Mocking the War Goddess
"Fuck this shit, you retarded bastards!!~~"
"Hey, rookie. You really think you can win?"
"It's not about can—it's must. You chose field battle for the same reason, right?"
"Hmph! I don't want my city trashed either, so I'm playing along with your scheme."
"Thanks. Boosts our odds nicely."
"You beat Halpas's contractor once. Can't do it twice?"
"Music to my ears! But I'll handle her contractor. That's my deal with that war maniac."
"...Be careful. Even 150 years ago, when I fought her, that war maniac's power was simple but brutally strong."
"Got it. Halpas's contract amps physical stats past limits—doubles them at least—and lets you master any weapon, right?"
The promised D-Day. The day Halpas's contractor hit the battlefield.
We'd opted for field battle over defense. Big Daddy didn't want his pristine city turned to rubble in a siege, and he'd seen what her contractors were like: destruction-crazed lunatics. Sure, sieges or street fights favored defenders—usually a 3-to-1 edge. But that was Earth logic, no magic or gods. This was a fantasy world crawling with one-man wrecking crews who could level castles solo. Our foe was a demon contractor who could wipe a minor nation.
Remember Rank 1: the Justice Archdemon's contractor who toppled the Mars Empire, that shining civilization on the North Continent? The Holy Kingdom, servants of their "great god," shat themselves at demon contractors—dispatching inquisitors to torch villages on sight. Not every contractor was a powerhouse, though. Only the top 200 of the 666 demons granted that level of might. From 100 down, they were Archdemons, untouchable elites. Top 10? God-tier.
Too bad I can't bring Vanessa, Rank 2 Demon Lord.
Our initial siege plan hinged on her aid. She'd barely revived after losing to the Justice Archdemon, weakened. Her time dominion only reached from the family mansion to the front yard. Absolute control in her domain: accelerate, rewind—cheat powers.
"Sorry, Boss. I can't help in this fight..."
"It's fine. With you holding the fort, we can fight outside. Protect the mansion crew—I'm counting on you."
"...Return safe, Boss. I'll always wait here."
"Will do."
"If that crazy bitch crashes, call my name. I'll rush over, burn everything left to erase her existence!"
"Uh... y-yeah..."
Her killing intent wasn't aimed at me, but the vibe nearly buckled my knees. Facing Dantalian's primal terror paled next to Vanessa's raw menace. True cheat character.
"Rookie. That incarnation of war only thinks war. But that's why her contractors get double the combat prowess. A lifelong serf who's never swung a sword becomes Sword Master-level. No aura training? They wield mana like breathing, forge Aura Blades effortlessly."
"Turns 'em into pure fight machines. Sword Master's solid, right?"
"On par with Pirate King Samuel at minimum. He's invincible at sea, but land-bound? Just pulls underground or atmospheric moisture for water tricks. Still enough to solo a city. Sword Masters have no such limits."
What the fuck?!
Derek still hadn't recovered from Samuel, stuck summoning Hell Hounds. Samuel-level minimum?! I'd bitten off that crazy bitch's bait...
"Estelle sis, ready?"
"You bet~♪"
"No enemies yet—reinforce traps. Rina sis, Mira, Shera: dig more pits."
"Got it!"
"Yes, Boss bro~"
"Leave it to us."
"Rest of you, stack more stockades. Barricades too!"
""""Yes!""""
"Rookie. You think those crude traps stop a Sword Master?"
"Crude or not, they buy a second—from a minute. That's variables. Don't forget."
"Hmph! Talk big! You'll pay after we win!"
"Sure~ sure~. I'll cut tribute tax to 70% of revenue this month. Deal?"
"Fine. Blood Knights! This punk's mop-up annoys, but smash that mad horde defiling our lands again! Understood?!"
""""Yes!""""
Big Daddy's blood-granted kin: 300 near-immortal vampire knights. Hearts intact? They regen from decapitation or worse.
Family totaled 5,000. Nuts for a 30,000-pop city? This exile dump crawled with killers, bandits, serial murderers, conmen, heretics, warlocks. Even "civilians" were battle-hardened. We cherry-picked the best: 5,000.
Pirate King Samuel commanded 10,000 pirates worldwide. With us and subs, our 5,200-strong alliance faced Halpas's contractor outside the south gate.
... ... ...
Clank! Clank! Clank! Clank! Clank!
"...They're here. Ready up, rookie."
"Got it. But... way too many."
"Tch! She scraped together a horde. We bled her last time..."
...By dusk...
Far off: black full plate-armored troops. Eyeball count: ~8,000. Outnumbered, but geared like medieval knights—swords, spears, halberds, axes, maces, shields.
"No guns or bows?"
"Hmph~ Their kit screams Western Continent hicks, like her last contractor."
"Western Continent? The knightly honor bullshit place?"
"Yep. Fertile lands, endless plains. Horses, ranching, farming—no real mountains."
"Why 'backwater'?"
"Dunno details, but knight-obsessed idiots. Despise guns or bows as coward shit. Rumor: some lord chopped a knight's fingers for bow-hunting."
"What the actual fuck?!"
"Anyway, Western backwater—no ranged weapons. That's why."
Earth's medieval chivalry scorned archers too. Same here. Frontal honor clashes? Perfect for war maniac Halpas.
Clank! Clank! Clank! Click!
...A kilometer apart, facing off. They'd arrayed in perfect lines, glaring.
I'd fortified barricades till dusk. Knight honor? We'd hit 'em villain-style: dirty tricks!
"The Goddess of War decrees! I come to wage glorious battle! Let us revel in great war together!!--"
...
"Fuck this shit, you retarded bastards!!~~ Just go hang yourselves in the woods for 'honor'!! You fucking cunts!!--"
"Pffft!~"
"Cough! Kekeke!-"
"Pfft! Krkhuh... This crazy rookie punk... kills the mood, kekeke!"
"Hahaha! Boss is the best!"
"Hahaha! My sides!~ Kekeke!"
"B-Boss. Pfft! Kikik! Oh man! Our Boss rules!~ Kikiki!~"
...
Her pompous drone sounded like a goblin farting by. I hurled filth back—Big Daddy cracked first, our lines erupting in laughs. Tense air shattered; my crude ploy nailed it.
No reaction from them—pissed, probably. Signal from who I guessed was the contractor: shield wall advanced slow.
Showtime. Final battle.