Bravado

Laika was clever. Even without me explicitly telling them not to kill, they rampaged with a single-minded focus on neutralizing the soldiers.

Considering I had to deal with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠not only the guildmaster but also the one behind those bastards, that Baronet Bwyngseu or whatever his name was, and handle the aftermath, keeping them alive was more useful. So, for the first time in a while, I swung my sword aiming to disable rather than kill. Of course, 'disable' was the word—limbs went flying. If they got treatment in time they'd live, if not, they'd die. Whatever. I had no obligation to fight with just my fists.

"That bastard fights better than I thought."

Since Laika could even withstand sword strikes coated in Magic Power, the ones who couldn't properly use aura had no way of stopping them. They didn't even bother dodging the thrusting spears and knives—Laika would just bite a leg and shake their head, and people would go flying like they'd been hit by a bear. To the person experiencing it, that sight, like the physics engine in a 3D game had broken, was pure terror; to a third party, it was both baffling and laughable.

Once we'd finished causing a ruckus together, it took less than three minutes to subdue about twenty private soldiers and some hastily hired mercenaries or whatever they were, leaving them crawling on the floor. Just as I was thinking I should grab one of them and start preparing to raid that Bwyngseu or whatever his name was's mansion, a sudden thought flashed through my mind. I stroked Laika's head and asked.

"Laika. Can you track scents by any chance?"

Honestly, Laika looked like a dog on the outside, but was fundamentally a Demon Sword, so I asked half in doubt. Surprisingly, Laika's response was positive.

[Laika good at smelling!]

"Great. Let's smell any one of these bastards and track him."

[Hard to tell apart because of blood smell!]

"Ah..."

Damn it. I'd have to aim for the next chance. In the end, I had to grab a private soldier whose limbs were still intact because he'd run into Laika rather than me.

"Ah, I'll guide you!"

Fortunately, he wasn't the type with such a burning sense of duty or loyalty—even with just a grip on his collar, he cooperated actively, so no extra effort was needed. The guildhall I roughly surveyed while dragging him out was an absolute mess. The receptionists were busy looking for the guard force and priests, and were treating the wounded with the help of some adventurers.

Of course, it was none of my business, so I just dragged the bastard I had by the collar out with me.

Now it was time to really kill.

◈

The moment he saw Eldmia and Laika causing a ruckus, one private soldier turned tail and ran without looking back, sprinting like mad all the way back to Baronet Bwyngseu’s mansion. As the report was relayed, the faces of Baronet Bwyngseu and Geuronzel began to turn deathly pale.

"W-wiped out... you say...?"

To be precise, he had simply fled the moment he felt a premonition of annihilation, but the private soldier prettily packaged his desertion before delivering the information. Ironically, that lie became a beneficial lie for both Baronet Bwyngseu and the private soldier. Because he had fled a little early, Baronet Bwyngseu gained a very slight amount of time, and the private soldier's lie ceased to be a lie.

Of course, that didn't mean they had escaped the crisis they were currently facing, so Geuronzel and Baronet Bwyngseu had to rack their brains, drenched in cold sweat.

In truth, Geuronzel wasn't even in a position to afford the luxury of deliberation. Only Abnam's final warning echoed endlessly in his head.

'When that man returns after completing his request, you will die, no question.'

Geuronzel wasn't proficient enough in escapism to the point of blaming Abnam, saying his words had become seeds that sprouted into reality. He could only wait for approaching death, trembling in fear, with nothing else he could do. He belatedly regretted that ever since the moment he ignored Abnam's warning, his only remaining option had been ruin, and tore at his hair.

Baronet Bwyngseu sweated cold sweat in a slightly different form. The rumors circulating among the city officials, the wealthy, and the influential weren't just idle gossip. The backer who had fed him generously for years was completely smashed a few weeks ago, and he was pushed much closer to the edge than he appeared.

And no wonder—that backer had been Count Envelde da Bosha.

Envelde had put considerable effort into injecting optimistic thinking into those he intended to use as disposable pawns. This was because idiots, rather than those half-smart, were far more easily blinded by the profits promised by a rebellion that was nothing more than a bad check. And indeed, that approach worked flawlessly, especially on Baronet Bwyngseu, who had merely inherited his family's wealth.

So he lived fearlessly, believing only in the bad checks Envelde scattered, without an ounce of anxiety about the future.

And he spent a great deal of money for Envelde's rebellion.

Because of that, when he heard the story that Envelde's head had been taken by someone called the Guillotine of Levien in the capital, he thought everything was finished with that alone. But weeks passed, and the royal forces did not approach him. Puzzled by this fact, Baronet Bwyngseu began to feel a sense of relief—'Maybe it's alright?'

This was entirely the result of the optimistic thinking Envelde had instilled. The investigation was simply delayed because the key figures of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the rebellion had their heads severed earlier than planned in unexpected accidents, and had he stayed still, he would have vanished as dew on the execution grounds before the week was out. But Baronet Bwyngseu, with no way of knowing this fact, felt relieved that he had survived. No sooner had that feeling hit than Geuronzel suddenly visited with a 'request.'

True to form for Baronet Bwyngseu, who lacked the eye to see this as a portent of his own death, he regarded it as an opportunity and accepted it eagerly.

Recalling past memories where grand gestures of generosity had brought great rewards, he had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠now sent twenty private soldiers and all ten mercenaries, leaving only about five mercenaries behind. The only people remaining in the mansion were barely a dozen or so servants who didn't know how to fight.

Baronet Bwyngseu wasn't stupid enough to believe that a person who had killed over thirty troops couldn't defeat a mere five mercenaries and one fleeing private soldier.

"B-Baron. Sh-shouldn't we send word to the lord?"

Geuronzel's words weren't exactly wrong, but Baronet Bwyngseu couldn't even discuss that option. The sense of reality, usually suppressed by his habitual optimistic mindset, began to creep up, clearly presenting his relationship with the lord.

One loyal to the royal family, and a rebellion conspirator.

As he hesitated, unable even to voice his refusal, the sound of something breaking and shattering came from outside, and suddenly a commotion began to stir.

"Ah..."

There was no one in this situation who didn't realize what that meant. Just as their despair settled coldly, filling the room, the sound of urgent footsteps rang out. A servant burst in through the door, flinging it open violently, and shouted as if confirming the kill.

"M-my lord! A madman suddenly charged in and is smashing the mansion to pieces!"

It was unfair. If one had to pick someone who had the right to feel that way, perhaps it was only that one servant, but Baronet Bwyngseu and Geuronzel felt a sense of injustice at the end of their lives.

"W-what in the world did I do wrong?"

"Why is a bastard like that... a blue-rank adventurer..."

Watching these typical results of blaming others and a complete lack of self-reflection, the servant, whose face contorted into a grimace as much as physically possible, turned his body, thinking he at least needed to save his own skin.

And in an instant, seeing the intruder and the dog that had arrived right before his eyes, he let out a silent scream.

"Geuronzel and Bwyngseu. You in there?"

"Y-yes!"

"Get lost. If you don't want to die."

Without sparing a single glance at the servant who bolted away without another word, Eldmia leaned against the doorframe the servant had left open and looked into the room.

"H-hieeeek?!"

The sight of Bwyngseu and Geuronzel screaming, with no telling who had started first, was utterly pathetic. Like they were searching for a rat hole, the two of them scrambled over the sofa, clawed at the floor, and thrashed disgustingly, trying to put distance between themselves and Eldmia by any means in a room whose only escape routes were the door and the window.

Baronet Bwyngseu hurled a book he had grabbed at Eldmia, who simply stood there, arms crossed in a crooked posture, staring blankly at the two men.

"What in the world did I do wrong to deserve thiiiis!"

With the self-awareness that he was already a traitor, Baronet Bwyngseu had already fallen into a state no different from despair and couldn't even entertain the thought of begging for his life. Even though he was merely entangled, Eldmia felt to him like a being that had been arranged from the beginning to kill him.

Whether that was true or not no longer mattered. Because with no one watching, Eldmia's needle flew without even a whistle, pierced through the incoming book, and drilled a hole through Baronet Bwyngseu's forehead.

"What pathetic last words... Though in a way, I guess they do sum up a life spent staring death in the face. Don't they?"

Geuronzel couldn't answer. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠He couldn't even comprehend Bwyngseu's life, which had ended with a single scream.

Was it really over just like that? The death of a figure who had accumulated wealth from the previous generation and was counted among the most prominent notables in Englem was in this form? Just because he carelessly messed with one crazy adventurer?

"T-this can't be."

Trying somehow to understand a reality his common sense could not accept, Geuronzel eventually half-lost his mind from terror.

"What can't be?"

"This is unjust! It's absurd! J-just because I pulled one little trick wrong, I have to face a death like this? Do you think this makes sense?! I am Geuronzel, the guildmaster of the Englem Adventurer's Guild! The Geuronzel who practically built up the adventurer's guild in this city! No one can treat me this roughl—ghk?!"

Geuronzel's eyes flew wide open as he felt his breath suddenly choke off from the pressure applied to his throat. In the short span of time it took him to understand he had been grabbed by the collar by Eldmia, who had charged in at a speed too fast for his eyes to follow, he was forced to slam his head against the wall.

-Bang! Bang! Bang!

The merciless motion and the relentless impact, like swinging a wooden club, were by no means light. After only three swings, Geuronzel's forehead was torn open to the point where white bone was visible. That alone would have been excruciating, but Eldmia gave him no time to gasp for breath amidst the agony, swinging his body to smash the window.

With a shattering sound, glass shards scattered everywhere, but Geuronzel, already in too much pain, couldn't even feel it properly.

"That stuff isn't important. I was so dumbfounded I had a few things I wanted to ask you, but now that doesn't even matter either."

As he barely perceived the sudden onslaught of cold winter wind, Eldmia tilted his head crookedly and met his eyes with an incomparably cold gaze, reciting flatly.

"What's important is that you intentionally fucked me over for your own selfish desires, and the bastard who fucks me over like that definitely dies."

"W-wait...!"

Geuronzel's body was hurled into the sky.