Conquest Prep (11)
Carl watched quietly as Lucy moved about with ease just ahead of him.
The battle was one against many.
Her opponents were a pack of monsters with a composition of their own.
Since they were clearing the dungeon together, he ought to have been standing at her side — but Carl was not. Lucy, his lady, had ordered him to guard the rear.
There was no trace of anxiety in Carl's eyes as he observed the fight. He knew full well that Lucy would not fall to a pack of that caliber.
And his prediction was not wrong.
It took Lucy less than a minute to wipe out the monster pack entirely.
She lightly deflected the attack of a skeleton swinging a massive two-handed axe, throwing its balance into disarray, then kicked the thing over to disrupt the movements of the enemies lying in wait. Trampling the skeletons sprawled across the floor, she sprinted forward and took out the mage at the very back, then cut down the stragglers struggling back to their feet one after another.
At the sight of it, Carl nodded to himself.
That's our lady for you. Far better than those fresh rookie knights who wouldn't know how to relax their shoulders if their lives depended on it.
Those fools swing a weapon well enough, but the moment a real fight drags on, they start floundering.
Not our lady, though.
She gauged the enemy's strength before committing, mapped out the shape of the battle before charging in, responded optimally to whatever variables cropped up along the way — she was already operating at a level that deserved to be called a seasoned warrior.
Who could look at her and believe she'd only been accumulating combat experience for a single year?
The moment Carl's endless mental praise of Lucy reached that point, darkness suddenly welled up beneath her feet.
Standing apart from the battle, he caught it instantly — and without thinking, he lunged forward.
You blockhead. How many times must I tell you to stay put?
What stopped Carl was the voice that rang out inside his own head.
The fox Lucy had taken to carrying around everywhere these days — the being who governed an entire forest — had just scolded him.
His step faltered at the disappointed tone. In that instant—
Lucy responded to the power coiling at her feet without missing a beat.
She gathered the divinity she carried into the tips of her toes and crushed it downward, scattering the profane energy outright. Just like that, the sudden threat was gone.
Did that look like the sort of thing that could hurt your mistress?
No, sir, it didn't.
Then why did you move?
...
Tch.
At the pointed click of the tongue, delivered loud and clear for his benefit, Carl let out an awkward laugh.
He knew it too — knew there was no danger Lucy could face here.
He had been at her side from the very first time she entered a dungeon.
When he had assisted her through knight training. When she'd delved into the Academy's dungeon. When — for reasons he couldn't fathom — she'd torn through every dungeon near the Academy like a storm. When she'd made for Menesteil and blazed through the place at breakneck speed.
Always.
Every single time.
He had stayed by Lucy's side.
No one understood Lucy's capabilities better than Carl did. When it came to dungeons, Lucy Aln was all but omniscient.
Which was why, when she had announced that she would take point, Carl hadn't worried in the slightest.
The lady he knew was not one for reckless bravado. She said what was possible was possible, and what was impossible, impossible.
So her declaring she'd lead the way and telling him to simply follow meant she had judged it the most efficient arrangement.
Carl understood all of this with his head. His body simply refused to obey.
Because whenever Lucy seemed to be in danger, the scene at Menesteil came flooding back to him.
Himself, wretched and useless, unable even to serve as a meat shield. The dagger stopping just short of Lucy's face. The trembling hand visible beneath her deathly pale complexion.
When sleep came for him, Carl found himself facing that scene all over again.
The only difference from reality was that in his dreams, no miracle existed.
Perhaps because he'd witnessed that sight so many times, whenever Lucy looked to be in danger, Carl's body moved faster than any amount of thinking could manage.
A dull-witted oaf who can't even manage the one task he's given. Because of you, I've been forced to abandon those fragrant, silken locks to perch on your revolting shoulders.
Snapped back to his senses by the grumbling voice, Carl pressed his lips together as he took in the fox's expression — which made it plain the creature genuinely found him unpleasant.
This dignified-looking fox was, admittedly, remarkable — and a great help to Lucy.
Carl owed the creature his life, thanks to its aid in the past. How could he deny that?
And yet, whenever the Master of the Forest opened its mouth, Carl couldn't help wondering whether it truly belonged at his lady's side.
For whatever grandeur the Master of the Forest might possess, the plain fact remained that it was a pervert Lucy couldn't stand to be in the same room with.
Who are you calling a pervert, you wretch? You're the filth who uses "deceiving that one" as an excuse to indulge your own desires.
Th-that wasn't an excuse!
Even knowing full well that Lucy never gave commands without reason, the one time Carl had defied her orders, it had been purely for the sake of deceiving Luka.
No crooked intent had ever existed there, Carl insisted eloquently — but the fox didn't believe him one bit.
Oh. Really?
Yes! Truly!
Can you swear that you felt not one shred of pleasure when you were treated like a dog?
Carl could not bring himself to say yes. Apart from when he was with Lucy, he was an old-fashioned knight through and through — a man incapable of putting a lie in his mouth.
W-well. I really should focus on the task my lady has given me!
And so Carl changed the subject in desperation.
According to his lady, a Luka who had been swallowed by darkness once was highly likely to be swallowed by darkness again.
Therefore his role was to keep that pathetic junior from committing any sins. Everything else was not his concern!
It was obvious to anyone watching, but the fox merely regarded Carl with disappointment and didn't press the point — as if to say, why bother interrogating the obvious.
Even as the man and the beast held this exchange, Lucy strode steadily onward.
The route was completely different from the one they'd taken before, yet neither Carl nor Luka doubted her footsteps for a moment.
They both knew far too well that Lucy could never lose her way inside a dungeon.
After roughly thirty or forty minutes of walking, the door leading out of the dungeon came into view.
But it was not only the door that stood there.
Before it, the gatekeeper stood proudly in their path.
"We meet again."
A long ashen-gray sword.
The air of a warrior bleeding through every gesture.
A clean, earnest voice utterly unfitting for a skeleton.
Carl knew exactly who this skeleton was.
He was not so foolish as to forget something from less than an hour ago.
Garad.
A member of the party that had once saved the world.
One of the knights' names Carl held in reverence.
"What is this, you pile of dog bones? The shield wasn't enough, now you want to hand me a sword too?"
"I would like nothing more, but that is impossible at present. Shameful as it is to admit, this body is a puppet."
"Wow. Genuinely pathetic. And you call yourself a hero?"
"And what would you have me do? Reality is what it is."
The moment Garad raised his sword, Carl hastily drew his weapon.
This is not an opponent our lady can face alone.
It's an enemy the three of us can only barely handle at full strength.
"Commit your full strength."
The instant Garad brought his sword down from above, darkness flooded every corner of the space except where Lucy stood — and with it, Carl and Luka were swallowed up in black mist.
Damn it. My lady!
The moment Carl scrambled to escape the mist, the scenery around him shifted.
Scorching air that seized his breath in his throat.
Alsaetin, sprawled limp in the distance.
His lady's terrified figure, visible mere steps away.
A dagger hurtling toward that slender neck.
Carl stared blankly at the scene — then shut his eyes.
Not because he couldn't bear to see that horrific tableau, the one he'd witnessed to his sickening fill in his dreams, again. He had simply, finally, confirmed that this was not reality.
Was it not obvious?
His lady was beloved by God. She was protected by the great Chief God Himself.
Someone like that could never be left in such a wretched state.
The miracle had not come — which meant this was not real.
Trust not your sight.
Trust not your touch.
Trust not your smell.
Trust not your hearing.
All a knight must trust is his own instinct.
Closed eyelids.
The scorching air.
The stench of blood at the tail end of the volcano's unpleasant odor.
The crash of a man-sized puppet collapsing in a heap.
Rising above all of it, Carl felt a killing intent heading somewhere.
And so, following that instinct, he swung his sword.
Claaang!
With the ring of steel against steel, the scenery around him shifted once more.
Black mist.
Beyond it, the struggle between a hero of the past and the one becoming a hero.
The cowardly dagger aiming for a girl's back.
And his own blade, blocking its path.
Looking into Luka's maddened, reason-scattered eyes, Carl broke into a exhilarated grin.
That's our lady. She anticipated all of this.
Then my task is simple. Just as she ordered — subdue this idiot junior.
Draw it out for a while. I'll bring him back to his senses.
After a few exchanges of blades, the fox spoke up — but Carl refused the suggestion.
No need, sir. We have our own way of handling this.
Our own way?
Yes, sir. The knights of House Aln. When someone loses their mind, we beat them until they come back to their senses. All for being such weak-minded fools in the first place, you see.
Carl intended to honor the Aln family tradition this time as well — while teaching that pathetic junior a thing or two about senior knightly dignity, of course.
The fox heaved a sigh of pure exasperation and leapt down from Carl's shoulder.
Suit yourself.
Yes, sir!
Right then, you pathetic junior! Prepare to experience the great tradition of House Aln!
It will be an honor you remember forever — so be grateful!
Beyond the mist came the sound of steel clashing against steel.
Just as I'd predicted — Luka had been swallowed by the darkness, and Carl had moved to block him.
I had no way of knowing how the fight was unfolding, but if it was Carl, he could hold out long enough for the face-obsessed fox to knock some sense back into him.
"Got time to let your eyes wander, do you?"
A sword came hurtling at my shoulder. I knocked the flank of it aside with my shield.
Under normal circumstances, this would have been the moment my guard opened up — but not now.
As if a skeleton would ever allow an opening like that.
Before I could even attempt an attack, the creature retrieved its blade and threatened me anew with another swing.
Attack. Attack. And more attack.
A complaint about how it did whatever the hell it wanted practically crawled up my throat, but I didn't try to attack.
If I charged in half-baked, I'd obviously end up toyed with and carved apart among a sea of swordplay.
"Where did all that swagger from before go? Cowering behind your shield and refusing to come out — you're just like a bug hiding in the shadows."
The skeleton pressed its one-sided assault while layering taunt after taunt on top.
This insane skeleton bastard.
So it had been holding a grudge over the things I said to it during the trial.
What use is a hero with a heart that narrow?
A real hero would know how to take a little girl's teasing graciously and let it slide.
Seriously though, this guy is terrible at trash talk.
Is it because he's the chivalry-above-all type?
"Puhahaha♡ A mighty hero, giggling away while bullying a tiny little girl!♡ So that's the taste of the great Hero!♡ No wonder!♡ They do say the cleaner someone looks on the outside, the weirder they are underneath — turns out it's true!♡"
"You think I would fall for such cheap tricks..."
"Though honestly, I'm kind of curious!♡ How does a walking bag of bones even manage to be a pervert?♡ Oh!♡ Wait, I get it!♡ You're soothing the hollow ache of everything you've lost with your inner pervert!♡ How sad~♡ Moving that mouth of yours just makes the emptiness grow bigger, doesn't it~♡"
"..."
"Hey♡ hey♡ can I ask you one thing?♡ When the Evil God has you playing pretend-attacking to scratch your own itch, doesn't it make you feel a little pathetic?♡ Hm?♡"
The skeleton sealed its mouth shut and swung its sword again.
And that blade was unmistakably carrying more force behind it than before.