Chapter 37
Chapter 37
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 37
Chapter Title: The Elf and the Coffee Farm (14)
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As that one movie with lightsaber-wielding protagonists put it, jumping off both feet in a standard fighting stance is straight-up suicide. Once you're airborne, your trajectory is locked in, leaving every move completely predictable.
Of course, that's only true in worlds without supernatural powers—or where they're limited. Things change in a place where near-omnipotent superhuman abilities are the norm.
If you can redirect in midair, adjust speed on the fly, levitate, or straight-up fly, then suddenly you've got options beyond hunkering down with both feet planted firmly on the ground.
Especially when you're up against a monster stretching nearly ten meters long, like right now—you've gotta swing clean from the sky.
It looked like a herbivorous dinosaur with three heads, whipping around a long, heavy tail, snapping with that massive maw, or barreling forward with its disgustingly hefty bulk. A total Monster Hunter vibe.
It had been a while since my last scrap with a big beast, so I was a little on edge, but I managed to lop off all three necks clean.
"...Hold up. That's the kind you usually chase down on horseback for a drive hunt."
"Skills like that should be more than enough, right?"
"More than enough. Way more. Hmm. You're really not here on orders from the Imperial Emperor to wipe us out, are you?"
"If that was the plan, I'd have taken your head already. And I told you—I got this bracelet from Big Sis Mina."
"That's a bit harsh for something said with a smile, don't you think?"
Keith's face soured a bit, probably after realizing she had no surefire way to take me down if I turned on her.
In the end, the forces of the Spiegel tribe—elves from the southern reaches—weren't all that formidable, at least not objectively.
The real issue was that, in RPG terms, the Butcher was basically a paladin class.
Abnormally high durability, devastating melee prowess, miracle-based magic powered by the Demon God's blessings, and unlike Ermina's light magic, area-wide healing by sucking up blood.
Poke at him from range, and he'd sacrifice one of his own to heal the whole group, dragging it out into a grueling war of attrition. Go in close, and every hit you land heals him thanks to that vampiric tanking—one slip-up spells doom.
No wonder he felt like the first-quarter boss from third-year semester. Dude had every bullshit gimmick in the book.
The fastest way was a frontline built on evasion and perfect blocks to weather the melee storm, then melt him with ranged firepower. If I manned the front, we'd need a solid backline to pull it off.
"How many mages does Spiegel have?"
"Plenty. We're just short because we can't hold back that one psycho pushing the line."
"The psycho who's suspiciously jacked, bald, demonkin male wielding what looks like a meat cleaver crossed with an axe, right?"
"Nailed it. Been doing spy work for the kingdom?"
"What do you think His Imperial Majesty would task a guy like that with?"
"Fair point. Anyway, your experience and skill against demonkin or humans is about on par with that monster you just dropped?"
"Yeah."
"Whew. Honestly, everyone's kinda cowed. It's hard not to flinch when a cannibal human-sacrificing lunatic's swinging a blood-crusted butcher knife up front. Could use you to pump up morale a bit."
Keith glanced at the bracelet clinging to my right arm and let out a sigh. She could pass me off as nominal support from another tribe, but given her beef with the Empire, I was bound to make her uneasy.
I shook the blood off my twin blades, gave them a thorough wipe-down, oiled them up, and sheathed them properly before stowing away.
"You baby those things. Could just give 'em a quick wipe and call it done."
"I've had them since I was a kid, so I've got a soft spot. They're my most familiar weapons by far. Feels like old friends now."
"A weapon as a friend, huh. I get it. On the battlefield, your weapon and mount might as well be your own life."
Keith explained that while the monster had been a test of sorts, she'd only wanted to gauge my skill—not expecting me to actually kill it.
Effective hits or solid defense would've scored high points, something like that.
Anyway, it ended well, so I didn't pry further. We headed to where Spiegel's combat and raiding crew was gathered.
"What're you doing here, boss? Thought you went to Elly's place. You shake down her boyfriend while you were at it?"
"Shut it. He's my type in terms of looks and skill, but he's already got an owner."
Keith grabbed my hand, hoisted it high to flash the bracelet at everyone, and bellowed.
"This guy's Julius—in a special relationship with Elcart's eldest daughter, Mina. Don't go messing around and corrupting the tribe's morals."
"Eeeeeh."
"What's with the 'eeeh'? Shut up and treat him right. This is the guy who soloed a Tryphos without even mounting up."
With that, she tossed me into the midst of her elves—not quite dark elves, but tanned to a light brown from the sun.
"...Mind if I ask one thing?"
"Aw, go ahead, cutie."
"...Why are you all women?"
"Ah, yeah. Lost a bunch of guys in the first clash with that demon god freak. Now they're all debating whether to kidnap some human men."
I nearly apologized for asking, then her words fully registered.
Big Sis Mina wasn't kidding about the kidnapping.
"No plans to mess with Elcart men for the time being, so don't worry."
For the time being.
And sincere thanks to Big Sis Mina.
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"So the schedule wraps today."
When she'd first caught wind of Julius's whereabouts, she'd figured on teasing him a bit, maybe using him to her advantage. But the moment she laid eyes on him, her thoughts ground to a halt, and her tongue got all tangled.
And since the Emperor herself wasn't an idiot, she didn't bother denying her own state.
I've had feelings for him for quite a while now.
It wasn't some feverish blaze, but watching him speak his mind to her bluntly, or showcase his talents by tackling thorny problems head-on—that had blossomed into the best kind of affection you could feel for a peer.
"An opportunity, if anything. Or closer to poison that'd strangle her last breath."
If she formally negotiated with House Lebedev and welcomed him as an imperial consort via state decree, it'd be cause for celebration between Pallan and Imir alike.
Sure, some kingdom loyalists might eye a royalist linking up with the Empire warily, but as long as Julius and Alina lived—and their heirs wielded massive influence in the Empire—guaranteed peace awaited.
But if things didn't go the normal route, his very existence would turn into a powder keg. He clearly had zero intention of returning to the kingdom, and as long as that held, no negotiation table with the kingdom or Lebedevs would even materialize.
Keeping him close in some half-assed limbo would spark fierce backlash from inside and out, eroding her authority.
"What to do."
No guarantee he'd even follow Alina, yet here she was, chugging fantasy soup like it was going out of style. Caught up in the rare thrill of a racing heart, she didn't even notice.
Wearing a dopey expression as she nursed her wine, she sank deep into the rocking chair, eyes half-lidded, reminiscing about the old Julius.
That unflagging confidence. The charisma and etiquette that kept it from seeming arrogant, plus raw combat power.
Gentlemanly in word if unprovoked first, childlike glee diving into his passions, yet mature and far-sighted the rest of the time.
He was the one who'd mediated when she clashed with the noble brats.
He'd explained the commoners' grievances when she couldn't grasp them, teaching her how to understand.
He'd proven that the people around her weren't total idiots when she lowballed their imagination and intellect with sneers.
But even that eternally poised gentleman would turn almost frantic and hypersensitive at the sight of orphans or abused kids—like a different person entirely. Witnessing bullying among children hurt him so visibly even she, watching from the sidelines, could tell.
What had happened in his past?
"Many pains heal if you embrace and nurture them with true sincerity..."
Some court noble had said that—not exactly gospel—but if it worked, wouldn't that be wonderful?
She downed more wine, letting her mellowing mind wander into fantasy.
Together, they'd curb the court rot, set the nation straight. With his experience here, he'd devise fixes for the brutal transport issues around Labyrinth City Astraea.
And if they could pass on an empire in its golden age to the child born between them, letting that kid bask in prosperity...
Reeling from the booze, she staggered to bed and flopped down. Imagining them lying side by side did her in—nosebleed courtesy of the alcohol, no doubt.
She wiped it up and dabbed on the potion she always carried.
Heh heh.
Drifting off into sheet-staining delusions that'd hit full force when she woke next morning, Alina fell asleep.
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