Save the Boss (1)

Carl sat slumped in his chair, staring blankly at the sword Lucy had given him as a gift. The sword that had cracked taking Karia's dagger head-on.

Helplessness. That was all that ruled his mind in this moment.

He had believed himself strong enough. Strong enough to cast aside any threat that came for his lady. But when her life had actually hung in the balance — what had he been doing? He hadn't even kept up with the woman's movements. He hadn't seen the hand gripping the dagger, let alone the arc of its swing.

If not for the Protection Brooch. If not for the other presence guarding his lady's side. If not for the protection of God — he would have watched her fall before his very eyes.

I am weak. Far, far too weak.

Cracks were slowly spreading across the table where his clenched fist pressed down in frustration when the sound of the door opening reached him. Carl shot to his feet and lunged toward the priest who stepped out, nearly colliding with him.

"How is the young lady?!"

"Perfectly fine. She has simply fallen asleep from exhaustion — she'll be awake again before long."

At the priest's assured words, Carl collapsed onto the floor where he stood.

Thank the gods. Truly, thank the gods. Truly...

"How long do you intend to sit there like that?"

It was Alsaetin who finally hauled Carl up off the floor after he had sat there slumped for a long while. Hoisting him up like a sack of laundry and dumping him back into his chair, the old knight took an ostentatious sigh at the sight of Carl's wide-stretched eyes, then settled into the seat across from him and spoke in a tone of perfect indifference, brow furrowed.

"I know well enough that your helplessness is gnawing at you, but if the young lady of House Alrn is safe and sound, is that not sufficiency enough?"

"...That is true."

"Weakness is a thing to be shaken off going forward. Am I wrong?"

"No. You are right."

Regretting what had already happened would change nothing. What mattered was never letting it happen again. For that, he would simply have to keep striving, without pause, from this day on — to become a knight worthy of his lady.

How badly have I grown complacent. I was so overjoyed at meeting the master I had only ever dreamed of that I forgot the one thing that mattered most.

There will be much to do when I return to House Alrn.

Having barely steadied his heart, Carl exhaled a long breath and raised his head again.

"And you, Alsaetin — are you well?"

"Well in what way?"

"I wonder why you bother asking when you already know."

Alsaetin grumbled that Carl had no delicacy whatsoever, then went on with a sigh.

"That woman was my master. And yet she was not my master."

He was remembering the moments he had faced Karia. The woman who had failed to read a single one of the informers' hand signals. Who couldn't even hold to the basics she herself had taught him. Who had looked down on him as one looks at an insect.

That was not his master. It could not be his master. His master would never make such a rudimentary mistake. The woman who used to say that even the smallest scrap of information had to be dug out would never swing a weapon around so carelessly. That ajumma — softer-hearted than anyone in the underworld, the one who had wept openly on the day they parted ways — could never wear a face like that.

"That is all there is to it."

With that answer, Alsaetin fell silent, and Carl asked nothing more. A heavy quiet settled naturally over the table between them.

When I came to, the first thing I saw was a gray-white ceiling. A familiar sight — the same one I'd woken up to every single morning since arriving in Menesteil.

"Awake at last, are you?"

"Grandfather."

"You slept so long I was starting to worry."

"We made it out of the dungeon safely, right?"

"We did."

At the old spirit's firm assurance, I covered my eyes with the back of my hand and let out a long breath of relief. And as my vision went dark behind it, what rose in my mind was Karia's expressionless eyes.

Those murderous eyes that had triggered the Mesugaki skill's penalty from a single glance. And the attack that had followed. If not for the Protection Brooch — if the face-con fox hadn't been at my side — that dagger would have opened my throat. Karia's movements had been too fast for me, for Alsaetin, for Carl — too fast even for the Iron Wall skill to track.

Maybe it was from reliving that terror, but my head had begun to throb. I'd brushed past death more times than I could count by now, yet I still couldn't get used to that tightrope-walk feeling between life and the other side. I doubted I ever would.

Pressing a hand hard against my forehead, I pushed myself upright — and realized something was wrong with my body in a way I couldn't quite explain. Back when I'd first possessed Lucy's body, sure, maybe. But the me of now had a body tempered through endless training, one that had long since stopped trading blows with fatigue. I could move myself half to death all day and still wake up feeling fresh the next morning.

And this me felt heavy? Sure, I'd pushed my body to its absolute limits to hold out against Karia, but it shouldn't have left me like this.

"That would be This One's doing."

The voice came just as I was frowning at a headache that refused to fade — the face-con fox. She lay sprawled in her fox form by the sunlit window as always, one eye cracked open to look at me.

"Do you remember? When I told you your level was still too wanting to wield my power?"

'Yeah.'

"Indeed. You proclaimed yourself hopelessly lacking, did you not? To shatter that restriction, I drew upon your vitality this time. A stretch of poor health is a fair price compared to losing your life, no?"

'Umm. About that vitality...'

"Face-con fox — by 'vitality,' do you mean my lifespan?"

"What do you take This One for, some demon? Nothing so crude. Your condition will simply be poor for a while. It will recover in two days or so, so there is no need to fret."

With that explanation delivered, the fox shut her eyes with a muttered warning that she was tired and not to touch her. Normally this creature would have milked the moment for every last ounce of credit — the fact that she conked out on the spot told me her condition wasn't much better than mine.

So the pervert saved my life, huh.

When I'd first pulled her out of my bag, I'd written her off as an insufferable public nuisance. Funny how things turn out. She did save my neck, so I should pay her back later. If there's anything you want, just say the word...

No. Absolutely not. I say something that careless and there's no telling what fate awaits me. That creature's perverted tastes exceed the limits of my imagination. I'll just get her a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠nice gift and leave it at that.

Letting out a long sigh, I leaned back against the wall and opened the quest window.

The quest to save Menesteil still sat there, untouched and unmoved.

Hey. Armadi. You gave me this thinking the current me could clear it?

If this were a game, sure — it'd be doable. With the specs I'm running right now, I could've brute-forced some kind of clear condition and blown Karia to pieces. But that was back when it was a game. This is reality we're talking about. However you slice it, this is you shoving me out the door and telling me to go die, you garbage excuse for a deity.

Got nothing to say? When I was cursing you out next to Agra's name you were handing out jokey little ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠quests like candy, so why the silence now that your apostle nearly died? If your own apostle almost got killed because of your incompetence, the decent thing would be to start with an apology, you know.

God, this is infuriating.

The irritation leaked out of me, and I moved to slam my fist against the bed — and the world spun. Barely clinging to my dimming consciousness, I laughed hollowly.

Wow. Vertigo. And here I thought that word had nothing to do with me. So what am I now, a sickly mesugaki bishoujo? That's a name so menacing it sounds like something you'd get obliterated for even trying to discipline.

"You there, lass. Are you quite well?"

Grandfather's voice reached me just as I was chuckling at the ridiculous thought.

"I'm fine."

You think this is enough to kill me? The fox said she'd be back to normal in a few days, so I'll manage.

At my breezy answer, Grandfather went quiet for a long moment before speaking in a low voice.

"...The more I think on it, the more I say this business was far too dangerous. I know not what the Chief God was looking at when He showed you this, but in my own judgment, it would be right to let it go."

It was astonishing. The word give up, coming out of Grandfather's mouth.

Unlike me, Grandfather was a man of faith — a believer in the terminally incompetent, useless Chief God. A priest who trusted that if God commanded something, there had to be a reason behind it. And that man was the one suggesting, unprompted, that I defy a revelation from the feeble, powerless insect of a god.

So you've decided my safety matters more than His little revelation, have you, Grandfather? Haha. Where'd that old-fogey grandfather go, the one who said giving up should never so much as touch my lips?

"I refuse."

"...Lass?"

"I have no intention of giving up."

Okay, yes, I'd already run my mouth cursing out the useless Chief God over any number of things — but this is different from all that. I am genuinely, one hundred percent not giving up.

Not knowing what would happen to me if I failed was one reason. But there was something bigger.

This. Is. New content. Content that was never in the game.

In the game, Karia had always appeared dead. Always. Even when I'd used cheats to enroll early and rushed straight to meet her — dead. But not now. She was alive. Being puppeted by an evil god, sure — but that was all. Her soul was still resident in her body.

Do you get what that means? It means Karia can be saved.

A boss that never existed in the game. A route that had been impossible to even attempt. A new NPC I'd only ever pieced together from Alsaetin's stories. And whole cascades of new content that her survival would unlock. And you're ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠telling me to give this up now?

Me? The guy who pumped over ten thousand hours into that godforsaken trash game? You really think I can just walk away from this?!

"Have you lost your mind?! You mean to stand against an evil god's underling?! Did you not witness it yourself?! If that creature so much as wills it, you die on a single blade!"

"I know that much, believe me."

Grandfather, I'm the one who stared down that death threat from inches away. Unless my brain has rotted clean through, I'm under no illusions about beating her.

"Then what exactly do you propose to do?! What can you possibly manage against an enemy you cannot fight?!"

"Why would I have to fight her at all?"

"...Pardon?"

It's simple, Grandfather. If the enemy is a monster nobody can handle, then you just summon a monster on our side that nobody can handle either. And as it happens, I know exactly one monster I'm free to use however I please.

Wobbling to my feet, I fished the crystal orb out of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the drawer where I'd stashed it and set it on the vanity. The moment I fed mana into it, a blurry image flickered to life above the orb's surface.

"Lucy? Lucy?! LUCYYYYY!"

"Papa♡"

"Lucy! It's Papa! Are you all right?!"

"Some mean old spinster lady was bullying me♡ Punish her, okay?♡"