The Unbeatable Foe

An enemy that cannot be defeated (1) hides its sound. It deceives the eye. It can also leap forward at a terrifying speed and ram straight into you. The charge of the beast I saw yesterday now seemed like nothing more than a casual sprint. The happy footsteps of an overwhelmingly powerful being strolling toward a feast already laid out on the table.

“What the hell are we supposed to do? And why does a monster like that get called Pretty Boy?”

“Where the creature and its victim collide, a long streak of blood remains. Like a carpet. That’s the nickname the audience gave it. I don’t know the details. I only heard there was some bizarre chimera.”

Nathan understood the words a few seconds later. He had spun every possible theory about the origin of that name, but never imagined anything like this. The knight turned his gaze toward the children, then looked away and glared at the stands.

Crazy bastards. What kind of taste is that?

The electronic display above the spectators’ heads flashed mockingly.

Nathan’s eyes stopped at the very end of the display.

…Total annihilation 34.9%.

Thump. Thump. Blood rushed backward and hammered against his eardrums. Nathan imagined his own body torn apart by a several-ton charge. A red streak painted like a brushstroke, and the monster roaring at its end. The beast would probably chew on the largest remaining piece of meat with pride. Once it left satisfied with its revenge, the ghouls would return. Slowly heading toward the cargo container where only the children remained. Or perhaps the chimera, still hungry, would target the container itself. Either way, they had plenty of time. Twenty minutes still remained. And the long-ears… would be more than satisfied. They had bought their seats precisely to witness such a scene.

More ghoulish than the ghouls themselves.

Strength returned to his trembling knees. His confused mind cooled. He would not die easily. And as long as he lived, he could not allow such disgusting tastes to run rampant. Nathan made his decision quickly.

“You said you could sense that monster’s presence.”

“That’s right. I can hear it, smell it, even detect its heat. But what good is that anyway—”

“Arqueba, shut up and listen. I need your senses. Do you know how to read a clock?”

“No.”

“What about a sundial? Can you measure angles?”

“I know the imperial and metric systems. My employer taught me when I worked for the merchant caravan.”

“Then this will go much faster.”

Nathan checked the distance to the cargo containers. He could not bear the thought of the creature accidentally ramming into the children. He hoisted Arqueba onto his back and moved farther away from the containers. Finding a suitably large tree, Nathan set Arqueba down beneath it. Then he walked ten paces forward. Drawing a horizontal line in the dirt with his toe, Nathan shouted,

“Can you tell which way I’m facing?”

“You’re standing with your back exactly to me. I’m sitting with my back to the cargo containers.”

“From now on, we calculate from the direction I’m facing. If the creature is at a right angle to my right, call it starboard ninety degrees. If it comes from the left rear, port one hundred twenty degrees. Approximate direction is fine. Do you understand?”

Arqueba’s mouth fell open in bewilderment, then he grinned and nodded.

“The creature is… about forty degrees to your left right now. Distance roughly forty-five meters.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Far away, at the spot Arqueba indicated, the bushes trembled. Only now could Nathan see it — invisible, yet possessing an overwhelmingly massive presence. He would have missed the sign entirely if Arqueba had not told him. Nathan was once again impressed by the lizardman’s keen senses. And relieved. Simply knowing the enemy’s location made the vague terror begin to fade. It felt as though he had escaped the current of fear and set foot once more on solid reality.

“But what are you planning to do with direction and distance?”

Nathan selected the sturdiest-looking branch he could find, snapped it off, and stripped it clean. At the sound of wood being worked, Arqueba sounded incredulous.

“You’re going to fight ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it with that?”

“No. You still have your machete, right?”

Nathan caught the thrown dagger by the hilt. He pulled the laces from his boots and lashed the machete to the branch. A passable spear was born. A several-ton monster charging straight at them. If they could neither block nor dodge, what then?

“We kill it. The moment it charges, we use its own momentum to impale it. Like boar hunting.”

“I don’t know if that’s possible, but you’d better get ready. It’s walking this way, little by little. Still forty degrees left. The crocodile head is tilting. Looks like it’s wondering what we’re up to.”

Arqueba grimaced with his blood-smeared face. “Damn it, what if it touches the cargo container?”

“It’s fine. Us moving farther away will actually help.”

The creature came at them in earnest from the very start. This was different from when it had been slashed by Aspen and knocked unconscious. It would not underestimate its opponent. Nathan could sense it instinctively. The beast remembered yesterday’s injury. And it thirsted for revenge.

“Good grief. It’s walking straight at us. It saw us. Thirty meters.”

Twenty-five meters. Twenty. Fifteen…

“Ten meters. From here it could charge like before. Be careful.”

Cold sweat tickled the tip of Nathan’s nose, but he left it alone. He focused only on the muscles holding the spear aloft. There would be only one chance.

“Get ready. It’s tensing its legs. If it’s about to spring, tell me—”

[Ah, ah, ahhh—! One—! Two—! Three—! The commentator has taken ill, so I’ll be handling the broadcast from here. I apologize for any lack of smoothness in the proceedings, everyone!]

Arqueba’s voice was drowned out. A piercing ringing stabbed Nathan’s ears. An excessively loud, forced excitement. That coquettish tone was hard to mistake. The arena master was chattering away in delight. The timing of the interruption could not have been worse.

[I did promise to send you home if you won, Sapiens! But what can I do about an invisible chimera! So, are you angry? You thought you had a way out, only to realize you didn’t? Ah, I can hear Pretty Boy drooling. Yes, yes! Feel free to cheer louder, everyone! Having fun?]

The audience responded. Their laughter and cheers swelled, as if they had just been dealt a satisfying blow. Strength drained from Nathan’s shoulders.

“…I said! Nathan! Jump—!”

The warning came too late. A sensation of something tearing through the air, a heavy mass bearing down. No time to react. Nathan hurled the spear he had raised to thrust and threw himself sideways with all his strength.

BOOM.

----------

‘So I’m back here again.’

Beneath a silence without a single star, he stood. The figure bent at the waist to bring its face closer, but Nathan had no desire to meet its gaze. A face with nothing but scars where eyes, nose, and mouth should have been. Yet it was not fear that moved him. He simply hated the man without end. There were countless reasons. He hated being beaten until his bones broke. He hated how the man always found him no matter how well he hid ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠or ran. But what made Nathan hate him most was that, despite everything, the man still called him son.

The face, composed of gashes and lacerations instead of leather and holes, twisted into an expression only Nathan could recognize. A generous smile. At the familiar, ominous feeling, Nathan stepped backward.

‘Since you came all this way on your own…’

The figure drew a knife.

‘Let’s assume you’ve encountered an opponent too large and strong to defeat today.’

----------

“Stop it, you son of a bitch—!”

Nathan woke screaming.

[—which means you are all winners! Ah, those three who bet on survival must be disappointed! They have their own circumstances, so I won’t call the choice foolish— What! Why are you getting up!]

“Damn it, I told you not to die… don’t die… huh. I’m alive. Hooray.”

Arqueba’s weak welcome. Nathan, still dripping with cold sweat, finally remembered where he was. The middle of the arena. A jungle without the sound of insects.

“How long was I out?”

“About five minutes? The commentator was overjoyed. But how can you call someone who tells you not to die a son of a bitch? My legs hurt less than my heart now.”

“…I wasn’t talking to you.”

Nathan tried to stand at once, but his knees gave out and he collapsed again. The impact his body had taken was greater than it felt. Blood dripped from his head. ‘If you fall, you have to get back up. Because you can, and because you must.’‘We who live in the Lower World are under the rule of gravity. The one striking downward always has the advantage.’‘Shut up.’

Nathan severed the thought and tore off his breastplate. The dented steel plate had saved his life, but it had not absorbed every shock. He slowly pressed his body. No fatal wounds. Only a rib or two broken. A stroke of luck. Nathan groped around him. Where were his weapons? Fortunately the pole lay right beside him. Only the upper part of the machete was gone. The dagger’s blade was cruelly bent and broken. He had not even been able to finish the opponent with a longsword, and now he had nothing resembling metal. Nathan ground his teeth.

“If there’s none, then there’s ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠none.”

Nathan rose with a grunt. If he had no weapon, he would fight bare-handed. Better to struggle proudly and meet his end than lie down and be slaughtered. [Lie back down, you disgusting little bastard!] And he could not give up because of that man either. Nathan tightened the straps of his gauntlets. They would probably break, but it was better than doing nothing. He hoped he could at least make the pig’s precious chimera pay a dental bill.

“Sapiens warrior.”

Nathan looked to the side. Someone who should not have been there stood there.

“Go back to the container.”

“Before that, take this.”

The elf child was breathing hard, as if she had run while carrying something heavy. Nathan accepted the girl’s gift with a reluctant expression. What she offered was a piece of metal that had fallen from the cargo container. The very thing she had been holding to protect the children. The tip was pointed and the handle width was comfortable to grip, but it was a pity it was barely under a meter long. There were traces of attempted sharpening, yet it was not sharp. “Even so, this should do.”

Nathan swung the metal hard. It struck the tree beside them. With a clang the iron let out a shriek and the child flinched. Yet the metal held. Nathan examined the edge. It was perfectly straight, without a single nick. Flexible and strong.

“This is quite good. Thank you. Now hurry back.”

“I’ll tie the creature’s feet.”

Nathan frowned. No one would joke in a life-or-death situation. She did not look deranged either. Clear judgment shone in the girl’s eyes.

“Do you have a plan?”

The child raised her bony fist. For a moment Nathan thought he was mistaken. She really was insane.

“Arqueba, stop her!”

“I already tried. But after seeing that, I understood.”

Nathan shook his head, then his eyes widened. A chill emanated from the girl’s raised fist. Frost pushed out between her fingers. Shaking off the thread-like ice clinging to her collar, the child quickly explained the plan.

“Earlier I tried to freeze the door with this, but it didn’t work well on dry steel. The floor, though, I can freeze. Everything here is wet.” The elf girl stamped her foot. The soil of the artificial rainforest, softened by moisture. “When that monster tries to leap, I’ll freeze the ground. If it slips and crashes down, that’s when we strike and kill it.”

Nathan was genuinely impressed. Then he shook his head.

“That won’t work.”

The girl squeezed her eyes shut, then tried to persuade him calmly.

“Opposing just to oppose gets you nothing. With this much moisture, I can freeze an entire room solid in an instant with my own hands. If you’re saying this because it looks difficult, then damn it, you try maintaining your weight after starving for fifteen years! I’m probably ten times older than you—”

“Starboard one hundred twenty degrees, over one hundred meters. The creature isn’t listening, so speak slowly.”

The child’s forced composure shattered; she screamed. Arqueba snickered. Without answering, Nathan looked around. Spotting a suitable rock, he placed the cargo-container fragment against it and dragged it along, sharpening the edge. Sparks flew with a terrible noise. Stopping occasionally to receive reports of the monster’s position from Arqueba, Nathan focused on the noisy work. Especially satisfying was that he could not hear the arena master’s piggish voice. The child, mistaking his action for an attempt to silence her, kicked the innocent ground.

“Starboard ninety degrees. Over one hundred meters. It’s feeling around the wall in confusion. It killed you, so the match should be over, but the gate isn’t opening, so it must be wondering what’s wrong. It’ll come to clean up the leftovers soon.”

At those words Nathan finished his work. He touched the now-burning-hot blade.

“That’ll do.”

“Hey, you crazy bastard—! You think sharpening a metal rod will make it a sword… It actually got sharpened? How the hell?”

“It’s not exactly a sword. If I swing hard enough it should split firewood.”

The child swallowed her curse. Soon her expression brightened considerably.

“Freezing the floor. That’s ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠actually a really good idea. Your life is on the line, so you wouldn’t have charged out without a reason. Let’s go with your plan. But we need a small adjustment.”

“Which part?”