Ranking Battle (7)
"Ha, what a bunch of absolute noobs."
I ground my teeth as I stared at the screen. The fact that Hans had held out for thirty-eight seconds was genuinely impressive.
It wasn't that he had "only" lasted thirty-eight seconds. It was that he had lasted a full thirty-eight seconds.
A knockoff Heracles wearing a lion skin, a ringworm covered head to toe in rings, a tattoo freak plastered in ink, and one knight belonging to the Empire.
I had run four of them through the trial, and every last one of them was this pathetic. The fake Heracles nearly got swallowed by the snake the instant the trial started and almost died in ten seconds flat.
Thanks to that, I ended up buying a debuff skill...
If I hadn't scrambled to the shop, bought a debuff-type skill, and slapped it on the snake, that knockoff Heracles would have washed out in ten seconds and walked away with the Unicorn.
Wait... now that I think about it, couldn't I have just buffed the kids instead?
A sudden flash of realization nearly gave me a full existential crisis, but I shook my head hard and banished the pointless regret.
More skills were always better. If you owned them, you would eventually find a use for them somewhere. I had made a wise purchase.
I was going to buy that skill anyway. I had simply bought it a little earlier, that was all.
I activated full mental victory mode and ignored the payment confirmation that had just landed in my messages.
Now that all five of the lower-rank challengers had finished their trials, Hans's tenth place was rock solid. Even if the process had cost me roughly twenty thousand won, I could call that a bargain.
Why go this far just to give Hans the Unicorn?
Well...
Because it was fun.
Originally I had planned to dump the Unicorn on Hans simply to get rid of a headache item. Now it had turned into pure curiosity and entertainment.
From what I could see, a little girl named Daisy had already formed a bond with Hans. I was dying to know what would happen if I threw a Unicorn into that mix.
A deranged virgin-obsessed Unicorn versus Hans, who was already walking the path of the peerless harem king. Just thinking about it made my chest swell with grandeur.
Of course, if the Unicorn went berserk and tried to kill Hans, or tried to run away again, I would have to give it a thorough lightning massage. Personally, though, I really wanted to watch the chaotic three-way circus of Unicorn, Daisy, and Hans.
... : Trial Failed (52.4s) — 1st of 5
· · ·
Hans : Trial Failed (38.7s) — 5th
Those who washed out of the trial were ranked by how long they had survived. If anyone actually cleared a trial, the ranking would probably flip and place the fastest clear times at the top.
Five challengers remained.
Tigrius from the Empire, Lionheart, Kenis, Friga, and Iscal.
From here on, everything was critically, extremely important. The lower ranks could take whatever they got and it would not matter. The top four, however, had predetermined prizes waiting for them, which meant the ranking manipulation had to be surgical.
First...
The fifth-place prize, the Great Shield of the Guardian. Start with Iscal.
I racked my brain over what kind of trial Iscal could struggle through just enough and still manage to solve, then selected one.
"O Guardian, do you know the weight of that which stands behind you?"
"Oh."
Trial of Guardianship. Even the name carried the perfect feeling of protecting and defending something. A shield was all about guarding things, so this trial felt tailor-made for Iscal.
Without a second thought I selected the Trial of Guardianship.
Trial of Guardianship... Challenger: Iscal!
Iscal appeared in the wide arena alongside an enormous tower shield. His presence was thinner than expected, but dig a little and he was solid, like a reliable bowl of soup that always filled one person's portion.
He was the only tank we had, so even if I wanted to give up on raising him, I literally could not.
Come to think of it, is there no function for leveling up the adventurers?
Now that weapon star-grade upgrades had unlocked, I figured adventurer leveling ought to exist too. There was a limit to how long we could keep coasting on weapons and weapon enhancements alone. Character growth was still the most important thing.
Sometimes when I wandered around in World Exploration mode I would catch the heroes training on their own, but since I was not personally directing their growth, it left me a little uneasy.
"Hahahahaha!!"
Iscal raised his shield high and laughed at the crowd with the most self-satisfied pose imaginable. I had not realized it before, but the guy had a serious attention-seeking streak. Being a male character already made him hard to like; now he was actively trying to become more annoying.
Rumble...
The floor of the arena began to shake, and Iscal's trial started.
"Iscal! Iscal! Iscal! Iscal!"
Tens of thousands of spectators roared his name. Iscal felt the rush of excitement surge through him, gave a light shiver, and climbed into the arena.
"Hoo— All right, Iscal. You've got this."
The five challengers who had gone before him had all failed their trials.
Chased by a giant snake, fleeing a three-headed hound, seized by a one-eyed giant...
The string of failures had dampened the crowd's mood a little, but the appearance of an Apostle like Iscal set the heat boiling again.
No one could deny that the previous challengers had been excellent warriors in their own right. Still, Apostles chosen by a god had to be different, right? The expectation that they would display superhuman martial prowess swelled through the stands.
Under the blazing sun of the arena, Iscal waved to the crowd chanting his name and struck the most dashing pose he could manage.
"Hahahahaha!!"
What a thrilling moment!
The brief showmanship ended. The cheers gradually faded, and silence settled over the arena.
Iscal gripped the shield that had been his steadfast comrade through countless bloodbaths and scanned every direction. How many times had he carved his way through hell with this solid shield at his side?
As long as he had the shield the god had given him, there was nothing to fear.
Feeling the heavy weight of the shield, Iscal surveyed his surroundings.
Where is it...
Rumble—
The ground of the arena trembled lightly, announcing the start of the trial. Iscal raised the shield even higher and tensed every muscle.
And then...
A thick fog rose and wrapped the entire arena.
The sudden mist threw everyone into confusion. Every previous trial had featured terrifying monsters, so the crowd had expected the same this time.
"Wh-what is this?"
Iscal swung his arm through the fog closing in around him, but the murky mist only parted and scattered uselessly before rising thicker and denser than before.
Fog rose like clouds and stole his sight. It seeped in through his nose, settled on his skin, and deceived every sense. Vision blurred, smell vanished, touch dulled. Mind and body began to separate.
In the haze of his thoughts, Iscal wondered.
I... right now... what am I...
What was I doing?
Where is this place?
"...! ...cal!!"
A dull voice reached him as if he were sinking underwater.
"...scal!! Iscal!"
"Huh?"
"Hey, Iscal!! Snap out of it!!"
Like someone doused in ice water, Iscal's mind snapped clear. The fog in his head broke, and when he looked around he found himself...
Where am I?
Sharp metallic clashes and death screams rose from every direction.
The coppery stench of blood stabbed his nose, mixed with the rotting reek of the dead.
Hot, scorching air and the salty stickiness of sweat. The screams of people burning alive, the wails of children who had lost their mothers.
A battlefield—the eye of a storm where life and death flashed past in seconds. A horizon where a single momentary choice decided who lived and who became a corpse.
Iscal stood right in the middle of it.
"Ah...?"
"Iscal!! Hey, you bastard!! Get your head on straight!!"
"My lady? Why are you here?"
The one who had been desperately calling his name was Friga.
Dropped without warning into the heart of a battlefield, Iscal's mind was in chaos.
"Wh-what? No. I was definitely in the arena taking a trial..."
"What? A trial?! What nonsense is that! It's not too late yet, so at least you should run—agh!"
"My lady!"
Friga never finished the sentence; a groan tore from her throat. Iscal checked her body and recoiled in horror.
Her condition was critical.
One leg was twisted at a grotesque angle and useless. Her side had been ripped open longways, intestines spilling out. One arm dangled limply; the other, relatively intact, still bore a massive wound.
Iscal's face drained of color. Friga's body was far too ruined.
"Just what..."
Far off, he spotted Friga's axe lying on the ground. The once-keen edge was shattered and chipped, cracked all over.
The desperate situation kept driving Iscal's mind into a corner. The endless screams pressed him harder, and the wounds right in front of him shattered his composure.
And so Iscal completely forgot that he was still in the middle of a trial.
He accepted everything he saw as reality and acted faithfully according to the situation given to him.
The murky fog that had risen in the arena dulled Iscal's mind; the blunted touch and blocked vision dulled his senses.
Thus the fog severed mind from body and slipped into the gap to show him a hallucination.
Yes—Iscal was looking at an illusion the fog had created. A mirage he would normally have dismissed was becoming reality for him.
His trial had already begun.
"M-my shield! Where's my shield...!"
Iscal frantically searched for his shield. To survive this battlefield he needed it—his own shield.
The shield the god had bestowed upon him.
To become the Iron Wall Iscal that no monster or demon had ever pierced, he needed that shield.
"Ah..."
A sigh escaped him. At his feet lay the shield, rolling in the mud.
His massive rectangular shield, big as a door.
It was crushed, pierced, and warped into something no better than scrap metal. It could no longer function as a shield in any way.
Despair washed over him.
Without the shield... without the shield he was nothing.
Not the Iron Wall Iscal, not an Apostle of the god—just some freeloader named Iscal.
Friga clutched her spilling intestines and gave a bitter smile.
"Hey... if you've got your head on straight, run. Ugh! Those things will be here any second."
"..."
Thud-thud-thud—
The ground trembled ahead. Monsters with razor fangs and vicious claws poured forward in a black tide, charging straight at Iscal and Friga.
An endless number of enemies. Like a flock of storm clouds swallowing the earth.
"If you stay here you'll die like a dog too. I can't even move, but... you're still in one piece."
"..."
"Khh... Go already. Hurry. I'm already... finished anyway."
"I... I..."
Iscal's eyes, sunk low, looked at Friga. Pale complexion, purple lips, slightly unfocused pupils, intermittent tremors.
The signs of death closing in on her body were unmistakable.
He bit down hard on his lip. Should he really turn his back on her like this?
Was this truly the right thing?
There's no way...!
Iscal hung his head. Then he kicked off the ground.
He lowered his head in helplessness and turned away.
He fled from the oncoming enemies.
He fled, leaving his comrade behind.
Not the Iron Wall Iscal, not an Apostle of the god.
Just a coward named Iscal.
As he ran madly with his head down, something seemed to whisper in his ear.
Is this truly your path?
Is this your way?
Is this really the best you can do?
I... I...!
He had none of Friga's bravery, none of Kenis's specialness. He lacked even Hans's monstrous strength. All he had was a shield.
Nothing but a single shield.
The massive shield granted by the god. That was everything Iscal was.
Without that shield, he... Iscal was nothing.
Blood trickled from his bitten lip.
Iscal stopped running.
"Ha... haha...!! Hahahahaha!!!"
Laughter burst out of him without warning. What Iron Wall? What Apostle of a god?
A coward who could do nothing without the god's shield.
He felt disgust at his own pathetic self, at the cowardly figure he cut.
And at the fact that even so, he still could not find courage.
Iscal laughed like a madman.
He laughed for a long time like someone who had lost his mind.
He laughed while crying, as if vomiting up everything that had piled up in his chest—self-loathing, shame, and contempt all mixed together.
Something seemed to whisper in his ear again.
Who are you?
Are you the Apostle of the Shield?
Is the shield truly all that you are?
"I... I..."
I am an Apostle of the god. The Iron Wall Guardian. The one who protects his comrades and stands at the front line.
In the end, a shield is nothing more than a tool.
"..."
The eyes that had been covered in hazy darkness cleared completely.
Iscal turned his steps with eyes hardened like stone.
He had to go back. To the place he had fled from.
Toward the storm clouds covering the ground, toward the killing field.
For his comrade.
On the way he picked up a fallen buckler and fixed it firmly to one arm.
It was laughably small compared to the shield he normally used, but having any shield at all made him feel steadier.
And Iscal turned back once more.
To protect his comrade.
To fulfill the duty of a guardian.