack.

But he had known this would be a fight to the death, and unlike those useless grunts in the Frontier Army, from the day he had become a volunteer soldier, he had risked his life to keep himself fed, and gained fame by relying only on himself and his comrades.

Any battle where you could maintain your composure didn’t even count as a battle at all. Anyone who hadn’t thought, Aw, crap, I’m dead, this is the end, at least a hundred times was just a scrub.

What did he have to hide? No, he had no intention of hiding it. Sink-or-swim, life-or-death, kill-or-be-killed situations were a daily event for volunteer soldiers.

In order to survive, the volunteer soldiers inside the fortress killed kobolds like crazy, then were nearly killed by kobolds. They ignored the wounds that didn’t keep them from moving, and had priests use light magic to heal the really dangerous ones. Then they went back to killing kobolds again, and almost being killed by kobolds. If that was your daily life, you would get sick of it. It would be unbearable. But even when they were put in a situation that would make you say, “No, no, no, I can’t take this anymore, I just want to die. Let it end already. Somebody, kill me, please! Somebody!” the volunteer soldiers didn’t let it get them down.

Well, no, not all of the volunteer soldiers were actually that tough. But most of the volunteer soldiers who were participating in the attack on Riverside Iron Fortress today were real badasses, and they had seen their share of battles.

It went without saying, the masked man was one of them.

There were a total of fourteen towers that made up Riverside Iron Fortress, connected by bridges so that they could move forces from one to another. Because of that, theoretically, it was possible to keep up a defensive line until all fourteen towers fell. They had to take the towers one by one until either the attackers’ or the defenders’ will to fight gave out.

The masked man was heading for the top floor of the seventh tower. If this were a mountain, he’d already be at the seventh station. No, maybe it would be the fifth, or the eighth, or even the ninth. The stairs were less than two meters wide, and were packed tight with lines of kobolds, thrusting weapons like spears and naginatas at him. It would be suicide to charge straight into that. That’s what anyone would think. But just throwing himself at it anyway, that was the masked man’s style, his philosophy, his way of life.

“Personal skill!”

The masked man took a swing with his katana and rushed up the stairs. The kobolds all barked at once, and tried to skewer him or cut him up with their pole arms. If he just charged in like a raging bull, even if he was the toughest of the tough guys, that was exactly what would happen to him.

“Holy Lightning Brahma-Deva Sovereign Strike...!”

So, before that could happen to him, the masked man jumped. He leapt to the left and kicked off the wall, springing back to the right. The kobolds let out confused barks as they swung their pole arms. They reflexively tried to follow the masked man.

It was no use. The masked man moved with lightning reflexes. There was no way they could keep up. He kicked off the left wall, then the right, then the left again, before finally landing in the middle of the kobolds. He slashed, and slashed, and slashed them some more. The masked man had been soaked with kobold blood to begin with, but now it was even worse, and he didn’t stop slicing and dicing them as he whittled their numbers down. Every muscle in his body cried out in protest, and his lungs felt like they were ready to burst, but the masked man would not stop. For he was a fiend, a devil, a demon.

Whatever he was, whatever he wished to be, the masked man was not God, not one of God’s children, and not even a monster.

Once his katana had tasted the blood of 15, no, 17 or 18 kobolds, the masked man suddenly felt exhausted. Oh, crap! What is this? My body won’t do what I tell it. I can’t even talk. I’m running out of stamina here? Seriously? I mean, seriously?

The kobolds howled like they were going, Now, now’s our chance, get ’im! They stepped over the slashed-up corpses of their comrades, or kicked them out of the way, and swarmed towards the masked man. The man raised his head. He was aware of them, but there was nothing he could do.

The hell? What’s a guy as awesome as me doing, screwing up like this here? Damn it.

“Stupid Ranta!”

Then a hunter with her long hair tied in braids jumped out, firing an arrow towards the kobolds. She was carrying a bow. A short bow. She nocked another arrow and loosed it. Incredibly fast. And every shot she took hit a kobold in the eye or the mouth. Even at close range like this, no, especially at close range like this, because of the pressure her targets put on her, it was hard to pull off shots like that. The hunter had just done something incredibly difficult, and she did it easily, as if it were no trouble at all.

Just how many kobolds had she killed by the time her quiver was empty? Seven or eight, at least. “You’re a real armful, y’know that?!” Using an expression that was only part right, she grabbed the masked man by the scruff of his neck and dragged him down the stairs before the kobolds could reach them.

“...Hey, that hurts! You’re choking me! Yume! Damn it!”

“It’s your fault for bein’ reckless, stupid Ranta! Suffer more!”

“I’m suffering plenty already!”

“Everyone!” Yume gave the signal.

Volunteer soldiers kept running past the masked man, who some knew as Ranta, and Yume, but it was a narrow corridor. In no time, they were pressed against the wall together.

“Whoa?!”

“Meow?!”

Yume had the wall to her back and Ranta was covering her. He wasn’t on top of her or anything, but if he didn’t do this, it would be a little dangerous or something, y’know?

“G-Guys...!” Ranta protested, but no one was listening. The other volunteer soldiers were stepping into the gap that Ranta and, well, Yume had opened, and were trying to crush the enemy with one more push. They were all going to town on the kobolds.

“Y-Yume! Let me just say, this wasn’t intentional, okay?!”

“What wasn’t?!”

“What wasn’t? Now, listen...”

There were times when Ranta was really glad he wore a mask.

Their bodies were pressed together as much as they possibly could be, so, naturally, their faces were close, and it was kind of, uh, embarrassing.

It wasn’t bad, but still.

He felt like it had perked him up a little, so maybe it wasn’t just not bad, it was good?

Because Ranta still had to swing his katana.

The battle wasn’t over yet.