The Knight Rides the Flying Saucer (2)
“Flying saucer?”
The pebbles scattered across the ground began to tremble. The instant Nathan thought his stomach was turning over, his feet left the earth. In the blink of an eye every object around them rose into the air, swept upward like driftwood caught in a flash flood. Inside the pillar of light pouring from the flying saucer, everything—absolutely everything—was being drawn skyward. The two knights, the artillery shells they had set down, the hundreds of orcs standing in formation. The wasteland orcs screamed harder than they had when their comrades were crushed beneath the cannon. Only the few orcs outside the beam’s reach stared up in pure terror. Even the orc legion commander floated into the sky, bellowing at Nathan and Aspen.
“What kind of filthy trick is this, you dog bastards who ride on horses’ backs!”
The commander, thrashing in midair far beyond reach, swung his fist anyway. He clearly believed the humans had sprung some trap. Nathan and Aspen’s eyes met in the empty air.
How would we know?
Actually, something did occur to him. The Unclaimed Highlands were notorious for sudden disappearances. A land where people vanished for no reason at all, often without even a funeral. In a contested zone between the Federation and the orcs it was almost expected, yet soldiers—by the nature of their work—could never quite shake off superstition and rumor. Federation officers would shower the trembling troops with curses whenever they called the plateau a man-eating wasteland, insisting the orcs had simply snatched the disobedient rookies.
Nathan had mostly agreed with that explanation. A small, nagging doubt had always lingered, though.
There was a strange rumor among the orc tribes: that it was actually the humans who abducted orcs from the highlands. Now, as he was sucked into the sky, Nathan felt the pieces of the puzzle snap together.
Mysterious disappearances… so this is what they meant?
In the face of such absurdity his brain simply refused to work anymore. He had no idea what was happening, but whatever. It couldn’t possibly get worse than this.
“Grab my hand! Damn it, don’t drift away! Nathan! Nathan—!”
The distant voice passed by like a dream. Having abandoned all thought, Nathan slowly lost consciousness amid bone-deep exhaustion and the warm glow of the light.
We’ve kept you waiting, everyone! The event begins in five minutes!
A roar loud enough to burst his eardrums jolted Nathan awake.
“I wasn’t sleeping! Single-winged Knight Nathan, awaiting orders—!”
The reflexive excuse died on his lips. The soldiers standing before him were not senior knights. Their armor, in fact, did not even belong to humanity. Dazzling white metal trimmed in gold, resplendent plate that shone like the sun. Nathan slowly lifted his gaze. An army glowing with the same white light stood tall in every direction, encircling the orc legion members whose limbs were locked in iron shackles. Every soldier was covered head to toe in fine plate, yet their long, pointed ears protruded through holes in their helmets.
Nathan’s eyes widened. Those ears were not human.
“Elves…?”
Few people had ever seen an elf with their own eyes. Most remained deep in the forests, shunning the mortal world. Yet the elves before him looked like they came from a highly advanced civilization. They all wore identical armor—uniform equipment of a level possible only with sophisticated technology and flawless logistical administration.
He had heard stories from the paladins. Those who pilgrimaged the ruins and collected ancient knowledge were popular around campfires. In places too dangerous for bards, they would entertain battle-weary soldiers with tales from the mythic age. According to those records, the elves had once split into two factions: the mysterious forest elves everyone knew, and the great “Those Who Ascended to the Heavens,” whose existence survived only in legends and cave paintings.
It wasn’t fiction. They were real.
Given the circumstances, these elves clearly belonged to the latter group. The saucer-like object that had swallowed him—was that how they traveled between heaven and earth?
The thrill of encountering a living legend for the first time tightened his throat with a mixture of fatigue and tension. Nathan fought back the tears threatening to spill. He could not afford to look pathetic. As the first human of this era to meet them, and as a knight of the Federation, he had to preserve his dignity.
He bowed to the soldiers who stared down at him with open curiosity.
“I will never forget the grace you have shown in rescuing us. My name is Knight Nathan. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
We survived, Aspen. He had been about to say it when he suddenly looked around. The senior knight who had been beside him on the ground was nowhere to be seen.
“There was an injured comrade next to me. Do you know where he was taken?”
The elf soldier blinked inside his helmet, then smirked and murmured something in their elegant tongue. Soft laughter rippled through the ranks. Nathan, not understanding, laughed along—until they lifted the branding iron.
“Huh?”
A branding iron. Metal heated cherry-red straight from the forge. The moment Nathan sensed danger and tried to rise, soldiers on both sides clamped down on his shoulders.
“Wait, just a second—”
The searing iron was driven mercilessly into the flesh beneath his ear.
“Aaaargh—!”
Nathan reflexively reached to block it, but his body refused to obey. It wasn’t merely exhaustion. He realized iron shackles identical to the orcs’ now bound his own limbs. Fear clawed at his stomach.
What did I do wrong?
I couldn’t possibly have been rude. No matter how I think about it, this just happened…?
To brand a stranger with hot iron instead of exchanging greetings—it was an atrocity no foreign custom could excuse. Or had his appearance truly looked orc-like to them, despite their famed sensitivity to beauty?
Nathan was certain there had to be a misunderstanding. Yet he was given no chance to explain himself. All he could do was grit his teeth and endure the agony. After what felt like an eternity the iron finally lifted from his burned flesh.
“…That’s how all Sapiens are. They always get emotional and try to speak to us. Not even bearing the Heavenly God’s brand, yet they think we’ll understand their animal cries and help them.”
“Little bastard. Acting arrogant when he’s nothing but bycatch tangled in the net.”
Nathan’s eyes flew wide as he gasped for air. The language they had spoken only moments ago now flowed through his mind as naturally as his mother tongue.
“Your voices… I can understand you now. How?”
“Of course you can, mayfly. If you want to stay alive, you’d better start warming up.”
“What?”
Only then did Nathan remember the shout that had woken him.
We’ve kept you waiting, everyone! The event begins in five minutes!
An event? Are they throwing some kind of festival?
“Look at this idiot, all dazed. He’s not going to make it.”
One soldier prodded Nathan’s head with a spear shaft and clicked his tongue.
“I put a small side bet on this one. Tsk, wasted my money.”
“Have you seen the size of the favorites? You’re the only fool betting on a Sapiens hoping for a big payout.”
“Shut your mouth.”
Before Nathan could process what was happening, the elves turned and walked away, leaving him in pain and exhaustion. All that remained was the throbbing burn on his neck and the mocking laughter they had tossed behind them.
Nathan blinked blankly.
“What… the hell is this?”
The same horror was unfolding among the orcs all around. The stench of seared flesh filled the air. Bound orcs thrashed wildly against the pain, but the elves pressing the irons never flinched, trusting the strength of the shackles. A vivid emblem now marked every green neck—a bizarre pattern of a multi-armed human figure. Nathan touched his own burning skin. The same brand had been seared into him.
Once the branding was complete, the elf soldiers headed for the exit of the circular plaza. Behind them the door closed by itself, its surface already scarred with bloody nail marks.
A dark thought flashed through Nathan’s mind. Perhaps the place he had been brought to was not a sanctuary of an auspicious race, but a demon’s den.
The preparations are finally complete! Oh, look at our guest contestants looking so bewildered! It seems they still haven’t grasped the situation! Fresh new gladiators whose feet have not yet touched the bloodsand of the arena! Aren’t they truly adorable?
Cheers and jeers erupted in response. Only then did Nathan realize countless eyes were watching. Beyond the circular walls, a noisy crowd filled the tiered seats surrounding the plaza. Orcs stood inside the arena too—the same orc legion that viewed humans as nothing but prey. Nathan almost shouted at the spectators to run, but the words died in his throat. Something was wrong. No one seemed to feel any sense of danger.
He studied the crowd more carefully and his eyes widened in shock. Tiered seating. This was an arena. A massive coliseum with spectator stands built into the walls. And every single person in those stands…
They all have pointed ears.
The soldiers who had dragged him here, the spectators lost in ecstasy, even the suspicious emcee on the distant podium shouting into a black hammer-shaped device—every last one of them. In this entire alien place, Nathan was the only human.
The rules are simple! You all know them, right?
“Kill each other right now! Kill each other right now!”
The emcee’s unnaturally amplified voice drew a thunderous roar from thousands of spectators drunk on anticipation. Nathan’s head spun; for a second he wondered if this was some kind of victory celebration. The explanation that followed shattered any such beautiful delusion.
That’s correct! Kill each other! For the next hour! There are currently three hundred living warriors. At most five may remain at the end!
“These crazy bastards…”
After the match begins, a bell will ring when sixty minutes have passed and the game will end. If five or fewer remain, they may return to their homelands according to their wishes. However, if more than five are still alive, all of them die! Did everyone understand, my mold-colored friends?
With a metallic clatter the chains binding the orcs fell away. As the green monsters rose, rubbing their stiff limbs, Nathan’s face turned deathly pale. The shackles around his own wrists and ankles remained locked.
Why only me?
“Excuse me? Sirs? My chains—”
The chains are released! It is time to reduce each other’s numbers! Who will survive, and whose corpse will become a stepping stone? Right now, through your tablets, up to five! Place your bets on your champion! Only the strong will see tomorrow morning’s sun!
“—My shackles aren’t opening, you sons of bitches—!”
From this moment on! The battle for survival begins—!