Re:Zero Kara Hajimeru Isekai Seikatsu (LN) - Volume EX4 - Chapter 1.10

10

They ran through the woods, alert to everything around them. Two of the Nine Divine Generals had chased them down and stalled them for no small amount of time. Julius and the others could assume their little refuge was surrounded by imperial soldiers. So much for fleeing to a deserted area…

“To compel the emperor himself to run is most uncouth. You don’t wish to pick me up and carry me, as the Sword Saint did?”

“It’s possible, sir, but I can’t guarantee it would be as comfortable as it was with him. And if another attack comes, it would be more difficult to protect you.”

“Hmph. I see you are skilled at talking, if not at carrying.”

With the rather dissatisfied Vincent in tow, Julius realized they were not going to be able to hide in the traditional sense.

As they ran along the wooded path, the purple-haired knight found Vincent keeping up with him and Ferris with a remarkable degree of ease. If there was anyone whose stamina Julius was worried about, it was actually Ferris’s. The boy had never been the strongest physically, and now terror and tension had reduced his reserves to nothing as he continually glanced back over his shoulder.

“Ferris, you must face forward. I’m sorry, but we can’t slow down any further.”

“I-I’m all right… But what about Reinhard? Is he going to be okay? We’re in the empire’s territory—it’s not going to be easy to find each other again once we’ve split up, is it?”

“I’ve set Ire to accompany him. I doubt we’ll have any trouble linking up. Right now, our concern should be the killers who attacked Master Balleroy and are after His Majesty’s life.” Julius tried to talk Ferris down while also returning them to the subject of what had happened at the Crystal Palace. Their discussion had been interrupted earlier, but continually running would not solve anything by itself. Nor would it be responsible to simply assume that Miklotov and Bordeaux, who were back at the palace, would take care of things.

For starters, they had no guarantees that Miklotov and Bordeaux were even still safe.

“With Goz in charge, one doubts anyone would rush to do something rash. Not least because if they were to do anything to your Miklotov and his friend, you just might repay me in kind.”

“…I suppose that’s one less thing on my mind, then,” Julius said. “But there are so many things I still don’t understand. May I ask you something, Your Majesty?”

“It depends on what it is. Or so I would say, but I already suspect what you have in mind. It is the ‘pulse’ of the Crystal Palace, no?”

Julius was shocked to realize Vincent had seen through him so completely. Naturally, he had been trying to ease the talk in that direction, but the emperor had a tremendous gift for conversation, along with the ability to make it seem as though he had no such gift at all.

“The pulse—mew mentioned it earlier, right? Just what is it?”

“I should think you are aware that the castle is made from a great many magic crystals. And you know also that some of its defenses leverage their power.”

“Yes, we’ve heard tell.”

The Crystal Palace was famous for both its offensive and defensive capabilities. Its density of mana and the carefully calculated positions of its many magic crystals were things Julius had confirmed for himself not long before. But he didn’t understand its connection to what Vincent was now saying.

“Thus, the Crystal Palace stores tremendous amounts of mana simply by existing. Knowing that, do you need further explanation, spirit user?” The emperor’s tone was almost teasing. Julius considered the man’s words for a moment.

“…You can’t mean—the Crystal Palace is…”

“Alive? Yes.”

The knight felt his thoughts come to a hard stop. The Crystal Palace, center of the capital of Lupghana and the symbol of the entire Volakian Empire, was not just a fortress of unparalleled offensive and defensive capabilities but had concentrated so much mana that it had become a sort of spirit in its own right. Now that he knew, the conclusion seemed inescapable.

Vincent chuckled as he observed Julius’s reaction. “Now there’s one more reason none of you can be allowed to leave the empire alive.”

“Y-you chose to answer the question!”

“The answer to any question you might ask of me will inevitably touch something crucial to Volakia. It’s only natural. You know perfectly well who I am; don’t make me laugh.”

“Grrr…!” Ferris’s face went red at Vincent’s taunting tone. He didn’t know how serious the emperor actually was, but what he said was true enough. When the man spoke, his words were like a gateway to the depths of the Volakian Empire. Listen carelessly, and anything could happen to you. Even so, the danger had yielded them something.

“If the Crystal Palace literally has a pulse…then when Master Balleroy fell and Reinhard blacked out, it’s possible a special spell was used.”

“Clever. But hold back your deductions for a while. I rather prefer the reactions of your beast-boy there.”

“Watch it, Your Majesty!”

Vincent had confirmed Julius’s suspicion, but he didn’t neglect to work in a dig at Ferris. It might simply seem like a show of how calm he was, but it might have been the emperor’s little trick for getting through such stressful situations. How this behavior was interpreted likely varied from one individual to the next. In any event, it was far more conducive to a conversation than either staunchly denying there was anyone after them or falling into utter pessimism.

The pulse of the Crystal Palace, Balleroy’s death, and the astonishing change that had overcome Reinhard. If all this was somehow bound up with an attempt on the emperor’s life, then the problem was that they would have to return to the palace and—

But Julius’s thoughts didn’t get any further. He suddenly froze.

“Julius?” Ferris quickly came to a stop alongside him. Vincent likewise halted a few steps behind them, his keen black eyes studying the knight. But the swordsman didn’t react to either Ferris’s call or Vincent’s gaze.

He had other things to worry about.

“Ooh. Spotted me already? And from that distance to boot?”

The voice, affectedly nonchalant, came to Julius and the others from farther into the woods. Ferris’s eyes went wide, and he turned toward the source of the noise. When it came to detecting someone’s presence, if nothing else, Ferris’s intuition was every bit as good as Julius’s. Now he worked all his senses—sharpened by the demi-human blood in his veins—putting his ears, nose, and eyes to the task of finding the enemy. That the cat-boy’s own reaction was so belated was a testament to this figure, who had been concealed as naturally as if they were a part of the forest itself.

“ ”

Without another word, a single, young-looking form worked their leisurely way around the fallen leaves, moving toward the group. He was a youthful man of rather peculiar quality. His clothes were a mix of bright blue and subdued peach-pink, much like those worn by the citizens of Kararagi, a city-state in the west. He wore handwoven zori, or reed sandals. His deep-blue hair was tied back behind his head, and he had a surprisingly friendly smile. However, at his hip were two swords—katanas, as they were called, also in the Kararagi style.

At first glance, he might have seemed like nothing more than a boy playing dress-up. His features were so soft that he could have been mistaken for a woman, an impression reinforced by his slim frame. Standing face-to-face with the man immediately dispelled any such impressions, however. What opposed Julius now was something beyond his imagination.

The young man stopped several feet ahead of the purple-haired knight, staring at him intently. Then, as if oblivious to what Julius was thinking, he exclaimed “Oh-ho!” and slapped his knee. “From this distance, I can see how handsome you are! And your beast-friend over there is lovely, too! The three of us would look wonderful together! And to face off with His Majesty between us… Isn’t it just the most exciting thing?!”

“A-another one… Are you one of the Nine Generals, too? Aw, which number are you?!”

The young man seemed very pleased by the situation, but Ferris, thoroughly tired of being continually attacked, made an exasperated face. It was almost enviable how the demi-human had not realized who he was facing yet. The swordsman before them was simply that much of a monster.

“Ferris, go to His Majesty. Quickly.”

“…Julius?”

The knight urged the confused Ferris over to Vincent with a touch of his shoulder. Then he stepped forward so Ferris and the emperor were behind him, after which he drew his saber. Blue robes… They were the well-known mark of the most famous of the Nine Divine Generals.

“Cecils Segmund, I take it,” Julius said softly.

“Yes, yes, indeed, that’s me! Argh, am I really that obvious? Even an outlander knows who I am. How troublesome! Ha-ha-ha!” Cecils rubbed his head, laughing in a way that did not sound bothered at all.

At that, Ferris hid himself discreetly behind Julius. “Cecils? So he’s…”

“Oh, what’s this? You haven’t heard of me, lovely one? What a shame. Oh, maybe you’d recognize the name The Blue Lightning of Volakia? Even the bards sing about me!”

“The Blue Lightning… You mean the empire’s unparalleled warrior?! The monster who destroyed an entire army during the Rite of Imperial Selection all by himself?!”

“Monster is such a harsh word. Here’s a better way to describe me: I am Cecils Segmund, star actor standing upon the stage of this world!”

Even Ferris had no comeback for that one. He was acquainted with the man’s title; it was almost impossible not to be.

During the last Rite of Imperial Selection, this man had allied himself to Vincent, who was then no more than just another candidate for the throne, and had done much to quell the civil war that had overtaken the empire. Specifically, he had annihilated an enemy army that had come after Vincent. The fact that he had only been a teenage boy when he’d done it soon spread not only throughout the Volakian Empire, but the entire world. Such recognition ranked The Blue Lightning of Volakia among the most powerful swordsmen alive.

Cecils was likely responsible for more deaths than any other single person in the world. His current expression showed no trace of that bloody history as he casually waved to Vincent, who remained behind Julius.

“You can relax, Your Majesty! Now that I’m here to bring you home, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Just hmm and harrumph like you always do and enjoy the show while I take care of these two!”

“Foolishness. Your flippant speeches never improve no matter how many times I tell you to correct them. A dunce beyond all hope… But truthfully, it is worth acknowledging your impertinence.”

Julius felt a bead of cold sweat running down his cheek at that. The first half of the emperor’s answer seemed to be directed at Cecils, but the last half sounded like a warning to Julius. Or perhaps that was merely the knight’s imagination?

If Cecils succeeded in stealing the emperor from them, Lugunica would lose its chance to defend itself. In this moment, the saber of Julius Juukulius would determine whether there would be war between the kingdom and the empire.

“Ine, Ness,” he murmured. “Lend me your power.” Julius raised his sword before his face and closed his eyes as if in prayer; a white and a black glow bestowed themselves upon him. These were his last two greater spirits, over and above the four he had already used.

Cecils, eyes wide and blinking at the display, shifted the sheaths of his blades gently and said, “Oh? Are you a real spirit user? I’ve heard there are many like you in the north, but the only ones you run into in Volakia are evil. Very impressive—an opponent who can use a technique I’m not familiar with? Beautiful. A brilliant stage, shared by magnificent players… Wonderful! One such as I needs an excellent foil!”

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit hasty? I’m familiar with many tragedies that culminate in the hero losing his life. Only your own sword will determine whether you’re starring in such a tragedy at this moment.”

“Bravo, what a fantastic turn of phrase! That’s the sort of line that makes a person fall in love with an actor. And such being the case…”

With a pleasant smile, Cecils calmly drew one of the swords at his hip. Then he took a single, nonchalant step toward Julius and vanished.

An instant later, faster than lightning, he delivered a blow that transcended all perception.

“Hrrgh!” Julius only just managed to block this first strike with the upraised hilt of his saber. He hadn’t deflected it consciously; it was an instinctive reaction, one born of the heightened reflexes granted to him by his greater spirits. Julius had been forced to use his trump card at the very first exchange.

“My! You managed to block that? You kingdom warriors are more capable than I thought.”

Julius, keenly aware of the pain in his arm, registered the now-distant Cecils’s surprise. The general had widened the gap again as quickly as he had closed it. His movements were almost instantaneous, truly as fast as lightning. Such speed certainly lived up to his title.

“Well, try, try again! Show you can follow me—unless that first time was just luck!”

“I can only ask you not to go too hard on me,” Julius said, gritting his teeth and forcing himself to sound more assured than he felt. The smile on Cecils’s face shifted at the remark, and The Blue Lightning struck Julius again. The saber jumped in Julius’s hand with every hit. He managed to block, barely, as the clang of steel rang out.

“Wonderful, wonderful! Two, three, five, six, seven! You blocked them all! This is more than a few lucky guards! I’ve hit the jackpot! Now, this is exciting!”

There was a sharp sound of a kick off the ground, and in the next instant came the critical flash of a sword. Again, Julius narrowly managed to parry on instinct, as he listened to Cecils’s laughter get closer and then farther away again. The strikes came from every direction, demanding the utmost from the knight’s swordsmanship. It was all he could do to avoid being sliced in half; the man was nowhere near swift enough to provide any counterattack. Cecils’s movements and strikes were too quick, leaving no opportunity for Julius to create an opening by passing his opponent’s blade, as he usually did. The physical enhancements provided by his greater spirits wouldn’t last forever, either.

Watching Julius struggling to maintain a defense, Ferris began to sweat. “Th-this is looking bad… Sweet li’l Ferri has zero combat capability…!”

“Our saving grace is that Cecils is merely amusing himself. But that’s not all. That swordsman is as much a dupe as any of them. The comedy is that he doesn’t wish to be.”

“Huh?” Ferris was baffled by Vincent’s words. Cecils, who had just now created a large distance between himself and his opponent, quickly demonstrated the accuracy of the emperor’s words.

The kimono-clad young man cocked his head and scuffed his sandals on the ground as he said, “I can’t quite shake the feeling that I’m not quite as…lightning-y as usual. Maybe there’s some kind of spell on me?”

“Just a nasty little trick from a man who can’t do anything better. To think there’s still such a gulf in our abilities when I’ve given my best—it sends chills down my spine. Perhaps you could humor a poor swordsman and his trifles for a bit…?”

“Hmm? Even if I swear I don’t want to? Oh heavens, no. Overcoming a nasty trick is just the sort of thing that defines a protagonist; it’s what makes him a main character! If my lightning has slowed, then I need simply dig deep into myself and make it faster again! In deference to your fighting spirit, though, I’ll spare your head—aaaand go!”

Still ready to fight to the finish, Cecils launched himself forward at a speed that would have been incomprehensible to the average observer. Astonishingly, he did indeed seem even faster than before. His sword was a flashing bolt, a silver streak, that took the shortest route to Julius’s heart.

But Julius’s saber got there first, meeting the blade that meant to pierce his chest.

“Huh?”

“If you’re going to be so kind as to underestimate me, I’m more than happy to take any advantage. Your sword is mine.”

Cecils watched in amazement as, with a loud crack, the katana in his hand shattered. Tossing aside the broken half of his sword, the young man mouthed a silent word of surprise. Cecils was looking at the weapon that had intercepted his katana; Julius’s saber was shining with a multicolored light.

“That might be the strangest and most interesting thing I’ve seen in my life!”

“This is the spirit sword Al Clarista. It’s missing a hue, but there’s nothing this light cannot cut.”

“Wow, that’s so cool!”

Having successfully shattered his opponent’s weapon, Julius pressed his attack against his deeply impressed opponent. If his rainbow strike could inflict even one wound, things would turn considerably in his favor. Cecils, however, had already discarded the bladeless sword and dodged the incoming attack with a backward flip. The Blue Lightning of Volakia nimbly evaded with his legendary speed. Eyes sparkling, the young man then enthusiastically applauded Julius.

“Bravo, bravissimo! Granted, it was only my fifth-best weapon, yet you not only blocked but even destroyed my sword! And to do so with your own special technique! This has gotten me really fired up!

“Cecils. You’ve been ordered to ensure the safe return of the emperor. What’s this about your fifth-best weapon? You know my life is essential to Volakia, as well as your own best interests.”

“Ha-ha-ha, pardon me, Your Majesty. My primary and second-best swords were out for sharpening. Honestly, I overslept today, and when I jumped out of bed, that was the one I grabbed…”

Vincent, standing with his arms crossed, only managed to inspire a moderately embarrassed scratch of the cheek from Cecils. Then this most preeminent of the Nine Divine Generals drew his other sword—one with a truly cruel countenance.

“This is my third-best sword; plus, I think I’ll take off my sandals to fight this time. How about that?”

“With all that I have said, you still think it wise to speak flippantly to me?”

“You know that’s how I am, Your Majesty! Besides, when I really get serious, most opponents don’t last even a few seconds—heavens, they don’t last the blink of an eye. I know it makes for a good show, but as a performer, it’s boring. Please let me decide how to strut my hour upon the stage.”

A more insolent reply to the leader of an empire could hardly have been imagined. But Vincent, arms still crossed, let the matter pass, only giving an affirming nod. Cecils broadened his smile. “I knew I could count on you, Your Majesty! I knew you’d understand!”

“I must say that when we cross blades, I think your third-best sword will suffer the same fate as your fifth.”

“To touch is to be cut. That’s true of every blade, be it a saber or a katana. But then it’s only a matter of not touching. Of cutting off your wrist before you can block me. You’re such a fine-looking opponent, though! I’ll try not to mar your appearance too much.”

“How considerate of you. Perhaps I might hope for yet more kindness. Let me suggest we retire for today and resume this combat at some time less fraught for us both…”

“Ah, you’re making yourself sound less elegant. You won’t talk your way out of this, no matter how pretty your words.”

Julius had known it wouldn’t work. His opponent’s hunger for battle was growing by the minute, and the knight doubted Cecils would let him buy much more time.

Just as he had said, Cecils removed his sandals and stood barefoot on the forest path. If taking off his footwear made him even faster, then Julius was unsure how many more exchanges he could manage. He had played his trump card, used his special move, and yet…

The knight of Lugunica adopted a fighting stance.

“I believe this is my cue,” Cecils said, leveling his third-best sword at the purple-haired man.

An instant later, a massive form came sprawling between them, toppling trees as it went.

“Gooonng, gooogogoong!”

This enormous torso was accompanied by a unique cry as it spat up dust and soared through the air. It finally came to rest spread eagle on the forest floor and covered in dirt. In a fit of violent coughing, a gemstone fell loose from their body.

A being cased in natural armor was difficult to forget; it was Mogro Hagane.

“Mogro?! What in the world happened to you? And why did you have to spoil my performance…?” Cecils, miffed, called out to the Steelfolk from somewhere above. Mogro heard him and, turning what seemed likely to be their head, said:

“Ghnr, Cecils, glad you are here. Enemy very strong—Groovy, losing.”

“Look, sorry, but I’m very busy finishing off my prey, and—Wait, did you just say that both you and Groovy are going to be defeated?”

“Yes. Wait, correction. Think we cannot win. That is all.”

“Most people would call that being inferior! Huh, huh, huh, you Lugunica folks are really something!” Completely ignoring Mogro’s stubborn attempt to maintain their pride, Cecils gave an excited kick of his feet. He kept his sharp eyes trained on where Mogro had come tumbling through the forest. Shortly after, Groovy followed, no less airborne.

“Gah! Bah! Ngha?!” The hyena-man grunted and groaned as he bounced along the ground, until he was stopped when he slammed against Mogro. Groovy rested his back against the Steelfolk’s leg as he unsteadily rose back to his feet.

“Gotta hand it to him; he really packs a punch, damn! That kingdom bastard ain’t normal! Is he even human?!”

Cecils, grinning widely, flitted here and there around the wrathful Groovy, pelting him with questions. “My goodness, he really did work you over! Tell me, Groovy, tell me: What kind of opponent is he? How badly did he beat you up?! Was it a close call? A total defeat? Did you manage to get in a single blow?”

But Groovy refused to play along; he just kept glaring back through the trees. “Shut yer gab hole, ya battle-crazed loon! He’s ours; you just stand there and watch!”

And then, right where Groovy had been looking, a familiar figure emerged…

“Julius, Ferris, are you all right?”

As the man cleared the toppled trees, the pair were sure it was Reinhard. His white royal guard uniform snapped in the wind. Terrifyingly, the red-haired man didn’t have a scratch on him worth mentioning. It was clear at a glance that he had taken on two of the Nine Divine Generals at once and completely overpowered them.

Julius’s entire body relaxed at Reinhard’s appearance. The aura the Sword Saint projected was much the same as that of Cecils and the others. However, mysteriously to Julius, it inspired completely the opposite emotion in him. He gave a slight shake of his hand, trying to work out the last of the pain, and let his stiff face break into a smile.

“You’ve managed to arrive just before we weren’t all right. Ferris can heal my injuries later, I’m sure. Don’t worry about me.”

“Meowha—?! R-right, let me handle it. Ferri’s the best at that sort of thing! I’m not as tough as any of you guys, but I can hold my own when it comes to healing!”

As Julius registered Ferris’s panic-tinged response, he saw the rainbow shimmer fade from his saber.

“Just a moment,” Cecils said, puffing out his cheeks as he realized his opponent was standing down. “Aren’t you being a bit hasty, acting like our battle is over? On the field, a moment’s inattention can cost you your life. Don’t you know that?”

“I thank you for the warning. But it would be rather unfair of me to add my strength in this battle. I’ll recuse myself.”

“…?” Cecils arched an eyebrow in surprise.

With the empire’s strongest fighter flummoxed, Julius gestured toward Reinhard—the kingdom’s strongest fighter—with his chin and said, “Since you claim to be the protagonist of this drama, your rightful counterpart is Reinhard. For I believe he is the one who deserves the title you claim.”

“…Ahh, ha-ha, I see what you’re playing at. You think I’ll go mad at that little taunt, do you? Ha-ha-ha, please!” Cecils wore a half smile while he spoke.

Vincent, arms still crossed, let out a long, soft sigh. “You may.”

“And so I shall! Right, excellent, let’s see just how good this newcomer is!” Cecils took the emperor’s remark as his cue, striking a fighting stance with his third-best sword and promptly disappearing. He had sounded completely at ease during their banter, but the prowess of The Blue Lightning of Volakia was on full display now. Julius was unable to see even Cecils’s ponytail as the general sped forward. The strike, like a bolt from the sky, lashed out at Reinhard’s neck with the power of a storm.

“Aw, you must be joking…”

“Many pardons. It happened to be right at my feet, so I just decided to use it.”

Cecils gazed in amazement at Reinhard, who had just apologized for causing such a surprise. Clutched in the Sword Saint’s hand was a katana, or rather, what remained of one. It was Cecils’s fifth-best sword, the one Julius had shattered.

“…!”

That single exchange was enough to convey Reinhard’s unparalleled strength. Eyes shining, Cecils disappeared again. He went as fast as his namesake, then even faster. Multiple images of the man in the blue kimono began to appear until it seemed as though Reinhard was against an army of a hundred. It was beyond anything Julius’s defensive reflexes might have been able to respond to. This surely must have been Cecils’s last resort.

But if Cecils at his greatest seemed superhuman, then so did Reinhard. The Sword Saint didn’t give an inch of ground, parrying the encroaching attacks with nothing but the hiltless blade of his opponent’s own broken weapon. Reinhard deflected, swept away, and guarded against every strike. With only half a sword, one he had to hold with the tips of his fingers to not cut himself, Reinhard was defending against what was essentially an enchanted sword. Such power was truly something from the realm of nightmares. And if that was how Julius saw it, then how much more did the enemy, the Divine General, think of it?

Yet even in the face of such fearsome strength…

“Think you can keep up with this?!” Cecils unleashed a devastating crosswise cut, but there was a tremble in his voice now. Every mode of attack he had tried had been thoroughly rebuked. Maybe it was amazement—or even fear; either would have been appropriate when confronting Reinhard.

But in fact, the quiver in his voice was not from any excess of emotion. It was from facing this thing head-on…

“More…”

“I believe it’s about time I counterattack,” Reinhard said.

Cecils licked his lips and tensed his waist as he prepared to move even faster. It was only an instant, the blink of an eye in the midst of a thunderstorm, but it wasn’t lost on Reinhard. Swiftly, he drew an arc with one long leg, targeting Cecils’s slim body. His kick sliced through the air with not only beauty, but enough power to split a tree in half with a single blow.

In a battle of swords, the deliberate choice to use a kick sent a very clear message, and it was right to do so—but to choose it during such a clash of titans was tantamount to foolishness.

“Leaving your dear sword sheathed is going to cost you your life!” Cecils exclaimed. Reinhard had left the Dragon Sword at his hip, and now Cecils’s strike came rushing at him. It was a slash designed to catch the incoming kick; even Reinhard couldn’t win in a battle of blade against leg. Consequently, he chose to twist his waist and hip, changing the angle of his strike in midair.

“Wha—?!” With a crack like a whip, the foot that had been coming for his chest was suddenly aimed at Cecils’s delicate neck.

“…!” The impact robbed the Divine General of consciousness, and the man’s eyes rolled back in his head for a moment. The swordsman fell to the ground like a puppet with cut strings.

The empire’s strongest fighter made a thump as he collapsed. It left the two remaining members of the Nine Divine Generals speechless. Julius and Ferris were surprised as well, of course. To them, Reinhard’s victory had never been in doubt, but the degree to which he had overwhelmed Cecils was still a surprise.

“Pride upon pride… To challenge an opponent without understanding his true strength, and to come out like this… I have had quite enough of theatrics. To be defeated without even a chance to use one’s full strength is not in keeping with the principles of the empire.” Vincent seemed a man apart, neither openly surprised nor particularly crestfallen. This was despite the fact that his own general—one of his strongest warriors—had just been defeated. The ruler of Volakia’s attitude of near boredom hadn’t changed. Instead, he turned his attention to his other two generals, still dumbstruck, and said, “And what did the two of you hope to accomplish? Numbers and skill have both failed you. If you insist on expending your lives in this attempt to recover me, I will not stop you, but…”

“Damn it, you don’t have to spell it out! Mogro!” Groovy shouted.

“Understood. Acknowledged. Groovy.” Mogro secured Cecils, propping him against the Steelfolk’s own massive body.

Groovy, scowling, pointed across the woods. “You win this one, ya bastards. But if you harm a hair on His Majesty’s head—well, I’ll cut you up till that hair is the only thing left! Till even the animals won’t eat you!”

“Ferri thinks that makes it sound a lot safer to finish you off right here.”

“Yeah? I’d like to see you try, you pointy-eared punk!”

“Please don’t. Safer for us. I think so.” Mogro tried to calm Groovy’s attempt to put up a strong front. The sparks between them were practically visible. But the escapees likewise thought it would be best to walk back Ferris’s challenge.

“Groovy, Mogro. Tell that fool to use his first- and second-best swords in any future incidents, and that another defeat will not be tolerated. And next time you show up, act like you know what you’re doing. This is of great consequence to me.”

“…Yeah, you got it, Your Majesty.” Groovy nodded disconsolately at the emperor’s parting words. Then Julius and the others fled the field, not dropping their guard. Until the moment they were out of sight, the knights felt the glare of the two conscious Divine Generals at their backs.