Ominous Omens (8)

Chase's reinforced arrow tore through the scarf wrapped around the enemy commander's neck—the literal lifeline in this mock battle—and at the same moment, Chrome shouted.

"Nice! On to the next one!"

"That eagle-eyed guy is glaring at us and yelling something!"

"Probably saying thanks! Tell him we'll take the gratitude later!"

"I really don't think that's what he's saying..."

Brushing off the brief comedy, Chrome and his group set their next target as the Second Army. Chrome spoke into the communication magic tool he had distributed to each unit leader beforehand.

[...Understood.]

Chrome cut the transmission one-sidedly and shouted. Pino stepped forward with a groan.

"Ugh, seriously! I knew it, but this unit really got stuck with the hardest job!"

She canceled the Lower Grade Wind Step she'd been using for mobility. At the same time, a bow and arrow formed of pure magic power appeared in her hands. Mid-tier Magic Arrow. A spell one grade higher than what she'd used in the previous assignment loaded into place, its power further amplified by the effect of the Forest Keeper's Magic Bow.

Aim. Fire.

What looked like nothing more than a flash of light struck the ground right in front of the soldiers guarding the rear. The explosion sent everyone nearby flying. The soldiers' eyes widened at the power far beyond what they'd expected, but this was only the beginning.

"Next!"

"You don't have to tell me!"

"Damn it, working under you is brutal!"

The two students—both among the top ten in the Magic Department and the same ones who'd teamed up with Lyla during the previous assignment—grumbled but still cast their mid-tier spells. Spheres brimming with flame and ice respectively slammed into the formation, completely shattering the shield soldiers' two-line defense. Chrome's group immediately charged through the gap.

"You bastards! I won't tolerate any more of this nonsense!"

The magic users from the Second Army rushed to block Chrome's team after the rear ambush, but thanks to the even heavier pressure Alphonse was applying from the front, only five of them made it. And five was far too few against the four elite assault members Chrome had personally handpicked from the academy students.

"Instead of flapping your gums, why don't you show me with your skills, Mr. Imperial Officer!"

"What an insolent little brat!"

One of the Second Army's knights clashed with Crow. The knight had initially sneered inwardly at the boy's dual-wielding style—two weapons of completely different lengths and shapes—thinking it was nothing but flashy showmanship. But after no more than five exchanges, that contempt turned to pure shock.

'This is impossible...!'

Wielding two different weapons with both hands and swinging them independently was far more difficult than it looked. It wasn't just a matter of grip strength or stamina. The human brain simply wasn't wired to use both hands in completely different ways. Overcoming that required either innate talent or endless training until it became second nature.

Yet the skill displayed by the young man before him—who couldn't be more than twenty—far ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠surpassed that level. Fast. Flashy. Bizarre. The vague image of dual-wielding that beginners dreamed up was unfolding right before the knight's eyes, and his hands grew increasingly clumsy.

He shouted, "What are you all doing?! The enemy is few in number! Surround them—ugh!?"

"Where are you looking—whoa!?"

Seeing a soldier's body flying straight at him, the knight reflexively rolled across the ground. Crow, who had to duck just as frantically, yelled out.

"Hey Akasha! Watch what you're doing!"

"Ah, sorry. My bad."

Even as she casually apologized to Crow, her hands never stopped moving. Every time Akasha swung that absurdly massive greatsword sideways, two or three soldiers at once went flying, smashed by the flat of the blade. Armor and shields designed to withstand a cavalry charge when properly braced became meaningless in the face of a monstrous strength that could swing a hunk of iron weighing dozens of kilograms like a flyswatter, especially with their formation already broken.

'No good. We can't handle this. The knight has to step in!'

One soldier frantically looked around ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for an allied knight, only to rub his eyes at the sight before him. The knight was being swung. Not as a figure of speech. Literally.

"You bastard! Let him go!"

"My apologies, my apologies!"

A burly young man wearing nothing but a scholar's robe made of thin cloth stood out among the leather-and-steel-clad soldiers. That alone might have been dismissed as a mage or priest's attire, but the sight of him gripping a knight's legs with both massive arms and swinging the man around like a weapon defied all description.

"You there! Put Hans down right—gah!"

CRACK!

Another knight who rushed in to rescue his comrade collided directly with the very knight he was trying to save and collapsed. The point of impact from the human bludgeon was an elbow. The victim took the blow straight to the side of his head. The knight being used as a weapon let out a scream at the unmistakable sensation he'd never meant to deliver.

"Stop this humiliating behavior at once!"

The knight flailed desperately, but the grip on his legs was so strong he couldn't move an inch. Every time he tried to sit up and do something, he was swung around wildly. What was he supposed to do? It would have been easier to just pass out, but the protective spells on his armor and helmet were working far too perfectly. It was driving him insane.

"You—"

THUD.

"—won't be—"

THUD!

"—forgiv—"

"—GAAAAH!"

"No, please—"

"—HIIIIIIK!?"

"I'm begging you, just let me gooooo!"

CRACK.

Perhaps his desperate wish had been heard. The high-quality armor his family had gifted him upon becoming an imperial knight finally reached its limit. The greave around his trapped ankle snapped off, and the knight was finally freed from the mad scholar's grasp.

As he rolled across the dirt, unconscious yet wearing a faint smile of liberation, the soldiers stared at the young man who had lost his "weapon." They knew this was the perfect chance to attack now that he'd been ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠disarmed, yet an inexplicable sense of foreboding washed over them.

"My apologies, my apologies. I am not skilled with weapons, so I had no choice."

Rabaul looked around. The light of madness had begun to gleam in his eyes after months of being worked to the bone ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠by a certain wicked merchant.

"Is there no one else who will assist me?"

A chill ran down the soldiers' spines.

"The front line is collapsing! At this rate we'll be breached!"

"Hmm... Command ability far beyond what I'd expect from students."

The Second Army commander let out a low groan as he gazed at the front. The students, whom he'd dismissed as disorganized rabble no matter their individual skill, were coordinating far better than expected and putting up a real fight. Of course, from a professional's perspective there were still many clumsy aspects, but that was inevitable without proper training. Considering how many magic users developed strong egos and willful personalities from being praised for their talent since childhood, the fact that they could be controlled this well was actually impressive.

The Second Army commander decided to step forward himself. In a battle where victory was decided by whether the scarf around each commander's neck was destroyed, personally entering the fray carried significant risk. But at this rate, simply waiting would make buying time nearly impossible.

"More importantly, what's the situation in the rear—hup!?"

WHOOSH!

"Are you alri—gah!"

Startled by the arrow that suddenly flew in, he jerked backward. The adjutant beside him let out a short scream and collapsed. The commander barely blocked the blade that came rushing at him without hesitation, then widened his eyes as he finally got a good look at his opponent.

A slender brown-haired girl with a cold gaze stood before him. She hardly had the imposing build one would expect. But his surprise lasted only a moment. He quickly regained his stance.

The very fact that the enemy had reached this position proved that he and his men were in a dangerous situation. There was no time to be shocked by the opponent's identity or appearance.

'The last reports from the other units weren't good either. Some may have already fallen. I have to buy time here no matter what!'

He knew it wasn't very mature of him, but for the Southern Army this was a matter of duty and honor. First, subdue the girl before him and secure the rear. His resolve was clear, and he had a plan.

SWISH SWISH SWISH—CLANG!

"Huh?"

—At least until he got hit.

With a sickening crunch as his nose broke, the Second Army commander was sent flying backward by a metal gauntlet to the face. He was by no means all bluster, but his fatal mistake was failing to recognize that the person before him possessed talent that would rank among the top ten across the entire continent.

The moment Ligret tore off the scarf tied around the fallen commander's neck, Chrome arrived at her side.

"How was it fighting him alone? Any good?"

Ligret shrugged.

"Less than Crow. More than you."

"That's such a wide range it's completely useless. Anyway, let's pull out quick and reinforce the oth—"

At that moment, the communication magic tool rang out.

Ligret let out a small chuckle.

"How's life as the popular one?"

Chrome answered with a face like he'd bitten into a bug.

"This feels more like being a convenient errand boy."

"So which way?"

Chrome said, "We'll take both."