Aura
Karen had already vanished by the time he tried to catch up.
Left with no other choice, Orion headed for the meeting place wearing a thoroughly baffled expression.
The crack of gunfire mixed with shouted battle cries drifted up from below.
This was a vantage point overlooking the training grounds.
"So you came. I honestly didn't think you would."
It was Arnold.
As usual, he started to push up his glasses with his middle finger — only to freeze under Orion's pointed stare.
"What do you mean, 'didn't think I would'? You said I could learn Spatial Slash. Of course I'd show up."
"…Spatial Slash?"
Arnold's eyes went round for a moment, but he quickly dismissed it as more nonsense.
"Hmph. Still refusing to admit you were lying, I see."
"I never lied, okay…?"
Orion felt a flicker of self-doubt.
Even earlier today… Am I really that hard to trust?
Anyway, there was no time for this.
"Haah. So if I beat you without using this Aura thing or whatever, that settles it, right?"
A vein bulged on Arnold's forehead.
"…You sound awfully confident."
"It's not confidence. It's the only way to prove it. Oh, and don't even think about going easy on me. Feel free to turn on your Aura and come at me for real."
Crack—!
Arnold's temper flared white-hot.
Someone who couldn't even use Aura — by his own admission, no less — was telling him to activate his and charge in?
It was a disgrace to a knight's honor. Watching Orion casually egg him on like it was nothing made his blood boil.
But common sense never worked on this man.
Getting angry every few seconds would only give him a headache.
Arnold calmly adjusted his glasses and spoke.
"I won't care whether you get hurt or not."
"Fine by me."
Gritting his teeth, Arnold pointed toward the training grounds and continued.
"…But not right now."
"Why not?"
"It's the unit's training hours. Once they finish, we can begin the spar."
"Isn't there somewhere else?"
"The time it would take to get there is about the same as waiting here."
Orion pointed at the outer walls.
"Then we can just do it outside. You're going to end up teaching me Aura anyway, so more space is better."
Arnold's lips twitched.
Talking about a place crawling with magic beasts like it was some casual picnic — was that even a reasonable suggestion?
Flustered enough that words failed him, Arnold finally managed to spit out the first excuse he could think of.
"…As Acting Commander, I have to remain at my post during training hours."
"That so? Well, fine then. We'll wait."
Orion nodded readily and wandered off to watch the drills.
Left alone, Arnold felt a pang of regret.
He should have just agreed and gone. Now he just looked pathetic.
The two of them descended to the training grounds.
Up close, the gunfire was even louder.
They were matchlock muskets — the kind commonly called flintlocks in other lands.
Curious, Orion asked,
"If you've got those, why bother with close-range weapons at all? Why train with swords and spears?"
It was genuine curiosity.
Even intelligent humans turned and ran the moment they saw a firearm. It was a pure matter of reach.
If you had a way to attack from range, close combat was a losing proposition no matter how you sliced it.
So why would you bother with melee weapons against magic beasts that might not even have intelligence — especially when you already had guns?
Arnold smirked and adjusted his glasses.
"Hmph. You really don't know anything, do you?"
He'd meant it as a jab, but Orion just stood there waiting. Arnold caved to that pure curiosity.
"Ahem. Magic beasts have extremely high regenerative power. Even if you put a bullet through their torso, they heal it in no time. It's hard to deal meaningful damage that way."
That was news to Orion.
Back when he'd first started hunting magic beasts, he'd attacked without pause. And once he'd gotten the hang of it, one-shot kills had become the norm — so he'd never had the chance to notice something like that.
He'd simply cut whatever looked like a weak point. The head, for instance.
"Ohh, really? Then why not just use bigger bullets?"
"Please say something that makes sense. If that were easy, we wouldn't be doing things this way."
"Whoa, whoa. Calm down. I was just asking out of curiosity. No need to get so worked up."
Arnold clicked his tongue and forced himself to settle.
"Siege weapons can kill a magic beast in one hit, but since you're bombarding from long range, the accuracy is terrible. And getting close enough to fix that isn't worth the travel time."
"Huh. Is that so?"
"Yes. I'd love nothing more than to rain shells on them, but we can't go wasting precious tax money. Though in an emergency, of course, we'd have no choice."
Arnold pointed at the knights currently drilling.
"Anyway, that's why close-combat training is essential. Restrict the beast's movements from range, then finish it off in melee."
"That's actually pretty systematic."
"It's a tactic passed down through generations of the knight order. It may look like we have more people than we need, but every one of them is necessary."
"Yeah, that tracks. Better three people go and all three come back alive than one person going and taking the enemy down with him."
Orion nodded in acknowledgment.
Come to think of it, he hadn't heard much about people dying on this Northern Continent — even though this was the place closest to the magic beasts.
Hmm.
Boss, I may have underestimated you.
"So how do you actually kill a magic beast, then?"
"Based on what we know so far, you either shatter the Magic Stone or sever a large enough portion of the body connected to it. Or, the crude method — just pour on enough damage that it can't regenerate."
"Can't bullets break a Magic Stone?"
"Not even close. The hardness of a bullet is nowhere near enough. You need precision tools just to cut one."
So the second option was the only real choice, then.
Shoot out the limbs and blow off the head. Got it.
Orion looked at Arnold.
He's nicer than he looks, isn't he?
Ask him anything and he explained it all. The guy was basically a Speedwagon.
Looks like he'd picked a good secretary.
"…What is that look for?"
"Nothing. More importantly, the training grounds look empty. Can we go now?"
Orion strolled toward the field with a sunny grin.
"Hmph."
Arnold pushed up his glasses with his middle finger and followed him onto the grounds.
"Ghhk—!!!"
By the time the sun hung directly overhead, the clang of steel on steel rang out endlessly across the knights' training grounds.
"Oh, not bad. You're better than that Albert guy, whatever his name was."
Despite the freezing winter air, Arnold was drenched in sweat, exhaustion written all over his face.
But he had no intention of letting go of his sword.
Shiiing—!!
Arnold's strike was deflected before it could even land.
It had already happened dozens of times.
"Haaaaah—!!!"
"Good, good. You've got grit."
Meeting him head-on was obviously impossible, and every feint Arnold thought he'd landed had been pure self-delusion.
It wasn't some exotic sword style. It wasn't mind-reading or predicting the next attack.
Just an overwhelming difference in power.
That was all.
"Ghhurk—!!"
His final, all-out strike bounced away like nothing.
Arnold went tumbling across the snow.
Meanwhile, Orion was marveling at the light gleaming off his own blade.
…Damn it.
With what little strength he had left, Arnold managed to lift his head and look at Orion.
He'd used Aura ages ago. So why couldn't he sense even a trace of mana from the man?
A hollow laugh escaped him.
"Ha. Now I understand why that person called you a monster."
Everything felt empty and pointless.
Arnold was only human.
He held the Acting Commander post because he was currently the strongest in the order, but he'd always kept in mind that defeat could come at any time.
Of course losing would make him furious. But given time, he'd write it off as experience.
If only the loss hadn't been this humiliating.
"You okay?"
Orion held out a hand.
Arnold took it with a lifeless expression and pulled himself up.
"Heh. Unbelievable."
A hollow mutter slipped from Arnold's lips.
He had no choice but to admit it now.
Forget the fact that Orion hadn't used Aura.
The man hadn't taken a single step from where he'd started.
"Hey, cheer up. You're the one who suggested this. And what's a commander doing looking like that?"
Orion gave Arnold's shoulder a few light pats.
He was so drained that each tap made his body sway.
With trembling hands, Arnold adjusted his glasses and seriously considered something.
Maybe it was time to quit being a knight.
That was when Orion spoke again.
"It's fine. You don't need to look so depressed. Your opponent was me, after all."
Crack—!!
A vein popped on Arnold's forehead.
A moment ago he hadn't even had the energy to answer.
So why did those words make his insides boil?
It was absurd.
Absurd that Orion would say something so outrageous — and absurd that he himself was reacting to it.
"Don't give me that crap. Next time, I'll win."
"Wh-what!? Crap?"
Startled by the sudden swearing, Orion stared. Arnold raised his middle finger, pushed up his glasses with it, and said,
"Don't come crying to me when you lose next time. Even if you show up sniveling, I won't comfort you."
"What did you just say!? Look at this guy. Were you the same person who was moping thirty seconds ago?"
"When did I ever mope? Are you going senile already?"
"Wh-what!? Hey, you. Did your personality just change? Did you hit your head or something?"
"I've always been like this. Aren't you the one who hit your head?"
"Wow. Unbelievable. I try to worry about you and this is what I get!!"
Had he ever felt like this before?
All he'd ever done was train steadily, complete whatever was given to him, and keep putting in the work.
So what was this feeling?
The desire to catch up to someone lit a fire under Arnold's stubborn resolve.