2-12 Subhumans

As if drawn by the tip of my swung-down sword, a fireball came hurtling from overhead. It struck two subhumans right in front of me dead-on. I'd figured they'd spot me while I was closing in, but I must've nailed a gap in their attention—they only seemed to register us after eating the fireball.

"Guuuu..."

One of the subhumans that turned toward us raised a bone club and charged, while the ones farther back hurled stones at me. I deflected them with a Wind Shield, twisting their trajectories aside.

"Need backup!?"

"O-Oh! A human? Yeah, save us!"

Confirming the obvious now, huh. The guy up front holding a shield answered, but he didn't strike me as the commander type. Whatever.

A few ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠enemies closed in, so I sprayed fire at them. Not Fireball, but my new brew—heavy on the burning. I dubbed it Flame Thrower... yeah, a flamethrower.

The inspiration came straight from the real deal, obviously. But the key wasn't just spewing flames. Weren't actual flamethrowers fueled by soaking targets in oil or something first? Going off that fuzzy memory, I tried front-loading the energy at the core of the fireball—the part that acts like a flammable—with fire magic.

After trial and error, tweaking it over and over, I finally nailed it, and whoosh—they went up like tinder. Dangerously so. Unlike the real thing, the flames die out after a bit.

Not sure what happens to the magic energy in cases like this—does it deal damage beyond the physical burn? Unclear. But even if it's weaker than Fireball, the flames alone make it plenty threatening for crowd control.

"Gyaahhh!"

The three charging ones took the full blast, ignited, and panicked. Keeping my defensive spells up without slacking, I channeled magic into my magic sword and cleaved straight ahead. It cut, but left a heavy drag in my hands. Not just tough—more like slicing dense, rubbery material with real kickback.

As I swung at the second one, I triggered Body Enhancement. Boosting the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠spring in my whole body, and especially the power in both arms holding the sword.

"Groooaaahhh! ...Aaah."

Nice, solid feedback.

I chopped the third the same way, then ducked behind the corpses to scope the battlefield. Subhumans were pinching the westbound road from north and south, fully surrounding us. I'd smashed into the eastern unit from behind.

About fifteen on the east side, but half were holding off the Warrior Squad, leaving roughly the other half for me. A few were confused now, wasting their numbers.

After I dropped three, barely any were facing me. The stone-throwers must've expected a melee scrum with me and my trio—they were trading shots with Sarsa instead.

Her arrows barely scratched their hides, but their throws lacked precision too. I was batting away the nasty ones with Magic Wall, so it was a stalemate. But Sarsa's MP for Far Sight was a worry from afar.

I hustled to flank the throwers, but a subhuman blocked me with what looked like a bone shield. I hosed it with Fireball, making it flinch, then stabbed through.

"Sarsa! MP status!?"

"...Not sure, but probably low. Pull back once?"

"Do it."

I widened my defensive spells and fell back too, lobbing fireballs at the throwers en route.

"You okay?"

I retreated to the big tree where Sarsa had pulled back, eyes still on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the enemy, and checked in.

"Yes. Don-chan bounced the stones!"

"Don did? Handy guy."

I'd told him to stay alert, but damn, that agility. Don was poking his upper body out of Sarsa's backpack, looking smug as hell. Earned it—dude could gloat all he wanted.

"...I just sent a few scouts south. Calling reinforcements?"

"Likely. So, what's the play?"

They had to figure outnumbered us bad. Smart move: hunker down, call backup.

Bipedal, weapon-using, but monster-ish looks, no clothes. Intelligence seemed decent, though.

"Grip my hand."

"...Still one MP left. Practice paying off?"

"Er, yeah."

"Still, MP's tight. Skip Far Sight, Sarsa—save it for Magic Wall emergencies."

"...Um, Magic Wall uses magic stones."

...Oh. Right, brain fart. The Magic Wall magitech ran on polished stones I'd shelled out big for.

"...Stones left?"

"Just used the last—swapping now... five remaining."

"Five... Roughly how many casts per stone?"

"Depends, but... three to five, I'd say."

Low-end math: 15 casts. But swapping meant pulling back each time.

"Arrows barely faze those subhumans. You and Don focus on recon and escape routes."

"Yes."

"Don, guard Sarsa."

"Gii!"

Don raised his right forepaw like he got it.

Good.

"What about you, Master?"

"With defenses up, stones ain't scary. I'll hit-and-run harass. If it goes south, you call the retreat."

"Understood."

...Magic gun tempting? Nah. Fire magic's plenty. These subhumans must have low magic resist—plus intel said fire's their weak spot.

Checked my own status too.

Swordsman leveled mid-fight, huh.

No new skills would've been ideal, but stamina up? Still a win.

From the tree cover, I eyed the enemy, saw Sarsa retreating safe, then bolted out. Angled my run, hit a new spot.

Greeting salvo: single-shot Fireball spam. They screeched and scrambled.

Right on cue, cheers from the Warrior Squad deep in—shielded heavies pushing the line. Breaking the encirclement?

"Hear me!? Punching east—cover us!"

Voice from afar. Full-on using me now. Fine by me.

"Got it! Magic support incoming!"

Wanted to carve close ones in openings, but they were pure defense, watching me. Fine—shifted Fireball impacts deeper, sowing chaos in their Warrior Squad reserves.

Flash of light—lightning arced from backline into our side's subhumans. Squad's mage?

Chaos from crossed spells—Squad charged.

I readied my sword, sliced one whose focus slipped.

Not sure if weak point, but protruding face? Hack that.

Blocked stones mid-dodge—one loomed up, bone club high. Air Pressure evade, feint horizontal to low slash. Thrust the gap in its face.

Sweet—feints land clean on monsters. Feels good.

Squad's push flipped the field. South reinforcements for enemies, but encirclement broke—lines split east-west, head-on clash now.

Shields hold, bows/magic whittle, flankers collapse superior numbers.

Even the dragged-in mercs fought as skirmishers.

Victory.

Sarsa sidled up with report.

"We're winning. Elites from the Squad rampaging back there."

"Got it."

No retreat needed. Picked off isolated stragglers, awaited end.

Ten minutes of cautious fighting—subhumans wiped, victory cheers.

"Ei, ei, ooo!"

Admiring the hyped Squad, a somewhat haughty type in purple-marked metal armor approached.

Helmet off: handsome middle-aged with flowing silver hair. Uncle territory?

Eye contact—polite nod. Classy.

"Thanks for the assist. Word is you broke the encirclement."

"Seems so. Didn't want 'em wiping you and dragging me in."

"Still, appreciated. We'll sweeten your magic stone cut."

"Generous."

Another bow, then he withdrew. No drama—relief. Joined Squad's dissection.

Mercs split, trios with Squad per carcass. Efficiency, sure—but mostly mutual oversight against pilfering.

These subhumans dropped nice bluish-gray cubes from throat-back. Unpolished, rough, but cubic shape marked 'em premium raw.

Paired with a spiky blue-haired sleazy bro—couldn't stand silence, chatted mid-work.

"You a Mage? The Fireball spammer, right?"

"Yeah, me."

"Not bad. Saw that lightning from across? That was moi."

"No shit? You're the Mage?"

"Yup. Armor kinda hides it."

His gear: sleeveless metal like most Squad grunts. Frontline fodder vibe—no mage aesthetic.

"Lightning guy, huh. Compound lightning magic? Impressive."

"Heh, cheers. You blasted plenty too—solid skills. Fire Mage?"

"Nah... sword main."

"Wait... Magic Swordsman? Merc solo? Wild."

Sarsa made it not-solo, but slave teams count solo? Bro cleared his throat, sensing something.

"Hey, not prying. You saved our asses."

"Cool."

Overthinker, but hassle-free. Finished gutting one, extracted stone.

Chatted idly after. Bro ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was Firo.

Level? Secret. Mine too—no issue.

"My turn to ask?"

"Shoot."

Kept working.

"Might offend—sorry if so. Without mercs or me, you'd face double. Expected?"

Wondered outcomes sans us.

"Hmm, fifty-plus here's hefty. But not crazy."

"Huh."

"Captains went ham—wouldn't lose. But ambushed, encircled. Brass'd chew ass. Solo? More casualties, deaths probable."

"Damage report?"

"Minor cuts galore, fractures few. One merc dead, heard."

"Damn."

Deaths after all. Squad zero.

"So yeah, merc tails and your flank saved us. Pocket a stone?"

"Nah, heard sweetened cut—pass."

"Prude under the looks."

Firo chuckled. Probably skimmed perks himself.

"We're using Squad too. Even steven."

"Fair."

Real conviction there. Rookie merc headaches, bet.

"That rampaging captain strong?"

"Scary strong. Not for us mages... Magic Swordsman maybe?"

"Doubt melee focus."

Dunno.

"True. Captain solo-survives that swarm easy."

"Monster."

"You chatted him up earlier?"

"Huh?"

"Silver long-hair."

"Ohhh!"

That guy? Pictured bear-man—huge gap.

"Dunno details, but rare high-level Job. Heaven's generous."

"Looks and power?"

"Bingo."

"Talk later—keep cutting."

"Aye." "Sorry."

Our silent trio-mate warned.

Dissection done, captain summoned—handed 20 fresh stones.

"This much okay?"

"Heard small party. Portable stones suit."

"Perfect."

"Opposite flank, didn't see direct. Reports say twenty-body worth fair."

"Thanks then."

Real sweetner, as promised.

"Solo mercs?"

Thought done—he probed more.

Nothing hidden.

"Yeah. Monster Hunter Guild registered—hunter gig?"

"Cross Point next?"

"Planned."

"Join us?"

"Cool?"

"Wounded here—mage firepower benefits us."

"Alright then."

Trailing bait-style safer, but rejecting then stalking? Shady. Seems decent—join fine.

"Attach your chatty squadmate."

"Firo?"

"Yes. Mage kin—pair up, please."

"Combat too?"

"Mainly. Non-combat Firo fatigue? Ditch him."

Captain wry smile. Firo's chatter his migraine.

"Haha, got it."

Told Firo—he pried why, so spilled join + pair-up.

"Oho, fine by me. Mage bros—info swap?"

"Ideal."

His compound lightning? Gold for me.

"Master."

Sarsa back from her dissection. Good work.

Firo reacted.

"M-Master!? Not solo?!"

"Nah, this is retainer Sarsa. Missed her—you saw solo charge."

"R-Right... retainer."

Firo eyed Sarsa top-to-toe. She stood rigid.

"Hmm, plain but cute. Nice score."

"...Thanks?"

My "plain face flops" theory wobbling. Just unpopular with slave-buyer demo?...

Firo? Lip service maybe.