Boss: The Herald #4
Enrique Cadellico. A dropout from Ludens. The man who recruited people into the organization Fimblevert and spread its propaganda. Commonly known as the Herald. He felt that his calculations had gone terribly wrong.
“Damn it, those fucking bastards. This is nothing like what I heard! Useless pieces of shit! They can’t even gather basic information properly!”
The plan had been to moderately crush Ludens’ promising students, break their spirit, and then expose the academy’s ugly secrets in one refreshing sweep. It should have been easy. Having once attended Ludens himself, Enrique knew every vulnerability the school possessed.
In truth, destroying the crystal in the defense facility had gone perfectly.
‘Damn it. Was rushing the plan forward the mistake?’
It was all because of those people. The ones who had defeated a Tier 1 monster using bizarre methods. Everything had started to go wrong the moment they planted hope inside the hearts of Ludens’ students.
‘The hope that anyone can become a hero. There is nothing more terrifying.’
If left alone, the students would slowly temper themselves, drawing closer to the path of heroes, only to fall in the end as the gods’ discarded playthings. Hastening the plan had been the correct choice. It had been correct, but….
"Flower of Flash…!"
“Ugh… my eyes are still completely blinded! What the hell was that staff? There was no record of a weapon like that!”
Victorica Arclight. The current vice president of the Ludens student council. Victorica Arclight had proven far more powerful than the intelligence had claimed. The sword club president, Gawain of the Golden Sun, and even that transfer student whose abilities were still unknown had been reasonably skilled, yet neither reached Victorica’s level of threat.
“Damn it. Am I really going to be done in by the Arclights again?”
No. That could not be allowed to happen.
‘I just need to start over. Hide myself, steady my breathing. I can create as many disposable pawns as I need.’
Enrique gripped the horn Hameln’s Horn tightly in his hand. As long as he possessed this unique weapon, he could begin again any number of times. Underlings and subordinates were infinitely replaceable.
“That’s right. No matter how many times I fall, I can simply start over. That’s what I did two years ago.”
Enrique decided to first choose a place to conceal his body. Four locations immediately came to mind, each one a precious site filled with memories from his time at this academy. The place he chose was behind the old school building they had once attended, now so dilapidated it was simply called the rundown annex.
There, the old club room still remained from the days before Fimblevert had become a truly ruthless organization.
‘Return to the place where everything first began, in order to start anew.’
It felt like fate. Fate. The word resonated strangely within his chest.
Enrique ran with everything he had toward their old club room. When he arrived, the door was inexplicably wide open, and visitors were already waiting inside.
‘These bastards…’
Several faces were familiar. Especially the stiff-looking one with black hair. He had stared at that face in documents so often these past few days that the photograph was practically worn through.
The man spoke.
“Enrique.”
He should have been seeing him for the first time. So how did he know his name?
“You—Victor! You knew I was coming! Was this a trap, you bastard!”
Enrique swiftly raised the horn to his lips.
Bwoooooooo—.
Hameln’s Horn once again began to shake the world.
The beginner strategy guide I had personally written floated up in my mind. It felt strangely surreal to watch the exact scenarios I had described unfold before my eyes.
Bwooooooooo—.
The moment Enrique suddenly appeared inside the warehouse and blew the horn, an abnormality occurred.
“Ugh… my, my body is moving on its own… Lady Enio, please, run…”
“…I’m being controlled… That horn… it’s strange…”
Enrique’s horn possessed the power to control people. His method was to turn students into obedient pawns and overwhelm enemies with sheer numbers.
> Quirk Steel has activated.
> Mental interference resistance successful.
In my case, thanks to the quirk Steel, I could easily endure his mental manipulation technique. Sure enough, in the face of such powerful mental fortitude, a mere horn was nothing but an ordinary instrument.
Thud, thud, clang—. Clang—.
Wait, why was a horn making drum sounds? Was I the only one hearing that?
Anyway. That wasn’t what mattered right now.
“……”
“……”
Megaira and Allecto, who had been letting out strange groans for some time, suddenly fell silent.
“Megaira, Allecto! Are you two all right?”
Enio, who still hadn’t grasped the situation, reached out toward the twins. I grabbed her arm and stopped her.
“Cease.”
Whoosh—!
Two daggers sliced through the air toward the spot where Enio’s hand had been heading. If I had not stopped her, Enio might have been badly injured.
“What? Why me? What is this…?”
“They are being controlled. The explanation would be lengthy. Enio, you are capable of using your shadow magic, correct? First, restrain the twins with Shadow Bind.”
“…Victor, how did you even know the name of my skill?”
“There is no time for explanations!”
When I shouted, Enio simply answered, “Understood,” and obeyed.
"Darken."
"Shadow Bind."
When she lightly stamped her foot, the shadows lying at Enio’s feet stretched out like living snakes and connected with the twins’ own shadows.
“Done. The twins won’t be able to move now.”
“Well done.”
Shadow Bind was a fairly excellent utility skill. It had the drawback of immobilizing the caster Enio as well, but the restraint lasted a long time in exchange.
“Damn it, is that Blackstar’s bitch?!”
The Herald—Enrique—seemed furious that things were not going according to his will.
“However, great power always comes with weaknesses. Is it wise to leave yourself so defenseless?”
The thug-looking man charged toward Enio. He clearly intended to attack the now defenseless Enio, dispel her magic, and free his controlled pawns.
“Victor!”
“Do not worry.”
I also charged at the man rushing toward Enio. In an instant we collided, and a brutal close-quarters brawl began.
Swish, swish, swish!
Fists flew rapidly back and forth. Yet the only one landing effective blows was Enrique.
“What’s this, Victor! You’re nothing special! At this rate you can’t even graze me!”
“……”
This guy was experienced in real fighting. Unlike me, who only had good physical stats, Enrique seemed thoroughly seasoned in this thing called ‘combat.’ So his thug appearance wasn’t just for show.
“Victor, did someone like you really complete a Tier 1 request? There must be some mistake, right? Go on, keep struggling! If you don’t, the restraint will come undone!”
“Victor!”
Unlike his minions, Enrique’s fists carried real weight. Even a boss on the verge of defeat was still a boss. No matter how sturdy Victor’s body was, taking this one-sided beating might eventually cause him to sink.
“Victor, shouldn’t I join the fight after all…!?”
No. If the restraint was released and Megaira and Allecto joined this frontline, the situation would become hopeless. Their offensive power was considerable.
“Enio, remain exactly where you are. I will protect you.”
“Victor… you would go that far for my sake…”
“Do you truly have the leisure to chat while ignoring me?”
Wham—!
“……”
My vision flashed. Did he just hit my nose? It was fine. Both I and Victor were people quite accustomed to enduring pain. I grit my teeth and held on. If I endured long enough, even a life as cramped as a mouse hole would eventually see a ray of light.
“So this is where you were, Herald—or should I say, dropout Enrique Cadellico!”
See? Light had come.
“You’re late, Victorica. After causing this much commotion, you should have noticed far sooner.”
“Victor, you…”
At the warehouse entrance, Victorica and several others were now casting long shadows across the bright light. Reinforcements. It was dazzling.
Enio shouted.
“Victor got badly hurt protecting me!”
Yet even at Enio’s cry, they did not easily enter the warehouse. The blond Gawain spoke.
“You mustn’t get too close! You’ll enter the horn’s range! Lady Victorica, do you have any long-range support magic?”
“I do, but its power is not very…”
It was right when Victorica hesitated.
“Executor.”
Someone called me. Even while continuously being punched, meeting those upright eyes felt strangely moving.
“It seems I misunderstood you. Your exterior is as cold as steel, yet you are a man with a burning heart.”
“I am not the executor. I am Victor.”
“Right. Victor. Catch!”
Luke unfastened something from his waist and threw it. Like an arrow of fate, the object flew toward me and settled perfectly into my palm as though it had always belonged there.
Click.
It was an old scabbard.
“How curious.”
It was strange. I, Ha Seung-ri, had never held a real sword in my life. The largest bladed object I had ever gripped was probably a kitchen cleaver for chopping bones. Yet the heavy feel of this steel seemed exactly where it ought to be.
Only then did I realize it. The calluses embedded in Victor’s hands had been shaped perfectly to fit a sword grip. No, not just the calluses. This body had been trained solely for ‘one single motion.’
How many hours had it taken to reach this point? Ten thousand? Twenty thousand? Fifty thousand? Or perhaps every waking moment of his entire life?
When one invested that much time, even the talentless were bound to obtain at least one thing. A specialty, of sorts.
“Y-you, Victor! You who were expelled from the student council are not permitted to draw that sword! Can you really break that rule!? You!? I heard you were that kind of person! A dog who obeys Ludens!”
Enrique, who had been pressing me until a moment ago, panicked upon seeing me take the scabbard. As he retreated several steps, I simply gave him a short answer.
“I am a dog. And dogs bite people.”
“What? What the hell does that—!!!”
"Arclight Style, First Form."
Srrrng.
The blade slid smoothly from the scabbard. The body remembered. The single Arclight light sword technique that talentless Victor had been able to master. The one motion he had repeated tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of times.
Arclight Style, First Form. The most basic movement. Yet tens of thousands of repetitions had elevated that most basic sword stroke into a technique worthy of being called a finishing move.
"Light Divider."
Shiiiing———!!!
After the horizontal flash of light left its trail.
“……”
Only white-eyed silence and the wind remained in that place.
“I have merely repaid the exact amount of debt I received.”