Frey had the upper hand throughout her fight, but that wasn’t true for everyone. Although he wasn’t as badly outgunned as Phobio and Esprit, Gabil—who had come in as a reinforcement—had to put up a desperate resistance as his enemy thrashed him around.
Gabil certainly was no pushover. The new strength he had gained had turned him into one of the toughest forces on his side. But his opponent was just too much.
Beethop, one of the Insect Masters, was too strong a foe for Gabil to handle. His EP was over 1.7 million, while Gabil’s was 1.26 million. The difference in existence points wasn’t decisive, but a higher percentage of Beethop’s EP was tied directly to his raw physical ability and combat expertise. He wasn’t bristling with special powers, but that just made him the perfect insectoid for melee combat. That, in turn, made him a poor match for the more jack-of-all-trades Gabil. If he were all by himself, he would’ve tasted defeat long ago. It was only his fighting companion who prevented that from happening.
“Are you all right, Gabil?” Sufia asked.
“Y-yes. Yes, I am still going strong! Do not worry for me, Lady Sufia!”
Gabil and Sufia, who had previously teamed up against Middray during the invasion of Eurazania, were back together in the battle against Beethop. Sufia was also a commander of the Flying Beastly Knights, but for now, that job was left to her troops. Phobio had relinquished his own command earlier, which made the takeover process a bit trickier than usual, but Sufia wasn’t really suited for command work anyway. Once everyone was in place and she had sufficiently propped up their morale, she usually did her own thing. Besides, if she could use her skills as an individual to take down as many enemy generals as possible, that’d lead to better results for everyone.
She was fully aware of this, and in this skirmish as well, she didn’t hesitate to throw herself in. But Zeranus’s forces weren’t going down that easily, and even though they had a two-on-one advantage, it was still an uphill battle.
“Good, good! This is how things should be fought!”
Beethop laughed, clearly excited. In a way, he was drunk on his own power. Defeating the weak with his overwhelming force was a source of constant enjoyment; for him, a battle was like a game he was always guaranteed to win. In that respect, Gabil and Sufia were the perfect opponents for him. One at a time wouldn’t have been enough excitement—and this scenario, where he was at a numerical disadvantage, was another novel thrill for Beethop.
That was why he enjoyed this fight so much, even though he could have finished them off much sooner. Such impure motivations were easily telegraphed to his opponents, and they made Gabil and Sufia deplore their lack of ability as they desperately searched for a way to win.
“I have met many strong opponents in my time,” said Gabil, “but you seem to be the strongest of them all.”
“Oh? Do I? How nice to hear! But I won’t go easy on you!”
Beethop really did sound happy about it. Gabil and Sufia, meanwhile, were loudly shouting their displeasure.
“Ha! Don’t make me laugh! Like you were fighting seriously at all up to now!”
“Yeah, you said it. If you’re a warrior, start acting like one! Don’t just torment your foes like this!”
Beethop wasn’t trying to coast at all, but he was certainly keen on prolonging the fun as much as possible. Gabil and Sufia could tell. It offended them both, but thanks to that, they were still alive, which made it even more irritating. Being saved by the arrogant pride of your enemy was nothing but humiliation.
Gabil, exasperated with the situation, took a swig of healing potion. Sufia did the same, chugging an expensive Full Potion without a second thought. But none of the many wounds that covered their bodies showed any sign of disappearing. The reason was simple—the existence points on both of them had surpassed what these potions could handle. Sufia herself had evolved, influenced by Carillon’s own awakening, and her EP was up to just under half a million. That wasn’t as high as Gabil, but it was still in a class of its own, up there with high-level magic-born and members of the Crusaders. Even a medicine potent enough to replace whole limbs on a regular person couldn’t do much on a body like hers.
Full Potions worked by energizing the cells of a body with magicules, compensating as needed to reconstruct any missing parts. But the cells that comprised these magic-born were already densely packed with magicules, so a potion or two wouldn’t reconstruct much of anything. Both of them had already used over a hundred potions during this battle. Sprinkling it on their bodies was effective enough for slight wounds, so they were both drenched all over with the stuff.
“Good thing we improved how these things taste,” Gabil remarked. “I think I’m going to take a looong break from potions after this.”
“You said it,” Sufia agreed. “I liked the strawberry flavor at first, but I feel so bloated now.”
Sufia, more dependent on healing potions than Gabil, sounded like she’d had her fill for a long time to come. But she was lucky to still be safe and sound—thanks in part to her training with Middray. For the past few months, they had both been learning the art of close-range combat with him. If it weren’t for the defensive screen provided by Battlewill, which they had gained something of a mastery of, they would’ve died before they could even pop the cork on a potion.
But all it took was a change in Beethop’s mood for that streak of luck to end.
“Whoa, whoa, is Torun dead?” he asked.
He ignored Gabil and Sufia’s chitchat as soon as he realized Frey had taken down one of his allies. When a battle was that evenly matched, a single collapse in one corner could have a domino effect. Beethop, well aware of this, decided playtime was over.
“Oh well. I wanted to take my time finishing you off, but I’ll have to break out one of my secret moves instead.”
It wasn’t that he had been strictly playing around so far; it was just that his foes were doing better than he expected. But the fight had remained even only because Beethop was pacing himself. He didn’t want to tap into his full strength yet—a fighting style that had much in common with Carillon’s—so he conserved his energy as he dealt with them. But with one of his companions down, he couldn’t worry about some indistinct future. It was time to switch to annihilation mode.
“You will die,” he whispered—and then he disappeared.
Using his leg strength, he closed the distance between him and Sufia at once, even more instantaneously than what Instantmove could accomplish. Then he landed a kick on Sufia. She was, of course, using Magic Sense to track Beethop instead of relying on her eyes. She used to fight strictly with her own latent skills, but she was graduating from that style and polishing her tactics.
But Beethop was just moving too fast. It was no wonder—he was attacking with all his might, without a single thought given to any damage he’d take.
“Gahh?!” Sufia gasped.
Sufia barely protected herself with both arms, but she paid a grim price for it. Her crossed arms were crushed, and then she received an intensely powerful kick to the abdomen.
“Lady Sufia…?!” Gabil shouted as Beethop stopped, still in his kicking stance. Gabil readied himself, eyes turned fully toward Sufia. She was just barely alive.
Mmh…just one blow, and look at the state she’s in…, thought Gabil.
Sufia was no longer in any shape to remain on the front line. Gabil found it a stroke of luck that she was alive at all. But even that thought was naive of him. As a warrior, Gabil wasn’t in the habit of unnecessarily hurting his defeated opponents. It was against his own ethic to go out of his way to kill someone even after victory was assured. He understood, of course, that this was a battlefield, and that some people think of killing as a way of achieving justice. He just didn’t think anyone would bother pursuing an already-routed foe for no good reason.
In other words, Gabil assumed Beethop was like him—a skilled warrior—and wouldn’t take any action that’d leave him open to attack. But reality can be cruel that way. Turning his back to Gabil, Beethop swung the leg that was still hanging in the air down upon Sufia.
“Rrgh!”
There was a dull thud as Sufia vomited blood. Beethop’s foot had shattered her heart. And Gabil, who was using his accelerated thought process, realized exactly what was happening. At this rate, she was absolutely going to die.
No… He’s prioritizing finishing her off so much that he’s leaving himself open to me? …Or he must be sure he could withstand anything I could throw at him?
It was a humiliating thought, but Gabil didn’t think he was mistaken. The difference in skill between Gabil and Beethop made that scenario seem extremely likely.
So he contemplated. His mind was a mess, but his thoughts, at least, were calm. Should he risk it all on this opportunity he was given and aim for victory? Or…
The choice is obvious. A choice that Sir Rimuru will undoubtedly praise me for, no less!
It took less than a moment for his mind to be made up. Whether this plan would work was a gamble—but Gabil had supreme confidence in his own powers.
“I’m not letting you die, Lady Sufia!”
With that shout, he hurled his Vortex Spear—his precious possession, one he valued as his comrade in arms—at Beethop. Then as Beethop evaded it, he rushed toward Sufia…and unleashed his power. He wasn’t entirely sure whether it’d work on people besides him, but trusting in it was the only way to help Sufia.
“Destiny, return for me! Hear my wishes and work a miracle!” Gabil prayed. He believed with every fiber of his being that Sufia would come back to life, and that he had the power to help with that. And then Alter Destiny—the power of Moodmaker, his ultimate gift—began to rewrite the tragedy that was about to come.
Beethop, who had left himself wide open to Gabil in the middle of battle, turned toward him, giving him a quizzical look. He quickly reasoned that if his foe had given up his spear, he must have given up the fight as well.
“Fool,” Beethop said, sneering at him. “I’ll send you right along to where your friend is going.”
Even to those who had lost all will to fight, Beethop showed no mercy. Mercy, he believed, led to nothing but carelessness. Low-level insectors had no concept of mercy—or any emotions, for that matter—so the fact Beethop understood what love was showed how exceptional a member of his race he was. To those fighting him, though, that was cold comfort at best.
A gust of wind danced across the battlefield. Beethop, once again unleashing his power, executed his trademark Spindle Kick, aiming it squarely at Gabil. The alionium covering his outstretched foot shone with a dull radiance, seeming to spell doom for Gabil’s continued existence. But that future never arrived. Destiny had been altered, and Sufia was fully restored.
“Look the hell out, Gabil!” she shouted.
As soon as she was resurrected, Sufia took evasive action, following her instincts to warn Gabil of the danger. Gabil promptly rolled out of the way, as if driven by her voice. Beethop’s kick wound up cracking the ground under him, but both Gabil and Sufia safely avoided the danger.
“Phew…you saved me,” Gabil said.
“You saved me, I’d say,” replied Sufia. “I thought I was dead, but you got me out of that.”
“Yes… It was a do-or-die wager, but I’m tremendously glad it worked!”
The relief at escaping that crisis made the ensuing conversation far more casual than it would have been otherwise. But Beethop was still there. The real fight was just beginning.
“Oh…? I thought I killed you,” he said. “Why are you all right?”
“I love explaining how that works, but don’t expect me to tell you!” Sufia scoffed.
“Pfft. Very well. I’ll just finish the job next time.”
Cutting off the chat, Beethop mustered his strength once more. But Gabil interrupted him.
“Don’t bother trying. I happened to notice just now that you cannot use your strength continuously without end. Am I right? Otherwise, you wouldn’t have any reason to waste time talking to us.”
Gabil sounded confident. Beethop had speed that outclassed Apito’s, and his punches and kicks had just as much weight as Geld’s. He moved with almost total freedom, accelerating and stopping in quick and unpredictable ways, and not even Apito could copy his level of agility. Keeping up with it was a difficult task, and dodging his strikes seemed all but impossible. That was what made Gabil start to wonder.
Apito herself told me that speeding up is easy enough, but stopping on a dime is much harder. Hinata used magic to twist the law of inertia in her favor, making all kinds of mind-boggling moves possible—but I don’t think this foe is relying on any magic. That leaves one scenario…
Either he was using some special latent skill to rewrite physics for himself or he was relying on brute force. So Gabil kept watching him, keeping those two possibilities firmly in mind. Then he noticed it—after every attack, Beethop was using Ultraspeed Regeneration on his own body. Through this, he could push his body beyond its limits to fight. There was one good way to put a stop to this—if he kept forcing himself to attack in ways his body couldn’t handle, Beethop was bound to self-destruct in time. All Gabil had to do was focus entirely on defense and wait for that moment to arrive.
Still, these were attacks from a powerful foe, one using a kind of doping to make himself even stronger. A moment of inattention would lead to death from a single blow. It was almost too dangerous a tightrope to walk. The overcharged attacks Beethop was risking his own life to unleash came at several times the speed of Apito’s, and even worse, they really could kill Gabil in one shot if they hit him in the right place. A hit to any arm or leg would blow it clean off; even a glancing strike could cause major damage.
Gabil knew putting up with this barrage would make this a tough battle. So he tried to make Beethop rethink his tactics. Even without doping himself, Beethop could still outclass him. If he knew his trick was exposed, Gabil hoped, maybe he would revert to a more traditional strategy.
“…”
An awkward silence. But it was Beethop’s loud laughter that broke it.
“Ga-ha-ha-ha-ha! Good, good! As weak as you are, you still never fail to amuse me!”
The mood around him changed once more.
“Yes, I admit it. That’s what I was doing. And now, I promise you I will make a full effort to kill you!”
The bet didn’t pay off.
“What?!”
Gabil didn’t like where this was going. He made this big show, trying to act as cool as possible, and there was no backing out. Sufia was behind him, too, so running away was out of the question. At this point, all he could do was say his prayers and do whatever he could to survive.
If I at least had the Vortex Spear in hand…
He had just casually tossed aside the treasured spear of the lizardmen and wanted to go grab it, but he doubted Beethop would ever let him.
So Gabil steeled himself. And the moment all his senses were honed to a sharp point…
“Sir Gabil! You dropped this!”
The voice of Sukero entered the scene. He himself soon followed, Vortex Spear in hand, trying to look as heroic as possible.
“This guy’s been fighting alongside us this whole time, hasn’t he? Don’t just let go of it like that.”
“Indeed,” Kakushin replied with a nod.
“Truly! With this weapon, Sir Gabil, you’re the strongest in the world! So hurry up and whip that guy for us!”
Yashichi, as usual, was harming Gabil more than helping him. But even the Vortex Spear itself was trembling in Sukero’s hands, as if to acknowledge its master.
“All of you…” Gabil could feel hot tears well up in his eyes.
…Hmm? Wait. Why is the spear pulsing like that, as if it’s got a heartbeat?
It seemed like an important thing to address. But…
“We believe in you, Sir Gabil,” said Sukero.
“Indeed!” agreed Kakushin.
“You’re about to show off big-time for us, aren’t you, Sir Gabil?” added Yashichi.
His three assistants were expecting a lot from him, although it felt like they were pushing him into the abyss rather than cheering for him. Yashichi in particular was less than welcome. He may have been blissfully unaware of it, but every word from him cornered Gabil more and more.
There was no longer any time to think about what was up with the spear. Gabil stood strong and puffed out his chest as usual.
But then something unusual happened: Sufia offered her encouragement as well.
“Yeah, I have to agree. These guys are right, Gabil. Even to me, you look really cool. About as cool as Sir Carillon, in fact.”
A bombshell for Gabil.
What? I’m…I’m cool?
Sufia’s voice echoed in Gabil’s head. He could no longer think about anything else. Beethop, the lethal threat right in front of him, couldn’t have been farther from his mind. What else could he do? Gabil had never received a compliment from the opposite sex before. Certainly people had given him longing looks behind his back, but Gabil tended to be oblivious about that sort of thing. He’d never notice the subtleties of a woman’s heart, and his personality was fundamentally incompatible with romance. Thus, he had been constantly extending his “no girlfriend” record for all his adult days.
And now Sufia was saying he was “cool” out of nowhere. This was the most monumental moment in Gabil’s life.
I have to say it! If I let this chance pass by, I may well never have a girl…
Gabil drummed up his courage. It’s said that the threat of looming death stimulates the urge to procreate and produce offspring in the minds of most animals, and that was exactly the state he was in.
“Ah, um… How to put it? I, er, sometimes, you know, I look at you, Lady Sufia, and I…I think you are beautiful, and, ahh…”
He could have chosen a more romantic backdrop than this battlefield for confessing his feelings to her. The timing made the audience want to wail in despair. His courage was exhausted in an instant, his voice trailing off to a near-whisper as he put the words together. The fact he couldn’t even finish the thought was typical Gabil behavior, too.
But despite how pathetic he felt about it, his confession got through to Sufia.
“Huh?!” she said. “S-seriously…? You think I’m beautiful?”
Not cute, but beautiful. This extreme situation was making Sufia lose her mind, too. One could see that by how her voice had ratcheted up an octave or two. In a way, they were a perfect match.
“Um, well, yes!”
Gabil was right not to deny it. If he did, destiny would likely have taken him down a different path. But by choosing the right answer, he had Lady Luck beginning to smile at him.
“Ahh, Gabil, what could I ever do with you?” Sufia mused. “But now’s a bad time. Once we beat him and this battle is over, I’ll give you a little thank-you smooch!”
Sufia was in such high spirits that she didn’t even understand what she was saying. The situation got her so carried away that she made what she’d otherwise call a completely preposterous promise.
But Gabil still had his feet on the ground. He took Sufia’s words to heart.
A…a smooch? Does she mean…a kiss? So she’s not going to beat me up over this?!
This was unprecedented. His panicked brain was running at top gear, trying to assess this monumental event. And the trio of Yashichi, Kakushin, and Sukero were there to egg him on.
“Wow, Sir Gabil! What a stud!”
“Phew! What a surprise. I knew you always come through in a pinch, but confessing your love on a battlefield? That’s just too bold!”
“Indeed! This is how a true man lives his life!”
“““Three cheers for Gabil! Three cheers for Gabil! Woooooo!!”””
They were singing for him, and there was no stopping them. So Gabil shut off his brain and let his body dance among them. This whole process had repeated itself so often, it was all muscle memory to him.
His mind was immersed in all manner of happy fantasies.
Ee-hee-hee! At long last, I have a girlfriend. Ha-haaa! It’s hard, isn’t it, being such an attractive man?!
It was beyond too early for that talk, but since it was strictly Gabil’s own fantasy scenario, no one found out about it.
Beethop was losing his patience. He thought all this was a trap at first, but the three lizardmen who came on the scene weren’t showing any signs of joining the fight. That was helpful for him. Beethop had already been forcibly enhancing his battle skills by dangerous and possibly injurious means, so he couldn’t afford any more surprises. He could heal his injuries with Ultraspeed Regeneration, of course, but the vast amount of energy it consumed was a problem. His main aim was to recover his strength without having to overexert himself so he could finish off everybody at once.
Now his stamina was back up to maximum. There was no longer any need for restraint, so Beethop was ready to resume his pummeling of Gabil—or, really, he wanted to kill him with a single blow.
Ignoring me, going on about all this meaningless nonsense… Well, fine. Time to teach you exactly where you stand with me!
The anger within him compelled Beethop to break out another Spindle Kick, this time on Gabil. But then something truly surprising happened.
“Do not get in my way, you! I am experiencing one of the most epoch-making moments of my life!!” As Gabil shouted this, he struck Beethop with his spear…and that alone sent Beethop flying helplessly into the air. It was an unbelievable turn of events, and it made the awestruck Beethop open all his compound eyes wide.
“What did you just do?!” Beethop exclaimed.
Gabil wasn’t listening.
“L-Lady Sufia, by ‘smooch,’ what did you mean, exactly?”
Only then did Sufia realize exactly what she had said to him. It made her blush terribly, but she couldn’t take that offer back now.
“Well…you know,” she said, trying to make it sound as trivial and inconsequential as possible.
Gabil nodded several times at her. “I hear you loud and clear! And I swear I will fight with all my might until victory is mine!!”
He was fully roused. Any despair he might have felt a moment ago was gone. Whether he’d win or not no longer mattered—he would win. It was with this energized fighting spirit that he glared at Beethop.
“Don’t mess with me, you worm.”
Gabil’s attitude made Beethop furious. How could someone this inferior have such an inflated opinion of himself? But at the same time, Beethop didn’t forget the strange phenomenon that had just occurred. He thought it was just a coincidence, but now he was on the lookout for anything that might happen.
But was it really a coincidence? I attacked him many times, intending to kill. I didn’t go easy on him… I could even feel my blows hitting home. So why the hell is he still alive?
His instincts told him this wasn’t just happenstance. He readied himself against his foe, who was proving more dangerous than he looked. Gabil, on the other hand, was still basking in the thought that he might’ve just landed a girlfriend. Their minds were in two completely different places—and as sad as it must have been for Beethop, the world can be a very absurd place sometimes.
“Here I go!” Gabil shouted, sneering at his foe.
Beethop silently acknowledged him…and then, the next moment, they crossed paths. There was no restraint—Beethop was pushing beyond his maximum force, spinning his entire body like a drill as he flew at supersonic speed. All his power was concentrated into a pair of alionium poison needles protruding from his fists. This was Spindle Needle Spear, his most powerful finishing move.
Gabil, meanwhile, was sticking to fundamentals as he held his Vortex Spear forward. Keeping himself calm, he stared at Beethop, waiting for the right moment to fire off his own special move. Two large whirlpools swelled and collided on the battlefield…and in the end, it was Beethop who fell.
“Vortex Crash!”
Gabil’s special move cut right through Beethop.
“Whoaaa!”
“So cool, Sir Gabil!”
“Indeed, an impressive sight!”
The half-shocked praise from Gabil’s trio of lackeys was to be expected. All the struggling up to then seemed like a mirage compared with this dominating attack. Beethop wasn’t being careless or complacent, and this was what happened to him.
The secret lay in the Vortex Spear itself. Gabil was too preoccupied with his potential new girlfriend to notice, but amid this crisis, the spear had evolved into a God-class weapon—one that, of course, recognized Gabil as its fitting and proper master. Thanks to that, Gabil’s overall existence points now exceeded Beethop’s. The two were almost matched in battle skill, and after that clash, it was Gabil who emerged victorious.
“““Gaa-bil! Gaa-bil! Gaa-bil!!”””
He did a little victory dance as the trio cheered for him. Sufia watched, smiling…and then remembered the promise she made. She blushed—something Gabil didn’t fail to notice. He blushed, too. They stood there for a bit, frozen and gazing at each other.
“Y’know, I think we better leave these lovebirds alone.”
“Indeed!”
“Best of luck to you, Sir Gabil!”
The lackeys quickly took their leave. Gabil and Sufia didn’t much relish the idea of being alone, but even there, one had to admit they were a good match for each other. Between Gabil’s confession and the roller coaster of a battle they just experienced, it didn’t take long for them to finally be honest with each other.
That day on the battlefield, spring arrived in Gabil’s life.
The death of Torun the Insect Master wound up triggering major changes across the battlefield, and that was true for more than just Gabil and Sufia. Carillon, Middray, and Obela were also watching the situation closely, wary of the apparent shift in the balance of power. Now was the time, they thought, to go all in.
Carillon was the first to move.
“Heh! Frey won, huh? Well, I’m not about to lose, either.” He smiled boldly as he glared at Abalt.
With all the limbs Abalt boasted, he was talented in both melee combat and magical fighting. His slender legs, flexible and covered in an exoskeleton of alionium, were sharper than a spear as they plunged into foes. He could then use his free limbs to connect magical seals, letting him invoke spells without any casting time.
This combination of magic and unique physical skills made it seem like Carillon was in trouble at first. But the reality was different. Carillon was biding his time, waiting for his opportunity. How could he conserve Burst Roar, his finisher, and defeat Abalt with as little effort as possible? That was the thought on his mind as he probed Abalt for weak points.
Right from the start of battle, Carillon realized he had an advantage. But that didn’t mean he was taking it easy. Abalt’s strength was the real thing, and if Carillon let his guard down, he could very easily be defeated. He also had a gut feeling that trying to rush the fight would lead to needless injury and unnecessary danger. He was right to think so, too. Abalt entered a runaway fugue state whenever his strength was about to run out, tripling his attack and healing powers. If it happened to him, Carillon would suddenly have a lot of trouble to deal with—at worst, he’d lose the fight.
But once his wild intuition clued him in on this possibility, he was able to hold his own on the front line without issue. And as he did, he read and recognized all of Abalt’s other habits, too. Once he grasped how much time was needed to invoke magic again after a spell, along with the time it took Abalt to retract a pointed limb after a strike, Carillon waited for his foe to unleash both at once. Then, at long last, it happened. The defeat of Torun the Insect Master at the hands of Frey caused Abalt to be impatient.
“I was waiting for that. Beast Roar!!”
The technique burrowed its way through Abalt’s torso. The flash of magic particles further expanded the effect, completely swallowing Abalt up.
Middray was calmly observing the battlefield. Sarill, the Insect Master before him, barely registered in his mind. He was always in perfect control of his own body, always exerting only a certain amount of force at a time. If he wanted to, he could even adjust his body to the level of his opponent, allowing him to more purely enjoy the act of combat. In that respect (and that one alone), he shared a tendency or two with Diablo.
That was Middray’s habit, and he had fallen back on that habit with Sarill.
“Hmm… You’re not committing well,” Middray said. “You seem to be confident in your poison skills, but that won’t work on me. If your poison tail-based attack style is no longer effective, what will you do then?”
There was a taunting tone to his voice.
“You conceited little…!” Sarill snapped at Middray’s mockery. But while his anger increased the force behind his attack, it meant little if he couldn’t hit a target with it. His style in this fight had grown repetitive and monotonous—exactly what Middray wanted.
It would have been easy to just finish him off, but Middray refrained from that because of a new, eerie presence he sensed.
What is this strange, sticky feeling? Hmm…I can feel it probing my powers… Oh, have you lost interest, then? I suppose I should take that to mean it could kill me anytime it wants…
The presence reminded Middray of Milim, whom he worshipped as a god. But there was none of the warmth Milim usually gave him. This was far colder, devoid of any emotion, and more than a tad frightening as a result.
So Middray opted to keep Sarill alive as he tried to work out what this was.
Hmm… I must hand it to Obela. She’s spotted this, too.
Obela, too, was observing the battlefield instead of wrapping up the fight against her Insect Master opponent. The difference in strength between them would have allowed Obela to defeat this insector in an instant, so Middray was sure she was thinking the same thing he was.
No one else seemed to have noticed. That was certainly true for Carrera as she took on Zeth; their battle was intense, with no room for anyone else to get involved, and she certainly didn’t have the free time to focus on anything else. The same was true for Geld. The Insect Master he faced, resembling an anthropomorphized giant centipede, had the second highest EP after Piriod and seemed like a fairly even match with Geld. He couldn’t afford to worry about other matters, and Middray didn’t want to needlessly worry him.
The duo of Gobta and Ranga were in way over their heads with Piriod, of course, so they couldn’t have noticed, either. Nonetheless, Middray was truly grateful they came on the scene at that point. The way things stood, Phobio and Esprit were doomed, and Middray feared he’d have to step in to rescue them. He appreciated not having to—this new, eerie presence was too concerning to make any sudden moves. He resolved to repay the favor by helping Gobta out with his training later, although Gobta was unlikely to see that as a “favor” at all.
All this had prolonged the stalemate for a while, but things were on the move. Frey had defeated the Insect Master Torun, Gabil had taken out Beethop, and Carillon had just wrapped up with Abalt.
Now, though, that ominous presence that filled the battlefield felt to Middray like it had grown denser and more dangerous. He didn’t know why, but something bad was happening. He was convinced of that, and he was bracing himself for it. His colleagues Carillon and Frey, having won their respective battles, seemed to have finally picked up on the presence—their instincts probably spotted it long ago, but now they were convinced something was up.
Those two still have work to do as well, don’t they? They fight decently enough at this point, but they need to learn how to pay attention to their surroundings. They’ll have trouble keeping up with Lady Milim otherwise.
It was a rather harsh evaluation, but that was how Middray really felt.
“Keh-heh-heh!” Sarill laughed. “You’ve had fun mocking me, haven’t you? I hate to break out my best moves against you, but whatever.”
Seeing Middray treat him like a second thought incensed Sarill. Stabbing himself with his own poison-tipped tail, he activated his fugue state on his own volition.
“Hmm…”
With Sarill’s speed and strength multiplied several times over, not even Middray could afford to play around any longer. Despite the deep foreboding in his mind, he decided to finish up this fight—and when he was serious about fighting, he was a menace. Using his palpable fighting aura to bind the advancing Sarill, he immediately rendered him helpless—and after that, a sure-kill frontal strike was all it took to make Sarill’s body burst into a million pieces. A true one-hit kill. Middray was a man strong enough to be Milim’s training partner (or playmate), and this man of steel had just lived up to his reputation once more.
But his face was filled with gloom.
“Not good. The chill has only grown stronger.” Middray looked up at the sky, which had filled with dark clouds. A little voice in the back of his head told him killing Sarill would be a mistake.
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