Troll Wrestling
"Sir!"
Before Johan could even reach a decision, one of the fallen men cried out to him in urgent tones. Unlike the thoroughly rattled elf knights, these men had retained a fair amount of their composure.
Johan clicked his tongue inwardly when he heard it. At this rate, if he simply rode away, things would get rather troublesome later on — unless every soul here ended up dead.
The troll was supposed to be going berserk. I figured they'd all be too panicked to think straight. Turns out they're doing just fine.
The three elf knights were arrogant and greedy, but they were no cowards. With an enemy before them, the thought of fleeing hadn't crossed their minds even once.
It would have been far more convenient for everyone if they had!
Johan raised his spear from horseback and aimed it at the troll. Its sheer bulk made the target an easy one. The troll, still fixated on the elf knights, hadn't noticed Johan at all.
Crreeeak—
The spear shaft trembled as his strength poured into it, quivering so violently it looked liable to snap apart at any moment.
Having finished his aim, Johan hurled it in one fluid motion.
Thwip!
At the sound of air being torn apart, the troll whipped its head around in alarm — but it was already too late to react. Like a bolt loosed from a ballista, the spear drove through the troll's belly with crushing force.
"————————!"
The troll shrieked and wailed in an unintelligible tongue. Unlike a crossbow bolt, which could do little more than pierce the hide, this spear had torn straight through muscle and gouged out its insides. Even a troll with its extraordinary regeneration could not help but feel that kind of pain.
Snap!
Reaching for the spear buried in its gut, the troll snapped it off instead. Then, as if it made no difference at all, it hefted its club and came charging at Johan.
Neighiiigh!
The warhorse began to buck like something possessed. A monster's killing intent was more than even a trained steed could endure — the only reason the animal held onto its sanity at all was Johan's grip, his thigh muscles clamping down on the saddle for dear life.
Good. If I wheel the horse's head around and slip out like this...
Fast as the troll was, surely it couldn't outrun a horse. But Johan was underestimating something.
...Not the troll. The knights.
"Your opponent is me, beast!"
Leon Duiore, the brave elven knight, seized on the opening — and far from backing off, he flung himself straight in. A flash of gleaming steel, and blood sprayed from the troll's thigh.
Color bloomed on the faces of the elf knights, who until now had never once managed to seize the initiative thanks to the troll's frenzied assault. From Johan's mouth, of course, came nothing but curses.
Are you kidding me, you lunatics...!
They clearly assumed Johan had come to hunt the thing together with them. His plan had been to lend a distraction and then quietly withdraw!
Ssht—
The gash across the troll's hide sealed over in the blink of an eye. Unlike the spear that had punched clean through it, a mere slash like this did the troll little real harm.
Already fuming, the troll saw the elf knights nipping at its flanks and unleashed a furious clubbing blow. Leon Duiore — guts spilling clean out of him — didn't roll away this time as he had before. Instead he raised his longsword and attempted to deflect the strike.
Johan didn't know it, but that was one of the secret arts of House Duiore — the Crown of Duiore. A powerful counter-technique that parried any high-line attack and sent it back upon its sender.
But the troll proved unexpectedly cunning. The moment it saw the sword raised and something brewing, it halted its attack mid-swing and answered with a front kick instead. The elf knight took the blow square in the chest, coughed up blood, and tumbled away across the ground.
"Oh, for the love of—!"
With a curse, Johan leapt down from the saddle and threw himself into the fray. Now that this circus had started, the troll would prioritize finishing off the elf knights over chasing him.
One of the three was already down, and the other two were living on borrowed time.
"Karamaf! No need to hold the troll back — just make sure Fern doesn't run off!"
Grrrff!
Even if Karamaf bit the troll, it would barely notice. Better to set the beast to watching the horse so it couldn't bolt — and so Johan could run over and mount it if things went south.
The moment Johan dismounted and approached, the troll braced itself. Some instinct had evidently told it that of every enemy present, this one was the most dangerous.
That instinct saved the elf knights' lives.
"Get Sir Leon and pull back to the side!"
"B-But Sir, you can't handle it alone!"
Johan answered with nothing but contempt and charged. As he sprang off the ground with a burst of elastic force and unspooled his footwork, the troll saw him suddenly seem to swell in size.
Ordinarily it would have shrugged off his attack and struck back directly, but the memory of that spear still lingered in the troll's mind. Without thinking, it raised an arm to shield its head — the vital point.
And beneath that raised arm, the troll's torso was left appetizingly exposed.
The very same opening he'd once exploited against Karamaf!
Drawing a long breath, Johan swung his longsword with everything he had. Only after the blow had landed did he realize his mistake — even if the technique came a beat late, a thrust would have been far more lethal against a troll.
Thwack!
Came the dull, senseless sound of meat being pounded, the longsword's hilt shattered clean off, and the blade buried itself in the troll's torso. But the situation was nothing like Karamaf's.
Tear through Karamaf's thin plate armor, and what lay beneath was soft flesh. Tear through a troll's hide, and beneath it lay layers of thick, dense muscle and fat forming an armor of their own.
That sinewy, knotted mass clamped down on the blade and held it fast. The longsword, its edge kissing bone, ground to a dead stop.
"————————!"
The troll looked to be in at least twice the agony it had shown before. Eyes brimming with hatred and loathing, it swung its club straight at Johan's head. His sword was ruined anyway — Johan abandoned all regrets and threw himself backward in a clean break. The spot where he'd stood a heartbeat ago exploded into rubble, and the sight sent a chill down his spine.
Blocking that with a shield wouldn't be much better, would it.
Thankful now that he'd brought several spare longswords, Johan drew another. The attack had failed, but it had still accomplished something. Two weapons now jutted from the troll's body — buried too deep for its regeneration to push out. Those would have to be pulled out by hand.
Not that he intended to give it the time.
Johan feinted a charge, and the troll kicked out at his feet, snarling, to keep him from closing. But a feint was all it was. When the troll realized it had been fooled, it howled in frustration.
"Bring me my weapon! We must aid Sir Johan!"
"But you are wounded, my lord!"
"Silence! Can you not fetch it this instant? I'll cut you down myself!"
"I refuse, my lord! Slay me instead if you must!"
Ugh. These bastards.
The arguing between the elf knights and their retinue off in the distance grated on Johan's nerves far more than the troll did.
Just run, you dogs!
Doesn't look like an unwinnable fight, though.
Smothering his irritation, Johan set his mind to work. A troll's greatest strength lay in its signature defense and regeneration. A creature that barely took wounds in the first place and then healed right up — nothing was harder to fight than that.
But with Johan's freakish strength, he could deal damage regardless. Keep pounding away, and surely the thing would tire and weaken. And the situation favored him regardless — the Knight Monastery of Saint Iena, with its troll-hunting experience, would arrive before long.
Maybe I'll just run out the clock.
But the troll — two weapons jutting from its belly — seemed to be thinking along rather different lines. Trolls favored quick, decisive kills. The moment it confirmed Johan was stalling and skittering about, it roared and charged.
It felt like a boulder bigger than himself flying at his face, but Johan glided low. He was long past the age of being cowed by an opponent's size. Slipping sideways in a tight arc, he aimed this time for the troll's legs with a precise thrust.
Against a beast that would shrug off belly wounds through sheer grit, going for the legs was the wiser play.
Buy time. Just buy time!
...That had been the plan — until something far too tempting unfolded before him. His longsword sank deep into the muscle at the back of the troll's thigh, and drove the creature down onto one knee. At the same instant the sword snapped apart again, the remaining shard of blade staying lodged in the troll's body, naturally.
"■ ■■!"
By this point even the elf knights — drunk on the heat of battle, their heads long since stopped working — noticed something distinctly off.
Just what in the world was with that monstrous strength?
"Give Sir Johan a weapon! Quickly!"
"Y-Yes, sir!"
The elf knights, electrified by the thought that they might actually finish the thing, shouted in excitement. A knight never lends his weapon to another — and they hurled them across the field without a second thought.
But there was no leisurely time to catch a weapon in a fight against a troll. Without even a moment to draw one, Johan closed on the kneeling troll from behind. A savage kick to the small of its back sent it pitching forward, and with one foot pinning the troll down, he seized its arm.
"?"
"??"
What the hell is he doing?
One of the slaves, dumbstruck, entertained the impious thought. Combat wrestling... against a troll?
That was a desperation move for when you were locked too close to even swing a weapon — not something you did to a troll.
"■■!"
For the first time in its life, the troll had met a foe willing to match it in raw strength, and it panicked. When the thing tried to drag its arm out, the troll, incredulous, pulled back harder instead — it would toss this insignificant human aside, get back on its feet, and kill him.
But the grip didn't release. Its own arm was being dragged steadily backward.
"■■! ■■?!"
Pop-pop-pop!
Johan's face remained blank, but inwardly he was reeling.
...Wait, this is actually working?!
Just as the elf knights and the slaves were staring at him like a man gone mad, Johan had regretted the moment he grabbed hold of that troll arm and pulled.
Somehow, the instant a fight began, his instinct and his reason went their separate ways. His reason insisted, don't do this, play it safe — while his instinct recklessly charged ahead and did it anyway.
And this stunt was the prime example!
Losing the contest of strength, the troll thrashed and strained — but if it couldn't win on power in this position, there was very little else it could do. Its arm was wrenched ever further back, and soon an uncanny sound began rising from its massive shoulder.
"H-Huh...? Uh...?"
"Good God above...!"
A sight that could make even the least devout among them call upon the divine!
Muscle ruptured, hide split with a wet tearing sound, and blood sprayed. Then the troll let out the loudest scream it had voiced all day. Johan felt the muscles in his own arms and legs go slack and trembling — that was how much strength he had poured into beating the thing.
Johan hurled the troll's severed arm aside and bellowed.
"Weapon!"
"Sir! Catch!"
One of the men snapped back to his senses and hastily threw it. His voice was brimming over with reverence. Having just witnessed that fight, no one on this field could face Johan with their head held high.
Johan raised the sword and lined it up against the fallen troll's thick neck. No troll, however remarkable its regeneration, could come back from having an arm torn off by sheer force. It lay unconscious from pain and blood loss.
Like an executioner taking a condemned man's head, Johan swung in a single silent, disciplined arc — a sight that would have been impossible to believe had anyone told them this was the same man from that brawl moments ago.
Shnk!
A flash of light — and the finely forged steel blade crushed straight through the troll's spine.
And only then did the holy knights of the Knight Monastery of Saint Iena arrive belatedly on the field, torches blazing in their hands.
"Everyone, stand back! We will take it from here!"
"...Already done."