Sheryl Tusin Ogatorf
Sheryl Tusin Ogatorf
I calmed Sheryl's fury—she rarely showed such intense emotion—and coolly assessed the situation.
Odds of winning? Not even worth considering. Sheryl was an Ogatorf. Unless ten men with skill on par with the ones we'd killed on the way here attacked in perfect synchronization, or she were caught in a situation where she couldn't use aura, I could confidently declare that necks would roll with every exchange of blades. Her skill was that certain.
The top rank at the Royal Academy wasn't earned through some child's game. Even if it had been, the sheer truth that those bastards would be incapacitated just by taking that game's hits was a flat statement of fact, untainted by any bias whatsoever.
"Even if the full truth hasn't been completely revealed yet, what's already come to light is enough for summary execution."
And she wasn't some greenhouse swordsman like other noble children, either. To my eyes she was just very young, but she was already a warrior ready to kill at any moment.
Even on her own, she could slaughter every last one of the bastards encircled in the forest, never mind the rabble gathered at the ruins.
And if Eldmia Ega—the idiot who'd trained himself to absurdity since childhood specifically to kill the commander from the Demon King's Army who destroyed his village—was fighting beside her? Bastards who'd deliberately preyed only on low-ranked adventurers for safety were simply dead men walking.
Even though she was aggravating, we moved in near-perfect sync, and together we had that level of skill.
"We'll just kill them all, so let's put off the trivial worrying for later."
The moment I voiced that cold judgment while tousling Sheryl's hair, she too reined in her anger in an instant and nodded.
We'd come here thinking they were thieves to begin with. Killing every last one and dumping their heads at the feet of whoever the hell this Paba-something was would actually be sufficient results. For the rest, we could go through the guild, or if that failed, use connections like Lord Ekaf to wipe them out root and branch.
There wasn't any reason to lose my composure just because the bastard's scheme was vile enough to make even Satan weep.
Once I understood that, the now perfectly calm blocky-browed menace—no, Sheryl—spoke.
"Should we start with the ones in the forest?"
"Those guys can wait. Even just counting me, I killed about nine on my way in, starting with the archers. If we add the ones you killed, it's not too late to deal with them after we've already wrecked the command post. In fact, if any of the ones we killed were runners or signalmen, there's a chance the command post might catch on to the anomaly."
With anything, once you smash the head first, everything gets easier.
"We run straight there, kill every last one in the command post, and start from there. Keep up."
◈
Utterly composed and without the slightest hesitation, Eldmia declared his intent.
This man moved with the same calm as a morning sparring session, brimming with the certainty that he felt no threat of death whatsoever in this situation. And that wasn't some misplaced confidence born of overestimating his own abilities or misjudging the enemy's.
Nine.
A number he mentioned as if it were utterly trivial. The moment I heard it, I barely managed to suppress what would have been an obvious shift in my expression.
The archers at the forest's edge earlier hadn't been difficult. The bowmen had been so startled they couldn't even think to draw their swords in the sudden chaos, and the ones nearby, even if they reacted, were nothing special.
But the three we met further in were different.
I'd been conserving aura with a prolonged fight in mind, but even so—aside from the one killed in the ambush, the remaining two were on a different level in reaction speed and judgment. Against the last one, I'd crossed blades three times before I could cut him down.
Even at the academy, I could count on one hand the people I could confidently say would receive my sword in such a surprise attack. Yet these bastards had enough leeway to use personnel of that caliber as scouts.
"For all that, your sword's pretty clean?"
"I've been snatching theirs and throwing them to kill as I went. You should remember it too. They say if you forget that what's in your hand is ultimately just a hunk of sharp metal, you'll head straight to the grave in an instant. If you can't read the situation, it's best to keep your own weapon in peak condition."
I definitely remembered hearing that story too. But it had been from a renowned Sword Dancer my father had briefly hosted when I was young by sheer chance, and I'd never imagined it could be applied like this.
"Well, maybe later when you can just set your sword on fire or get your hands on some incredible legendary blade so you don't have to worry about blood or oil, but for now it's not like that."
Wearing a smile that seemed out of place for the situation, Eldmia tousled my hair once more.
A smile and tone like an older brother giving advice to a much younger sister, and it was infuriating beyond words.
Come to think of it, it had been like that from the very first meeting.
Overwhelming me, who'd grown up hearing I was a genius since childhood, yet never showing off. Always saying there was no need for two suns, but never even counterattacking when I hit him, only cursing. Looking back on that image now, after more than a year had passed, the man called Eldmia was unchanging.
As if the person named Eldmia had already been complete long ago, he always stood above me—refined power and swordsmanship aside.
While occasionally pulling eccentric stunts where I couldn't tell if he was being frivolous or serious, he consistently stood before me, offering lessons as if he'd just picked them up from someone else.
Even some of the academy professors had sparks of jealousy ignite whenever they mentioned my genius, so how could you, who aren't even a genius, stand before me... and treat me with a generosity and affection that even those older than me couldn't show?
"Hey. Think about it later. Let's go. I'm leaving our backs to you."
There was no way the answer to a problem I'd been mulling over for a year would suddenly pop out. So, as always, I kicked Eldmia in the shin and said,
"You're insufferable."
"Ugh, seriously. You're so tiny there's nowhere else for you to hit, is there?"
With that light grumbling as the signal, he dashed out.
Even though I'd fully anticipated it and drawn up my aura, I could tell I'd fallen slightly behind in that instant of acceleration. With the feeling that if I left him be, he'd run off somewhere I could no longer catch him, I strained to follow as close as possible. Even though only a few seconds had passed, the once-distant gap closed in an instant, drawing us near enough that the enemies' faces became clearly visible.
Once the sensation of wind shearing past my ears faded and we reached the edge of the underbrush, Eldmia would surely accelerate one more time.
Wielding a technique that even aura-using knights struggled to apply skillfully as if it were his birthright, he would slash only the one who reacted fastest among the alert guards and pass him by.
Because if I were him, I'd do exactly that. I'd trust me—the one following behind—to handle the rest.
"E-emerg...!"
-Shhk!
At a timing eerily close to what I'd predicted, Eldmia's sword flew in a clean arc and passed through, cutting halfway through the neck of the soldier who'd reacted to the sound and tried to shout. The slower-reacting enemies couldn't even properly grasp what the hell was happening even as they watched the sight unfold.
"Fuck!"
"Adventurers! The scouts have been breached!"
"Emergency! Emerrrrgency?!"
In the brief moment I followed right after, slashing the belly of one who still hadn't come to his senses and pressing forward, Eldmia had already cut down two more enemies on his targeted path. Sliding between the bastards at a speed that even my nerves, sharpened to their limit by tension and aura, could barely keep pace with, he shouted without fail.
"Me!"
How infuriating that shout had been when I'd first heard it, spoken with an attitude that mirrored my own.
"That little bastard's using auraaa!"
"Gurk!"
Once again the sword swung, and two who'd tried to block the path collapsed before they could even react. One had clearly been a handspan beyond the sword's reach, yet whatever sorcery he'd pulled, the man crumbled clutching a deeply slashed carotid artery. Eldmia wouldn't miss the moment when the countless gazes reacting to his shout converged on a single point, as if seeking orders or trying to protect someone.
"Eldmia!"
Faced with that audacious figure, I'd resorted to violence to hide my pounding heart at the realization that I'd met someone my own age who might be my equal. Looking back, I should have hit him more.
If I'd known he'd be the kind of infuriating figure who charged ahead alone like that, it still wouldn't have been enough.
"Fuck, stop him! I said stop him!"
"Why the hell is some little shit like this...!"
With movements that seemed to just sweep broadly around him, he grazed the wrists and throats of the soldiers charging at him in a single strike. The refined sword trajectory, so elegant it made even the scattering blood spray beautiful, felt like it was illuminating the path I had to walk forward. Somehow clinging close behind him, I cut down the other bastards whose attention was fixed on him.
But I couldn't replicate his sword, which precisely aimed for vitals with every single swing.
"It's Ega!"
How many years of brutal work had it taken an ordinary person to train that far? It was different from simply enhancing the body with aura. Technique, no matter how much raw power someone possessed, could only be carved into the body through relentless practice.
That was how I could tell.
That in his childhood, before he'd properly learned swordsmanship, the young Eldmia had swung his sword countless, countless times—at every possible angle—just to perfect the simple, utterly basic 'act of cutting something,' and that the trajectory born from that ordeal was precisely what I was witnessing.
As the heir to a knightly house, I couldn't fail to recognize the years of endurance hidden behind the simple phrase 'he'd swung a sword since childhood.'
"Why is there an aura user?!"
"If you're going to pull shit like this, spend your last seconds asking yourself why the hell you did it, you bastard!"
"Ugh, uwaaaagh!"
Though his occasionally classless outbursts and incomprehensible self-aggrandizement grated at times, now that he'd even mastered proper swordsmanship, the sight of him rampaging felt like watching a dance.