Chapter 17:
The Fight
“ I don’t remember much about what happened after, but the two drivers testified on my behalf. They had seen something so terrifying that they were certain they’d be killed if they lied. So they told the whole truth, and I was found innocent.
“The merchant’s assets were seized and distributed to the families of the Crimson Lightning. But the money that I had from selling my father’s wagon and wares was considered part of the party’s property as well. It was all handed over, and I was penniless.
“Apparently, awakening to such magical ability in the face of mortal danger is fairly rare. I suppose most of the time you end up dead, which means it would be rare to find out even if it did happen… anyway, they wanted to study me closely.
“They found that I didn’t have the enormous power the drivers described, but I did now possess a fair amount of magical ability. It was concluded that the drivers, in their fear and awe, had overestimated the power of the magic. And I, having cast a series of fire spells well beyond my magical limits, had suffered a kind of power deficiency that clouded my recollection of that day.
“After that I registered as a hunter and, a year and a half later, after I was promoted to E-rank, I was encouraged to take the prep school entrance exam.”
“Hmm…”
“Hmm? That’s all?”
Reina seemed dissatisfied at her party members’ relatively subdued reaction.
“Did you want us to say something?” Mavis asked bluntly. “Like, ‘Ah, so that’s why you’re so interested in killing bandits,’ or, ‘No good can be born from hatred!’ or…”
“Wh-wha?!”
Reina’s face turned bright red.
“Anyway,” said Mavis, “now that we understand why you’re so obsessed with bandits, let’s just leave it there. You’re free to think or feel however you like. That said, you still can’t pull the other members of your party into your affairs. Got it?”
“Let’s put an end to this business of ‘killing practice,’” Mile chimed in.
“Wh…”
Reina looked displeased.
“We thought you were supposed to be showing us the right way to do things, as the senior hunter!” Mile continued. “But, you were just being selfish, weren’t you?”
“Uh…”
Reina couldn’t reply.
“I’m sure there will be a ‘first time’ someday, against someone and for some reason. But I don’t think it’s necessary to make that day come any sooner. Even just preparing oneself for such a time would be…”
“……”
Reina had no words to reply to Pauline, either.
“Anyway,” Pauline continued, “if you killed them, they’d only be in pain for an instant, right? I think it would be much more satisfying to draw out their suffering and make them really regret their actions…”
There went another perfectly ethical argument.
“Until the time inevitably comes, let’s try not to kill our opponents in vain. However, if our friends or allies—or even strangers—should ever be threatened, then I for one will not hesitate to slay the enemy. The life of my allies is far more important to me than those of any foe. Still, that doesn’t mean that an opponent’s life is worthless, just that an ally’s life is so much dearer. And also…” Mavis continued. “I said it already, didn’t I? If you’re facing an opponent who aims to kill you, if you only aim to capture him then the battle will be a difficult one, regardless of your strength. But it’s only a difficult fight if there’s a small power gap—for if the difference in power is great enough, then the battle is already over.”
“Wh…” Reina gaped at Mavis’s words. “I-I’m not stupid! I already…”
When she looked at Mile, who appeared not to have a worry in her mind, she realized that this much was clear already.
“It doesn’t mean you can’t wound an enemy. We have recovery magic, and even if they lose a few limbs, there are plenty of places for a criminal laborer to be put to work. If they die, then they die—that just means that it was ‘that time.’ But just as there’s no need to go around killing on purpose, there’s no reason to go to such lengths to avoid it that you put yourself in danger.
“If you capture an enemy alive, you’ll get a bigger financial return and they’ll suffer for a nice long time. Therefore, capturing should always be our primary policy—but not to the point of obsession. It’s a little different when you need to make them talk…”
Pauline was Pauline, as always.
Reina kept silent for a little while longer, then uttered a single word.
“Understood.”
The wagons stopped, and they ate lunch.
The merchants and drivers ate as normal, but the hunters barely touched a thing. Today they’d reach the climax of the journey, meaning that it was time to ready themselves for battle. Except Mile…
“Mile?”
As Mile ate with her usual enthusiasm, Reina looked on, exasperated.
“If you eat like that, your body’s going to cramp up! And no one can help you if you swallow a bone!”
“Oh, really? They never taught us that at the school…”
“Because even a child knows that!”
“Oh. Well then, I’ll just hurry up and digest it!”
“Just what kind of a body do you have?” Reina huffed.
“You look tired, Reina.”
“And whose fault is that ?!”
“Um, might we butt in?”
As Reina stewed, the three men of the Flaming Wolves approached.
“After this job is over, would you like to—”
“Absolutely not!” Reina refused without even hearing the rest of the sentence.
“Wh—a-at least let us finish! Anyway, we’d like to hear the opinions of the other thr—”
“Absolutely not!”
“Absolutely not!”
“Absolutely not!”
Having heard the other three’s opinions loud and clear, the Flaming Wolves slunk back.
Their stations were fairly far apart during travel, and that evening they wouldn’t have much opportunity, so perhaps they’d figured that this was their only chance to ask. But it truly didn’t matter if they did it now or at any other time. The girls’ reply would always be the same.
Overhearing this exchange, the men of Dragonbreath all felt rather sorry for the boys. As far as Vera and Jeanie were concerned, the Flaming Wolves were better off knowing their place.
After lunch and a long rest, the caravan set off again.
From a distance, the captured bandits probably looked no different from guards. Of course, that was only true if you were a fair distance away. If you saw the ropes the jig was up, but no bandit scout would ever come so close—preferring to confirm the numbers from the distance of a nearby peak.
Although these were not the bandits they had been aiming for, it was quite likely that they had attacked plenty of parties traveling along this road and, depending on the circumstances, killed not only guards, but merchants as well. Considering their clients’ desire to wipe the bandits out, capturing even these criminals could be considered a part of the job.
But it would be a bother to encounter any others besides their true targets. Therefore, they put a stop to the girls’ overly effective “lure” tactic. Instead, the Crimson Vow remained on standby in the fourth wagon, just as they had upon leaving the capital.
Inside the wagon, Reina hugged her knees, thinking.
Bandits were the enemy. Villains who preyed on those who followed honest paths and snatched their lives away. Just like goblins and orcs, they were dangerous predators and should be killed.
Even if bandits remained alive at the end of a fight, that didn’t mean they should be allowed to live. How many people had they already killed? How many families had they sent into the depths of despair?
If they were allowed to run, they would continue to inflict pain. If they ran, they would try to kill those who’d captured them or return for revenge later, even after they’d made their escape. And if they couldn’t pursue their captors, they might even target their captors’ friends or family…
The danger was too great.
Killing them was the safest route. It kept you safe and unharried, and it put your mind at ease. The others were all far too optimistic: Mile, Mavis, and even Pauline.
Mavis was an aspiring knight. Wasn’t felling evil-doers her sacred duty?
Wasn’t Pauline more cynical than she’d shown?
Reina had killed people.
Yet her recollection of that time was hazy. Why couldn’t she remember?
She’d killed the foes who had murdered her friends. Shouldn’t that have been an exhilarating memory? Why couldn’t she recall it clearly?
Or…was it something she didn’t want to remember?
Did she regret killing those bandits?
That was stupid. She’d slain the Crimson Lightning’s enemies. How could she regret that?! But there was some truth to what Pauline had said.
“If you kill them, their pain is over in an instant.” Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so bad if they’d suffered, repenting their crimes as they labored in a mine until they perished of accident or illness…
Perhaps it was true that their deaths could have been deferred…
Regardless, there was no reason why they couldn’t each act as they pleased. Just as their opponents were free to choose whether they lived or died.
Reina looked toward her companions.
At Mavis, sword drawn, polishing her blade.
At Pauline, grinning strangely as she wrote something in her notebook.
And at Mile, fast asleep, drool running from her open mouth.
Looking at them, it suddenly seemed ridiculous for Reina to be sitting there and worrying. And yet…
No, stop that! These people are the reason I have to be strong! This time, I won’t let anyone die! No one!
Reina’s worries never ceased.
Twitch!
Mile was sleeping soundly when her body spasmed. That sort of thing was wont to happen now and then.
Her eyes flashed wide open. “The enemy’s here.”
“And just how do you know that?!”
Ignoring Reina’s shout, Mile climbed from the back of the cart onto the top of the tarp, and whistled through her fingers.
Piiiiiiiiiiii!!!
The six wagons stopped, and the leaders of Dragonbreath and the Flaming Wolves rushed over. The others remained in their wagons, watchful and ready.
“What’s wrong? Is it the enemy?”
“Yes! There’s about twenty of them up ahead.”
“How do you know that?!”
It seemed that the leader of the Flaming Wolves was still not accustomed to Mile.
“Around twenty, huh? Can you be any more precise?” Bart asked, ignoring him.
“Umm, there are nineteen. They’re in two lines of nine, with one in the front.”
“I’m asking you again: just how do you know that ?!”
“What did you say?!”
“Are you ignoring me?!”
They were, in fact, ignoring him.
“Gather everyone. This is a Code Red!”
Once all the hunters were gathered, Bart explained.
“We’re in a pinch. According to Mile’s magic… it’s magic, right? According to her magic, there are nineteen bandits up ahead, lying in wait. They’re in lines of nine, nine, and one…”
“That’s about what we expected, isn’t it? We’d heard there could be more than twenty, so with less than that, it should be a cakewalk, right?”
Chuck, one of the swordsmen of the Flaming Wolves, was optimistic. Even if there had been twice as many bandits as hunters, it still wouldn’t be a huge problem, he thought.
Fargus, the Dragonbreath lancer, shook his head.
“It makes sense that there would be fewer than were reported at the time of the posting. You might overlook people who are there, or hallucinate people who aren’t. If you think you see about twenty people in the forest, it’s natural that there might be more, and just as likely that there are fewer. The fact that they are standing in line is bad.”
“What’s so bad about that?”
The Flaming Wolves failed to catch Fargus’s drift. The Crimson Vow had no idea what he meant, either.
“The reason that there are so few is probably because they’ve split into two parties to form a pincer attack. So, it’s possible that there are actually twice as many. And furthermore…” Bart said slowly, looking over everyone’s faces. “Bandits don’t stand in neat little lines. The only people who stand in nice lines while waiting for their prey are knights and soldiers. That is to say, armies.”
“…………”
Bart continued: “Most countries’ armies organize their fighters nine to a squad. Those eight soldiers are split into four groups of two, or two groups of four, with one more to direct them. Four of those squads together make up a platoon. The platoon will have a commanding officer, an aide, and two more lower-ranking officers. Forty in total, with each of those lower officers in charge of two of the squads. And so, the fact that there are nineteen people in lines means…”
Several people gulped at once.
“Indeed. Just a little farther ahead are twenty-one more, including the commander and their aide. I did think it rather strange that, in the absence of any war or famine, such a large group of bandits would remain in an area like this without either establishing a base or moving on. Without some means of resupply, they wouldn’t have been able to maintain their food stores.”
“It’s hopeless! We heard that there were twenty-ish bandits at best, so we thought that this amount of firepower would be enough! But twice as many, and soldiers, no less?! There’s no way we can win!” A cry of despair rose from the Flaming Wolves. To be fair, the reaction was only natural.
“What’s an army doing here in the first place?! Why would they suddenly decide to turn to banditry?! Are we sure they’re not simply here to wipe the bandits out?!” The Flaming Wolves continued to cry out.
Mile spoke softly. “A trading blockade?”
Bart looked surprised.
“Oh! Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to be a bit dim?”
“Who said that I was?!”
“Anyway,” Bart ignored Mile’s protests, instead looking over the uneasy faces before him. “For now, this is all just speculation. It’s not that I can’t think of any countries that might do such a thing—but there’s still a chance that these are just plain old bandits, and that this might be all of them.”
An air of relief washed over them.
“But,” he finished, “we had better prepare ourselves for the worst.”
“What’s the probability that this is a worst-case scenario?” asked Brett, leader of the Flaming Wolves.
Bart replied with a calm expression. “About eighty percent, perhaps?”
“…………”
He turned to consult with the merchants, who had yet to speak up.
“So what do you, our clients, feel is the best course of action?”
“Hmm well then… if they’re soldiers, with three times our fighting strength, there’s no way that we can win against them in an honest fight, is there? We don’t have much choice but to simply confirm their identity and numbers and retreat, do we? Then, we can report our information to the palace, and they can return with their own troops.
“However, these enemies might move on before our own army has a chance to mobilize. Plus, the fact that they’ve slaughtered every caravan they’ve encountered up until now means that they’re probably hoping to conceal their true identities. No matter how good their disguises are, leaving survivors means there’s a chance they could be discovered.
“If we turn back, the enemy will realize that we’ve spotted them, won’t they? They’ll get worried, wondering how much of their true identity we’ve uncovered, and they may pursue us. Even if we’d already disposed of the prisoners, they’d quickly catch up to our wagons. And there’s a chance that they’ve also prepared some cavalry for the chase. Rather than running, not knowing when or where we’ll be attacked, we have at least a slightly better chance if we choose the place to face them head-on.”
Bart gazed over the hunters and grinned.
“What? All each of you has to do is kill three or four apiece! That’s no big deal.”
“Are you saying they’ve got no choice in this?!”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
Bart and the merchants laughed together.
The other members of Dragonbreath shrugged, exasperated. For Bart, this was probably normal behavior. The Flaming Wolves had gone a bit green in the gills but kept their silence, perhaps as a matter of hunters’ pride. As for the Crimson Vow…
What is with these people???
They were stunned at the nerve of the other hunters. And also…
“They don’t seem very bandit-like, do they? I guess there wouldn’t be much use talking to them…?”
“No. Even if they’re soldiers, they’ve invaded another country and are looting without a formal declaration of war, which means that this can’t be a sanctioned operation. We should consider them like bandits, which means that there’s no problem with killing them. We’ll deal with them accordingly.”
“If we can capture their commander and press him for information, I bet we’ll fetch a nice big reward.”
“You guys…?”
Normally they would be able to travel a little farther. This time however, they decided to make camp for the night where they were. The highway wound into the mountains, a steep cliff face to their right and on their left a rocky plain with no trees or water. It was not a place where you’d normally choose to camp. Especially since a grassy field stood just beyond the mountain.
However, this place was convenient for their true purpose—not camping, but fighting.
On a rocky field, free of trees, you could use as much fire magic as you liked.
Fighting with a sharp cliff face behind them helped to avoid being ambushed.
Of course, any foe who came to investigate their prey might be suspicious of a merchant caravan setting up camp so early and in such a strange place, but there was nothing the hunters could do about that.
They didn’t expect to wait until morning, only a few hundred meters from the bandits. They knew that they would be attacked.
The wagons were parked close to the cliff wall in two lines of three, making the lines that the hunters had to defend as short as possible. The captured bandits were bound tightly—not just by their arms, but by their legs as well—and it was agreed that, if possible, they would be knocked unconscious before the battle. Should the battle turn against them, or the enemy draw too near, the merchants gave strict orders to kill their prisoners immediately. It would be a small task to kill seven people who were tied up and unconscious, the merchants argued—but then, these world-weary men had little reservations about killing bandits in the first place.
After securing the wagons and binding the bandits, the hunters prepared for an all-out counterattack.
They didn’t eat. Any idiot who stuffed his face right before a melee battle would not live very long.
All there was left to do was wait for their enemies to move.
Around an hour passed.
“They’re here.”
The archer Vera, with her keen eyesight, was the first to spot the first enemy.
Because they’d prepared their camp so early, there was still time until sunset, and the sky was bright. No doubt the bandits had judged it would be more advantageous to strike while it was light, surrounding their enemies with overwhelming force. When it got dark, there was too great a chance of people slipping away unnoticed.
There was no need for the attackers to divide their forces, for the cliff wall behind the merchants blocked any possibility of retreat. Therefore it was about forty enemies who surrounded the caravan in a semi-circle—likely the entirety of their force. Just as Bart had predicted.
“We are bandits! Forfeit your weapons and capitulate!”
The man who seemed to be the leader gave a rather abrupt introduction, “We are bandits.” Furthermore, he did not command them to “surrender,” but rather to “capitulate.”
“Since it looks like we’ve got a fight either way, it doesn’t matter what we say, right?” Bart asked. “I want to try to get some information out of them. All right if I lob a few comments their way?”
The merchants nodded. The Flaming Wolves and Crimson Vow, who had no idea what was going on, bobbed their heads in unison.
“Well, if that ain’t the voice of the commander! Just what are y’all doing all the way out here?”
“Uh…”
Bart’s bluff hit the bull’s eye, and the commander began to stammer.
“It’s me! From the shop in the capital!”
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about! W-we are mere bandits! Quit speaking nonsense. Forfeit your weapons and capitulate, immediately!”
“What d’you think?” Bart asked the others.
“Ha ha!” Mile gave a wry laugh in reply.
“Well, I didn’t get a straight response, but I think that about settles it. If we surrender, they’ll certainly kill us all. Are you all ready?”
Everyone nodded silently.
“All right. Noncombatants, retreat to the second wagon, as planned. Guards, take your positions!”
Everyone took their places as per Bart’s instructions, the merchants slipping into the second wagon, which they had already unloaded the goods from. Now they were in the very middle of wagons parked tight against the cliffs. Any arrows or magic to come flying their way would be blocked by the other two wagons first.
Mile accompanied them as they’d decided earlier, casting magic over the prisoners, bound like silkworms in the wagon.
“Beings of ether, steal consciousness away! Until dawn breaks, cover the noses and mouths of these bandits!”
It was appropriate—a sort of magic spell, if a somewhat silly one. Anyway, the nanomachines caught Mile’s meaning, and the bandits lost consciousness. This eliminated even the distant chance of them launching a counterattack. Should the time come, it would be up to the merchants to “handle” them. At the very least, Mile had absolutely no intention of doing such a thing herself.
“All right. Now, please just wait here!” Mile smiled at the merchants, before climbing down from the cart.
Before she left the wagon behind, she whispered a few more words: “Lattice power barrier with transparency!”
There was a small shing, and for just a moment, the air seemed to sparkle with reflected light.
Mile returned to where the others were waiting just as the enemy began to advance, moving in orderly formation.
Although at first they had been at least a bit bandit-like, their movements and their weaponry were uncomfortably stiff. Everything was far too efficient, far too uniform. Some of them even wore metal armor underneath their rags.
As they got within firing range, Jeanie fired off a spell in accordance with Bart’s instructions. It was not unusual for a force with inferior numbers to make a pre-emptive strike in an attempt to reduce enemy numbers, rather than waiting until they were close enough to strike with more power and accuracy. This time, Bart hoped to test the waters.
“Firebomb!”
The flames that Jeanie fired toward the enemy’s front line dissipated before they could strike.
“Well, of course a force that seems to include special ops fighters would have one or two magic users in their squads…”
In war, a standard fighting force would not include mages. Instead, magic would be concentrated into a separate, special force. Their effectiveness was far higher this way. However, a special ops squad—one that would move independently on the battlefield—had no such limitations.
It seemed that Bart had quite a detailed knowledge of armies, though it was unclear whether this was thanks to his many years as a hunter or because he had once served as a soldier himself.
“They’ve got some pretty skilled guys in there. We have four magic users on our side, but the question is, how many do they have?”
As Bart spoke, Reina began to incant a combat spell.
“Firebomb!”
Another flame bomb went flying.
“They’re just going to block that ag—” Jeanie started.
Reina’s firebomb was consumed by the enemy’s protection magic, shattering into embers. But a single foe fell.
The soldier who had taken the direct hit was blown backwards and the men to his left and right, who’d also been caught in the blast, rolled on the ground trying to extinguish the flames. The first soldier was now incapacitated—alive only by the grace of the squad’s protection magic, (which had deflected some of the power) as well as the metal armor he was wearing underneath his cheap bandit clothing.
“Huh…?”
“What?” asked Reina, as she turned around to see Jeanie staring speechlessly.
Reina had not gotten a chance to show off her combat magic at the graduation exam. The match was called before she had the opportunity. And so Jeanie was stunned. Judging by her appearance, she’d assumed that Reina was around twelve years old, the same age as Mile. Now, she discovered that Reina not only had the stalwart protection magic that she had shown at the exam, but also combat magic with a power that surpassed even Jeanie’s. She’d been certain that Reina was a support-focused magic user, with protection magic as her specialty.
“Boiling Water Ball!”
Pauline fired off the spell that she’d begun casting just after Reina. Two softball-sized globes of water whooshed through the air at a leisurely pace, looking somewhat less than menacing.
Having judged that it was not worth using their magic to intercept these jiggling water balls, the enemies stood back and watched Pauline’s spell approach, stepping back to avoid it. But the moment the spell reached them, the balls suddenly changed course, striking the soldiers on the backs of their necks as they moved away.
“Gaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!!”
Scalding water, well past its boiling point, spread across the soldiers’ bodies, seeping beneath their armor and clothing.
As it squeezed and compressed, the water had grown hotter and hotter due to diffusion. The moment the water moved through its pressurized loop into a space with lower air pressure, the results were explosive.
No matter how much they flailed and rolled, the boiling water blistered their skin—even their clothing wouldn’t absorb it. As the seconds passed, their burns grew deeper and more severe. Others, who’d taken the water balls—no, boiling water balls—to the face, were screaming.
Mile waited patiently.
A number of soldiers from the back line rushed to those who were wounded.
Okay, now!
Just for the sake of appearances, Mile uttered a quick spell so that she wouldn’t appear to be casting silently. Then, she closed one eye clumsily, her expression calm.
“O little eye of mine, strike electric bolts into these bumblers!”
There was a crackling noise, and the line of enemy soldiers fell in place.
It was lightning magic, and Mile had held back just enough to avoid killing them. Thus was born one of Mile’s seven special techniques, which she would later dub the “Winking Angel Shot.”
Those who had been rushing across the battlefield to the aid of the injured were most certainly magic users, attempting to use healing. And this was exactly the reason that Mile had chosen them as her target. As the mages were wearing bandit garb like the others, there was no way to tell them apart—except by their movements.
Now the number of enemy magic users should have been greatly reduced, assuming that Mile’s thinking was correct. The injured soldiers had taken the shock as well, losing consciousness—a mercy for many of the casualties, and especially those burned by Pauline’s spell, who writhed on the ground in agony.
“Wh…”
The three Flaming Wolves had taken their eyes off of the enemy to stare at Mile.
Fortunately, the enemy had stopped in their tracks, but this was still not particularly advisable.
Dragonbreath, of course, were not as foolish, and though they were surprised, they remained vigilant of the enemies’ movements.
“They’re coming!” Bart called out to the distracted Flaming Wolves.
There were only six guards with one or two mages at best. That’s what the “bandits” thought. The guards would simply surrender and then, once they’d given up all their weapons, the cargo from the wagons would be up for grabs.
They assumed it was a simple job, just like many others. Then suddenly, they were on the receiving end of a magical onslaught. In an instant, they had lost about 20 percent of their fighting force. Furthermore, half of their most valuable magic users had fallen. Their forces halted for a moment, then advanced again at their commander’s direction. This was not the leisurely pace of earlier, but a full-on rush.
If they walked slowly they’d be picked off one at a time by magical attacks. They had no choice but to attack all at once to stave off the possibility of a counterattack.
A few soldiers didn’t approach, but instead stopped some distance away. These were the archers and remaining mages. Now they were within effective range. The spear-throwers would have to continue approaching.
During Mile’s attack, Reina, Pauline, and Jeanie had prepared their next spells, and they sent them flying toward the swordsmen and lancers at the head of the assault.
Boom! Whoosh! Ka-splash!
Reina let off another firebomb, but she did not aim directly at their foes this time. Instead, she let it crash to the ground and explode, lighting several enemy soldiers ablaze.
Pauline’s attack consisted of two bursts of the condensed fireball spell she’d demonstrated at the graduation exam. One of the bursts pierced a soldier’s right shoulder, while the other struck a man in the gut. His abdomen was well guarded by armor, but the direct strike combined with the heat and the fire spreading across the soldier’s body left him writhing on the ground.
Jeanie’s spell was an ice spear. Unlike fire-type spells, that were constantly combusting with magical energy, ice spears were solid and would strike even if they were blocked by magical means.
This time, the mages did not use protection magic, prioritizing attacks over preventing casualties to their already-reduced numbers. The ice spear pierced the soldiers, and the three casters began preparing their next spells.
Mile observed the movement of the soldiers in the farther formation.
Whoosh!
The enemy archers sent a wave of arrows flying. Mile, in turn, sent a protective gust of wind in the direction of the arrows.
“Wind-ow! Wind-ow! Wind-ooooow!”
Swept off course by the wind, the enemies’ arrows crashed to the ground.
This, naturally, was because windows always crash .
The spell was not particularly shocking, though it was slightly stronger than the typical wind casting.
The barrage of arrows continued, and soon attack magic came flying toward them as well: a coordinated storm of firebombs. Not precisely targeted shots, but a large quantity aimed at causing harm over the widest possible area.
The swarm of firebombs was timed to coincide with the exact moment Mile should have been busy deflecting the archers’ previous attack. Fire rained down on the merchants’ party.
“Magic Shot!”
As Mile let off her “spell,” several intercepting bursts went flying.
The shots—each one guided by the nanomachines—struck the enemy’s firebombs, causing them to explore in midair.
“Incredible…”
The platoon commander, certain that his enemy’s back line would be easily crushed, was stunned to see their attack power.
Still, he was confident as his close-range forces entered the fray. Though their attack power was inferior to the mages, they had the superiority of numbers. Besides, there was no way that a lowly hunter could stand up to a soldier when it came to close-range combat with spears and swords.
If a melee began to rage, mixing friends and foes, magic use would be difficult. They could deal with the mages after they’d felled the front line. There were a number of tactics they could use to deal with the magic users, particularly since they too had mages on their side. True, they’d sustained a number of casualties during their approach, but these could be healed with magic afterwards… shaking himself back to reality, the commander shouted.
“Attaaaaaaaack!”
Hmm… I wonder if I could fire off one more round before we get into close quarters combat?
Mile had no intention of crushing all the enemies by herself.
If she did, there would be nothing else for the other guards to do, and besides, it would attract too much attention. No matter what, she was just a normal, average C-rank hunter, after all. It was unwise to draw too much notice to herself.
Yet at this rate, if they entered melee combat then the casualties among her own allies would increase. And while magic could heal most injuries, death was another matter.
For now, she had to focus on doing everything she could to decrease the enemy’s fighting strength.
Some way to make the enemies weaker without standing out… Ah! That’s it!
Mile chanted a spell.
“Shave off the soles of their shoes and fill the insides with pointy rocks!”
“Gaaah!!!”
“Owwwwwww!!!”
Some groaned and grabbed their ankles, while others, feeling the pain on the bottom of their feet, cried out in a very un-soldier-like manner.
“What’s wrong with them?”
Bart was perplexed by the enemy’s sudden stop.
“What’s going on? It looks like they’ve all got gravel in their shoes or something.” Seeing the strange way that the enemies wobbled from side to side, Vera gave an extraordinarily precise analysis.
The soldiers’ shoes were the broken-in combat boots worn by most fighters. Mile knew that it took a lot of time to change in and out of this kind of footwear. In order to alleviate their pain, they would have to unlace their boots, remove the gravel, and then put the boots back on. Naturally, there was no way that they could do such a thing right under their enemies’ noses.
The soldiers would have to withstand the pain and overcome the difficulty of walking to resume their assault—running in a strange, faltering way.
This wasn’t just thanks to the pebbles in their shoes. There were also a number of soldiers whose ankles had started to ache terribly.
“All right, vanguard, roll out! Mages and Vera, please support them from here!”
They were on the verge of melee. The rear guard remained where they were, while the forward guard started to advance. The Flaming Wolves were stunned to see Mile calmly join the advance guard, having assumed that she was primarily a mage and carried a sword only for self-defense. But they said nothing about it. There was no time to waste.
A volley of powerful attack spells flew at each of the front lines. Without Mile, however, the mages on the merchants’ side were working at about half their normal efficiency, their spells dissipating on the enemies’ protection magic. Still, Mile blocked every shot from the enemy. Once the melee began, they would only be able to use precise, short-range spells, or else fire long-range magic at the opposition’s back line.
And so the true battle began.
Dragonbreath’s three vanguard fighters were strong. Bart, their leader, was a B-rank, and the other two were quite close to earning that distinction. Their promotion was near, and their power could be relied upon in all normal circumstances. They didn’t bother chasing the enemy, but instead skillfully fended off any attackers who came near.
On the other hand, the Flaming Wolves were quite flustered.
For a group of middle-of-the-road C-rank hunters, fighting against numerous soldiers was a challenge. However not long after they began fighting, the Wolves got into the swing of things, realizing that they were more capable in battle than they had thought.
A big part of this was because, for some reason, the enemies’ movements were unsteady and they were unable to put their backs into either attack or defense. The precision support that the front-line fighters received from the mages and Vera’s archery also helped. They were not striking men down in a single blow, but still managed to handle the attacks, landing a few blows themselves. Fighting like that against soldiers who greatly outnumbered them was highly commendable.
Among the mages, Reina exchanged long-range fire with the enemy back line, while Pauline and Jeanie were in charge of attack and support for those within the fray.
Only three enemy mages remained. With two of those focused on protecting against Reina’s spells, their attack reserves were quite slim. If they took even one direct hit, it would all be over. They had no choice but to focus on defense.
The one remaining attack mage sent spells toward the front line, working between shots to guard against Pauline and Jeanie. Indeed, Pauline and Jeanie had an advantage in this, as the fighting was taking place was closer to the merchants’ side than the enemies’.
Two enemy mages blocked Reina’s shots, and one fired at the Dragonbreath members fighting in the melee. Meanwhile, Pauline intercepted an attack, then joined Reina and Jeanie in incanting another attack spell. They fired the three attacks all at once, targeting each one of the enemy mages.
The enemies hastily prepared a defense spell, but whereas before they’d only been guarding against Reina, now they were facing three magic users. Furthermore, one enemy mage was still in the midst of casting, without enough time to change tack.
Booom!
The girls’ spells struck, and the enemy’s magical assault fell silent.
“I think you did it!” Mile cried as she swung her sword.
As she deflected the enemies’ magical attacks, her allies added to their support from behind.
Fighting nearby, Bart grinned. This was no time for chitchat.
If an opponent wore leather armor, you struck them with the side of your blade and aimed to break their ribs instead of killing. But with metal armor, you could strike with the blade as normal, denting their armor to accomplish the same. Since many of the “bandits” wore metal breastplates, Mile swung her sword with gusto.
Against the waves of enemy arrows, shot in spite of the danger of friendly fire, Mile merely shook her right hand, chanting a simple spell to deflect them.
Then came the rain of spears.
“Magic Shield!”
Cling clang cling clang!
The spears stopped mid-air as though they had struck a wall and fell to the ground.
Arrows rained down again shortly after…
“Those are fire arrows!”
Just as Bart said, there were fire arrows flying their way, aimed not at the fighting forces, but at the wagons behind.
This was likely a gambit to light the wagons ablaze, distracting the back line and drawing out noncombatants.
Seeing Mile make no move to intercept the arrows, which were just reaching the apex of their smooth arcs, Bart steeled himself for the loss of the wagons. But then—
Clink clink clink clink clink!
The arrows stopped mid-air, just short of the wagons, and fell to the ground like the spears before them.
“……”
Unlike with the spears, Mile didn’t appear to have used wind magic. A spell that could render defense without any kind of physical intermediary was simply unheard of.
No use in worrying over that, thought Bart. He had learned not to question the Crimson Vow.
“I’m going to go help the left side, all right?” Mile—her attempts to disguise her magic growing increasingly sloppy—asked to assist the Flaming Wolves.
“Sure. Go!”
The enemies’ numbers were steadily decreasing, and they had no magic users left. That finally gave Bart some room to breathe—and worry over the Flaming Wolves’ part of the battle. He granted Mile permission immediately. Mavis’s abilities had surpassed Bart’s expectations, and he was not particularly worried about her.
Mile rushed to the left of Dragonbreath to find the Flaming Wolves fighting a fierce battle.
Callum, one of the Dragonbreath’s swordsmen, was the closest by. He was also keeping an eye on the Flaming Wolves. For mid-level C-rank hunters, fighting that many soldiers was a tall order—even if their enemies were clumsy and had difficulty walking. Chuck, the swordsman, had been wounded and gripped his sword with only his right hand, his face twisted in pain. The movements of the other two were limited as they tried to fight while covering their party member.
Just then, an enemy soldier swung down at Chuck, his defenses were already weakened by his injury.
“Ch—”
Shing!
Before Brett, the leader, could even finish his scream, there was a loud clash as the enemy’s sword hit Mile’s mystery blade.
Shff!
Mile thrust up on the enemy sword, as if to dislodge the blade.
Pushed backwards by Mile’s overwhelming force, the soldier lost his balance. And then Chuck’s sword struck him. Because Chuck swung with only one hand, the soldier’s armor protected him from mortal injury, but even so there was a sound of bones breaking as the man fell back.
“Thanks! You totally saved me!” Chuck said in appreciation to Mile, and Brett bowed his head gently.
Mile nodded and turned to face the next enemy.
By now, the enemy had been reduced by twenty, and without their magic users they took the full brunt of the hunters’ magical attacks.
Knowing their arrows would be ineffective, the archers drew their swords and entered the melee rather than standing back, open to magical attacks. However, expert swordsmen were already dropping on all sides, so by the time the archers joined there was nothing they could do to turn the tide. One by one, they too were defeated.
At some point, the back-line mages had moved to the opposite side of the fray, surrounding the soldiers and blocking their path of escape. The enemy, now down to ten, didn’t have the luxury of ignoring the fighters in front of them to go after the mages. Even if they’d tried, at such a distance they’d be struck down by a magical attack before they could make their approach.
The enemy commander had already forfeited any possibility of retreat.
Running and leaving behind so many injured soldiers could put him in very hot water later on. No matter how elite his men were, if so many of them were captured and tortured, there was bound to be at least one who’d spill the beans. If they wanted to escape, they’d have to drag the injured along. Unfortunately, if their wounds were too severe, they’d have to silence them.
In any event, with things as they were, escape was hardly an option. Even if they managed to get away, they’d face relentless attacks until they reached the border and they couldn’t drag such a persistent force into their own lands.
There was no option but to defeat the hunters any way they could, tie up the merchants and take their wagons, unload the cargo, and then use the vehicles to carry their wounded back home. That way they could transport even those with more serious injuries, bringing the bodies of the fallen to be buried along the road.
There would be time to consider all of that after they had wiped out the hunters. It was still possible that it would not even come to that. After all, the dead had no worries.
With that in mind, the commander swung his sword desperately. With a twisted ankle and boots full of gravel, he couldn’t plant his weight and his steps were unsteady. He’d thought that he could ignore the pain because his life depended on it, but found he couldn’t summon the fortitude to focus on the battle. His strength had been decimated.
It hurt him greatly to fight his final battle under such circumstances. He wanted to rage, but knew that lamenting would help nothing.
Strangely, it seemed that his subordinates were in the same situation. He knew that no matter how far they had fallen behind in the magic battle, these were not the sort of soldiers to come to a cowardly end.
Why? How had it ended this way?
In the end, there was not such an enormous difference in power after all.
Before they even reached the melee, eleven of the enemy combatants had been incapacitated by just three mages. After that, eleven more—three mages, four archers, and four lancers—had been halted along the way. By the time the soldiers clashed with the merchant group’s front line, no more than eighteen remained. The three members of Dragonbreath, the strongest of the hunters, defended the center. Each of them took three soldiers, while the three Flaming Wolves took two apiece. Mavis took two and Mile one more, even though with such uneven numbers they were certain they’d be killed in an instant.
Yet Mavis’s special “Godspeed Blade” could kill a man in the blink of an eye. Used seriously, one slash would slice an opponent’s body through the middle, so she had only to strike the soldiers in the gut with the side of her blade. It was a lucky thing that she possessed a sword that wouldn’t break, even if used recklessly.
Mile dealt with her opponent quickly and then, with a little time on her hands, took care of one of Bart’s beside her. After that, thinking it would be rude to steal from anyone else’s plate, she moved to intercept incoming arrows. That is, until it occurred to her to aid the Flaming Wolves.
It wasn’t hard for each of the members of Dragonbreath to handle three soldiers, especially since all of them were unable to fight at full strength. Even the Flaming Wolves—including Chuck, who’d taken a blow—were fairly evenly matched against their pairs of soldiers.
By the time the archers and lancers entered the field with their swords, Bart and the two fighters from the Crimson Vow already had their hands free. They took turns, taking down one after another.
In the end only five men remained to surrender, and the commander and his captains were not among that group. They hadn’t run away. They were probably either groaning on the ground somewhere or, if their luck was particularly bad, among the corpses.
“Fargus! Loose one of the horses and take a message. Go to the guildhall in Amroth and then the local lord. Tell them to send escorted wagons and soldiers straight away! Got it? To the guild first, don’t forget!”
Bart made sure to emphasize the final order.
If the local lord knew about their enemies, there was a chance he’d try to hide it from the capital for some political reason. It was best to have insurance.
“After that, pen a letter with a summary of today’s events and send it to the capital. Write six more of the same, addressing three each to the guild and the palace, and send them all by different routes. And tell no one. Understood?”
Fargus nodded, heading straight for the horses. He was trustworthy and quick—the ideal candidate for the job.
Though the animals were really workhorses, they were trained to carry a person for a short time. They had no saddles but, even so, on horseback Fargus would be able to reach town faster than on foot. There was starlight overhead, and as long as he proceeded along the main highway, he shouldn’t have any trouble making it to Amroth by the morning.
“That was surprisingly prudent. You really don’t seem like the sort of person to take a job like this,” quipped Mile.
“I’m an oxymoron,” Bart replied tartly. “Now, let’s go collect the prisoners and the corpses.”
“…All right.”
Thankfully, while some of their party had been injured, none of the hunters had died.
Soon enough all the injuries—including Chuck’s right arm and a few other more minor wounds—were healed with the help of Pauline and Mile’s magic.
The Flaming Wolves were stunned to see how Chuck’s arm healed without so much as a bruise. Dragonbreath, however, having been present at the graduation exam to see the situation with the broken limb, were not as surprised. Either way, while seeing such wonders might normally cause their eyes to pop from their sockets in shock, by now they were too exhausted to be surprised.
The Crimson Vow had held back against the enemy, and the only soldier who perished from a direct magical attack was the one pierced by Jeanie’s ice javelin. Beyond that, there were a number of soldiers who’d sustained serious burns. The worst of them had been the victims of Pauline’s scalding attacks, so now, having their gear removed and wounds treated by the same girl was all the more heart-stopping.
Five more enemies had died from non-magical attacks. Between Dragonbreath and the Flaming Wolves, the latter were less capable of restraint, meaning there was more blood on their hands. Truly, it couldn’t be helped. The ones who remained alive were the lucky ones. There was nothing more to it.
Mile and Pauline gave emergency first aid to those who’d lost blood from cuts or stab wounds, as well as those who might have sustained internal damage. Those who’d only suffered broken bones and other simple wounds were left as they were.
Their aim was only to keep the soldiers from dying, not to do anything that would raise the danger of a counterattack. Understanding that, the prisoners didn’t complain or even make moves to remove the gravel from their shoes.
Even those who were injured were in no position to complain, as they might die without Mile and Pauline’s attentions or, at the very least, suffer long-term effects. Really, they ought to be thanking their healers.
In fact, there were a number of soldiers who did thank them. They had attacked the merchants not out of hatred but out of sworn duty, and knew that they were the ones in the wrong. Really, the fact that they’d only lost six men was something of a miracle.
Their enemies had held back, and the soldiers were well aware of that.
The guards collected the dead bodies, and prisoners were rounded up and restrained. Now, it was time for questioning. Once they dragged them to the authorities and turned them over, they’d lose their opportunity. It was best to collect as much information as they could right away. There were no guarantees that justice would be served without irregularities—like all the men somehow escaping from the hands of the local lord or mysteriously killing themselves before they could go to trial.
Mile quietly lowered her protective barrier, allowing the merchants to emerge and move the unconscious bandits. Though they weren’t supposed to awaken until morning, there was always a chance, and the hunters would all rest easier with their foes in sight.
And so the long night began.
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