Grimgal of Ashes and Illusion - Volume 8 - Chapter 7

7. Master Choice

It’d be easier to just die. 

This wasn’t the first time Merry had felt this way. 

After she’d lost three of her original comrades at once, for a while, quite a long while, day in and day out, she had wanted to die. To be more precise, she had been at the mercy of feelings of regret, self-blame, and loss, and she hadn’t been able to think of anything but death that might free her from them. 

She had contemplated ending her life, but had felt it would be wrong. Her comrades had basically sacrificed themselves to let her survive. It was thanks to them that she was alive, so how could she die? Unless she suffered far, far more, it would all be a lie. This was a punishment she deserved. 

That was how she’d felt, so even when things had gotten so hard that it felt like it would be easier to die, she’d never died. She couldn’t have allowed herself to. 

But this time, it was different. She might actually be better off dead. In fact, she questioned why she had to live. 

After all, from here on, they were going to do horrible, repulsive things to her that she didn’t even want to imagine. She didn’t want to imagine them, but they still crossed her mind. What were the orcs going to do to her? Was that goblin going to humiliate her, too? 

No. 

I’m not kidding. 

I’m going to die. 

That’s right. I’ll bite through my tongue and die. 

Oh, but dying might not stop them from defiling her lifeless body. What did she care what happened once she was dead? But still, the thought was hard to take. 

 No. No. No. No. 

“Merry.” 

“...Huh?” Merry raised her face and looked next to her. 

Ranta looked enervated, and he was sweating profusely. Like the shadow of death was hanging over him. 

Even so, she thought, You don’t have it so bad.  They’re only going to kill you. 

She was in for more than that. They’d torment her all they liked, torturing her body and soul, and then kill her in some brutal way when they were done with her. That was the fate waiting for Merry. 

She wanted to scream as loud as she could, You think you can understand how I feel right now?! 

Of course, that would be taking it out on the wrong person. 

Merry desperately tried to steady her breathing. “...What?” 

“No... It’s just, I called your name a bunch of times, but you didn’t answer...” 

“A bunch of times?” 

“You didn’t hear me?” 

“That’s...” Merry shook her head, and blinked. Yes, a bunch of times. 

“...not true. I could hear you. But even if I had responded, it wasn’t like anything was going to change.” 

“You don’t have to say it like that,” Ranta complained. “I was worried about you.” 

“You don’t have to.” 

“Don’t try to act tough. It’s just awkward if you tell me not to worry when you’re looking like that.” 

“I’m perfectly—” 

Her vision blurred, catching her off guard. 

Tears. She was about ready to cry. 

“I’m fine.” Merry shut her eyes tight. “I’m okay.” 

“Oh, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You’re so not cute.” 

“You’ve got that right.” 

“Seriously, your face is the only thing you’ve got going for you. Your personality is terrible.” 

“You’re the last person I want to hear that from.” 

“No, no, no. Even the great Ranta-sama is nothing compared to you,” 

Ranta told her. “I couldn’t possibly compare to your level of spitefulness. 

That stubbornness could end a love that lasted a hundred years. You’ve perfected the art of repelling others.” 

“Be as repelled as you want. It’d be convenient for me.” 

Ranta clicked his tongue. He didn’t stop there, though; he did it a second and third time. There was nothing more annoying. 

But, thanks to that, she was feeling a little less afraid. The fear would bubble back up in no time, and she’d be right back where she started, but now she could think more clearly than before. This was how weak fear could make people. If, right now, she were offered conditions that were less terrible than her worst imaginings, she’d easily submit. Merry had no confidence that she’d be able to cling to her pride. 

That was why she had been hoping to die before they made her fall into true despair. It would be easier. 

Or perhaps, even if she fell as far as she could possibly fall, she should still cling to her life? 

Whichever she chose, she would probably never see any of her comrades other than Ranta again. 

Yume. Shihoru. We had finally managed to become friends. 

Kuzaku, I’m sorry for what I did to you. 

Haruhiro. Haru... 

Save me. 

That was the one thing she couldn’t say. She couldn’t think it, either. She was already feeling weak, and it would only make her more fragile. 

She didn’t want Ranta to see that. When they did whatever it was they were going to do, she didn’t want Ranta—didn’t want one of her comrades to see it. However, that wasn’t Merry’s choice to make. In order to make her taste the most bitter humiliation, they might defile her right in front of Ranta. 

She had to be prepared for that. 

She would have to bear it without crying and screaming. She’d have to just endure. She’d have to make them think tormenting her any more would be boring. That was the one way Merry could resist. If that was all there was, that was what she would do. 

Don’t tremble. Don’t look down. Keep your chin up. 

There was a goblin petting a big black wolf by the mouth of the cave. She couldn’t see that middle-aged man. There were a number of orcs milling about. Undead, too. There was a pack of black wolves. Lots of cat-like creatures. 

Fog. White fog. 

She burned all of it into her retinas. 

Merry would die here. Probably in the worst way imaginable. But she wouldn’t curse the fact she had ever lived, and she wouldn’t reject it. No matter what happened, that was the one thing she wouldn’t do. 

“Ranta.” 

“...Huh?” 

“Thanks,” she said. “For your concern.” 

“You id... D-Don’t be like that, girl. I’m not...” 

“‘Girl’?” she asked archly. 

“S-Sorry, Merry-san...” 

It was so silly, she smiled, even if only a little. 

Honestly, she wished she could thank the rest of their comrades, too. She wanted to thank them all properly, in her own words. To tell them they were all important to her, and she loved them. But that wish wasn’t going to come true. So, at the very least, she’d thank Ranta. 

Honestly, Ranta had done more to offend her than anything else. She could never like him as a person, but he wasn’t all bad, she understood that he had some strengths, too. Even if she didn’t like him, he was an irreplaceable comrade. 

Merry spoke. “I have a favor to ask.” 

“Oh? Sure. ...Wh-What?” 

“No matter what happens, don’t pity me. I want to stay strong, but I may lose. If that happens, you can mock me, but whatever you do, don’t pity me.” 

“Got it,” Ranta replied instantly. “I swear to Lord Skullhell. I won’t pity my comrades. No matter what happens, okay? ...Merry.” 

“What?” 

“Don’t give up. Because I won’t give up. As long as we’re still alive, we haven’t lost.” 

“Sure.” Merry couldn’t bring herself to think like Ranta. However, she felt it was important to respect his resolve. She wanted to respect it. 

She hoped that Ranta would survive somehow. Knowing Ranta, he wouldn’t care about appearances, and he’d probably plead for his life or do whatever it took to keep on living. 

She sat up straight. Puffed out her chest. The ropes bit into her skin, painfully. That was no big deal. This didn’t even take perseverance to endure. 

She put the horrific things she’d imagined out of her mind. When she tried to think happy thoughts, it made her want to cry. 

No,  she thought. I want to be with everyone a little longer. This can’t be the end. I don’t want this. 

But when she remembered that someone like her had been allowed to meet such wonderful comrades, and had spent good times and bad times with them, she reconsidered. She realized she should be grateful for what she’d had. 

Her life hadn’t been in vain. She’d been blessed. Even if it ended in a horrific way, that didn’t make the time she had spent with her comrades worthless. 

The moment that all of the wolves and cat-like creatures turned to look in the same direction at once, Merry sensed that the time had finally come. 

What had happened? What was about to happen? Merry didn’t know, but it was nothing ordinary. That was the one thing she did know. 

The goblin stood up. The big black wolf, on the other hand, lay prone. 

The rest of the black wolves emulated the big one. The cat-like creatures opened their eyes wide, breathing shallowly through their noses. They looked tense. The orcs and undead spread their legs, putting their hands on their hips, and bent at the waist to bow their heads a little. 

That middle-aged man appeared from beyond the fog. He was bringing someone with him. Two people, actually. 

It was hard to see them, but one was rather large. That figure had a massive body. Was it an orc? Even if it was, it was way too big. Was it a giant or something? 

The other was human, or perhaps an undead. That figure wasn’t much taller or shorter than the middle-aged man, so it probably wasn’t an orc. 

In the time they were approaching, up until she could make out what they looked like, Merry would never have imagined they both were orcs. One was easily two and a half meters tall, while the other was maybe only one hundred and eighty centimeters tall. Because one of the two was so massive, it made the other look almost delicate in comparison. 

It seemed orcs had a custom of dying their body hair in vibrant colors. 

However, these two were different. They both had wavy hair that was black to the point of being glossy. 

The small orc was probably the older of the two. It wasn’t that the orc looked old; he just exuded an aura of calmness. 

It’s that orc,  Merry thought. 

The one the black wolves, orcs, and undead respected wasn’t the big one. 

She’d never seen an orc like that small one before. His skin had a gray undertone, his eyes were a piercing orange, both of which were distinctive, but the most noticeable thing was that outfit. 

It was a deep blue fabric with a pattern of silver flowers scattered around, but what would it be called? Was it a kimono? Whatever it was, it was beautifully tailored. It was a sleeved outfit that opened in the front, which went down to just below his knees and was tied shut with a thin belt. Instead of shoes, he wore something like sandals. The long object he wore at his belt seemed to be a weapon, but you wouldn’t notice it if you weren’t looking closely. The beasts and the orcs clearly both feared and respected him. 

Despite that, he didn’t have a particularly imposing or oppressive air about him. He was calm and quiet, and yet, at the same time, though he was short for an orc, he was big. His presence had a sense of grandeur about it. No, of broadness, perhaps. Or depth. That felt like another appropriate way to describe it. 

Looking at them again, the massive orc seemed to be trying to imitate the little one. It was clear that he admired the smaller orc, and couldn’t help but to emulate his dress and manner. 

That little orc, he was the boss. In this group which was composed of orcs, undead, goblins, beasts, and even humans, that orc was the central figure, the one who had brought them all together. 

The next thing she knew, the middle-aged man and the two orcs had come up right next to Merry and Ranta. 

Then there was the sudden sound of flapping wings, surprising Merry. 

Something flew down out of the fogbound skies. 

A bird. Not a little one. A bird of prey. An eagle, perhaps? 

One black feather fell from those powerful, flapping wings and fell to the ground in front of Merry’s knees. 

The great black eagle landed on the little orc’s shoulder. Though he was little for an orc, he still had broad enough shoulders that such a large bird could use them as a perch. His chest was thick, and his arms and neck were fat. Even so, he gave off the impression of being lithe rather than strong. 

“Jumbo.” The middle-aged man gestured towards Merry and Ranta with his chin, then said something incomprehensible. It was probably in the orcish language. 

The small orc nodded. His orange eyes were fixed on Merry. His pupils seemed to shine. It might not have been the time or place for such thoughts, but Merry found them beautiful. The whites of his eyes were as pale as a baby’s. 

In her head, she understood that orcs were an intelligent race, in no way lesser than humans. However, she had to acknowledge that she’d been prejudiced against them, viewing them as savage and frightening. That was why Merry was so taken aback. 

She couldn’t find an appropriate expression for it, but if she were to use the closest word she could think of, that orc seemed noble. He had a grace about him, a refinement. That said, it was still too early to start hoping he wouldn’t do anything rough. That would be nothing more than baseless optimism. 

“My name is—” Even though the orc’s mouth was moving, it was hard for her to believe it was his voice. Of course it was. He was speaking human words, and was entirely too fluent at the language. Besides, it was a low and smooth, if somewhat throaty, voice and very pleasant to listen to. “—Jumbo. 

First, let me ask you, what are your names?” 

“Huh...?” Ranta looked to Merry, then back to Jumbo, twisted his head to the side in confusion, and then looked to the middle-aged man. When the middle-aged man shrugged, Ranta finally accepted reality. “...R-R-Ranta. No, I mean, my name is Ranta. No, th-the name’s... Ranta... you got that?” 

“And you?” Jumbo asked, looking to Merry. 

Merry took a single breath. Her entire body was numb. She needed to pull herself together. 

“I’m Merry.” 

“Ranta. Merry. It would seem that you two are not of the village.” 

“...What is the village, anyway?” Merry asked. 

“Heyyyyyy, Merry, don’t say more than you have to...” Ranta shook his head, cursing. “Yeah, that’s right! We don’t know what village you’re talking about. We have no clue what it is, so you can be damn sure we’re not from it! 

So what?!” 

“Arabakian volunteer soldiers, then?” Jumbo asked. “Or citizens of Vele?” 

Vele was most likely the free city of Vele. There was trade between Alterna and Vele. However, though Vele was a human city state, they also engaged in trade with orcs and the undead. They were neutral, you could say. 

If they claimed to be citizens of Vele, Jumbo might release Merry and Ranta. If he believed them, that was. If he didn’t see through the lie. 

“We’re volunteer soldiers.” Merry glared at Jumbo. “What of it?” 

Ranta had already told the middle-aged man that they were volunteer soldiers. It was hard to imagine that detail hadn’t been passed on to Jumbo. 

Jumbo must have known. If he was asking a question he knew the answer to, it was like a trap. If he used such boring tricks, he might be more shallow than she’d thought. 

Or maybe not. 

“Takasagi.” Jumbo looked at Merry again as he asked. “Is this true?” 

“Yeah,” the middle-aged man whose name was Takasagi replied. “Onsa found their Volunteer Soldier Corps badges. I can’t see why they’d be carrying around fake ones. There’s no doubt about it. No telling what ties they have to the village, though. The guys attacking us are volunteer soldiers, too, so they’re still suspicious.” 

“...Suspicious, huh? You wound me.” Ranta snorted derisively. If his hands hadn’t been bound behind his back, he’d probably have crossed his arms haughtily. “Whaaaat? You’re thinking we’re spies, or something? Let me tell you, I wouldn’t do anything that lame. If I wanted to take you down, I’d do it in a straight-up fight!” 

“A straight-up fight, huh...” Takasagi grinned as the pipe he held between his lips shook. “You’re not good enough. Not only would you not be able to take out our boss, I doubt you could even beat me.” 

“Hey, don’t underestimate me, old man!” Ranta’s veins were pulsing, his eyebrows raised, and his entire face distorted. Did he think he was being intimidating? Was he stupid? 

He was breathing way too heavily from his nose. What was this idiot thinking, getting so worked up? Was he not thinking at all? Normally, that would be impossible, but with this guy, maybe it was. He was just that stupid. 

“I’m a volunteer soldier superstar!” Ranta hollered. “I’m the supernova of talent they call the Ultra Idaten! Idaten...?! Well, whatever. Anyway, when they talk about the special swordsman known as the Otherdimensional God of Destruction, they’re talking about me, Ranta-sama! Like I’d lose to some old man! Try gauging your opponents a little better before you talk, pal!” 

“Cut it out,” Merry said urgently. “You’re—” 

“Shut up! You don’t talk now!” Ranta shouted at Merry, raising his voice even louder. “You think you’re so hot because you managed to capture us with a big gang! You cowards couldn’t handle a fight one-on-one! Who do you think you’re fooling with your, ‘I doubt you could even beat me’! Say that once we’ve actually fought! If you’re just running your mouth when we haven’t even fought, anyone can do that! If you’re that confident, then face me!” 

“He has a point.” Jumbo nodded without changing his expression. 

“Takasagi. You were the one who said you could win. Face him.” 

“Good grief, that’ll teach me to open my big mouth, huh...” Takasagi turned back and looked towards the cave. “Onsa, could you have the nyaas undo his ropes?” 

When Onsa the goblin pursed his lips and whistled, the cat-like creatures swarmed over Ranta and undid his ropes in short order. 

Those creatures, they were called nyaas? It wasn’t a very inventive name, but it was cute. They looked like they were trying so hard when they moved their little hands, and that—No, no. This was no time to be admiring the adorable nyaas. 

“All right!” Ranta jumped up, twisted his head from side to side, and stretched his arms and legs. “Don’t let my hyper-awesome skills blow you away. By the way, you wouldn’t fight with weapons while I’m unarmed, right? If you want to settle this with our fists, I don’t mind, though. I’d be down for that, too. I’m a master of everything, after all.” 

A short time later, three nyaas brought Ranta’s RIPer from the cave. The nyaas straining themselves as they rushed over carrying the sword were adorable, of course, but it went without saying that Merry didn’t have the presence of mind to properly savor their cuteness. In fact, her jaw had dropped. 

Rather than choosing to watch things play out, the flow of events had left Merry behind. She blamed Ranta. Ranta was an idiot. Everything was stupid Ranta’s fault. 

The black wolves and nyaas, the orcs, the undead, and Jumbo and the big orc all moved, making space for the duel. Merry could only sit there in silence. 

Perhaps this was Ranta’s plan. Whatever the case, Ranta was free now. 

He’d even gotten his weapon back. Which meant maybe it wasn’t impossible to escape...? 

When Ranta glanced over in Merry’s direction, it made her want to think, I knew it—but it was just that, a single glance, and then Ranta turned to face Takasagi, drawing RIPer from its sheathe. He dropped the sheathe right there. 

She was embarrassed that, even for that one moment, she had started to think, I knew it. 

“Okay!” Ranta slapped his own face with his left hand. “I’m good to go! 

Come at me any way you like, old man Takasagi!” 

“I can’t tell if you’re serious, or just desperate.” Takasagi chewed on his pipe, slowly drawing the katana on his back with his right hand. “If you like, I’ll let you move first.” 

“You sure?” Ranta asked. “I don’t want you regretting it later.” 

“Don’t hesitate to take me up on it. I’ve probably lived twice as long as you. If you want, I’ll give you an even bigger handicap.” 

“The wisdom of age, is that it?” Ranta lowered his hips a little, readying his sword. “Well, I’ll gladly take the right to strike first. Don’t go down on the first blow. I don’t get to do this often, so make it fun for me.” 

“You talk a good game.” 

“I’ll show you I’m more than just talk soon enough.” 

Could it be...? This seemed like the only possibility, but could it be that Ranta thought he could beat Takasagi? That he could win the duel, and, in winning it, drag some sort of compromise out of them? 

Takasagi had taken a wound to his left eye, or had something else wrong with it, and was seemingly blind on that side. On top of that, he probably wasn’t hiding his right arm. He had one eye, and one arm. He was middle-aged, too, so Ranta could probably handle him. If Ranta was thinking that— and knowing Ranta, he probably was, which worried her—it was frivolous of him. 

Takasagi slowly raised his katana, pointing the tip towards Ranta. The moment he did, Ranta stopped moving entirely. He probably couldn’t move. 

The damp air suddenly began to feel chilly. 

Merry’s eyes were drawn to Takasagi’s sword, unable to focus on anything else. If Ranta were in the same state as Merry was, it was over. The battle was decided. He couldn’t possibly win. 

“I won’t be hypnotized,” Ranta muttered to himself. 

In the next moment, he burst forward with Leap Out. With the force of an eruption, he shot to the left of Takasagi. From there, he used Hatred. 

Takasagi swayed to avoid it. 

Ranta used Leap Out again to go to Takasagi’s right side, and swinging his sword in a figure-eight motion, he used Slice. Takasagi easily dodged this one, too. 

Ranta fought in a very un-Ranta-like manner, barely using his voice as he pressed the attack. His feet never stopped, and he kept on moving and attacking. 

Merry didn’t want to praise Ranta, but the way he moved around with such bewildering speed as he fought had to be rather troublesome for his opponent. When fighting that way, Ranta seemed to gain an abnormal strength. On top of that, he wasn’t just moving around randomly; he was always trying to attack from an angle that would make it hard to block. It was like he was an entirely different person from the one who had been in the party when Merry first joined. Ranta had gotten so much stronger now that he was almost unrecognizable. However, there was always someone better. 

Even for Merry, a priest, it was clear to see. For now, at least, no matter how earnestly Ranta stretched out his hand, he could never reach Takasagi. 

Ranta could jump to the right and swing, or spring to the left and thrust, and Takasagi would always be facing him, ready to evade it with one or two steps. Takasagi could see it. He had completely seen through Ranta’s unorthodox fighting style. 

It was no exaggeration to say that Ranta was no match for him. Ranta, more than anyone, must have been aware of the gap in their power. Despite that, Ranta kept attacking. Incorrigibly, he repeated his meaningless attacks. 

Just stop it,  Merry wanted to say. But what would happen if he did? 

Don’t give up,  Ranta had said to Merry. Because I won’t give up,  he’d said. 

This was very much a battle where, if he gave up, it was all over. Though he definitely couldn’t win, he had to keep fighting so that it didn’t end. That 

was why Ranta was fighting so desperately. Until his last bit of energy was spent, or until Takasagi cut him down, Ranta wouldn’t give up. 

“...Go for it.” Merry forced the words out. “Go Ranta! Go!” 

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Ranta yelled. 

Ranta wasn’t responding to Merry. He was focused on the battle, and probably couldn’t hear her voice. But the sharpness of Ranta’s moves, along with his speed, went up a notch. It might have been an illusion, but that was how it looked to Merry. 

If he stepped into his strikes by a few more centimeters, his sword reached that much farther. Takasagi’s evasive maneuvers were getting larger, too. Up until a moment ago, he had been lazily evading, but now it was a little different. Occasionally his feet moved a little faster, becoming hurried. He had less room for error than before. 

“That’s not the best you’ve got, is it?!” Merry called. “You can give it more! There’s no way you can’t!” 

This wasn’t true at all. Ranta was giving it all, going past his limits. Even though she knew that, all she could do was cheer him on like this. It made her hate how nasty she was. Her comrade was burning out the very fire of his life, so why couldn’t she offer him some kinder words? 

“This time...!” Suddenly, as if he’d been blown away, Ranta moved back several meters. It was Exhaust. He’d put distance between them, but what was he planning to do with it? 

Takasagi stayed put, as if waiting to see what he could do. 

“Secret technique...” Ranta held RIPer in both hands, his entire body swaying. “Hachioji Beta Cleansing... No, forget that, it needs a cooler name... 

Thousand Arms Kannon Boddhisatva... No, wait, that’s no good either... 

Fragrance Bitter... Huh? That’s off, too. It’s not special attack-y, uhh... 

Ultimate Skyboy...?” 

Merry was appalled. What did the name matter? It didn’t even need one. 

In the end, Ranta was Ranta. An idiot. No matter where he went, a true idiot was always an idiot. 

Takasagi was gaping, too. 

Wait, was that what Ranta had been aiming for...? 

“Gotcha!” Ranta used Leap Out to charge at Takasagi. He leapt in from outside his swinging range, thrusting with all his might. Anger. “Take that!” 

Takasagi’s legs were frozen stiff. He couldn’t dodge. 

This might be it. 

For the first time, Takasagi used his katana, and— “Ungh!” He simply swept Ranta’s sword aside. 

“Gwuh?!” Just from having his sword deflected, Ranta lost his balance. 

Takasagi finally went on the attack. Or rather, he settled it with one swing. 

If it could even be called that. 

Takasagi used his katana like it was his own arm, wrapping it around Ranta’s sword. RIPer spun around as it flew around five meters before falling to the ground. 

“You’ve got spunk.” Takasagi pressed the tip of his sword against Ranta’s forehead. “But that’s all you’ve got. Well, ten years from now, I’ll have weakened with age, so maybe you would’ve won then. Right now, it’s just not gonna happen.” 

It was over. 

It was all over. 

So easily. 

Merry smiled wryly, all her strength having left her. How very like Ranta. 

But, well, for Ranta, he’d done the best he probably could. 

That was right. He’d done well. Merry hadn’t done anything; she hadn’t been able to; so she was in no position to gripe. 

“You think this is over?” Ranta said in his trembling voice, and she was moved a little. 

Not yet. Even now, Ranta hadn’t given up. He was an idiot. 

An idiot, but incredible. He was great. As his comrade, she felt proud, though only a little. The corners of her eyes started to get hot. 

If Ranta hadn’t kowtowed at light speed, she might have teared up. 

Merry thought her eyes were going to fall out of her skull. She’d never felt such a nonsensical shock before. 

“...Huh...?” Takasagi asked. 

“You got me! Please, make me your disciple! I’ll carry your sandals, wash your sandals, polish your sandals, whatever you want, so please! Do you like strong men?! I loooove them! Me, I wanna be strong! Seriously, seriously, I do! I’ve been looking for a way to, you could say, always searching, and, at last, I’ve finally what I need! You, Takasagi-sensei! I’ve found you! I mean, you’re way too strong, and I was so much more powerless before you than I thought I would be, I fell in love! Please, please, take me on as your disciple! 

I’ll start out as your gofer if I have to! I’m begging you! Pleeeeaaaase!” 

“Listen, I’m not taking disciples...” Takasagi frowned, resting the flat side of his katana on his left shoulder with a sigh. “Besides, don’t you get it? We don’t serve any king. But, nonetheless, people from Arabakia are still our enemy. There’s no way we can get along. Don’t you know what that means? 

Let’s assume for a moment that I do make you my disciple. It’ll never happen, but if I did, you’d be betraying Arabakia.” 

“That’s A-OK!” 

“...Huh?” 

“Nah, Sensei, Master, I think you may be misunderstanding here, so I’ll tell you, okay? I just became a volunteer soldier because things turned out that way. It’s not like I’ve sworn my body and soul to the Kingdom of Arabakia. I’ve never once felt like doing so. I just happened to find myself here in Grimgar, flat broke, and they said they’d cover my personal expenses for the time being if I became a volunteer soldier trainee, and I didn’t seem to have any other options at the time, so I did. Well, in a way, you could say they tricked me into it, yeah? That’s how I got made into a volunteer soldier!” 

“I was a volunteer soldier myself, so I can see where you’re coming from,” said Takasagi. 

“Wow! You’re a former volunteer soldier, Sensei? Master?” 

“I’m not your sensei or master, though...” 

“How’d you end up working for Commander Jumbo, then?” Ranta asked eagerly. “I’d love to hear about that, too.” 

“It’s a long story...” Takasagi clicked his tongue lightly. “You’re a smooth operator, you know that? I almost went along with you there, just now.” 

“Darn straight! Me, I’ve got a silver tongue! I’ve got the gift of the gab! I talk all the time, so people always say I’m annoying! But, you know what?! 

My heart is hot! My soul is full! I wanna be your disciple to the max, Takasagi-sensei! I seriously wanna get stronger, for real! The way I am now —a volunteer soldier, doing the same things as anyone else—I can’t expect to grow! It just hit me!” 

“...What just hit you?” 

“That, there, that’s the point! Or rather, this place is!” Ranta spun around, looking to Jumbo, the big orc, the goblins, the black wolves, and more. “You, a human, are working under Commander Jumbo! You’ve gotta have a damn good reason! But, more than that, I feel something here! To be frank, that’s what attracts me! If I become one of you, maybe I can find something?! 

Maybe the path that I, in my quest to become the greatest and most invincible fighter to ever live, need to follow has been here all along?!” 

“Okay, tell me if I’ve got this right,” Takasagi said. “Setting the bit about becoming my disciple aside, you want to quit being a volunteer soldier, and join Forgan, even if it’s as a petty underling.” 

“Uhh, Forgan...?” 

“Forgo,” Jumbo said, looking at the giant black eagle on his shoulder. 

“That’s the name of my respected friend. In human language, it means ‘black eagle.’ I suppose that would make Forgan the Black Eagle Band.” 

“There!” Ranta nodded, as if Jumbo had said exactly the right thing. 

“That’s it! Please, let me into Forgan, I’m begging you! I’ll do the cleaning, the laundry, the cooking, the chores, the anything...! Pile all the work you want on me, because I’ll still keep pushing upwards! I’m confident I’ve got the talent, the potential, the guts, the nerve, the cajones, the Jones! Makes you wonder who this Jones guy is, but, seriously, I’m seriously super serious about all this!” 

As Ranta rubbed his head against the ground repeatedly and begged, Merry couldn’t decide if he really was seriously super serious about this, or if this was a way of begging for his life, or if he was just spouting nonsense. 

Any of them seemed possible, and she didn’t think any of them was okay. 

Maybe Merry had misjudged him. Ranta might have been a bigger piece of trash than she had ever thought. 

She wanted to cry now, but for a different reason than before. 

As his comrade, she felt ashamed of Ranta. She was hopelessly ashamed that anything he’d done had moved her heart even the slightest. 

“Well, regardless, if that’s the case...” Takasagi returned his katana to its sheathe. “I’m not the one who makes that decision. It’s Jumbo. Jumbo makes the decisions. The rest of us follow them. That’s the rule in Forgan, after all.” 

Forgo the great black eagle let out a shrill cry, then took off from Jumbo’s shoulder. 

Jumbo walked over. It was like there was a light breeze around him. He was quiet, coolly approaching, then stopping in front of Ranta, then of all things, crouching down. 

“Ranta,” said Jumbo. 

“Ye—” Ranta straightened his back, kneeling formally. “Yes, sir!” 

“I am not fond of needless killing.” 

“Yes, sir! Huh? Sir?!” 

“Of course, we sometimes kill those who oppose us,” said Jumbo. “We steal sometimes, too. We hurt people. Because some among our companions are of a special nature, you see. There are also those who will slander Forgan, claiming we are cruel and merciless. I won’t deny it. However, I, personally, do not take lives needlessly.” 

“...Y-Yes, sir.” 

“If you wish to become my companion, I will welcome you.” 

“Yes, sir. ...Huh?! Welcome me?! You mean... you’ll make me your comrade?!” 

“If that is what you wish,” said Jumbo. “At present, Takasagi is the only human among my companions, but it will only mean taking on a second. 

That, too, could prove entertaining.” 

“I... I did it?!” 

“However,” Jumbo added. 

“H-Howev...?!” 

“What will that woman do?” Jumbo gestured to Merry—or rather, he turned his orange eyes towards her. “Will that woman become my companion along with you? Is that what she wishes?”