Golgol's Sacrifice
“Valhalla!”
But Ancestor, my warrior’s blood is boiling right now.
Block, thrust, slash.
Khtun tore through the battlefield like a wolf set loose among a flock of sheep. He wasn’t pulling off the dramatic feats of legendary heroes, yet on a skirmish this small, that alone was enough to tip the scales.
Next in line for glory was Golgol.
Golgoool!
Who the hell looked at a skeleton and called it a tin can?
My Golgol is a growth-type skeleton.
Just as Golgol’s training had forged Khtun, Khtun’s experience was forging Golgol in turn. At first the skeleton had been only a little better than the conscripts, but the real combat piled up in such a short time had triggered explosive growth.
Khtun raised Golgol, Golgol raised Khtun—a perfect virtuous cycle of synergy!
Even Arch had no choice but to admit it now.
Khtun’s talent for swordsmanship. Arch had once written it off as nothing more than the training value Golgol provided, but once real battle began, the boy’s gift proved surprisingly serviceable. Even by the standards of a man who had once hunted dragons alongside countless heroes, it wasn’t half bad.
And that was exactly why it stung.
Ugh. This brat should have been born with the blessings of the Greatsword and Holy Power…
It was a shame. Why had his own bloodline awakened to Death’s Blessing instead? But a talent already bloomed could not be rewound, so Arch decided to focus on the present.
Arch stood at Khtun’s side and delivered his teachings. You must never simply swing a blade while drunk on power.
In that instant Arch sensed something wrong.
A shadow hurtling forward at terrifying speed.
“Valhalla—! Hup?!”
Khtun snapped his shield up at once.
Too late!
Every hair on his body stood on end; cold sweat poured down his spine. Am I going to die? Alarm bells screamed inside his skull. Watching the blade rush toward him, his thoughts accelerated until time itself seemed to slow, the razor edge filling his entire vision.
That was when it happened.
Golgooooool!
It was Golgol.
The moment the skeleton realized its master was in danger, it threw itself forward without the slightest hesitation. The sword flying toward its eyes, its fragile body would never withstand that single strike.
Yet there was no hesitation.
Because its life belonged to its master.
Golgol, golgol!
A final cry echoed from within.
CRAAACK!
Golgol’s delicate frame shattered into pieces that sprayed outward from the robe. Even as its skull tore free and spun through the air, Golgol searched for its master through the whirling chaos of its vision.
Golgol!
Ah. Thank goodness.
Its master was still alive.
“Golgol—!”
In the midst of that desperate cry, Golgol felt nothing but pure joy.
Because it had protected its master.
I caught my breath for a moment after the sudden chaos.
What just happened?
…Right. There had been an ambush.
A blade that came out of nowhere.
And Golgol, throwing itself in front of it.
As a result, Golgol lay shattered into pieces while I still lived.
In other words, Golgol had thrown its body away for me.
“So. A necromancer, was it?”
“You…”
The bastard who had just killed Golgol was smiling as if nothing had happened.
“Who are you?”
I already knew that. What I wanted was his name.
The name of the one who killed Golgol.
“Zeke. The man who will be taking the young master away. Though I am curious—House Falaon’s bloodline is said to carry the Greatsword and Holy Power, yet here we have necromancy. Are you truly of Falaon blood?”
Zeke. So that was his name.
I gave him no answer. He only wanted my person, after all.
And I wanted the same thing from him.
You dare touch Golgol?
Unforgivable.
“Hmm. Best not to waste your strength on pointless thrashing. Surrender quietly and I’ll see you’re treated accordingly.”
“Fuck off.”
I kicked off the ground at once.
Ancestor was shouting something, but the words barely registered.
Time to fall back?
Who decides that?
“A warrior—does not turn away from a comrade’s death—!”
“A pity. Then forgive the discourtesy.”
He stepped forward as he spoke.
The rushing blade!
But I had expected it.
CLANG—!
“Huh? What is that shield?”
“Your father!”
With a roaring battle cry I charged, shield first.
Golgol’s death had made my eyes roll back in my head, but that didn’t mean I had charged in without a plan.
If this bastard really is a powerhouse on par with Sir Valt…
It was already too late to retreat.
So what then?
I fight.
How? Swordsmanship would never cut it, so the only thing I could trust was this shield. According to Ancestor, it could even stop a dragon’s breath—so a sword swing weaker than a dragon’s claw should be no problem!
And sure enough, my prediction held.
“I’ll cut you down in one—kh!”
CLANG! SCRAAAPE—!
The confident swordsman groaned in pain and staggered back, his composure shattered by the unexpectedly fierce rebound.
I seized the momentum and slammed into him like a battering ram.
Of course I still had worries. No matter how large the shield, a skilled swordsman could still thrust past it once the range closed.
But who was I?
A no—ble!
It was filthy, but in medieval warfare the custom was that you did not kill nobles. Even that first strike that killed Golgol had only been meant to threaten me, not end my life.
But still.
Golgol—!
“You! Are Golgol’s! Enemy—!”
“Kh—!”
I became a one-man bumper car and drove him back.
Forward, always forward!
Thud, thwack!
It was a crude, brainless charge that threw every sword technique and combat art I had ever learned straight into the gutter—but the effect was spectacular!
Yet this was a man who could rival Sir Valt.
Even while being shoved around helplessly, he never quite lost his center of gravity. No—at some point he simply planted himself like an unyielding wall and started shoving me back!
My advantage had lasted less than a minute.
Once he recovered his balance he braced his shoulder against the shield and pushed, and from that moment I could no longer keep the momentum.
Thus began the contest of pure strength!
“Hup!”
I listened carefully to Ancestor’s advice and put it into practice at once.
But the man was a knight.
No matter how dazzling my bloodline talent made my physical abilities compared to ordinary people, he was a purebred knight who had devoted everything to bodily training!
I’m being pushed…!
The moment he set his stance properly, I was the one sliding backward. In a strength contest whose balance had flipped in an instant, the time left to me was short. I needed a move.
But how?
If I pulled my sword free to the side to stab him, my balance would collapse—and if my balance collapsed, everything was over.
If only someone would help me right now…
That was when it happened.
“Hup—!”
“Guh…!”
A monstrous rebound sent my body flying.
Following Ancestor’s advice, I offered no resistance and went down. Using the rotational force I tumbled once and sprang back to my feet, shield already rising.
The instant it came up, a vicious sword strike crashed down.
BOOM!
Truly, the mysteries of fantasy! Defensive power that completely ignored the physical laws of action and reaction. The sound was that loud, yet I felt not a single jolt of impact!
What kind of principle is this?
Curiosity welled up, but there was no time to ponder it now.
“You brought this on yourself, young master!”
The enraged man pressed in hard.
A flurry of breathless sword strikes!
I hunched my body and frantically moved the shield to block the tangled web of blades. Metal rang and sparks flashed.
“Valhalla…!”
Like a loyal servant I moved the shield exactly as Ancestor ordered.
The strikes were almost too fast for the eye to follow, yet I moved mindlessly under Ancestor’s direction. And as I did, a chill ran down my spine.
This… is the rival of Sir Valt?!
A legendary-grade(?) shield.
Ancestor’s guidance.
Without either one of them I would already have been lying on the ground. One clean stab… no, looking at his skill, he wouldn’t even have needed a stab to subdue me. I would have flailed around until I collapsed from exhaustion.
But still.
“Valhalla—!”
A knight is only as good as his gear!
I set my stance, rose, and roared at the top of my lungs. The situation was bad, but my spirit would not die.
As long as Golgol’s soul was with me!
Yes sir!
Just as Ancestor said, the relentless hammering on my shield suddenly changed. How to put it—more precise, more powerful.
“Kh!”
Simply enduring was no longer the same as before; the increasingly chaotic strikes slowly eroded my balance. The broken shield let me hang on somehow, yet blades still slipped past its edges.
Shlick, shlick!
Thigh, shoulder—every time I shifted stance, the newly exposed spots were grazed by small cuts.
It hurts!
I’m not going to die like this, am I?!
The first real bloodshed of my life shook my heart, but my reliable ancestral spirit(?) roared.
Right—if I’m not dying, then I’m not dying!
And even if I do die, so what?
Golgol died for me!
But I can’t keep going like this.
I need to find some kind of opening…
Sir Valt?!
I flicked a glance sideways. Sir Valt was still locked in combat with the other knights.
Father?!
No idea. Was he running to save me? He shouldn’t.
In any case, no help was coming.
“I’ll finish this—!”
Light erupted from his sword.
“……!”
I set my stance and prepared for the shock.
And then—
BOOM! KRA-BOOM!
Was this what a castle gate felt like when a siege ram hit it?
My skull rattled. I tried desperately to hold on, but my balance collapsed and the world heaved up and down.
At this rate I was finished for sure!
But that was unacceptable.
I hadn’t even avenged Golgol yet!
“Valhalla—! Golgol, give me strength!”
Ancestor said something, but the extreme excitement drowned it out.
More importantly—if I’m going down, one little stab is fine, right?!
Just one!
“Just take one hit—! I’ll only poke your heart a little and pull it right out!”
The brilliant sword rushed toward me!
I dropped the shield and charged him.
“What the—!”
My all-or-nothing attack made Ancestor cry out in horror and Golgol’s killer flinch in shock. He had never expected me to be this reckless.
In the brief instant his visibly panicked strike faltered—
“Valhallaaaaa—!”
The blade that had been aiming for my throat changed course and sank into my shoulder.
It hurt, but Golgol had hurt more.
I kept going.
Even after burying itself in my shoulder, his sword showed no sign of stopping.
I thought you said he wouldn’t kill me!
It was a chilling strike.
Yet I felt no fear of death.
That was when it happened.
Clatter—!
This is…!
The bone fragments of Golgol that had been scattered across the ground flew toward me, wrapped around my shoulder, and stopped the aura-wreathed blade cold.
Bone Armor
“What in the—!”
“Die, Golgol’s enemy!”
I poured every ounce of strength into the thrust that hurtled toward him.
Yes.
Golgol was with me.
This was… the most vicious, most terrible strike Golgol and I had ever created together!
Thud!
My sword pierced him an instant later.