The Tyrant of the Plains
The battle was fierce.
But the difference between the beast and me was this: I knew it inside and out, and it knew nothing about me.
That difference decided the match.
———!!!
The Kespilatos howled.
I had no idea what had made it so furious. I didn't particularly want to know, either. A monster's circumstances meant nothing to a hunter.
The weak die to the strong — whatever stories they may carry. That was nature's cold truth.
Crack—!
I snapped the last horn.
Its prized horns rolled across the ground. Its hide hung in tatters. Its face was painted in blood — and even that was washed away by the rain, leaving the earth a chaotic slurry of blood and mud.
Now its death would put the finishing touch on all of this.
Without its horns, the creature could do nothing. It had become something less than an ordinary Kespilatos. Its charges were nothing more than blunt-body rushes now. It could no longer overturn the earth with those horns; all that remained was pure physical strength. Strip away the horns, and it was ultimately nothing more than a low-grade monster.
Without the only weapon that could have killed me, it would simply fall to me in ruin.
The Kespilatos stared at me, drool hanging from its jaws. The fighting spirit was draining from its red eyes.
Are you feeling powerless?
I felt a faint kinship. I, too, had felt powerless. When I lost my entire world, that helplessness was something beyond words.
You monsters should feel it once, too.
…A thought that wasn't mine rose up.
I gripped my sword tight and shook my head. The blade set with the Galori's Essence flashed. Better finish this fight quickly.
The Kespilatos made its final desperate stand. No longer through its horns — it tried to force its blood energy through its entire body.
An abnormal flow of power. That was a strike that would devour even its own life.
Focus.
I widened my eyes and watched its final blow. Masses of blood energy split into dozens of streams and came flying at me, homing in. I put strength into my whole body and drew up even the power of the Essence. I kicked off the ground and dropped low — shield forward, sword trailing — and parried the incoming blood energy with Just Guards on my shield.
One, two, three, four.
I knocked aside and deflected the relentless barrage. Blood energy that struck the ground burst and churned the mud. I slipped through the gaps in the parried volley and came right up to its face, meeting its eyes.
In those red pupils, every thought collided and tangled — then settled into calm.
I thrust my sword forward.
Sword Pierce.
I gathered a monster's power into a single blade and drove it into one point. My strike sank precisely into the soft flesh where the hide had been stripped away, piercing deep through its body.
The creature that had spent its life punching holes in others received every bit of its karma in return.
The Kespilatos toppled weakly onto its side, the blood energy remaining in its body scattering in all directions. The power it had gathered over its long life was vanishing. The raindrops that had turned red with blood energy found their own color again and slowly settled. At some point the soft drizzle had stopped; not a single drop fell now.
The world blessed its death. The clouds slowly parted, and sunlight poured through the gaps, illuminating the corpse. I lifted my head and shielded my eyes with my shield.
The tyrant of the plains was dead.
Clear light poured once more over the Brivido Plains.
Adelaide was having coffee with her older brother Melchior for the first time in a long while.
There was little conversation between them. They simply breathed in the aroma, savored the taste, and let the time pass. As siblings competing for the throne, a certain awkwardness was inevitable.
They had been close as children. Adelaide cast a sidelong glance at Melchior, sifting through her memories. The Melchior of her childhood had been an older brother who doted on his younger sister.
There had been no particular incident that drove them apart. As they grew older, their opinions diverged and their goals pulled in different directions, and so brother and sister naturally drifted away from each other.
"Hmm…"
Melchior, mid-sip, let out a low sound. Adelaide set down her cup.
"It's coffee from Primavera. Does the flavor not suit you, Brother?"
"Seems a bit short on sugar."
"…Haven't you already put in six cubes?"
"More is always better. Of sugar — and of people."
Melchior picked up another sugar cube and dropped it into his cup with a soft plop. Adelaide blinked, then nodded. From under the desk she produced a small box.
"I thought you might say that, so I brought donuts glazed with berry jam from various regions as well."
She opened the box. Four compartments, each holding a donut. The jams on top were all different — glossy, rich, and thoroughly sweet-looking.
"That's my little sister for you. Though the quantity does seem a touch lacking."
"Isn't a little scarcity a good thing? Too much and you tire of it quickly — and then you never go looking for it again."
"Hmph. You talk a good game. I'll enjoy the donuts, then."
Melchior said this as he picked up an uvaberry donut.
This was Adelaide's office. She had invited Melchior here — though not, of course, for some long-overdue family bonding. They were not that kind of cheerful family.
"So, little sister. What is it you wanted to say to me?"
"What kind of scheme did you pull?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Mm. I don't believe for a moment that you simply handed me this opportunity out of the goodness of your heart."
Adelaide said this while nibbling at a donut, bit by bit.
"Oh…?"
Melchior nodded as he tore his donut and briefly dunked it in his coffee. Adelaide could never quite tell what he was thinking — though that wasn't the real problem right now. Something else was bothering her more.
"Does that actually taste good?"
"These days people dip everything, don't they? Meat in sauce, skewers in sauce…"
"No — there's already jam on it…"
"Makes the coffee sweeter."
Adelaide shook her head in disbelief.
"So you have no intention of answering?"
"Do you think I earnestly handed you this assignment, took the credit, and then went and did something underhanded behind the scenes?"
"Yes."
"Sharp. You know me well."
"I'm your sister."
Adelaide said it bluntly, but a subtle confidence clung to the words. Melchior regarded her steadily.
So the pure, childish little sister is gone, is she?
He put the donut in his mouth. He chewed for a very long time before swallowing, and only then answered Adelaide's question.
"I did nothing."
"…Truly?"
"Do you think I'm lying?"
"You simply withhold the truth."
"That's right."
Melchior wiped his mouth and hands with a tissue, then lifted his cup. Jam mixed into the coffee had released a sweet fragrance. He took a careful sip, and the jam flavor spread through his mouth — thoroughly sweet.
"…Hmm."
"Would you like more coffee?"
"Please."
It was sweeter than expected. Melchior gave a small nod. Adelaide tilted the pot and poured slowly. Her lips trembled ever so slightly.
"So what, exactly, is your angle?"
"Regarding what?"
"I never expected you to do nothing. I was preparing a countermeasure of my own — but it seems I was wrong."
"You weren't wrong."
Melchior lifted his cup. He parted his lips slightly and drank the lukewarm coffee. After quietly savoring the taste, he stretched out a hand as he spoke.
"That was the original plan. I intended to make my moves. But I decided not to. It was a thoroughly impulsive, emotional decision — not a shred of reason in it."
"…Why are you putting in more sugar?"
"Mm."
Without a word, Melchior plopped another sugar cube in.
"I found an interesting woman."
"Do you want her?"
"No. I'm simply curious."
Melchior shook his head as he spoke. His eyelids fluttered, as if he were hesitating over whether to close them. He was thinking about something. Adelaide tilted her cup; a breath of air rippled the surface.
"Little sister — royal life is dull. No one dares say a word against us. The stewards who live here are mostly second sons of noble houses who couldn't claim power for themselves — people hoping to snatch whatever scraps fall from our table. Who among them would ever speak ill of us?"
"I hear plenty of ill from you, Brother."
"That's because we're family. And you're the strange one. No one else thinks that deeply about hunters."
"We've lived like flowers in a greenhouse, haven't we."
"Hunters are armed soldiers occupying the outer territories. What if they took a commission from another country and turned against us? …Of course they must be under the kingdom's control."
"Before that, they are citizens of Cartadia."
"Are they? Do you put your faith in that kind of sentiment? There's no merchant who won't sell for the right price. Enough — this kind of talk only sours both our moods."
Melchior waved a hand dismissively.
"What I want to say is that the woman is genuinely interesting. Rough, thoroughly unpleasant personality. No polish whatsoever. Speaking casually to the royalty of the kingdom she lives in — does she talk to you that way too?"
"…Well, she does."
"A vulgar woman. And yet I find myself thinking that the way she spits out that casual speech comes from confidence."
Having talked at length, Melchior went back to chewing his donut. Then, offhandedly, he dropped a single line.
"She reminded me of you."
"…Pardon?"
"You, too, hold a faith that has no real foundation, don't you? You seem to move solely by your own convictions. She's the same. Birds of a feather, is that it?"
"Is that a compliment?"
"It is."
Melchior finished off the donut and wiped his hands.
"Well — that and success are separate matters. If it was going to fail, it would fail without my interference. What matters is the hunter's skill. I simply want to see whether the card you pushed at me is actually effective."
"It will be. She's the hunter who took my commission."
"No, that won't do."
"Pardon?"
"I need you to fail, you see. Please fail spectacularly. The donuts were delicious, by the way. If the palace chef catches me, I'll get an earful — sweets have been forbidden for a while."
Melchior shrugged and rose from his seat. Adelaide's mouth curved into a faint smile as she stared hard at her brother.
Would it be all right to hit him just once?
"Little sister, about the palace chef—"
"—Your Highness! Your Highness the Prince!"
"Ah…"
Just as Melchior's hand closed on the doorknob, a servant flung the door open without warning. Melchior, who had consequently cracked his forehead against the door, staggered backward.
"Ghk!"
Adelaide clamped a hand over her mouth. Fortunately, Melchior did not catch the way the corner of her lips had twitched upward.
"Hah — Your Highness, forgive me!"
"…It's fine. Well? What is it?"
Melchior asked, rubbing his forehead. The servant trembled, then realized why he had come, let out a small gasp of recollection, and delivered the message.
"There's word from the Association regarding the Kespilatos subjugation!"
"…Already?"
Only a few days since departure, and news already.
Melchior and Adelaide looked at each other and blinked. Melchior recovered first and urged the servant on.
"Out with it, then."
"Y-yes, sir!"
The servant delivered the report. And as his words continued, the joy and dismay that surfaced on both their faces grew steadily deeper.