The World of Otome Games is Tough For Mobs - Volume 13 - Chapter 10

Chapter 10:

The Kingdom’s Greatest Swordsman

THE AZURE EXPANSE where the royal and imperial armies battled was now stained black with smoke from all the explosions.

Amid the chaos and fighting, where men put their lives on the line for their respective sides, a Demonic Knight chortled. His laughter echoed around him. “That’s fifty done,” he declared. “Weak. You’re all too weak. It’s laughable to think this is the best you can do.”

Lienhart had donned his Demonic Suit and was wielding a pair of sabers. Each was far too large for an ordinary Armor to manage two at once, but his Demonic Suit brandished them with practiced ease. Practical skill, not brute force, backed his attacks. His blades cut through the royal army’s Armors as easily as a knife through butter.

Lienhart’s Demonic Suit spread its wings wide, allowing him to maneuver gracefully through the air. Many an opponent scrambled to escape when they faced his unmatched strength.

“Someone save me!”

“You can’t show your back to the enemy,” Lienhart rebuked them. “It’s like you’re begging me to kill you.” And so he did just that, thrusting one saber right into his fleeing opponent’s back.

Lienhart relished the thrill of battle like a lone hunter, rather than as the cog of an enormous army. In fact, he treated battle exactly like a hunt.

“If I can’t find anyone stronger, this’ll be boring,” he said.

The imperial army had the upper hand to begin with, but the Demonic Knights were distinguishing themselves on the field above and beyond that. The order’s highest-ranking members were particularly devastating, putting up extreme resistance against the royal army.

“Hm?”

Having identified Lienhart as a threat, the AI destroyers charged toward him, firing lasers and deploying drones to surround the Demonic Knight. They had him closed in on all sides, hoping that superior numbers might finish him off.

“Maybe you’ll turn out to be a little tougher than the others, hm?” said Lienhart, not the least bit panicked by his situation. 

His batlike wings stretched wide, flapping powerfully against the wind. Accelerating at incredible speed, he shot forward through the air toward the destroyer, lifted his swords, and sliced straight through the ship’s plating. The destroyer was swallowed by the ensuing explosion.

“Ha ha! How are you this weak?” Lienhart watched in amusement as the ship’s wreckage plummeted toward the ocean. 

His deranged glee invoked fear in the royal army. The way he fought even disturbed his own allies.

“So that’s the youngest Demonic Knight!”

“They say he’s a genius swordsman—the Sword Saint of this generation.”

“Um…is it just me, or is he really enjoying fighting?”

Lienhart ignored their comments, busy scanning the battlefield for further prey. “Now, who’s going to be next? I’d prefer to fight the Kingdom’s Sword Saint, if possible, but the Scumbag Knight is the one I’m pursuing.” 

In his heart of hearts, he desired a battle with the enemy hero more than anything. His favorite activity was battling and beating strong opponents. He was like an innocent child, eager to test his strength by finding the most challenging opponent he could on the field.

An enemy Armor suddenly approached him, the pilot hollering, “I won’t let you continue your reign of terror!” Judging by the man’s voice, he was probably a middle-aged knight.

From what Lienhart could tell, the man was an experienced veteran. The suits accompanying him appeared to be manned by similarly battle-hardened fighters. What Lienhart liked most about them all was their courage in coming to fight him.

“You’ve still got some brave men among you, eh?” he said.

Scratches covered the first enemy Armor, suggesting he’d already cut down a number of imperial troops. Lienhart’s intuition assured him that this man was tough, but he wasn’t the sort of opponent Lienhart preferred.

Lienhart clicked his tongue. “Too bad your fighting style has no flair. You’re just a washed-up old knight, aren’t you? You should’ve gauged the difference in our strength before charging at me like a fool.” He flew forward in the blink of an eye, jamming his foot into the enemy Armor’s head and sending it reeling backward.

“Guh!”

The men accompanying the enemy Armor covered for him quickly, shouting, “Lord Balcus!”

Lienhart assumed they were his retainers. Their care for him was touching, but that gave Lienhart no pause. “Ha ha!” He let out a strangled laugh and raised his blade. When Balcus’s men charged him, he sliced right through them.

“You bastard, killing my men!” Balcus howled at him. Now recovered, he charged once more, but Lienhart’s saber parried him without difficulty.

“It’s their fault for dying so easily,” Lienhart told him. “Now, it’s time for you to—”

Before he could cut down his enemy, an enormous explosion split the air behind him.

“What the hell?” Lienhart glanced backward. His sword missed its original target, slicing through the arms of Balcus’s Armor instead. Without looking, Lienhart swiftly plunged his sword toward the cockpit, but again his aim was off, and he narrowly missed.

“Guh!” Balcus groaned, his suit skewered by Lienhart’s sword. “You’re one tough bastard.” 

He tried to struggle, but Lienhart ignored him, his gaze focused on Arcadia. The fortress had been struck by something; a column of smoke rose from it.

“Something got through Arcadia’s shield?” Lienhart couldn’t hide the shock in his voice.

Several low-ranking Demonic Knights sped toward him. “Lord Lienhart! His Imperial Majesty ordered us back to Arcadia to combat the enemy infiltrating the fortress!”

If it was a direct order from the emperor, Lienhart had no choice but to obey. He yanked his sword from Balcus’s suit, which began to lose altitude.

Lienhart pointed his saber at it. “I’m sick of hearing all your screaming and crying.” A ball of compressed air formed at the point of his sword and burst forward, slamming into Balcus’s Armor and sending him flailing.

“Graaah! Nicks! Leon! The rest is up to you…” At first, his voice echoed in the air, but explosions drowned it out as the Armor lost all propulsion and plunged toward the sea.

Lienhart had no more interest in it. He flexed his wings to return to Arcadia, and the low-ranking knights followed.

“These infiltrators ought to be fun to play with,” Lienhart said, licking his lips.

***

“Arcadia’s fortress was breached?”

A Demonic Knight stood on the deck of an enemy ship as flames devoured it. Fire burst from the exhaust pipe of the pack on the Demonic Suit’s back. The Demonic Knight—Gunther—was accompanied by numerous lower-ranking knights. All around him and his men, enemy vessels were sinking.

Another Demonic Knight, Laimer, had come to deliver that message to him. “From what I hear, we’ve all been ordered to return to the fortress,” he told Gunther. He couldn’t provide further information, since he himself had only heard that through the grapevine.

Gunther’s brows knit. He glanced at the royal army. “We could’ve dealt a more devastating blow to the enemy if only we had a little more time.” Still, he shot off from the deck, followed by his subordinates. 

Laimer sped along behind him. “Well, all I’ve heard is that the Scumbag Knight boarded Arcadia. If we don’t get back quickly, the command room will be in danger.” Laimer was still young, and his voice hitched.

Gunther didn’t share his panic. As much as he detested acknowledging it, they still had the first seat—Finn—at the fortress. Gunther intended to reclaim that position eventually, but he wasn’t so proud that he couldn’t recognize Finn’s strength.

“Calm down,” he told Laimer. “Arcadia has Finn to protect everyone. His Imperial Majesty and the others won’t be beaten so easily.”

“Y-yeah, you’re right.”

“Anyway, what about Hubert?”

***

Hubert’s Demonic Suit was slimmer and taller than those his comrades piloted. Its T-shaped head was topped with a circular decoration. Team battle was Hubert’s specialty.

“Lord Hubert! Squadrons one through three successfully dispatched the enemy’s assault troops!”

“What a pain this is,” Hubert muttered to himself.

The emperor had ordered them all to return to the fortress, but he and his men had penetrated far into the enemy lines, and navigating back out was proving difficult. If they turned their backs, the royal forces would swoop in to take advantage. Hubert’s forces could beat the enemy in an outright battle, but they couldn’t simply ignore them to retreat.

Hubert oversaw eight squadrons of three Demonic Knights each. He excelled as a commander, which was why he’d been put in charge of twenty-four knights—to best utilize his unique skill set in battle.

One of his subordinates approached and told him, “Lord Gunther apparently already returned to Arcadia ahead of us.”

“He beat us there, hm? I guess that means either he or Finn will claim the Scumbag Knight’s head. They’re stealing all our glory,” Hubert chuckled.

Laimer suddenly appeared beside him.

“Hm? You didn’t go back with Gunther?” asked Hubert.

“I’m supposed to be under your command, so no. But if you don’t get moving soon, Finn’ll snag this battle’s greatest accomplishment for himself.”

“Indeed. Let’s hurry along, then.” Hubert and his men finally shook off all their pursuers and started back toward the fortress. As they did, Hubert thought to himself, They already have Finn there to protect them, so if they need us in the fortress too, perhaps His Imperial Majesty and the others there are in more danger than I realized.

***

The corridors inside Arcadia leading to the fortress’s power reactor were incredibly spacious, likely in order to accommodate pilots in Demonic Suits traveling through the complex. I’d expected Demonic Knights to be protecting this area, but instead we came up against the imperial defense forces. They piloted Armors equipped with machine guns, bazookas, and tower shields. Their level of preparation suggested they’d anticipated us breaching the fortress and fighting them in this spot.

“Aren’t any of them going to charge us with swords? They’re ruining the whole medieval fantasy vibe,” I grumbled from within Arroganz’s cockpit.

“Their fighting style suggests they don’t honor the knight’s code in the same way as Holfort Kingdom,” Luxion explained matter-of-factly. “That’s more realistic and practical of them, though I hesitate to compliment them too much, given their connections to Arcadia and the other Demonic Creatures.”

They’re more about winning than upholding knightly values. Makes sense. “Well, that doesn’t make a difference to us!” I replied.

“Indeed not, Master.”

Arroganz sped along the corridor, feet gliding across the floor. Its right hand carried a battle axe, which I used to cleave through the shields of any enemies standing in our path. In its left hand was a rifle with which I pelted imperials from a distance. I was using brute force to get through, so we took quite a bit of fire, but Arroganz’s thick plating deflected it completely.

“Hate to break it to you, but your attacks are pointless. Luxion custom-made this whole Armor.” I glanced briefly at a fallen enemy before speeding along, Julius and the rest of the idiot brigade hot on my heels.

“Leon! You’re speeding too far ahead!” Julius barked at me.

“Yeah, because we’ve got to locate the reactor as fast as we can!”

That was the heart of our mission here: destroying Arcadia’s power reactor. The reactor was what fueled Arcadia, feeding him energy and allowing him to produce demonic essence. Without it, his functions would shut down. There would be no more floating fortress, and no more demonic essence polluting the air. The whole reason I concocted this plan to breach Arcadia was because it would give us the best chance of accomplishing our goal.

“Anything from the drones, Luxion?” I asked.

“They are currently blocking enemy reinforcements and scouting out a possible route to the reactor. The high concentration of airborne demonic essence makes it impossible to rely on radar to find it. Please allow me more time to locate it.”

The drones we’d brought along had dispersed down other hallways to help look for our target, but quite a few enemies were positioned down here, which complicated our search.

“Well, this fortress is the source of all the demonic essence,” I said lightly. “Guess the reactor won’t be so easy to find, huh?”

When we boarded Arcadia, Luxion had laid down a number of communication relays, ensuring that we could receive drone data. That gave Luxion a way to communicate with the drones too. Still, that hadn’t yet been enough to help us pin down our target.

Luxion’s lens flashed red.

“What is it?” I asked.

“A drone squadron has been destroyed. According to the last data packets they sent, their opponents were Demonic Knights.”

“Demonic Knights, you say…?” They were tougher than the defense forces, so they were likely guarding the route to the power reactor. “Lead us to where the drones last made contact.”

“This way.”

I sped up even more, following the route Luxion showed me. Julius and the others matched my pace.

“Finn and his Demonic Suit are on par with Arroganz, right? Are the others just as strong?” Julius asked.

“That’s a terrifying thought,” said Jilk. “Our Armors have enhanced capabilities, but who knows how far those will take us in battle against such fierce opponents.”

“If they’re as strong as Arroganz, then we have nothing to fear,” Brad said with all the confidence in the world. “Beating Arroganz was our goal all this time—the very thing we’ve been training to accomplish.”

“Yep, you’ve got a point,” agreed Greg, sounding particularly pleased with Brad’s opinion on the matter. “This is our shot at proving that we ain’t busted our butts these past three years for nothin’!”

Strictly speaking, “three years” couldn’t be right. It had to have been less time than that. More importantly, I was surprised they’d put so much effort into training to outdo me. They were either tenacious or ridiculously obsessed. Either way, I was impressed they hadn’t given up on beating me after all this time.

While I was lost in thought, something—or rather someone—cut a jagged hole through the wall in front of us. The debris slammed into the drones leading the way.

“I found you,” said a Demonic Knight in a singsong voice, blocking our way forward. “You’ve got some guts, coming all the way here to our fortress.” Wind whipped around his Suit. There was something dangerous about his presence. Judging by his voice, he was still pretty young, but he was awfully condescending.

“Not Finn,” I said, heaving a sigh of relief. I took a stance with my weapon readied, prepared to fend him off.

“I didn’t expect you’d come here yourself, Archduke. You really are a loose cannon, just like Sir Finn said!” The Demonic Knight’s voice brimmed with unbridled excitement, almost like it belonged to a child. It unsettled me.

Two lower-ranking Demonic Knights slipped in behind him through the hole he’d left in the wall.

“Three of you, huh? Guess we can take you out together,” I said, ready to brute-force my way through once again.

Chris’s blue Armor stepped in front of me. He had a grim, determined air. “Leon, I hate to ask this, but I’d like you to leave this opponent to me.”

I shook my head. “What’re you talking about? It’d be better for us all to take them on at once.”

Chris braced himself, ready for battle. “See the crest on that suit’s armor? He’s the empire’s Sword Saint.”

Chris’s words caught the interest of the enemy in question, who wielded two sabers. “Oh? You know of me?”

“I’m best suited to face him,” Chris reasoned. “You and the others should keep going. There’s no time to waste.”

So you want us to go ahead without you. That was foreshadowing if I ever heard it—that is, Chris was foreshadowing his own death. I wasn’t about to let that happen.

“Are you stupid or something?! We should gang up on them, knock them down, and keep going as a team!”

“That’ll only waste time,” Chris argued. “It’s more efficient to let me handle this alone.” His tone allowed no further discussion of the matter. He wasn’t about to change his mind.

Much to my annoyance, even Luxion said, “Master, we should do as he says and make haste.”

“You stupid buffoon!” I cursed Chris under my breath, although I resigned myself to doing as he asked.

Chris grinned. “Don’t worry about me. I’m not planning on dying here. I promise I’ll catch up with you.”

“I’m counting on that, Swordmaster.”

“Good. I’m true to my word.”

With that, we continued on without Chris.

***

“My name is Chris Fia Arclight.”

“And I’m Lienhart,” said the enemy Sword Saint, holding his sabers low. “But putting aside formal introductions… Isn’t Arclight the surname of Holfort’s Sword Saint?”

“Yes,” Chris admitted. “But my father is the Sword Saint, not me.”

“Oh.” Lienhart sounded disappointed. “You’re his son. I guess that makes sense. It sounded like the Scumbag Knight called you a Swordmaster.”

“I’m here as my father’s representative,” said Chris. “There were…extenuating circumstances preventing him from joining the battle.”

The truth was that, during their fight, Chris had beaten his father to a pulp. The Sword Saint’s injuries were so serious that he couldn’t participate in this battle. Chris wasn’t going to share that information with the enemy, though, so he made an excuse.

“Can I ask you just one thing?”

“What is it?” Chris kept bracing himself, weapons ready.

“Why the hell are you using guns?!” Lienhart spat angrily.

Chris held a submachine gun in his right hand and a gatling gun in his left. The container on his back was stuffed full of ammunition, and a missile pod sat on his right shoulder. It did perhaps seem a little unnatural for a Swordmaster like Chris to be loaded as thoroughly as a mobile ammunition warehouse, equipped to blast enemies from afar rather than cut them down at melee range.

“Guns are obviously superior on the battlefield,” Chris replied bluntly, as if that reason were the clearest in the world.

Lienhart was visibly dismayed, shoulders slumping. His voice was strained with irritation as he retorted, “Since I heard that a swordsman bested the Black Knight, I hoped for a worthy battle with you. I can’t believe you’re packing so many guns. Frankly, you shouldn’t even call yourself a swordsman.” He lifted his sabers, ready to begin battle.

“I’m not the one who took down the Black Knight. That was Leon,” Chris said. Seeing no need for further discussion, he pulled his gatling gun’s trigger, pelting Lienhart and the area around him with bullets.

Lienhart somehow manipulated the air around his Suit, diverting the bullets away from him. One of the lower-ranking knights behind him was not so lucky. They had let their guard down and took fire as a result. They probably didn’t expect it to cause much damage, but unfortunately for them, Chris’s bullets were specially made to combat Demonic Suits. Their explosive force sent the knight reeling through the air.

“Tch. Morons,” said Lienhart. “You were told before the battle started to be wary of the enemy, remember?”

Lienhart remained unscathed. The wind around him protected him from the regular bullets, and his sabers cut through the missiles. However many projectiles Chris unleashed on him, none dealt a killing blow. One missile did connect with the remaining knight; the ensuing explosion consumed him, engulfing both the Demonic Suit and its pilot.

“Tsk, tsk. They bit the dust so easily,” Lienhart remarked callously. “Oh, well. They obviously weren’t very good knights if they died so rapidly. Someone would’ve done them in sooner or later.”

Anger lanced through Chris. “That’s an awfully cold reaction to your comrades’ sacrifice.”

“Comrades?” Lienhart scoffed. “I never gave a crap about them. I didn’t even know their names. Not that I would’ve cared about them in that case. I’m not interested in weaklings. No, the strong are the ones I care about. They provide me with adequate entertainment, and they add to my accomplishments when I defeat them.”

“I don’t like your attitude.” Chris punctuated his words by firing his gatling gun at Lienhart. Such heavy weaponry was optimal for a closed corridor like this, but that advantage only lasted as long as he kept Lienhart at a distance. If they engaged in melee combat, Lienhart would gain the upper hand. Continuous fire was the best way to ensure he couldn’t get close.

“A Swordmaster shouldn’t be using guns,” Lienhart repeated with great exasperation.

“Sorry,” said Chris, “but I’ve long since abandoned my pride as a Swordmaster. Someone taught me how naive it is to rely purely on a sword in battle, you see.”

Trust me, life would’ve been much easier if I could’ve beaten Leon with my sword alone. Since meeting Leon, Chris had learned a great deal. One of those lessons had, in fact, related to his greatest weakness.

In the past, Chris had battled using his sword exclusively, making him incredibly susceptible to ranged enemies. That wasn’t a problem if he could close in and fight them at melee range, so he’d convinced himself that he just needed to focus on his swordplay. It wasn’t until his duel with Leon that he realized how wrong he’d been.

A sword was a fine weapon in a regular duel—against someone other than Leon, that is—but relying upon it completely on the battlefield would cost him his own life. There was no battlefield where one could fight solely with a sword.

“Then shouldn’t you abandon the ‘Swordmaster’ title as well?” said Lienhart.

Each of Lienhart’s attacks was precise and lethal. Even Chris was envious of his immense talent with the sword. Once he got close enough, he wielded his sabers with such agility and grace that it looked like a dance, unleashing shock waves that reached Chris even from afar.

“Whoa, those are powerful!” Chris exclaimed in surprise. “But not good enough!” Despite his bravado, he could tell Lienhart was more skilled than he was.

Chris tossed his gatling gun at Lienhart, taking the opportunity to put more distance between them. He started unloading his submachine gun and firing additional missiles from his shoulder. 

Even in the cramped confines of the fortress halls, Lienhart dodged skillfully, but it took an obvious toll on him. The Demonic Knight’s frustration was growing, partly because it was so hard to maneuver inside the fortress but also because he was tired of the gunfire barrage.

Once he’d used all his ammunition, Chris purged the container on his back. He tossed it at Lienhart, who promptly cleaved it in two and charged toward him.

“You can’t win with a sword alone, huh? That’s just because you’re weak,” Lienhart spat at him. “I can tell by the way you fight. It has no flair. It’s pretty pathetic that you have so little talent, especially as the son of Holfort’s Sword Saint.”

Chris was unbothered by Lienhart’s jibes. In fact, he forced a smile. “Strong words,” he quipped. “But can you really claim to fight solely with your sword skills? It seems to me like you’re only as good as you are because of that Demonic Suit you’re piloting.” 

As he goaded his opponent, Chris tossed weapon after weapon aside, having spent his ammunition. His suit was much lighter without them, and Lienhart’s shock wave attacks had already cut through his additional layers of armored plating.

“I guess the extra weapons were superfluous after all,” he muttered to himself. He’d only recently begun firearms practice, so he was much worse at it than the other four. That was why he’d opted for heavy weapons that didn’t rely on precise aim; he couldn’t have hit a moving target anyway. Even with all his weapons and the extra rounds stored in his rear container, though, he wasn’t able to take Lienhart down.

“I’ll need to practice more from now on,” he noted.

At Chris’s insinuation that he would survive their battle, Lienhart simmered with barely restrained rage. “There’s no need to worry about that. I’ll kill you before you ever get the chance,” he said coldly.

Lienhart sped toward Chris, closing the distance between them instantly and shaving some plating off Chris’s Armor as he passed by. He spun to reorient himself. “Looks like I just barely missed. Still, this next attack will bring it all to an end.”

Chris’s fingers squeezed the control sticks. He narrowed his eyes, glaring at Lienhart through the monitor in front of him. “Come on, then!”

Lienhart lurched forward and raced toward him. “This is the end!”

Chris sucked in a sharp breath.

To a bystander, it would’ve looked as if the two barely brushed past each other.

Chris stabbed his sword into the floor, leaning against it like a cane. A large crack in the monitor fractured his vision, and debris littered the cockpit. Lienhart’s blow had landed. But…

“No,” came an anguished cry from behind him. “This can’t be happening.”

Through gasping, painful breaths, Chris forced himself off his sword and turned around.

Lienhart’s suit was crawling along the floor. Chris’s blow had also found its mark. Lienhart had already tossed his sabers aside; his hands were at a gash on his abdomen that was leaking fluid. 

“Blood…blood,” he rasped. “Coming from my stomach?! I-I have to get help quickly, or…” A sticky, wet cough interrupted his words. Chris had split his stomach open during their blades’ exchange of blows.

Still panting, Chris raised a trembling finger to adjust the position of his glasses on his nose. “I never said I gave up the sword. You lost because you were reckless enough to enter melee range with me.”

Lienhart had wrongly assumed from their conversation that Chris wouldn’t use a sword at all. He’d let his guard down during his charge. Yet despite its lackluster nature, his attack was still powerful enough to have killed anyone else.

“I don’t want to die,” Lienhart sobbed. “This can’t be happening. I’m the Sword Saint. I’m one of the empire’s highest-ranking knights.” He was in denial about the outcome of their match.

Lienhart was too obsessed with the sword and too naive for war. Chris stared down at him for a second, then closed his eyes. “There are no absolutes on the battlefield. You arrogantly assumed you were invincible. With that mindset, you never belonged here.” He went quiet for a moment as a realization hit him. “You’re exactly the way I used to be.” 

He pulled his sword out of the floor and stepped closer to look at Lienhart’s wound but could quickly tell it was beyond healing. 

“I’ll end your suffering now.”

After ending Lienhart’s life, Chris sank to the floor. His hands shuddered as he reached for the wound in his side. After Lienhart’s attack, part of his suit had collapsed inward, and one shard punctured his pilot suit.

“How unfortunate. I swore I’d catch up with everyone…but I don’t think…I’ll be able to keep my promise…”