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

Chapter 13:

Swallowed in Flames

“TAKE THIS!” Greg was out of breath. He gasped desperately for air as he braced himself, spear in hand, against the enemies who continued to charge him. “Haah…haah… There’s no end to it.”

Julius, who was fighting beside him, agreed. “The empire’s frantic,” he said, his own voice heavy with fatigue. “Still, we can’t let any imperials past us.” 

Greg could more or less guess why Julius was intent on cutting them off. “You’re worried about Finn, right? I’d rather Leon didn’t have to fight him either.” Especially because the two had once been friends.

Julius shook his head. He had no intention of stopping that anymore. In fact, he agreed with Leon’s decision. “He’s set on it. It’d be poor form to stop him.”

“Yeah, guess you’re right.”

Drones behind Julius and Greg assisted them by retrieving new weapons from the containers on their backs. Greg stabbed his jagged spear into the floor, snatching up a new one. “All right, bring the best you’ve—hm?” 

No sooner had he resumed his stance than another group appeared through the entrance of the spacious room. Eager celebration erupted from the regular soldiers facing Greg and Julius. These new reinforcements were Demonic Knights, and the soldiers now acted almost as if their victory was assured. Something about it struck Julius as odd.

“What’s this?” he demanded. “They’re acting strange.”

Greg’s gaze was fixed on a knight with wing-shaped flames spreading behind him and a halberd in his hand. The rest of the knights followed in his wake. His suit was slightly bigger than the others, and something about him suggested he was much stronger too. He had an intimidating presence.

Scratches and gashes covered the Demonic Knights he’d brought with him, indicating how desperately they’d fought to return to the fortress. Yet, oddly, there wasn’t a single mark on the knight with the flames.

“We’ve got a real tough one here,” Greg muttered.

The man in question, who’d been hovering above the floor, finally lowered himself. “I commend your tenacity in breaching our fortress, but your journey ends here,” he said. His voice was low and threatening, the sort that belonged to a storied veteran of the battlefield.

Greg lifted his spear just as the Demonic Knight’s halberd crashed down on him. The impact was so powerful that his Armor creaked with the pressure. Now that he knew how tough his opponent was, Greg was sweating bullets, but he was equally excited.

“So, you withstood my attack,” remarked the enemy.

“Is that really something to be so surprised by?” Greg hissed back through gritted teeth, trying to act composed.

The enemy withdrew his halberd. “I am Gunther,” he announced. “Gunther Lua Sebald!”

“Greg Fou Seberg. You’d better remember that. It’s the name of the man who’s gonna take you down.”

Gunther didn’t seem bothered by his bluster. “I like your confidence. Alas, this is a war, not a duel.”

The men presumably under Gunther’s direct command surrounded Greg, cutting him off from his opponent. Greg clicked his tongue, and panic started to set in. He couldn’t take on Gunther and all his subordinates at once.

Julius pressed his back to Greg’s. “These guys aren’t like the other enemies we fought, Greg. They’re pros.”

“Yeah, I figured. Anyway, Julius, I’ve got a favor to ask ya. Mind leaving that guy Gunther there to me?”

“You plan to fight him by yourself?” There was skepticism in Julius’s voice. He’d surely realized by now how powerful Gunther was. That was why he’d come over, intending to fight alongside Greg.

The problem was that neither could fight with their full ability surrounded by this many enemies. More likely than not, they’d lose the battle and their lives.

“My Armor’s more suited to one-on-one battle,” said Greg. “If this guy’s the second seat of the Demonic Knights, then he’s the second toughest, right? Let me handle him.”

Anyone else might’ve interpreted Greg’s words as demeaning, as if he thought Julius was too weak to do the job, but Julius didn’t take them that way.

“You have a good point. I’m more an all-around fighter, so you’ve got a better chance taking him than I do,” said Julius. The two fended off the Demonic Knights during this exchange, and at long last, Julius agreed to Greg’s proposal. “I’ll take care of the rest of these guys.”

“Thanks, Julius!” 

When Greg lurched forward, Gunther’s men fell upon him. Julius fought them back, firing his cannons on them. “I’m your opponent!”

Thanks to Julius, Greg managed to dart forward and thrust his spear at Gunther, who parried it with his halberd.

“You think you can stop me by yourself? I’m beyond your skill level,” Gunther said with a measure of exasperation. The way he spoke made it sound like he was underestimating Greg, but he was only stating facts. He was more skillful and experienced.

But although Greg realized as much, that wasn’t enough reason for him to back down. “My best quality is my refusal to give up, no matter the odds. If you tell me I’ve got no chance of winning, that only makes me more eager to face you!” He launched another powerful jab at Gunther.

The Demonic Knight finally sensed how dangerous Greg could be if he didn’t take him seriously. “Impressive. You have natural talent, but I see you also put in effort practicing. You’re lucky to have a powerful Armor that keeps up with you too. However…!” Gunther’s halberd slammed into Greg, hurtling him through the air.

“Guh!” he cried, all the breath rushing out of his lungs. He lifted his spear, hoping he could block any follow-up attacks.

Flames flared behind Gunther as he leaped into the air to approach. “When it comes to piloting skill…”

“Gah!” Greg managed to parry the next attack, but the momentum again sent him flying.

“…and an Armor’s full potential…”

Air hissed past Greg’s teeth in a sharp gasp. His Armor groaned and creaked as another heavy blow fell against his ready spear.

“…I outclass you!”

The final attack, carrying Gunther’s full might, slammed Greg into a wall.

“Greg?! Pull yourself together!” Julius cried out to him. He was busy handling the other Demonic Knights and Armors.

The corners of Greg’s lips quirked up. “You’ve got nothin’ to worry about, Julius. I’m gonna take this guy down. If I don’t, he’ll end up in Leon’s hair.” Gunther reaching Leon would jeopardize their mission even further.

Greg reached for a lever inside his cockpit and pulled it down. An electronic warning echoed around him. “Shifting to mandatory overload state. Time remaining until overload causes full-scale explosion: three minutes.”

The lever he’d pulled was the trump card Luxion had given his Armor. While upgrading it, Luxion had explained that Greg could utilize the Armor’s full potential at the cost of its internal systems overloading. Of course, he couldn’t wield that full potential for very long.

Seconds after Greg pulled that lever, fire blasted from his armor’s joints, making it obvious even to Gunther that something was afoot. “What did you do?!” he demanded.

This time, it was Greg’s turn to slam into Gunther with such incredible force that he sent the Demonic Knight reeling. 

“What’d I do? Just pulled out my ace in the hole, that’s all!” said Greg.

“Something unconventional, by the looks of it. No, it can’t be… Are you overloading your Armor’s internal systems?!”

The temperature in Greg’s cockpit was skyrocketing. He ignored it, focused on his opponent. “I’d rather self-destruct to stop you if the alternative is letting you reach Leon!”

Gunther tried to put distance between them, eating up the precious little time Greg had to finish him off. It was obviously a calculated tactic to counter Greg’s strategy.

“You seriously gonna run from me, you second-seat bastard?!”

“Judging by the state of your Armor, I’ll win if I steer clear of you until your time’s up. It’s your own fault you used your ‘ace in the hole’ too early.”

Greg’s Armor couldn’t withstand the energy building inside it. It was gradually falling apart. Cracks spiderwebbed through its plating as its joints slowly melted.

“I already told ya, I don’t know when to give up,” said Greg. He sped forward, slamming into Gunther and trying to skewer him. The heat radiating from his Armor had melted his spear, however. With no other choice, he seized Gunther with his bare hands.

Gunther struggled in his grip. “You can’t seriously mean to detonate and kill us both! I should be the first seat—”

“No one cares, and I ain’t letting you get past me.” Greg’s Armor, red to begin with, began glowing even brighter crimson.

“If you think this means you’ve beaten me, you’re wrong!” Gunther howled at him. “You only won because of that crazy Armor!”

“Yep, I know. No one knows better than me just how weak I am. Why else do you think I had such a powerful Armor made for me?”

There was a brief pause before Gunther scoffed, “I’ll give you this—at least you’re honest, recognizing your own weakness.” As flames lapped at the exterior of his Demonic Suit, slowly devouring him, he laughed. “Young man—no, Greg, you said your name was—take pride, for it is no small accomplishment to beat the second seat of the Demonic Knights! I’m glad I could fight someone like you before I—”

Before Gunther finished, the countdown on Greg’s monitor hit zero. The ensuing explosion swept them both up. As flames ravaged his monitor and sweltering heat consumed his cockpit, Greg forced a weak smile. He was both proud of his success in beating Gunther and vexed that he had to resort to this to achieve it. He hadn’t wanted it to be over so quickly. He’d hoped he could fight alongside Leon and the others a little longer.

“Ah. Dammit. So, this is the end, then? Leon, I’m counting on you to finish what we all started.”