Shion, watching Adalmann and his forces begin the fight, was ready to go.
“Did you hear that, guys? I’m not here to give a long speech. Do you know what you have to do?”
“““Yeahhhhhhh! Commandeer equipment from our foes!”””
Shion’s soldiers were always reliable that way. They read their leader’s thoughts accurately, and they couldn’t wait to get moving. Shion gave them all a satisfied nod.
Team Reborn, along with Shion’s elite guard/fan club, had grown to an astonishing size. Shion had only begun to think about the cost of equipping and supplying them, but that was an issue members like Gobzo had been having headaches over for a long time.
The only offered solution was to give up, essentially. All of Shion’s troops were capable fighters, so it was decided they could obtain their own weapons and armor. So it was perfectly acceptable for them not to have matching gear…but their procurement process was taking an absurd new turn. Gobzo was afraid someone might yell at them afterward, but things like that were normal around there, so he accepted it without much protest.
Normally, plundering the enemy’s goods was a forbidden act. Looting from citizens, too, was unacceptable. But all that was a matter of perspective. Maybe you couldn’t take stuff from soldiers, but what if you were just disarming the enemy to neutralize them? Given how Adalmann was clearly distributing weapons seized from the Empire to his undead, the handling of enemy weapons was often left to the whim of the commander.
Heh-heh-heh! Even Adalmann’s procured equipment for his force. There’s no way I can’t do that!
With that, Shion had a slightly higher opinion of herself. She thought about asking Rimuru to do it for her, but changed her mind—it sounded like begging to her. One could say this was Shion maturing, but given her chosen solution of robbing the enemy blind, maybe she still had a lot of maturing left to do.
It was certainly a morale boost, though, and Shion herself was newly motivated. The army of giants before them was wearing equally large armor—a treasure trove of materials ready for the taking. It was enough to bring a smile to anyone’s face.
Taking a closer look at Shion’s force…
Team Reborn, which consisted of under a hundred members, were treated as officers. Now that Rimuru had named them all, promoting them to death-onis, even the weakest among them were ranked over-A. They could be called hornless demons, and they ran the gamut—some recruited platoons from Shion’s elite guard, while others preferred the lone wolf lifestyle. There was even this young girl with an entourage of men around her at all times. You saw pretty much everything with them.
Then there was Shion’s elite guard/fan club. This was led by Daggra, Liura, and Chonkra, with Gobzo as “honorary president.” This usually meant “honorary gofer to Shion,” though, so it wasn’t a very lofty role.
This elite guard (also known as the Terror Knights) was a ragtag band of many different species, and around three thousand of them were geared for military service. They had been trained hard through previous fighting, and like the death knights, they had grown to be the elites of their ranks. In this battle, too, they were going to be the main force on the ground, in the truest sense of the word.
There was just one problem.
“Are you sure you wanna do this? If you wanna go back to your dad, now’s the time,” said Gobzo.
Yes, the relationship between Daggrull and his sons. There had to be family affection between them—Gobzo feared they wouldn’t take this seriously, lest one of them died. Nobody from Shion on down thought the sons would suddenly turn traitor; they just wondered if old sentiments might keep them from trying hard at all.
“Gobzo’s right,” Shion said. “You’re free to come back after the fight is over, okay? And there’s no need to push too hard either way.”
But Daggra, Liura, and Chonkra laughed off the idea.
“No need to worry! Whether it’s my dad or my uncle, we’re gonna beat them silly!”
“Yeah! Gotta show ’em what we’re made of!”
“Fwehhhh-heh-heh! I can feel my stomach rising!”
Stomach rising? thought Shion. Doesn’t he mean heartbeat? What’s wrong with him?
Then again, Chonkra always did talk funny that way. And he was pretty overweight. Maybe his stomach did expand when he was ready to fight, although she didn’t see how that’d help him.
She had gotten sick of pointing out his eccentricities, though, so she gracefully ignored this. If the kids said they would be okay, they’d be okay—probably.
The problem was their dad and uncle. Rimuru told Shion Daggrull’s change of heart seemed to be related to his brothers. There were two of them, with one being a potential major headache.
“I heard Daggrull had a younger brother. Tell me what you know about that.”
Shion asked the question point-blank, regretting not bringing it up sooner.
“Right!” Daggra sharply replied. “He’s got two younger brothers, actually. Uncle Glasord, his second-in-command, we know really well. He’s taken care of us a lot and stuff. That Fenn guy, though, I’ve never met.”
“From what I heard, he was confined somewhere because he did a lot of really bad stuff,” Liura added. “They say he beat Dad, too, which I found kinda hard to believe. If you believe the rumors, though, then maybe.”
This info wasn’t all that useful, but Shion still sagely nodded. “I see, I see. Yes, Daggrull was certainly strong. I was hoping to ask him for a match, but if this Fenn’s just as strong, he could be a threat.”
Judging by her intrepid smile, she didn’t think any of them were a threat at all.
Chonkra, who apparently looked up to her a lot, followed her lead. “Yeah, well, if you leave it to us, my dad and my uncle are gonna be a cinch!”
Shion was beginning to feel a tad uneasy. It was weird how what sounded so eloquent from her lips seemed so childish from his.
“But you know,” warned Ultima, “you better stay on your guard. Daggrull really was a force to be reckoned with. If I didn’t give my all, it’d be tough for me, too.”
Shion, to her credit, agreed. She wanted to challenge him, but she didn’t think she could win. She had gone toe-to-toe with Daggrull before, after all, and she just wanted to test her skills against a trained military type like him.
“It’s still hard to believe he, of all people, would betray us,” said Shion.
“Hmm, I dunno if it’s ‘betray’ so much as he had something else he wanted to do, y’know? We’ll find out if we beat him, so no point thinking about it now.”
Ultima sounded pretty matter-of-fact about it. Daggrull was a local god, a natural sort of creation, a super-being that had lived far longer than the human race. Creatures that long-lived tended to be aware of each other, which naturally led to relationships of all sorts. He might be acquainted with Feldway, for all Ultima knew—and if so, the word “betray” didn’t quite fit.
Either way, merely thinking about it wouldn’t produce an answer. Now that they were enemies, he didn’t need to go easy at all. Whoever won got to be right.
“Not too long ago,” Shion added, “I would have challenged Daggrull to a one-on-one duel.”
She really would do that, not even thinking about whether she’d win. Everyone around her was aware of that.
Now, too, Shion thought this would all be a lot easier if she just beat Daggrull herself. She’d come to realize going wild like that wasn’t recommended, especially now that she was a military commander…but still…
“But now, I’m starting to come up with actual strategies and things,” she continued. “I feel like I’ve gained a lot.”
Shion was pleased with how much her mind had expanded. But no one agreed with her. No one, that is, until Chonkra opened his stupid mouth again.
“Huh? You haven’t gained anything, Lady Shion! You don’t look fat at all!”
Oh man, thought everyone at the same time, he’s so dead.
Chonkra, the youngest of the brothers, had the weirdest body. No matter how much he ate, all the nutrition seemed to skip his brain and go straight into widening him even more. He was easily the least intelligent of the three brothers and the most unserious. His room-reading skills were even worse than Gobzo’s, as he blundered into all these social faux pas without even thinking.
The comment, of course, infuriated Shion. She certainly wasn’t fat—and she didn’t really worry about her weight anyway—but she couldn’t help getting irate.
“Ohhh?” Shion smiled and clenched her fists. Then she plunged one of those fists into Chonkra’s stomach.
It was a corkscrew punch, as they called it.
“You need to learn how to act normal already, you fool,” she began, lecturing Chonkra as he rolled around on the ground.
“Wh-what a reward this is…”
A warm smile came across his face as he lost consciousness. His brothers looked chagrined it wasn’t them—they weren’t too bright, either, although they beat Chonkra by a long shot. Shion, charged with training them, was starting to grow vaguely afraid of how amazingly awful they all were.
They were amazing guys, yes; she was going less and less easy on them in training as time went on. Chonkra, for example, had just took a nearly full-on punch unguarded, and all it did was make him faint for a bit; his body was still in fine shape. In endurance, at the very least, he stood head and shoulders above his brothers.
This world could be home to some truly terrifying characters…in many ways. But if those guys were your friends, then you couldn’t ask for more. Shion believed in all three with all her heart, and as she eyed them, she let her thoughts wander a bit.
The enemy could not be allowed to break the Long Wall, no matter what. Beyond it lay the undefended holy hand, and beyond that was human civilization. The region wasn’t very easy to defend, and if they lost the wall, it’d mean Rimuru’s ideal scenario was even less likely to happen. Shion wouldn’t tolerate that, a fact she etched into her mind once more.
How powerful would Daggrull really be?
They say he’s on par with Sir Veldora. He’d certainly be a worthy opponent for me! Even if I lose, we still have Ultima and Lady Luminus. In the end, you know we’ll—
There was Daggrull and his two brothers, plus unnamed powerhouses they didn’t know about yet. Even in the face of this largely unknown enemy, Shion’s will to fight never faltered. If the worst happened—if she lost her entire army, if Shion herself fell—she was still determined to destroy Daggrull there, by the wall.
“Listen to me!” she said. “Adalmann’s force might have fired the first salvos, but the real warriors always show up for the final act! So give all these fools a taste of your power!”
Morale was high among her troops as she loudly declared this. The crowd roared in response, like a bunch of fans attending a pop concert. For Shion and her followers, there was nothing to be tense about.
Shion gave them a fearless smile, encouraging and empowering her friends. Ultima, listening to the whole exchange, snickered. Shion’s eyes were already those of a predator staring down their prey.
She must know Daggrull’s better than her…but talk about mental toughness. I could learn from her, thought Ultima, in a secret show of respect.
To Shion, even an army of giants was nothing more than a learning and growing experience. That die-hard optimism was something even Ultima, a spiritual life-form, sought for herself. It was an ideal she could learn a great deal from, and it was little wonder Diablo approved of her. In fact, Ultima was willing to do anything she could to support her.
Now, she thought, was the right moment.
“The operation is going well as planned,” Ultima said. “I think you should probably get ready, Shion.”
As she pointed out, Adalmann himself was about to make a move to break the stalemate. The war had just begun, and it was only going to explode from there.
Adalmann climbed on top of Venti, in her true form as a Gehenna Dragon, and took to the skies.
Venti soared high, as if she had been waiting for this moment. She was in her original evil dragon form, happily throwing her ominous mystical energy around. This could kill a human with weak resistance to it, but it actually gave Adalmann more power. He felt quite comfortable amid this force as he peered down at the battlefield.
“Looking good so far,” he muttered.
The low-level undead were helpless after firing all their missiles. They were just waiting to be overrun at this point, but given their humble position in life (or death), they deserved praise for putting up such a good fight.
Adalmann nodded to himself.
“Well, the attack I’m about to break out is rather…inhumane. Should I give them a warning?” he wondered aloud.
He didn’t see the need to. These invaders were fundamentally incompatible with him. And a voice beside him agreed.
“Well, this isn’t a duel, so verbal statements wouldn’t mean much. Better to win by underhanded means than lose after abandoning our superior position.”
Master Gadora had been following along via his flight magic. His comment made Adalmann laugh. They always were good friends.
“Very true,” Adalmann said. “In that case, I’ll just unleash my biggest, flashiest magic and give them the fright of their lives.”
“Then it’s a race, isn’t it? I want to settle for good which one of us is better!”
Gadora was all for it…and so they began to cast spells, each hoping to fire one off first.
Both he and Adalmann could invoke magic without any casting time needed, but when it came to extreme magic, going through the casting process helped keep them within the right mental framework. Adalmann in particular had a firm image of magic as power provided on loan from his god. He spun the magic words like a prayer in praise of his ultimate gift Grimoire and the fortune of receiving it.
His choice of spells was a forbidden summon, the kind that couldn’t be cast in the labyrinth. Its effective range was so large, it was difficult to predict what sort of damage it’d do. He went with this one because he knew damaging this battlefield wasn’t a concern. This was all secret magic, not known to the public…and even if it was, no human magician could ever cast it.
According to the ancient literature, it was a greatly powerful magic, so tricky to cast that several great magicians once teamed up to cast it and still failed. The difficulty of controlling it was the main culprit, but trying to integrate the magic force of each caster into a single package didn’t go well, either. It’d be first time Adalmann cast it, too, and he was a bit nervous about it potentially not working. Of course, he only chose it because it seemed like the most spectacular option, so if it failed, it wasn’t any long-term concern. Gadora would rib him about it, but he could then just invoke something else.
So, his mind made up, Adalmann got comfortable and set up the spell’s impact range. This was going to consume a lot of magic force, but that was no issue for him and his demon lord-class magicule count. All the preparations were completed without a hitch.
Ahh, I see… No wonder this doesn’t require any casting time.
A feeling of comfortable wellness filled Adalmann’s mind as he fully grasped his powers.
“Right, then!” he said. “Take a look at this, Gadora. One of the greatest magics of ancient times—Tempest Meteor!”
Once a magic spell is successfully cast, its words are engraved in the mind of the caster, allowing them to instantly activate it again. Checking that this was the case, Adalmann unleashed his spell.
At that moment, the giant magic circle that appeared suddenly in the sky shone a dazzling cascade of color as light poured down upon the ground. It was as beautiful as a shower of shooting stars—but this was a fearsome light, one that brought forth death and destruction. It bore the name of the nation Adalmann and his friends loved, which was one reason why he chose it, but the sheer destructive power also lived up to the Tempest brand. The spell the magicians of old had tried to complete was in full effect.
The light pouring down was actually meteors—over a thousand of them, each several feet long, filling the air with carnage. No matter how proud the giants were of their Ultraspeed Regeneration, it meant little if the damage came too fast to keep up with.
There was nowhere to run—the spell range was just too wide. Try to catch a meteor, and it’d just tear a limb off. Heads were crushed everywhere. The giants wanted to overrun the Long Wall with sheer muscle, but they were being helplessly pulverized by an even more massive force.
This magic had an even greater effect than Adalmann intended. In a short period of time, he had knocked a good 30 percent of Daggrull’s army out of the battle.
“Did you see that, Gadora?” he asked. “I’ve won this match, haven’t I?”
Every meteor collection caused a huge explosion. The ground seemed to boil under them as Adalmann declared victory. The force was well beyond what he anticipated, but he still boasted about it, like he expected it all along. His face was all bone anyway, so it wasn’t like anyone could tell he was lying—and nothing made Adalmann happier than showing off to his former rival.
But Gadora wasn’t so amused. The spell Adalmann had just cast was summon magic based on imaginary material, one of the most secret tenets of dark magic. It created meteors from this material, summoning them from thin air—truly the ultimate in magic attacks. This imaginary material became real once it appeared in this world, and thus subject to the laws of physics. Its effects were only temporary, but it still lasted long enough to wipe the enemy out.
How does he know this type of magic?! This isn’t holy magic or necromancy. If anything, it’s a summoning, tilted toward dark magic… That’s my specialty!
Gadora was in no mood to praise Adalmann. If he lost this competition after trying to cast something outside his expertise, he could still make excuses about it. But this? This was a direct challenge to him. He had to admit to the power of this Tempest Meteor, yes, and he secretly admired his best friend for how great he was. But as a master of magic, he just couldn’t admit he was defeated.
Gadora had only just joined Diablo’s staff, after all, and he wanted to make a name for himself fast. And that wasn’t all. The very survival of humanity depended on this battle, but looking at it another way, this war was a struggle for supremacy. If so, Gadora thought it prudent to try to gain some name recognition. If he did that, at least Diablo wouldn’t abandon him.
“Come on,” Gadora angrily replied. “If you want to see the essence of true magic, let me show it to you!”
He had just completed the spell he was constructing. It was time to show off his own ultimate magic, one he grew capable of after being reborn as a metal demon.
Making full use of his ultimate gift Grimoire, he unraveled the knowledge at the core of magic. Adalmann didn’t know this spell; a member of the dark magic family, Diablo, and Ultima had taught Gadora. He had gradually been learning it in his free time, and the culmination of all that effort was here.
“May those who suffer from eternal hunger come to me…and use your fangs to devour all!!”
The culmination of all this was the viciously dark magic Nihilistic Parade.
It was a well-known fact that the most powerful holy magic was Disintegration, the ultimate antipersonnel spell. Only a few people could use it, a fact also widely known, and its power was well documented. No one, it was said, could possibly survive a hit. But there were some drawbacks to it, most vitally its narrow range. Against a human being, it was the strongest out there, but it couldn’t be used against a military force—that was just not how it worked.
But there also existed a dark magic version of Disintegration, its counterpart of sorts—a fact known only to a very limited number of people. This was Nihilistic Vanish, a spell of the type Ultima and her demon cohort specialized in. A truly terrifying magic, it consumed its targets using the emptiness welling up from the underworld—and what was more, this magic worked in a wider range than Disintegration. In this case, Gadora had worked the spell so its area of influence expanded across the entire battlefield. Pouring all his magical power into Nihilistic Vanish, he managed to turn it into Nihilistic Parade, a new and wide-area annihilation magic.
Just as the caster intended, an extremely large magic circle appeared on the ground and in the sky. Then, as if connecting heaven and earth, bolts of dark electricity raced between them, releasing countless black spots in the air—the fangs of darkness, the devourer of all matter.
Gadora was releasing dark magic that manipulated emptiness itself, a forbidden skill if there ever was one. These voids, released into the world like this, did not disappear until the EP of their effects was reduced to zero. They filled the space between the magic circles, erasing all that existed inside. Any mistake in controlling this spell would result in this ultimate magic destroying the world.
As soon as the spell activated, Gadora burst into laughter. “Wah-ha-ha-ha-ha! How do you like it? Isn’t it tremendous?!”
He looked so innocently happy about it. But Adalmann was having none of it.
“You damned fool!” he snapped. “What are you thinking?! What’ll we do if this dangerous magic becomes too much for you and goes out of control?!”
He understood the danger of Nihilistic Parade through his ultimate gift Grimoire. The realization made him shout at Gadora, his face pallid—or more so than usual for the skull he had for a head.
“Well,” Gadora calmly replied, “I want to show off, ya know?”
“No, I don’t know,” a floored Adalmann said.
There was no dignity to be found—Gadora was showing his true feelings, like a young child. Adalmann didn’t know what to do with him. Certainly, Gadora wouldn’t have any excuse if this spell failed on him and potentially caused the world to collapse.
So he defiantly said, “Well, it’s all right, isn’t it? It worked! And as long as you and I are here, we’ll be fine!”
No sign of remorse at all. Even in his old age, Gadora was every bit a mad genius. Being reminded of this made Adalmann let out a big sigh and stop complaining. It was useless to say anything to him—and Gadora was right anyway. The spell succeeded, and there was no problem to speak of.
After these two massive spells, the enemy was close to being completely destroyed. They had already been reduced to less than half their initial number. In a normal war, they would’ve given up and retreated long ago. Gadora’s Nihilistic Parade made visibility poor in the area, but at this rate, they’d be routing these giants.
Adalmann and his assistants looked below with bated breath, hoping this would end the war right there. The result…
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