Ishmeel, the Giant of the Desert
A woman, frowning against the swirling desert wind, stared intently at a "hunk of scrap metal."
The "machine," shaped like a beast, rumbled and leaked oil as it glared not at her, who stood right beside it, but at a caravan of carriages passing by in the far distance.
The woman took a leisurely drag from the cigarette between her lips, and a thick cloud of smoke billowed from her mouth.
"Whew... A beast-type, huh?"
The hunks of scrap metal before her eyes—the Outworlders—came in many varieties.
Outworlders were broadly classified into two categories: beast-types and humanoid-types.
Though beast-types took on various shapes, an experienced warrior could handle one alone.
Humanoid-types, on the other hand, were quite troublesome, requiring several such warriors working together to defeat.
Either way, it didn't seem to matter much to this woman, who was casually puffing on a cigarette in front of a terrifying Outworlder dripping oil from its maw.
Ishmeel.
In her younger days, she had been known as "Ishmeel of Greed" and had belonged to some of the continent's most famous mercenary groups.
However, in the nearly ten years since she had settled in her homeland of Delgrad, she had acquired a different epithet.
The Giant of the Desert.
Though she possessed an average build that made the title "Giant" seem unfitting, there was a very good reason for it.
Flicking away her shortened cigarette with a finger, Ishmeel gripped the massive greatsword on her back.
Just then, the Outworlder kicked off the ground and lunged forward.
In an instant, Ishmeel's body vanished.
A shadow fell over the head of the Outworlder, which had ignored her completely to charge straight toward the carriages.
BOOM!!!
With a deafening roar, Ishmeel's greatsword slammed down onto the Outworlder's head.
The blade of the greatsword was so dull and blunt that it shouldn't have been able to pierce the Outworlder's hard outer shell.
Indeed, that should have been the case.
Screeech!!!
But driven by Ishmeel's common-sense-defying, monstrous strength, the Outworlder's head was instantly ground into the sand, completely crushed.
Ishmeel had not reinforced her body with mana. In fact, she didn't even know how to use mana to strengthen herself in the first place.
During her childhood, back when she was still with the mercenary group, even those renowned for their mastery of mana had eventually given up on teaching her.
Unable to even stir her mana after countless attempts, an irritated Ishmeel had beaten up the mercenary trying to teach her and run away.
Ishmeel was incredibly simple-minded.
Dragged back by the scruff of her neck by the captain, Ishmeel had scoffed, claiming she could beat them all without learning such useless tricks. That night, she was pitted against the entire mercenary group in arm wrestling.
The result: 42 wins out of 42 matches.
Even though all 42 members of the mercenary group were famous figures across the continent, none could overcome the raw physical strength of the teenage Ishmeel.
And that was even with them reinforcing their bodies with mana.
Thus, she was named the Giant of the Desert for possessing the strength of a giant.
Ishmeel was, quite literally, a human who was just naturally strong.
However, those who knew her well never called her by such a grand epithet.
"She remains as boorish as ever..."
Watching Ishmeel's battle from the carriage, Sierra clicked her tongue and murmured softly.
The nickname her acquaintances preferred to use was "All-Muscle Ishmeel."
Incidentally, it was a nickname only those strong enough to survive saying it to her face could use.
Plunging her greatsword into the ground, Ishmeel examined the Outworlder's head, which was so horribly mangled it was barely recognizable, and felt a sudden doubt.
'It ignored me and headed straight for the carriage...'
It was strange.
Beast-type Outworlders were wild, violent, and utterly lacking in composure. They possessed a simple behavioral pattern: always prioritizing and attacking the nearest person right in front of them.
Yet, the Outworlder just now felt as though it had completely ignored Ishmeel.
"Hmm..."
Squatting down and stroking her chin in thought, Ishmeel soon came to a "conviction" and stood up.
'...I guess I was just too fast.'
Scratching her eyepatch, she ended her brief contemplation with a smirk, then turned her head to look at the caravan of carriages crossing the desert.
Ishmeel had heard Lucia's voice earlier when she leaped over the carriages.
She shared a deep connection with the Windless family.
Lucia's mother and the Lord of Delgrad, Cicely Windless, was practically Ishmeel's employer.
Smiling warmly at the thought of seeing Lucia after so long, Ishmeel began to run toward the carriages.
Her monstrous physical strength wasn't limited to her upper body. Her leg strength was equally beyond human standards.
Sprinting on foot without any gear, Ishmeel easily caught up to the speeding carriage, grabbed onto it, climbed up, and opened the door.
Click.
Sticking her face inside the carriage, she offered a bright grin.
"Lucia~!"
"...Who are you...?"
Blinking at the unfamiliar cadet's voice filled with confusion, Ishmeel scanned the interior of the carriage.
Lucia's bluish hair was nowhere to be seen.
'Ah, wrong carriage.'
With a casual "My bad~," she leaped right off the fast-moving carriage.
Landing perfectly, Ishmeel dashed to the next carriage to check inside.
This time, however, she didn't bother opening the door and simply peeked through the window.
It seemed she had found the right one, as she spotted bluish hair inside.
Suddenly noticing Ishmeel's sly, wicked grin pressed against the window, Lucia's eyes went wide with sheer terror.
"H-Hieeeek...! Miss Ishmeel?!"
The others inside the carriage were equally startled. Among them, Sierra stared at the black eyepatch covering Ishmeel's left eye, deeply puzzled.
"W-Where did this girl lose her eye...?"
It was only natural for Sierra to wonder, as the Ishmeel she had known in her past life was a cheeky brat with both eyes perfectly intact.
What could have happened over the span of several decades to make her lose an eye?
Sliding the door open, Ishmeel stepped into the carriage, her gaze locked onto Lucia as she began to stride toward her.
Wearing a mischievous, wicked grin, Ishmeel spoke.
"Lucia, long time no see!"
"H-Heuuu..."
Though Ishmeel hadn't done anything yet, Lucia, seemingly sensing what was about to happen, curled up in the corner of the carriage and began to tear up.
Delighted by Lucia's reaction, Ishmeel's grin widened even further as she held out both hands in the air.
"I wonder how much our Lucia has grown since I last saw her? Let me feel those breasts!"
A strange atmosphere hung inside the carriage as it traversed the desert.
This was entirely due to the presence of a single woman with tanned skin, brown hair, and a black eyepatch over her left eye.
"I'm Ishmeel. I'll be helping you adjust to desert life... Yeah, like a teacher of sorts."
Ishmeel said, wagging her finger as she sat in a corner of the carriage. The cadets inside nodded quietly in response.
The spot she occupied was originally Lucia's.
No matter how spacious a carriage was, it had its limits.
There simply wasn't enough room to accommodate Ishmeel as well.
Amon's massive build was also a major reason for the cramped space.
So, where was Lucia?
With a face flushed bright red, Lucia was sitting meekly on Ishmeel's lap, her head buried low.
Amon had been forced to look away when Ishmeel burst in and made that outrageous declaration about wanting to feel Lucia's breasts.
...Zeto had also wanted to look away, but fearing it might look suspicious for a blind man to react that way, he kept his head straight and simply tried his best not to pay attention.
The helpless whimpers that Lucia let out shortly after turned everyone's ears red.
Sierra shook her head, thinking that the woman hadn't changed a bit despite her age.
Sierra herself had been a frequent victim of Ishmeel's antics in the past.
Ishmeel loved women's breasts—specifically, large ones.
This preference aligned perfectly with her choice of weapon.
It was entirely due to Ishmeel's taste for anything "big and heavy."
Deciding that Lucia's breasts were still lacking and didn't offer a satisfying grip, Ishmeel glanced over at Zeto.
He was a very handsome young man, distinguished by the pristine white blindfold wrapped around his eyes.
'Ah, is he the one...?'
She recalled hearing from Cicely, after her visit to the academy's open class, about a blind student who was exceptionally skilled with a sword.
The young man had ink-black hair.
'Is he from the East?'
Ishmeel recalled a certain woman from the East she used to know.
Her breasts had felt wonderful to touch, and it was a great shame that she could no longer feel them.
Watching this, Sierra grew wary of Ishmeel, mistakenly assuming her "sticky gaze" was directed at Zeto.
"My disciple, This Lady knows that woman well... She is little more than a madwoman. It would be best for thee to avoid her as much as possible."
Zeto simply took it in stride.
Sierra's words weren't entirely wrong.
Ishmeel, the Giant of the Desert.
Zeto thought that her self-centered personality, which he remembered from the game, was as prominent as ever. He recalled her being almost on par with Edward in that regard.
However, Zeto wondered why they had already run into Ishmeel before even arriving at the city.
While Zeto was lost in thought, Eisel and Yuri were stealing glances at Ishmeel's voluptuous chest.
Confronted by the overwhelming majesty of Ishmeel's breasts, the two girls had to swallow a bitter, inexplicable sense of defeat.
Meanwhile, Amon, who sat next to Ishmeel, was also glancing at her.
However, his gaze was directed not at her chest, but at her muscles, which were clearly visible due to her highly revealing outfit. He looked at them with deep curiosity.
'Just what kind of training does she do...?'
Though Amon was a mage, he took after his father, Maxim Caligula, and possessed a keen interest in strong physiques.
"Hehehe..."
As Ishmeel chuckled wickedly while teasing Lucia's bouncy breasts, Amon decided to ask her a question.
Swallowing hard, Amon spoke up cautiously.
"Um, Ishmeel... What should we call you...?"
"Hmm? Just call me Teacher. Keep it casual."
Ishmeel said, turning her head to look at Amon.
"Teacher Ishmeel, I would like to know what kind of training you usually do..."
Ishmeel frowned at Amon's question.
"Training? Why would I do that?"
"Pardon...?! Then those muscles..."
"I've been like this since I was a kid."
"Ah..."
Failing to get a proper answer, Amon scratched his head in disbelief.
Ishmeel didn't bother taking care of her body.
Despite her debauched lifestyle of heavy drinking and constant smoking, her muscles grew firmer by the day, and even her skin maintained its youthful elasticity.
Zeto, who knew this well, couldn't help but think her physique was truly a gift from the gods.
As everyone was lost in their own thoughts about the sudden arrival of Ishmeel—
Lucia, who had been covering her mouth and staring out the window with desperate longing, suddenly stood up.
This was, in her mind, the perfect opportunity to escape Ishmeel's clutches as naturally as possible.
Pointing out the window, Lucia cried out brightly.
"I can see Delgrad...!"