Chapter 1: Invasion of the Demon Overlord’s Army
“My name is Emile Bichelberger! Faltra’s greatest superhuman warrior, boasting a level of 99!” a man introduced himself grandly.
This man was a warrior clad in golden full-body armor. Despite being human, his form was as staunch as a male pantherian’s, and he carried a crimson greatsword on his back. He was on his way to Faltra from another distant town when he happened upon a toppled carriage, and a dwarf who seemed to be in the prime of their life.
“An adventurer...? H-Help us, please!”
“If it’s aid you seek...” Emile turned his gaze to the enemy before him.
What had toppled the carriage over and was currently stomping on it was a monster; a massive, pitch-black bird called a giant crow. It had the appearance of a raven, except it was massive enough to swallow an adult member of the races whole, and had a sharp beak with a length that dwarfed even a longsword. It was a beast that had descended from the Fallen—a magical beast.
Rumors were abound that the Demon Lord in the west had revived, and it was common knowledge that a Demon Lord’s revival meant the magical beasts would increase in number. They were stronger, more aggressive, and more dangerous than the normal beasts and monsters found in the fields or mountains.
“Please do something, master warrior!” the dwarf cried out. “My daughter is still inside the carriage!”
“Your daughter, you say?!”
Emile’s eyes widened. He pulled out the sword on his back, and the magical energy contained in the blade turned to flames, scorching his surroundings. He held the sword in an overhead stance as he declared:
“I put women above all!”
“Wha...?!”
The sudden realization of “I just asked an idiot for help” floated up somewhere in the dwarf’s mind. Emile didn’t seem to notice, though.
“I will say it once more! I love women above all else! Emile Bichelberger is guardian to all women!”
It didn’t matter how many exasperated, puzzled gazes were directed his way; that was trivial in the face of this man’s lofty goal of protecting women.
“Have at thee, damnable bird!” Emile shouted as he charged at the giant crow.
...But the giant crow simply spread out its wings and flapped itself upward, taking off from the carriage.
Is it fleeing?!
Seemingly not, as after flying up, it dived back down toward Emile. The races had many means of fighting, but they were based around the premise of the opponent being on the ground. An airborne opponent was hard to hit, and the giant crow was picking up momentum as it dove. This made its attack equal in strength to the blow of a giant hammer descending from above.
“Craaaaaaaaaaaaaaaw!” The monster opened its mouth wide and screeched.
“Too slow!”
Emile leapt. Now, he was clad in armor that weighed at least as much as he did. A normal person would struggle to even stand up straight under such weight, and a well-trained warrior would at most be able to keep up a nice jog. But Emile had jumped, reaching above the head of the giant crow bearing down on him with a nimbleness that put even the agile Grasswalkers to shame.
“Take that!!” He brought his burning greatsword down upon the magical beast.
Seemingly never expecting to be attacked from above, the giant crow froze in surprise. The sound of bones breaking rang out, and the magical beast’s head was quickly split in half. A living beast would usually spout blood, but magical beasts instead dispersed into particles of light upon death.
A single slash from Emile had destroyed the creature. He landed on the ground with a thud, his lips curling into a smile.
“Heh... Has another woman fallen for me over my overwhelming strength?”
Emile turned around to the carriage, where the dwarf and his daughter would bare looks of gratitude toward him...
But they were gone. No one was there. Emile checked inside the carriage to be safe, but couldn’t find so much as a stray kitten inside. The two had fled while he was fighting.
Heaving a sigh, Emile felt his lips slacken.
“My oh my, you bashful little girl, you.” He ran his fingers through his forelocks. “To think you’d be too shy to show your face to the man you fell for.”
Emile was overwhelmingly positive, as usual..
By the time the noon bell had rung out, Emile had crossed Faltra’s gates. The atmosphere in the city was overbearingly heavy. There were usually stalls bustling with shoppers along the main street, but right now, there wasn’t a single resident in sight. The majority of businesses were closed, with only inns and weapons stores still operating. Instead of civilians, there were many soldiers walking about. Many of them were clad in armor, heavily equipped. Some of them glared at Emile suspiciously, but he simply raised an hand toward them in that easygoing fashion of his.
“Howdy, are there some sort of festivities today?”
“Emile?! You’re alive, you crazy dog! I haven’t seen you in ages!” A small group of soldiers had gathered around him.
Emile was something of a local celebrity in Faltra. He may have been an adventurer, but he was well-known among the soldiers as a dependable warrior. He had many friends in this regard as well.
“‘Alive,’ you say? Of course I am! This is the Emile Bichelberger you’re talking about here! So long as there are women to defend in this world, I will never fall!”
“You never change... But I guess having that sort of personality is why you came back at a time like this, huh.”
While the soldiers seemed happy to be reunited with an old friend, there was tragic sorrow to their expressions. Were things really that bad?
“How are things in the west?”
“We decided to abandon the Ulug Bridge. The Demon Lord’s army apparently reached the Man-Eating Forest. According to reports, they have large numbers, and large-class magical beasts, too.”
“Ohh... My sword arm throbs in excitement.”
Emile’s words prompted the soldiers to exchange gazes.
“I wish I could have some of that bottomless optimism of yours. Faltra might be done for this time...”
Another soldier nodded gravely. “Even with a barrier that repels the Fallen... There’s no way we’d last more than a few years, closed up in the city.”
“It’ll be fine!” Emile placed encouraging hands on their shoulders.
“Huh? What, do you have some sort of secret plan? Or are reinforcements from the capital coming?!”
“I don’t have any plans, and I doubt any reinforcements would come. It’s the king of Lyferia, he wouldn’t weaken his own defenses now that the Demon Lord’s awakened.”
“Then there’s nothing fine about this...”
“But it will be fine! Have faith, if in nothing else but me!”
“Huh?”
“I primarily defend women, but I’ll protect you lot while I’m at it! So, for as far as your swords reach, make sure to keep women safe!”
“Ahaha, while you’re at it, huh...” The soldiers exchanged exasperated smiles. “I feel dumb for being depressed over this when I look at you.”
“Being depressed is indeed foolish, but if there’s one fact that will never change...it’s that we, my friends, are guardians to all women!”
“You got that right!” The soldier nodded along.
“Damn it all!” Another soldier seemed to be fired up. “Let’s do this!”
That zeal was seemingly spreading to everyone around them.
†
That same day, at 11 in the morning—
“...Come on, Boris,” the man’s friend, Massa, whispered in a thin voice. “Will we really be fine here?”
“Should be. Keep your head down, though, no matter what. And I’m begging you, don’t make any noises if something happens.”
“I know, I know... That’s why we picked the two quietest horses we could find.”
The men’s horses were tied in the shadow of a barn a short distance away. It was a position that couldn’t be seen from the other side of the river. Boris and Massa themselves were crawling against the ground, hiding from view.
Ulug Bridge... Boris had volunteered to scout out his former station, which meant only he and his childhood friend Massa stayed behind while everyone else retreated. Their job was to keep an eye on the Demon Lord’s army’s movements. They’d be forced to fight once the Fallen marched on the city, but knowing of the enemy’s numbers and war potential could give them some advantage...or, at the very least, help them prepare themselves mentally for what was to come. It would relieve the soldiers from the fear and stress of not knowing what was coming and when it might appear. Information was crucial in these times.
Gathering this information, however, also meant coming within visible range of the Demon Lord’s army. It was an exceptionally dangerous prospect.
“They’re coming!” Boris clasped a hand over Massa’s mouth, who was just about to scream. Boris’s fingers reached to Massa’s nose, and he seemed to be tearing up. But now wasn’t the time to deal with that.
Boris’s eyes widened.
The Demon Lord’s army!
The figures that appeared on the other side of the river were without a doubt the Demon Lord’s forces. The first thing that entered their field of view were giant magical beasts in the shape of turtles, known as grand turtles. They were essentially mobile fortresses. Riding on their backs were the deformed forms of the Fallen.
Other Fallen were walking around them, seeming exceptionally small in comparison to the grand turtles, despite the fact that the Fallen were several times the size a member of the races. There were also other, medium-type magical beasts prowling about, going at whatever pace they wished, without any semblance of order or discipline.
What’s that? Boris asked himself. A box?
Chained to the top of the shell of the leading grand turtle was what looked like a square, four-sided die. It was secured with something akin to the chains used to anchor ships. The box was black, and there were letters carved onto its surface that made Boris’s stomach squirm just by looking at them. The races harbored a certain instinctive sense of disgust from the very sight of the grotesque Fallen, but this was even stronger than that...
“Ugh...” Massa shivered next to Boris. ”I feel sick...”
“You shouldn’t look.”
“...Th-This should be enough... Let’s go back, Boris.”
“Not yet. Just look away and think about your girlfriend in the city or something.”
“...But I don’t have one.”
“Think of your mother, then.”
Using the precious telescope he’d borrowed from his captain, Boris peered out into the distance. Someone was standing in front of the box. Their commander, perhaps? Was that the Demon Overlord Modinaram...?
He looks like...an owl?
†
The box sat affixed to the grand turtle’s back. The thick shell was treated like a ship’s deck, with thick stakes thrust into it. Chains were connected to those stakes and extended toward the box, binding it in place. With every one of the grand turtle’s sluggish steps, the chains creaked and squeaked.
The box was large enough to contain a noble’s house. If the grand turtle was to be likened to a moving castle, the box was like its inner citadel.
Standing before the box was a Fallen with an owl’s head. His body had limbs, like the races, and had thick, developed muscles.
“It’s in sight! The territory of the races!”
There were a few other Fallen kneeling near him. One of them was clad in a loose cloth and an oval hat rimmed with golden embroidery. They had the head of a frog, and while their robust body wasn’t unusual among the Fallen, the fact that their gut was sticking out certainly was.
“Commander Eulerex, the Ulug Bridge is in sight. The races’ armies could very well be there.”
“We press forward!” The owl-headed Fallen responded by sticking out a hand. “And we crush them! The complete extermination of the races is the will of the Demon Overlord Modinaram!”
“By your will...” The frog-headed Fallen rolled up his round belly uncomfortably and bowed.
The Fallen Priest, Lazpuras. In the past, he’d served as an advisor to the dragon-eyed Fallen, Edelgard, but she had since lost her standing due to her failures. He now served as Eulerex’s staff officer.
Lazpuras turned his gaze to the girl standing next to him, Manuela. She was half the height of the other Fallen who had Eulerex’s physique, putting her at roughly the races’ size. Her limbs and torso were thin like twigs, and were so delicate it seemed as, if one were to apply pressure to them, they’d snap...like a skeleton.
While Manuela was lacking in physical prowess, she was a skilled magical beast user. She, too, once served another master. She was once an officer and wife to Varakness, a vampire-type Fallen. Varakness once held the position of commander-in-chief of the army, but...in what the Fallen might call “regrettable,” he was beaten by a demon sorcerer.
Manuela was currently under Eulerex’s command and helped lead the army alongside Lazpuras. It was, in fact, her magic that had subjugated the magical beasts, which wouldn’t normally even obey a Demon Lord, and had them bolster the army’s forces.
“How despicable...” Eulerex murmured as if mouthing a curse. “How many years have we longed to cross this puny, accursed bridge...”
“This bridge was once half-destroyed, was it not?” Lazpuras cast a gaze toward the stone bridge.
“Hmm... Edelgard faced a sorcerer of the races here, and he cast a White Nova spell.”
“So I heard... But I do find it hard to believe. One of the measly races being able to cast such an advanced spell...”
“All the more despicable. He goes by Diablo...and with his magical prowess, it stands to reason.”
“Diablo?!” Manuela, who’d silently manipulated the magical beasts by their side until now, suddenly screeched. “Aaaaaah! Diaaaaaabloooooo!”
He was the man who’d killed her former master, come to think of it.
“Calm yourself,” Lazpuras told her. “Concentrate on your magic... All will be well. Master Modinaram will destroy everything.”
“Aaah... Aaah... Aaah...” Manuela gave a shaky nod, her teeth clicking and squeaking nervously.
It’d be different this time around. They couldn’t possibly lose. They had eight grand turtles and an army of 1,000 magical beasts and Fallen, all given power by the Demon Overlord.
They crossed the river; a body of water of this depth couldn’t stand in the grand turtles’ way. They passed the stone bridge as if the structure wasn’t even there as they walked through the plains, crushing the bridge in their wake.
Eulerex smirked. “Heheheheh... Behold the overwhelming might of our army!”
The sound of the wind being cut suddenly resounded around them. Another Fallen descended on the grand turtle’s back, flapping their dragon-like wings. They were a slender, well-proportioned girl who wore a china-dress-like outfit that was open from below her bosom and down to her navel. Her long hair was tied at the back. She had a Chinese longsword hanging from her waist.
“Wasn’t that just one of the races’ fortresses we crushed? Where are they?!” The scaly tail growing from this beautiful girl’s backside swung to and fro excitedly.
“There was no presence of the races.” Eulerex’s neck rotated horizontally. “An empty fortress, I reckon.”
“Huuuh? The hell’s that mean?!”
“I would wager the races have caught wind of our advance and abandoned it.”
“So it was just a pile of pebbles? An-noy-ing!”
“Lady Ryoka, calm yourself...” Lazpuras remonstrated the girl. “We are in the presence of the Demon Overlord.”
“Mmm... F-Fine, I get it. But when do we get to fight?! Can’t this stupid turtle go any faster? If this thing goes any slower, I’ll dry up and turn into a dragon fossil before we get there.”
“...Stupid...turtle?” Annoyance began filling up Manuela’s expression.
Magical beast users tended to become attached to their magical beasts. Ryoka, on the other hand, was a Fallen who used weapons, and only showed affection for her sword.
The Fallen were inherently aggressive. As Lazpuras was racking his brain as to how to arbitrate the two of them, Ryoka suddenly shifted her glare to the road ahead. A single horse was galloping down the road, with a lone soldier on its back.
“The races?!”
No sooner than she said that, and before the officer Lazpuras or even the commander-in-chief Eulerex said a word, Ryoka took off like an arrow after it.
“...It’s a decoy,” Lazpuras said, looking ahead.
Ryoka caught up to the horse running down the road and swung down her Chinese longsword. Her slash cut through both the soldier and the horse, splitting them in half and carving into the ground beneath them. Blood and viscera spilled over the road.
†
The Peace of Mind Inn - Twilight.
The inn’s poster girl, Mei, was mopping up the dining hall that was completely vacant of customers. It was two o’clock, about the time when the place would be full of people.
“Hah...” The pantherian girl, with her brown, shoulder-length hair, sighed with a moody expression on her face.
The front door swung open and the bell installed next to it jingled, prompting Mei to smile broadly in an amicable gesture.
“Welcome to the Peace of Mind Inn! I’m the inn’s idol, little Mei!”
“Ahaha... Sorry.” The one who entered the place with a bitter smile on her lips was the Adventurer’s Guild’s guildmaster, Sylvie. She was dressed in a revealing outfit that didn’t so much count as clothes as it was just a few pieces of fabric. She had the appearance of a young girl, but that was attributed to her being a Grasswalker, a race that didn’t change its appearance with age. She was actually a seasoned veteran.
“Oh, you’re not a customer,” Mei said, her eyes narrowing.
“I’m a guildmaster, all things considered. I did my rounds around town to make sure everything’s in order.”
“If you’re looking for Diablo, he’s not back yet.” Mei shrugged at Sylvie’s apologetic words.
“I see...” At times, Sylvie pretended to be on patrol so she could come check on the Peace of Mind Inn. A certain sorcerer who was one of the inn’s regular customers was apparently exceedingly powerful. Mei never saw him fight, but word did get around.
“Are things really that bad in town?” Mei asked.
“Well, not really, but...” Sylvie replied cheerfully, but that just made Mei more anxious.
“You wouldn’t be coming to check if he was here if you didn’t need his help...”
“Ahaha... It’s fine, really. Faltra has the Fallen-repelling barrier, after all. Forget the Fallen or magical beasts, even the Demon Lord can’t get past that.”
The citadel city of Faltra was surrounded by impressive stone walls, with stone towers erected among them. These towers functioned as amplifiers for the barrier, which was maintained by the magical energy of the Mage’s Guild’s guildmaster, Celestine Baudelaire. So long as Celes remained in the city, the Mage’s Guild’s tower would continue producing the barrier, and the walls would amplify it, keeping the Fallen and all those aligned with them out of Faltra.
“Are the soldiers going out to fight?” Mei was concerned despite knowing all that.
“I don’t know much about what the military’s going to do, y’know? The troops stationed in Faltra are like the governor’s personal guard. Galford will be the one to decide that.”
“What about the adventurers, then?”
“Everyone’s fired up. We’ll all protect this city, so you can rest easy!”
Mei pursed her lips in concern. “Mrow... I know a ton of the adventurers. I’m worried.”
“I appreciate your concern. But it’s our job to keep the races safe from the Demon Lord.”
Sylvie turned around, saying she should get going to the next place on her patrol. Opening the door, she said one last time before leaving:
“If Diablo shows up, let him know we’re looking for him at the Adventurer’s Guild.”
“Mew got it. But I won’t be saying it for free.”
“Huh?”
“When you drive away the Demon Lord, you all have to come here and have our delicious sausages!” Mei gave Sylvie a thumbs up.
“Heheh... It’s a promise. Bye then.”
Sylvie left the inn, closing the door behind her, and silence filled the place once more.
†
At the Citadel city of Faltra’s western gate—
“The gate! Open the gate!” a man riding on horseback shouted to the top of the walls. They were a human male. He didn’t look to be a soldier, as he wasn’t clad in armor nor carried any weapons, but the gate guards did recognize him.
“It’s Boris! Open up!” They gave the orders to open the gate swiftly.
The gates at the end of the bridge had a steel door that was opened by pulling back a chain. Boris appeared on a single horse, with someone else riding on the back—Massa, who looked outright exhausted.
“It’s good to see you back!” The soldiers surrounded them as soon as they entered the walls. “How did it go?!”
“We saw the Demon Lord’s army!”
Everyone around them gave a surprised “Oooh!”
“It’s great you made it back from that.”
“No... We had to sacrifice one of our horses and my gear to make a decoy.”
They’d taken a doll made of straw and put Boris’s armor on it, then rushed the horse down the road. Had it gotten away, they would have simply galloped down the road, too...but a winged Fallen cut down the decoy soon after. Had it found them, they’d surely have been killed. While the Fallen was distracted by the horse on the highway, Boris and Massa rode the other one together through a forest near the road to make it back to Faltra.
“Ugh...” Massa covered his mouth with his hands, his face pallid. “I feel sick, Boris...”
“A-Are you all right? You can get off now. I’ll handle the report.”
“Yeah, thanks... The lieutenant general’s scary... Uuugh...”
Massa was quite weak to motion sickness. The other soldiers thanked him for his service.
“Don’t worry about the horse and the armor.” An officer took the reins to Boris’s horse. “More importantly, the lieutenant general is waiting for your report.”
“Yes, sir!”
Going north along the walls of the western gate led Boris to the military’s garrison. It had its own stables, barracks, a training ground, an armory, a granary, and, of course, a headquarters. It was a brick building only officers were usually allowed to enter.
“I’ve returned from the bridge of Ulug!” Boris referred to the sentries with a salute. “I have a report for the lieutenant general!”
“Enter!” The sentries saluted back, inviting Boris inside.
He walked down the hallway to the furthest door. After repeating the same words multiple times, he was finally before Faltra’s governor, Lieutenant General Chester Ray Galford.
Inside the headquarters—
A large desk stood in the front, belonging to the lieutenant general, surrounded on both sides by other desks which were manned by staff officers and filled to the brim with paperwork. The scent of sweat, ink, and steel filled the room.
Boris hadn’t seen Galford since the first directive of the year, which was nearly a year ago. In that single year, the lieutenant general Boris remembered felt entirely different from the sullen man standing here now. His creases had grown deeper, his skin gained a more earthy color, and streaks of white began running through his hair. But the glint in his eyes remained sharp as he glared at Boris.
“You say you saw the Demon Lord’s army...?”
“Yes! They had eight grand turtles, all carrying countless Fallen on their backs! They also had medium-class magical beasts, and they overall numbered roughly a thousand troops. They’re advancing at sprinting speed, and crossed Ulug Bridge at around eleven o’clock today!”
“A thousand Fallen and magical beasts?!” the staff officers murmured in a panic. Just a hundred was already a despair-inducing figure. In all recorded history, there was no skirmish between the Demon Lord Army counting 1,000 troops and the races.
“Do you have proof you’ve actually seen that?!” An aged, thin-haired staff officer rose to his feet.
“...At that speed, they should reach Faltra around nightfall.”
“Nng.”
“Sprinting speed, you say?” another staff officer asked. “In that case, we should be able to outrun them on horseback.”
“Maybe the grand turtles. But I... No, we were nearly attacked by a winged Fallen. It flew faster than a horse and cleaved through both a suit of armor and a horse with one strike.”
“Unbelievable...”
The Demon Lord’s army’s objective was the extermination of the races; there was no negotiating peace or surrender to them. What were they to do? The staff office continued their discussion.
“What of the Demon Lord?” Galford asked. “Did you see the Demon Overlord Modinaram?”
“I can’t say for certain.” Boris shook his head. “On top of the large-class magical beast leading the force was a Fallen that looked like an owl. He looked like he was important...”
“So you saw Eulerex. A senior Fallen.”
“That’s...”
“Did you see anything else?”
Boris told Galford about the female Fallen with a dragon’s wings and tail, as well as of the frog-headed Fallen.
“Ah, and there was a box, too.”
“A box?”
“It was chained to the grand turtle’s back, and it had some...creepy pattern on its surface.”
Just remembering it made him cover his mouth from the nausea.
“Hmm.” Galford crossed his arms pensively.
The door behind Boris then opened noisily, and a woman’s voice filled the room.
“You’re still tripping over yourselves here? You folk have a far longer fuse than We gave you credit for.”
“Lady Laminitus?!” one of the staff officers called out.
The former governor of Zircon Tower: Fanis Laminitus.
It was the first time Boris had laid eyes on her. She was dressed in a red uniform and had a bosom so large it was hard to believe she was human. Her hair was a brilliant shade of crimson. Her eyelashes were long, her lips glossy, and she carried herself about with an alluring air that didn’t seem to fit this occasion much. Boris found himself stupefied at the sight of her.
Laminitus was an accomplished commander who once pushed back the Demon Lord’s army. But, after learning the Demon Lord had been revived, she judged she wouldn’t be able to defend Zircon Tower and abandoned the position, now taking refuge in Faltra.
“Does it matter if there are a thousand or two thousand Fallen out there?” she asked the staff officer, as if she herself was the commander. “They can gather as many small fry as they wish and it won’t change things in the long run.”
“Those aren’t small fry, Lady Laminitus... They’re Fallen! Fallen, I tell you!”
“Hah! You’re as terrified as a maiden on her first night!”
“Wha?!”
“Don’t fret. If we just defeat their commander, the Demon Lord’s army will crumble. Their individual power may be high, but they’re nothing more than a disorderly mob. There’s nothing to fear.”
“The one leading that ‘disorderly’ army of Fallen is the Demon Overlord Modinaram,” Galford spoke up. “If we just defeat him, this fight will end with a victory for the races... That much is clear.”
“Then it’s a simple story. We must gather our strongest forces and face the Demon Overlord. There are no other options, correct?”
“We’ve already sent a request for aid to the royal capital.”
“Hmph!” Laminitus scoffed haughtily. “As if that coward would ever weaken the capital’s defenses!”
“His Majesty is a wise gentleman.”
“If the king truly was the wise, brave ruler you make him out to be, he’d have dispatched his heroes to destroy the Demon Overlord, just as you once did. How many days have passed since Zircon Tower was attacked?!”
“I’m sure he has his plans.”
“You’ve gone soft, Galford!”
“Then let me tell you: If the races are to combat the Demon Overlord, we must stand united as one. No matter what they think, soldiers of the military must never suspect the king.”
“If we obey too blindly, the races will surely be decimated!”
“Nonsense. Discord and infighting are what will drive the races to destruction.”
“Tch...” Laminitus clicked her tongue. “Well, there’s nowhere to fall back to, so there’s no choice but to fight. We share your opinion that we’re better off not expecting reinforcements from the royal capital. Arguing over the king’s stupidity wouldn’t do us any good, anyway.”
“Do you not see how blasphemous it is to mouth such things before the staff officers?”
“The Demon Lord’s army is said to arrive this evening, correct? Let us prepare for battle, then. There’s you and Us... Is there anyone else that can be of use?”
Galford fell silent. Faltra was an important strategic point between the races’ territories and the Demon Lord’s domain. The forces stationed there were all elites, but none of them broke the limit of the races. Those teeming with that sort of quick-wittedness had all been summoned to the capital. And while Galford was pleased to see his subordinates develop and reach greatness, the truth was that the front lines lacked such capable troops.
“Is Diablo not here yet?” Laminitus inquired.
“According to my reconnaissance, he headed to the swordmaster’s village in Sormas.”
The governor had set Diablo as a target for observation, and had soldiers skilled in espionage follow him. Those orders applied just the same even outside Faltra, and that was how Galford had kept track of Diablo’s activities at Zircon Tower and the capital.
“Sormas? Why did he go there?”
“I’ve no idea as to what his intentions are...but he apparently bought manure and climbed up a mountain.”
“Don’t tell Us he’s decided to start working the fields?”
“He’s a mere adventurer after all... There’s little point in depending on him.”
“We don’t much like admitting it, but...this battle could very well hinge on his presence here.”
Galford shrugged. “News of the invasion is already out. Though I can’t say if he will act on it or not.”
Laminitus sighed in response.
Diablo’s amazing, Boris thought. If these two impressive individuals spoke like this about the importance of his presence, Diablo had to be. Boris prayed from the bottom of his heart for Diablo to return as fast as possible.
Boris turned his gaze to the west, out the window. The sun began slowly tipping below the horizon, and as it did, his anxiety only grew heavier...
†
The same day, at five in the evening—
It was believed the invasion would commence after sundown, but the lookout on the walls raised their voice before dusk. Like his comrades from the Ulug bridge, Boris was admitted into Faltra’s garrisoned forces, and was assigned to a lookout tower—which also doubled as an amplifier for the barrier—located slightly to the north of the western gate.
“They’re coming!” Boris pointed to the west.
“Uuu... Already?!” Massa’s lips shivered in terror.
Several others raised their voices in fear of the attack. Even trained soldiers stationed on the front lines couldn’t maintain their cool in the face of an invasion from the Demon Lord’s army.
The massive grand turtles appeared with the western sun at their backs, as if they’d oozed out of the encroaching darkness of night. The stench of beasts and blood could be taken in even from afar. They were like the personification of all that struck fear into the hearts of men.
Alarm bells rang out, alerting of an encroaching enemy attack. Countless soldiers looked up the western gate. Would the lieutenant general take to the battlefield? Or would he stay in his fortifications?
Galford was a hero of the last great war, and had proactively mobilized his forces when the elven army marched on Faltra, as well as on other occasions. And indeed, heavily armored soldiers were deployed at the western gate this time around.
But there were no movements. The trumpet signaling the opening of the western gate wasn’t sounded.
“...He isn’t coming,” someone whispered.
The lieutenant general had naturally judged that there was no winning a direct fight against this evil.
“So we can’t win...” someone else said in a disheartened voice.
There was the faint hope that maybe, just maybe, the hero of the great war would have a way of stopping the Demon Lord’s army’s invasion. But reality was colder than the darkest depths of the sea and devoid of all innocent mercy.
There was absolutely no one capable of standing against an army of one thousand Fallen...
“We hold our position!” an officer, who’d predicted, or perhaps knew, it would come to this, shouted. “We have our barrier, and the Fallen aren’t smart enough to prepare provisions. Not to mention the cruel winter is on our side! We can win this fight!”
The soldiers’ faces lit up in understanding. Even if Faltra was in a warm area, ’twas the season. The forest’s trees had shed all their leaves, and fruit and animals were scarce. It was the period when farming was halted. Since the Fallen required food, they probably required large amounts just to maintain those massive bodies of theirs. It would be nigh impossible for them to procure enough food to maintain one thousand Fallen.
Holding the keep during a siege depended on the opponent not having provisions. And while Faltra’s walls were damaged by a mysterious explosion some time ago, they had since been fixed.
“We have enough provisions to maintain 200,000 people for six months! And we’ve taken the refugees from the Demon Lord’s domain into account! There’s nothing to fear!”
Just what one might expect of Lieutenant General Galford, some had said. But Boris looked to the west, anxiety greatly weighing on his mind.
“What’s wrong, Boris? You’re pale,” Massa asked, prompting a nervous reply from Boris.
“...Do you remember when one hundred Fallen attacked the Bridge of Ulug?”
“Yeah, that definitely happened... I thought we were done for back then.”
“A Fallen had infiltrated Faltra trying to kill Lady Celestine, right?”
“Right, right. I think it called itself Gregore? That adventurer Emile beat him, didn’t he?”
“...So they say, sure.”
Boris saw Diablo’s deeds at the Bridge of Ulug, and also heard what the demon sorcerer had said:
“I shall test my Return magic.”
That was what Diablo shouted before disappearing in a flash of light. While the adventurers had claimed it was Emile who beat Gregore, Boris suspected that wasn’t entirely true.
“No, that isn’t the issue right now... My point is, even back then, the Fallen were trying to find a way to remove the barrier.”
“Right.”
“And now they’re bringing ten times the number they brought before—they even have that damn Demon Overlord with them. We’re idiots thinking they didn’t plan for the barrier...”
“So then...they’re still after Lady Celestine?!”
“Of course, I do think the lieutenant general is wary of that.”
They cast their glances toward the center of the city. There wasn’t a disturbance at the Mage’s Guild, was there? But as they looked at the peculiarly-shaped tower, sticking out like a lance toward the sky, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
†
The citadel city of Faltra was before their very eyes.
“All forces, stop.” Eulerex spread out his hands.
Lazpuras repeated his commander’s words, beckoning the magical beast user Manuela to stop as well. Her magic made the grand turtles slow down to a halt. However, their forces weren’t as orderly as the races’. Some of the Fallen roared in complaint, rushing forward to attack on their own accord.
“That’s the Vahl faction, I believe.”
They were Fallen who only operated on the single desire to slaughter the races. They were the type that often fought among themselves and had lesser intelligence than that of the beasts.
Eulerex turned his back to them. “Cast them away. The fools followed us despite no one calling for them... All they’re good for is being disposable pawns.”
“As you say, sir.”
“Open the box!” Eulerex cried out, spreading his arms.
The Fallen standing behind him began hustling about. Lazpuras escorted Manuela, motioning to get off the grand turtle.
“Come, we must hurry.”
“Wait.”
“Make it quick.”
“...I’m sorry...” Manuela patted the armor around the grand turtle’s legs regretfully. The chains were then severed by clashes of axes, releasing it from its bonds.
“We haven’t the time.” Lazpuras picked Manuela up by her armpits.
“Ah...”
He flew off the shell with a nimbleness one wouldn’t expect from his fat stomach, landing behind the grand turtle. There was no time to spare.
“Chains, cut!” the Fallen holding the axe called out.
As that happened, Eulerex was flying in the skies above, the owl wings on his back flapping loudly.
“’Tis time to open the box! Unleash the seal!”
“Seal, unleash!” Several other demons repeated his words. They reached out to the front of the box, some poking it with the blades of their weapons...
Then, it opened.
Pure, dense magical energy spilled out. Solidified magical energy rolled forth from the box like black slime, touching the Fallen standing around it who shouted in pain as they crumbled into particles of light instantly.
Annihilation... The magical energy was so potent it destroyed the Fallen with a single touch.
Looking down on that sight, Eulerex called out, “Demon Overlord cannon—fire!”
The magical energy surged forth from the box. Turning into a flash of light, it lit its surroundings as if the sun had descended upon the earth with blinding ferocity...
Any who looked at it directly had the light burnt into their eyes. The Fallen may be able to withstand it, but the races would only go blind. Those who stood on Faltra’s walls, without a means to block the light, had instantly lost their eyesight.
The light turned into heat. The grand turtle’s head was the first to evaporate. The front half of its body was unable to withstand the heat emanating from the box. Next were the Vahl faction Fallen, who ran on ahead, being quickly consumed by the conflagration and disappearing without a trace.
The lump of massive heat was quickly approaching Faltra’s walls. The barrier screeched in anticipation. Ever since the city was created, it had faced multiple wars between Demon Lords and the races, but never had so much power been brought to bear against the barrier. The magical power was so intense that, had it not been for the barrier, the city would have surely been wiped off the map.
Soldiers screamed atop the wall, the citizens of the city in a frenzy at the maddening sounds. As the screeching sound of the magical forces clashing thundered around them, the ground shook and the air shivered against the buildings in the city.
But the barrier wouldn’t break. Its trait of blocking off “all ilk of the Fallen” was absolute.
The barrier stood its ground. The light died down along with the intense heat...
Boris sat on his hands and knees atop the walls, his legs shaking uncontrollably as thick beads of sweat dripped from his forehead.
I was dead for sure... I know I was...
He’d all but accepted that he’d be swallowed by the light and blown away.
“Haah, haah! Hahah! Amazing... We’re alive!”
The barrier had fought true. But when Boris raised his head, he heard a scream coming from the western gate.
“Fall back!”
“Huh?” he couldn’t help but stupidly utter.
The light released by the Demon Lord’s army had completely died down, but the shouts and screams only seemed to be getting louder. Shortly after, the ground began quaking.
“What’s going on?!” Boris stood up, placing his hands on the wall’s edge and looking ahead.
I-It can’t be!
The ground around the western gate was completely gone. The barrier extended to the ground as well, but it was gone as if something had shaved it off around the rims. Faltra was surrounded by a moat full of flowing water, but it had all evaporated into white steam.
“Fall back! Fall baaack!”
Soldiers ran away from the western gate. The place Boris was stationed began noticeably shaking.
“Wh-What’s going on?!”
This would naturally be what happened when a large structure lost the ground that supported it. The western gates toppled to the side like they were made of building blocks, creating fissures in the ground around the walls as they fell. With the walls structured to support each other, it didn’t take long for the one Boris and his group were on to fall apart as well.
“Fall back!” the officer cried out.
But those who had their wits about them had already begun running off before the order.
“Aaah!” Their foothold crumbled, and Massa had tripped. “Aaah, the Fallen, they have me by the leg! Help meee!”
“Calm down, you just tripped!” Boris grabbed Massa’s hand and pulled him up, urging him to continue running.
Thankfully, the walls only lurched to the side. Finally reaching safe ground, Boris turned around and was shocked beyond words. His knees shook and he couldn’t catch his breath, for something that should have been there was now gone.
A watch tower that acted as one of the Fallen-repelling barrier’s amplifiers had toppled over, along with the walls. It was reduced to nothing but a pile of rubble.
“Th-The barrier...” Boris’s own voice felt awfully distant to him. “I-It’s gone?!”
†
“Gaaahaaa!” Several Fallen and magical beasts rushed upon the collapsed western gate.
The citadel city of Faltra was on the verge of collapse itself. Some of the soldiers who were caught up in the gate’s collapse fell into panic. Some were running around; others stood stupefied and shocked. It was times like these that an adventurer usually made his appearance!
Emile stepped into the the western gate’s square, shouldering his longsword. The once magnificent walls of the western gate now lay utterly crumbled.
“My, my, they did quite a number on us.”
There was no barrier to ward off the attacking Fallen, leaving the city completely exposed. Emile could hear his comrades calling for him.
“E-Emile, what can we do against them...?!” screamed Turon, a friend of Emile’s who was a healer clad in a white robe. There was also Eristoff, an enhancer sorcerer skilled at enchanting and reinforcing weapons. All four of his party members were present there.
“What can we do, you ask? Why, we win! What else is there?” Emile proclaimed, pumping a fist. “The barrier is gone, which means this town and its countless women are under threat from the Fallen. By my name, Emile Bichelberger, I will protect all of the women from harm!”
“Heheh...” The healer boy, Turon, curled his lips into a smile. “Traveling the countries really polished up your stupidity, hasn’t it?”
“I’m not stupid!”
Eristoff, the enchanter, shrugged. “I don’t think it’s the smartest choice, but we have to do this... Sitting on my ass and waiting for death just isn’t my style.”
He swung his staff, and just like that, the whole party’s equipment was buffed with magic, tripling their attack and defense.
“All right!” Grutas, a warrior who carried a shield in place of a weapon, stood in front of everyone. “Let’s do this! We’re the heroes of the new era!” He was another comrade in their party, belonging to the blocker class.
“That’s right! We’re gonna defend this city!” Yuan, the party’s archer, was getting fired up too.
Emile stepped over the rubble and looked out at the city. The ground was still scorching hot, and even through his leather boots Emile felt his legs sizzle.
“Hmph... So there were some adventurers who didn’t run away...” Another group appeared from behind them.
“Hmm?” Emile turned around. The ones who appeared were more than one hundred regional knights, led by the governor himself, Galford.
“Oh, it’s you... Your name was...”
Two months ago, Emile had tutored under Galford to learn the ways of the blade. Though he was more of an intruding student than an apprentice...
“Heh... My name is...”
“...Emile Bichelberger, I believe. Have you been to the swordmaster?”
He remembered Emile’s name?! The other adventurers were magnificently stunned.
“Of course!” Emile puffed up his chest. “I’ve experienced the swordmaster’s full-blown slash on my very flesh. Thanks to that, I’ve been reborn!”
“Hmm... We see you’ve grown in number as well.”
The row of regional knights parted to the sides, making way for a beautiful woman teeming with allure. Her crimson hair was tied back, and she was clad in bright red armor.
“Step aside... If you get in Our way, We may have to shoot through you, you know?”
Fanis Laminitus had taken to the scene, a massive magi gun in hand. Its muzzle was pointed directly at Emile.
“Wh-What are you planning?!”
“We said, step aside. They’re already in my range.”
“What?!”
The Demon Lord’s army’s Fallen were attacking. They weren’t close enough to make out the features of their vanguard, but if Laminitus said they were in her range, it must have been true. She was well known for her skill as an accomplished Magi Gunner; very few wouldn’t know of her.
Emile’s group moved away from her path as she pulled the trigger. The next moment, a series of bangs shook the air. Emile doubted even a massive magi gun could shoot from this distance. She may be able to shoot one or two of them, but that would achieve little...
Suddenly, a massive explosion transpired.
“What?!”
The black smoke towered over the walls. Several Fallen lost all semblance of their original shapes in the blast, turning to particles of light before hitting the ground. Not to mention the explosions happened in three different spots.
The shock waves reached the soldiers a few moments later. It happened so quickly; the explosions took place in a position that would take ten minutes or so to walk to.
Emile’s fellow adventurers mumbled in surprise.
“Wh-What was that?!” “Impossible!” “She just killed thirty of them!”
“Did you set something up in advance?” To Emile’s eyes, it looked less like the bullets exploded and more like something in the ground had blown up.
“Heheh... You have quite the pair on you. Perhaps what one might expect from a man Galford set his own eyes on.”
Galford shook his head unpleasantly. “I expect nothing from an adventurer.”
“Even after you trained him every day?”
“I merely swatted him away when he got in the way of my morning training.”
“Personally, without ordering your troops, and with a blunt sword meant for training?”
Laminitus continued shooting her gun while teasing a man thirty years her elder. Another explosion occurred.
“Emile, was it...? As you’ve speculated, We’ve rigged the area near the western gate,” Laminitus explained, her magi gun still in hand. “Their logic works the same as a magi gun’s bullet.”
“You can do that?!”
“The methods of warfare will someday change. But this just now was merely a bluff.”
Galford nodded. “A battle with the Demon Lord’s army hinges on whether we can beat the Demon Lord itself.”
“Hmph... the Demon Lord’s army doesn’t have that many pawns to sacrifice. If they can’t break through easily, they’ll send their stronger troops to face us soon.”
As the two spoke, the Fallen heading for the western gate stopped, and everything suddenly fell silent. The sound of the wind rang in everyone’s ears. Something was walking toward the gate...
†
At first they thought the girl was one of the races, until they noticed her dragon-like wings. She had horns on her head, and carried her large Chinese longsword on her shoulder. Her tail swung left and right. The girl walked up to the mountain of rubble and stopped, standing roughly a dozen steps away from the soldiers.
“Heheh? I thought the Demon Overlord cannon would blow your whole city away... You’re surprisingly tenacious,” she said in a high-pitched, girly voice. “As a reward, I’ll toy with you a ton before slaughtering you!”
“Demon Overlord cannon?” Emile asked. “That’s what you call that bright light from earlier?”
“That’s right. I don’t really get it myself, but the box fires this magical energy the Demon Overlord stuffs inside it for a long, long time. I think Eulerex said it’s one of the Demon Lord of the Eye’s abilities? Or was it the Demon Lord of the Hand?”
The Demon Lord of Madness, Modinaram, had absorbed the other Demon Lords and assumed the title of Demon Overlord. Apparently, that attack from earlier was an attack of one of the absorbed Demon Lords. But they doubted this girl would just come up to and tell them this information...
“How many Demon Lords has the Demon Overlord absorbed?”
The Fallen girl tried counting on her fingers, but apparently didn’t have enough on both hands.
“...A bunch, okay?! And I, Ryoka, got him three of them! Aren’t I the best?”
“So, it’s at least ten then.”
“As a reward, he gave me power tenfold! There isn’t anyone left in the Demon Lord’s army I can fight at full strength against... But maybe you’ll put up a better fight?!”
The Fallen girl called Ryoka smirked sadistically, murderous intent emanating from her body. Emile gulped nervously at the sight. It felt like something cold had slithered down his spine.
“Uuu...” Eristoff the enchanter had trouble standing, shaking at the knees. “The image of her running her sword through me keeps flashing in my mind...”
“Snap out of it!” Emile placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Part of what you just said doesn’t make any sense...” Galford stepped forward, speaking in a taciturn tone. “Do you mean to say you Fallen gathered ten pieces of the Demon Lord in such a short period of time? How inconceivable...”
It truly was odd. Despite the annoyed expression on her face, though, Ryoka was as talkative as ever.
“The Demon Overlord found them. Demon Lords have this ability to sense other Demon Lords. They just never use it because it’s useless for butchering the races.”
This was shocking information for the others, but Galford seemed convinced.
“Did he gather all the pieces then?”
“No, there’s still some in the Fallen’s territories. And there’s the one that got away, too.”
“One that got away...?”
“But that wasn’t my screw up! That Demon Lord was on the verge of awakening and refused to be absorbed, so he ran away.”
“Another Demon Lord...? Pray tell, where might it be?”
Just as she was about to answer, another Fallen ran up to her. It had three tails and a fox’s face with a body slightly larger than the races’. It brought its long mouth up to Ryoka’s ear.
“Lady Ryoka, Lady Ryoka...”
“Hm?”
“An order from Lord Eulerex. He says to kill them quickly. And also to not say anything needlessly.”
“Huh?! But earlier he told me to listen to what others say until they’re finished! Does that owl-head have feathers for brains?!”
Ryoka pursed her lips in displeasure and glared at Emile’s group. “Fine, whatevs. I’m itching to fight, anyway.”
Ryoka spun her Chinese longsword in one hand. She handled this massive hunk of metal with her slim, twig-like limbs so easily; she truly did have power far removed from that of the races. She then spoke to the group with the same unenthused, chatty tone as earlier.
“Who wants to go first? Or do you wanna fight me all at once? I’m good either way!”
The girl spoke with the same tone she might use to chat with a friend on the street corner, but despite that, she seemed the most menacing she’d ever been.
“Kuh... This is bad...” Emile shivered.
“True enough, its level is much higher than the other Fallen.” Turon the healer nodded.
“Yes, with cuteness on a different level. And they’re a female, too.”
“What?! Emile, it’s a Fallen!”
“A female Fallen.”
“The Fallen don’t have genders!”
As Emile and Turon continued their bickering on the topic of Fallen gender identities, Galford stepped forward.
“Cover me.”
“Oh, may I?” Laminitus asked quizzically, the surprise evident on her face. “We would think you’d insist upon a one-on-one to maintain chivalry or some sort of other masculine pride.”
“...This isn’t the sort of battle one can win while clinging to such notions.”
†
The place where the western gate once proudly stood had completely changed now. The square on the inner side of the gate, where the regional knights now stood, was riddled with cracks. The knights were quite trained by the standards of the races, but weren’t even an option when it came to fighting powerful Fallen and large-type magical beasts.
Laminitus stood before them, armed with her magi gun, her sights fixed on the enemy. Emile and his fellow adventurers were near the gate where rubble littered the ground beneath them. Protecting Laminitus at their back, they kept a path open for her magi gun.
Lastly, before the western gate was the hole blown open by the Demon Overlord cannon. The rubble of what was once the gate filled the place, leaving not a single trace of the beautifully maintained highway leading up to the entrance to the city. At the center of that site of ruin was Galford’s battlefield; a sight where he had yet to pull out the sword sheathed at his waist.
Galford silently surveyed the gap between them. Ten steps.
“Hmm, looks like you’ll be fun?” Ryoka, who stood opposite him, narrowed her eyes.
“...I cannot say I agree... I have never once found battle to be enjoyable.”
“Well that’s ’cuz you’re weak, ain’t it? You better not let me down!”
Vigorously calling out those words, Ryoka kicked the ground, charging in Galford’s direction. She was moving slower than expected, however.
Did I train too much? Emile pondered as he looked on.
Galford had thought he wouldn’t be able to match this powerful Fallen head-on, but somehow, she didn’t seem all that quick.
“Yah!”
Ryoka swung down her Chinese longsword. There was still some distance between them, but her blade suddenly shined. The slash connected, a single step’s distance earlier than it should have.
A surprise attack?!
“Raaah!” Galford yelled out as he unsheathed his sword.
Emile’s eyes widened. Galford’s speed was in a completely different dimension than when Emile had trained with him.
I knew he was taking it easy on me, but I didn’t think he’d be that fast!
Galford’s sword deflected Ryoka’s slash. The air quivered as metal clanged against metal, and another blow soon followed. It was a combo of two swings from Galford, so rapid Emile could hardly follow it with his eyes.
Blood burst from the back of Ryoka’s right hand. Her eyes widened.
“I’m cut?!”
“Hm.” Galford looked down at his blade. The tip of his sword had been cracked.
“Heheheh... Not bad.” Ryoka’s wound disappeared quickly. “Let’s speed this up a bit!”
She attacked again, this time noticeably faster than before. She stepped forward, with Galford definitely entering the range of her Chinese longsword.
“Nng... Aaah!”
Galford deflected her sword. He then shifted around her in a fluid, circular motion, slashing and cutting into her upper arm. It looked like a deep wound, but didn’t quite sever it. Her left hand drooped down powerlessly.
“How?! I’m faster than you!”
It was simply a gap in technique. Being a Fallen, Ryoka had the advantage when it came to physical strength and endurance, but there was a fatal difference in the level of their swordsmanship. Galford’s swordplay was a mix of defense and offense; there was no difference or transition between an attack and a guard. Whenever you thought he deflected a blow, his movements flowed like water and naturally shifted into a counterattack. It was beautiful swordsmanship one wouldn’t expect from his strict features.
But since the blade didn’t cut through bone, Ryoka’s left arm had regenerated in the blink of an eye.
Is she immortal?
“Looks like you’re not some loser small fry!” Ryoka said, her lips curling upward in an ecstatic smile. “This is what battle is all about!”
She slashed again. Did she think the counterattack earlier was a fluke? It was the same type of attack as before. Galford easily staved it off once more, his counterattack cutting through Ryoka’s left shoulder this time around.
The Fallen’s attacks gained momentum, and Galford hastened his slashes to adjust to the change. Their slashes clashed time and time again, the sound of metal striking itself booming around them like a cacophony.
Their fight was on a different level. The sounds were no light clicks; rather, they were heavy, resounding gongs and bangs. With each exchange, Galford’s sword was being chipped away. Ryoka’s Chinese longsword, by contrast, was enchanted and didn’t have so much as a scratch. He was beating her when it came to swordplay, but there was a difference between their weapons. Was there anything Emile could do to help?
“Tch...” Ryoka suddenly backed away.
“Hm?” Galford, staying cautiously on guard, didn’t chase her down.
“I give up.” Ryoka lowered her Chinese longsword.
“Hmph... If you’re leaving, the races have no interest in detaining you.”
“You’re not fighting me seriously, are you?”
“What makes you say that?”
“You’re keeping track with me, always topping off at just the right speed. And when I leave an opening, you don’t try to break through.”
“...I’m a cautious man. I only see overly obvious openings as traps.”
“Is that right... I guess I’ll have to make you play for keeps then.”
Ryoka shifted her gaze behind Galford, fixing it on Emile and his group.
Wh-What?!
Of course, they weren’t caught completely off guard. They were exceptionally cautious, or so they thought... Ryoka’s eyes glittered dangerously at them.
“Dodge!” Laminitus cried out.
“Gah?!” Eristoff the enchanter coughed up blood. A hole opened up his left breast, and he toppled face down to the ground.
“Eristoff!” Emile kneeled beside him, calling out his name as though in pain.
“Gragh...” In response, what came out of his mouth wasn’t words, but more blood.
“E-Eristoff!” Turon the healer waved his staff over the injured enchanter, offering up his prayers to God. A faint light enveloped Eristoff, who simply lay there in silence.
“God! Your mercy be upon us!”
Only silence...
“Heal his wounds, God! Please, God!”
Turon weaved his healing spell earnestly, but Eristoff didn’t move. The man’s breath wouldn’t return.
“Uuu... Kuh...” Turon fell to his knees.
“H... He’s dead?!” Emile couldn’t recognize his own voice as those words escaped his lips. His comrade had just passed before his very eyes.
“Well?” Ryoka asked, her lips contorting into a heartless smile. “If you don’t get serious with me, I’ll kill you one. By. One. You races hate that, don’t you? Seeing your friends die.”
“Don’t do anything foolish!” Galford gravely warned Emile—
But the grieving soldier had already broken into a sprint.
†
“Daaaaaamn yoooooou!”
Emile’s blood was boiling in his veins. He rushed at Ryoka, his broadsword swung upward.
“Idiot...” Laminitus clicked her tongue and fired her magi gun.
“Ah?!” Ryoka recoiled backward as the shot thundered in everyone’s ears.
She hit her! Didn’t she evade it?! Couldn’t she respond in time?! Or maybe she was just careless! No matter, this is my chance!
“Sword Smite III!” Emile rushed her, using the warrior-class martial art to close the gap between them in one bound.
“Don’t get close to her so carelessly!” Galford shouted.
But Emile’s mind was too stained in wrath to care. Ryoka, whose stance had been disturbed, swung her Chinese longsword over her head with one hand. Their swords clashed ferociously.
Then, Ryoka’s massive blade approached Emile’s eyes.
“Hah!” He’d deflected the Chinese longsword with his broadsword. He then interrupted his horizontal slash in mid rush and shifted to another martial art.
“Quad Slash!”
This was a martial art that purportedly required one to be a warrior of level 80 or higher. It was a skill that unleashed four concurrent slashes that came from a superhuman warrior capable of handling a broadsword with ease. Ryoka blocked one of the slashes, but the remaining three had hit their mark and sent her flying.
“Kah?! You cheeky little small fry!”
“I’m not through with you!”
It was the effect of his long training. Ryoka was far stronger than Gregore, the Fallen that had attacked Faltra last time, but here Emile was, pushing back such a mighty opponent in this heated battle.
Now, some of the credit went to Eristoff’s enchantments. Emile’s magically-enhanced broadsword didn’t crack from clashing against the Chinese longsword, nor did it fracture from striking against Ryoka’s tough body.
I will avenge you, Eristoff!
His broadsword struck against the Fallen’s flank, and her body bent in an unnatural direction. Had she been one of the races, she would have been severed in half.
I can win this!
Emile took a stance with his broadsword aiming upward: the martial art, Alps Fall III. It packed exceptional power, but took a long time to fire off. In most situations, trying to use it would just result in you getting hit first. When Emile fought Diablo once before, he’d been punched before he could activate his martial art and was blown backward into a wall.
But Emile believed with all his heart that this supposedly useless martial art was the most suited for him. For that reason alone, he even extended his mastery to the special skill “Instantaneous Activation” which shortened its build-up time. Thus, when used against a staggered opponent, Alps Fall III would connect in time.
“Take thiiiiiis!”
Ryoka’s face entered his line of sight. She had horns as well as a dragon’s wings and tail. She was a Fallen, with the blood of the races on her hands. But her face...was that of a woman.
My name is Emile Bichelberger. Protector of all women!
“Kuh!” Against his will, Emile hesitated for but a moment.
Ryoka quickly bore her fangs. “You’re a letdown, small fry!”
The broadsword crashing down on Ryoka’s head was shattered by a blow from her Chinese longsword.
“What?!”
A pitch black aura that could only be described as repugnant flames had erupted from his enemy’s blade. Even as she was showered with attacks, Ryoka kept her strongest ace hidden. Was she going easy on them?
“Second kill!” The Chinese longsword enveloped with black flames bore down on Emile, who’d now lost his broadsword.
“Emiiiiiile!” Someone cut between the two of them, blocking the Fallen’s Chinese longsword with his massive shield.
...Or at least, attempted to block it.
“Gaaah?!” Grutas the blocker was summarily cut in half along with his shield.
“Gru... Aaah...?!” Emile’s vision was painted red.
Despite cleaving through a thick shield and the massive man holding it, Ryoka’s sword still swung down with terrifying momentum, tearing through Emile’s armor. It felt as if a rod of hot metal had been pressed against his chest. It wasn’t so much painful as it was horrifyingly hot.
“Aaaaaaaaahh?!”
Emile fell to the ground. The pain alone had sapped his body of all his strength.
“Looks like my second kill was some other small fry,” Ryoka said, looking down on Emile like an insect. “Well, whatevs. Whaddaya say now? Still feel like holding back on me?”
She no longer considered Emile’s existence. Her interest shifted back to Galford.
“...Ignoring orders to attack blindly, eventually going out of commission...” He sighed in response to her question. “I knew adventurers could not be relied upon. You weren’t even useful for buying us time.”
Buying them time... Galford was waiting—waiting for someone who could turn this fight around. But judging by his words, he’d decided to give up on that unfounded hope. He threw his worn out sword aside.
“I didn’t intend on using this until I fought the Demon Lord, but you’ve left me no choice...”
†
“Whaaat?” Ryoka tilted her head. “You’re throwing away your weapon...? Don’t tell me you’re thinking of surrendering. Like, we’re gonna massacre you all. Just saying.”
“So I’d expect... But let me say this: You fallen should expect no mercy from me.
Galford didn’t have a sword in hand. Despite that setback, he assumed a stance as if he were holding a sword at his waist.
“This...isn’t a bluff.” Ryoka’s expression turned all the more dubious.
Galford didn’t budge a muscle, but sweat began dripping down his face. His pulse was increasing, and his breath came out in shorter bursts. He stood at the ready, his muscles bulging out.
Martial arts consumed the stamina running through your body, known as SP. If used in an internal fashion, they could elevate your physical capabilities to their utmost limit. But when mastered, it unlocked another use for your SP.
“Haaaaaaaaah!”
Your SP could be concentrated outside your body and materialized.
Galford swung his arms as if drawing something out, then a shining sword materialized in his hand.
It was the Sword of Light.
“You’re finally taking this seriously.” The sides of Ryoka’s lips curled up as she grinned excitedly. “And to think I was almost about to butcher you like the useless sack of meat you are.”
Ryoka kicked the ground, taking off at a speed unlike anything she’d exhibited before. Emile knew she was holding back on him, but she’d still cut him down and took the lives of his friends, leaving him to crawl pathetically on the ground.
A monster...
Ryoka was on a level of her own, even among the Fallen. If a hero of the war like Galford were to unveil his ultimate technique, the races stood no chance against such a foe—so Emile believed.
“Show me your serious fighting technique!” Ryoka was the first to swing down. “Put a smile on my face, human!”
“Argh!” Twisting his body, Galford deflected the slash. Surprisingly, the Sword of Light was crushed, crackling away into fragments of light.
“Hiyaaaaaah!” Ryoka screeched in peculiar, high-pitched laughter.
“Cut!” Galford swung his left hand into the open air. At that moment, two Swords of Light were generated at his left. Blood sprayed through the air as both of Ryoka’s arms were severed.
“Wha?! How...?!” Her Chinese longsword fell to the ground loudly, her two wrists still gripping it.
“I won’t let you get away!” Galford glared at her with bloodshot eyes.
By the time he finished his shout, his left hand had already swung the Sword of Light. Ryoka’s head parted from her neck, flying high into the air before bumbling to the ground.
“It can’t be?! How did I...?!” Having been reduced to nothing but her head, Ryoka’s eyes widened so much her eyeballs looked propped to roll out. Seeing her speak as a severed head drove home how detached her existence was from that of mere mortals.
“What is it?” Galford was the one to look down on her this time. “Go on, laugh... Weren’t you speaking of how joyful and fun battle is?”
“Gah! You insignificant, little...”
“Your wounds healing as fast as they do makes your senses of fear and caution slacken, reducing your defense. Thanks to that, you lost your weapon.”
“You had two swords! You tricked me, you coward!”
“Coward, eh...? No compliment could ever taste as sweet.”
“How can you enjoy yourself when you fight like that?!”
“I’ve already told you before: not once, not ever have I found battle to be enjoyable.”
Galford thrust his Sword of Light down through Ryoka’s head.
†
Sitting on the back of a massive magical beast, Lazpuras surveyed the battle. The first magical beast he rode was reduced to particles of light by the power of the Demon Overlord cannon, so he was now atop another grand turtle. At his side was the magical beast user Manuela, and the commander-in-chief of the army, Eulerex, was also nearby.
“A battle worthy of the hero of the glittering blade, Chester Ray Galford. To think Ryoka would perish after being strengthened past her limits...”
They were surprised, but this was all within their calculations. The commander-in-chief thought Ryoka to be an eyesore, after all. She was young, uninhibited, and had a nasty tendency to ignore orders. She was formerly of the Edelgard faction, and was obviously trying to elevate her position. Eulerex would have had to nip that talent in the bud eventually just to solidify the position he’d built up for himself. He likely let Ryoka fight on her own accord, anticipating she’d be defeated in the process.
Was this sly Fallen a shrewd tactician? Or perhaps a weakling occupied with his own self-importance? Lazpuras’s evaluation of him was balanced between these two impressions, but...no matter the case, Eulerex’s position was what held the army together. His leadership and resolve were absolutely necessary.
Lazpuras shifted his gaze to the box lying on the ground.
The Demon Overlord Modinaram is no longer in a state where he is worthy to be called our lord.
“Lord Eulerex, we must close the box.”
“’Tis too late.”
“What are you saying?!”
“It seems they’ve piqued the Demon Overlord’s interest.”
“I-Is that...acceptable?” Lazpuras spoke, putting his doubts into words. “Yet another town could be completely wiped out.”
It took a great amount of food to maintain the Demon Lord’s army, especially now that it had grown as large as it had. They had no provisions and needed to raid the races’ towns for food.
“Once we pass through Faltra, many human positions will lie exposed before us,” Eulerex said, his neck rotating horizontally. “For now, we will let the Demon Overlord show us his great power.”
“I see...”
“The enemy was wrong to stir up the Demon Overlord’s desire to fight. An act of foolishness, indeed. Their insistence on fighting has only wrought them this conclusion.”
Perhaps that, too, was part of Eulerex’s calculations. He let Ryoka meet her demise so her fight would draw the Demon Overlord’s attention. Plus, with Faltra reduced to ashes, the western side of Lyferia would easily fall under their control.
Truly cunning...
“To think they would have to fight the Demon Overlord...” Lazpuras looked toward Faltra. “I may be a Fallen, but I feel somewhat piteous for them.”
“You are far too naïve, Priest!”
Perhaps it was so. But he couldn’t help it; the Demon Overlord’s power was far too overwhelming...
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