Chapter 23
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: I Become a Royal Knight (6)
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Calm down. I have to stay calm.
Even if it means biting my tongue, stay calm.
I forced my rattled mind to cool. How the hell did things end up like this all of a sudden? I was just trying to mediate. No way is this the Royal Knights' special mediation technique?
Then again, if I think about it... Even in the modern world, I'd been shocked by other countries' bizarre customs. In that sense, it wasn't completely absurd. Unfortunately.
Did the king assign me this because they couldn't mediate themselves? If so, that bastard was truly scum. Now I'm the only one about to die.
But even if the sky falls, there's always a hole to climb through.
To get past this situation, I needed conditions. First condition: no head-on fights, absolutely. Even with my time stop ability, I'd lose for sure.
So, I had to steer it into a matchup heavily in my favor with some plausible excuse. Problem was, nothing like that came to mind. As I pondered deeply...
The elf and dwarf stopped talking and suddenly started playing rock-paper-scissors among themselves. What the hell? I couldn't help blurting out.
"What are you doing right now?"
"Deciding the order."
"Order?"
"We're deciding who challenges you first!"
"...!!"
That was it! The question marks filling my head vanished, replaced by a lightbulb flashing on. Of course! It was about fifty percent bullshit, sure.
But in my position, I had no choice but to try. Die fighting or die meekly—either way, I'd stake it on the higher odds. First, though, preparations were needed.
Step one: draw aggro.
They were rock-paper-scissors-ing again, then bickering. Naturally, no telling when they'd come at me. Using time stop to break up their fight was impossible now.
Better this way. To pull aggro, I needed a stage. I drew the sword at my waist. The cold metallic ring echoed as it left the sheath.
They reacted to the sound, halting their fight to glare warily my way. Good thing they didn't charge blindly. They weren't that reckless.
But not yet.
Now the real show began.
Like soldiers aiming rifles skyward, I pointed the blade up for all to see. Then I gripped it reverse and slammed it into the ground with all my strength.
Kwajik!!
The weighted blade plunged straight into the courtyard grass. Confirming it stuck firm, I nodded. The elf tilted her head at my sudden move.
"What are you doing?"
Perfect, good question.
"Setting up a stage fit for you all."
"What?"
"What nonsense is that?!"
"This'll do."
Whew, glad someone asked. Explaining solo would've been awkward. I turned and walked forward slowly. Very slowly.
Step by step.
After ten steps...
I turned back. They still stared in confusion. Distance now about three meters.
Not too close, not too far.
Close enough my words would carry. This was the crux. Succeed here, and I'd scrape by. Time for the gamble.
"What do you think a knight's virtue is?"
Ultimate lip-service knight spiel! Sure, it was just ripping off game protagonist lines, but a few fit perfectly now!
"Anyone who calls themselves a knight just because they're strong or good with a sword is third-rate."
"But isn't that all there is?"
"Then who's first-rate in your book?!"
[A knight protects everyone at their back! That's why I will never retreat!!]
The Royal Knights Maker protagonist was your typical hero. Physically weaker, but matched by intellect and tactics. Even had an eye for talent.
A perfect commander type. Sure, the player handled it all, but in-game, it was his stats.
Not just them—everyone drawn by the commotion now focused on me. Pressure stabbed my lungs and squeezed my heart, but I forced a grin.
"A knight protects everyone at their back."
"Typical empty words."
"You need power to protect anything!"
"..."
These damn bitches. Why the cynical reactions? Eroge characters, my ass. Say something cool, and you should be blushing and soaking your panties. Ungrateful bitches.
No way sweet-talking worked. Time to hit their sore spot. A gamble for me too—jackpot or bust.
Time was short. Stall too long, and they'd suspect. No choice, go big or go home. I burst out laughing on purpose.
"Khuh, puhahaha! Ahahahahaha!!"
"What the—? Losing it?"
"Snap out of it! Damn him! He's mocking us!"
"Yeah, exactly."
I knew exactly why they'd fallen this far. The Royal Knights' expedition failure. In the original, they all died. Here, three survived. One deserted, but key point: they lost and fled.
"Anyone can spout pretty words. Like you lot."
"What're you getting at?"
"You lost pathetically and ran, abandoning your comrades!!"
"...Keep talking like that, and we won't hold back."
Hook set. I swallowed tears nearly spilling. The thick killing intent bore down on my shoulders.
Without my insane time stop cheat, I'd be on my knees begging mercy now. They were riled—time for the bait!
"Simple duel. For one minute, protect my sword from me. If I take it, I win."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"How can you protect lives if you can't even guard a sword?"
Stretchy logic, but packaged around "knights protect" talk. Bonus provocation.
"Or... is no sword handicap not enough?"
Flashing the sheathed sword side, I waved my empty hand tauntingly. Flames ignited in their eyes.
Universal top-tier taunt.
Chicken?
It was bullshit, but somehow they accepted. Terms simple: If I pulled my planted sword within a minute, I win. Otherwise, I lose.
Helia timed with an hourglass in the center. She wanted to fight with me, but I refused. Genius or not, no chance.
Her foes were geniuses too, honed by experience and skill—perfected warriors. Current Helia couldn't beat them.
Hands behind back, I feigned utmost nonchalance. Like I could beat them one-handed, tied up. Full act.
"Shall we start?"
"Not even holding his weapon. Cocky bastard."
"Careful. That confidence has a reason."
"I know. No letting guard down."
"Come at me full strength. Or else..."
I trailed off deliberately. Hands behind back half for show, half for this.
As I trailed off, hidden fingers snapped middle and index together. World bleached to black-and-white.
From their view, I'm still talking here.
So I trailed off, finished behind them.
Sword already drawn, of course. I walked slowly toward it. Good terms fit perfectly.
Head-on? No win.
Royal Knights level meant superhuman stats. Dwarves, dragons aside—even elves had skin tough as armor, blocking blades easy.
Only shot: time stop, slip behind, blade to throat. Might work on elf, useless on thick-skinned dwarf.
I passed them, reached the sword, grabbed. Or tried. Tilted my head.
Then yanked with both hands like a hammer. Stuck like one. Cold sweat poured.
Fuck. Really fucked.
Wait, shit? It won't budge? Did I jam it too hard?!
"Hahk...! Can't... breathe...?!"
Bad. Panicked, forgot control. Stamina draining fast.
Luckily, yanked it before total exhaustion.
But pulled too hard—tumbled like a roly-poly.
Thank god time's stopped. Otherwise, mortifying.