《Dump Stat Intelligence (LITRPG)》


 001

    ¡°Tell me this: have you never wanted to hit someone who¡¯s just said something stupid? Seriously? Are you telling me you¡¯ve never felt that way at all? I¡¯m sure you have, whoever you are, whatever kind of life you have led until this point.¡±


    We all have. At one point or another, if not very often then at least on one or two occasions--Donovan McAeda¡¯s eyes said with conviction.


    ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right, Mr. McAeda,¡± agreed the judge, ¡°I¡¯m sure we all have, truly, at one point or another.¡±


    The presiding judge was an old man. There was with him the look of a fatherly figure, the kind of sagely old man with a life lesson always at the ready in his pocket to throw at your face unasked. Those with a notebook jotted full of one-liners to close a court session with a bang.


    That sort of a pest.


    And so, in that manner from the lofty judge bench, he gazed down at Donovan all fatherly-like.


    ¡°But Mr. McAeda,¡± (there comes the lesson), ¡°as an English Professor, I¡¯m sure you already know this too well--but just feeling like doing something doesn¡¯t necessarily mean you have to do it. The ability to ask yourself, ¡®Should I really do this?¡¯ is surely what sets humans apart from animals. The use of reason and rational thinking to keep our emotions in check, that struggle to overcome one¡¯s savage beast and nurture the civilized parts of ours--is that not the whole point of your department? The sole function of literature?¡±


    Donovan smiled wryly.


    It might not have been a smile, rather a skewed expression one wouldn¡¯t have been amiss to call an ugly grimace.


    Standing proudly at the defendant¡¯s table and ignoring his lawyer¡¯s scathing look, the man, who had gone long past the point of caring, said in defiance, ¡°Your honor, I¡¯m afraid you¡¯re sorely mistaken. The point of literature is actually to teach us to be violent despite the circumstances. What does that mean? I¡¯m afraid you would just have to open a book and start reading, instead of basing your judgments on the grandstanding quotes of people smarter than you.¡±


    ¡°The point of literature is violence, I see. Is that the reason,¡± the judge adjusted his reading glasses, eyes narrowing on a document before him, ¡°behind your seven charges of assaults during your time in the English Department? Could it be for this philosophy of yours that on seven occasions you have hit, slapped, kicked, and suplexed your students? For telling a joke, for suggesting changes in teaching materials, for writing...let¡¯s see...a subpar essay? And the latest case, for which this court is being held, for showing you a tk tk video? Mr. McAeda, these are not convincing reasons to assault your students--these are no reasons to assault anyone.¡±


    ¡°My reasons are convincing to me, your honor. Surely that should be more than enough. Just as you¡¯re self-convinced of the loveliness of your own voice, I suppose. Consequently, I have even less interest in your opinions regarding legal matters than what cliched bullshit you have to say about my field. Do we have an understanding?¡±


    Of course he was more than aware that said legal matters were the whole point of this court session.


    But who cares anymore.


    In the first place, everything about this was utterly pointless. The outcome had already been decided long before he had set foot into this courtroom.


    The judge frowned, as though for a moment considering another comeback, but then wisely chose to ignore the blatant provocation. He reached for his gavel. ¡°If that¡¯s all you have to say, I see no reason to amend your sentence at this point, Mr. McAeda. Six months¡¯ custody and restraining order from ever entering a campus ground again. That is all. This court is adjourned.¡±


    As soon as he pronounced this, but just before he could land the wooden mallet fatally on Donovan¡¯s academic career, a young man came up from behind the judge out of nowhere. And it was really out of nowhere. Until then he had been part of the furniture, despite being neither a court official nor allowed to approach the judge during the proceedings.


    True, there was an unassuming air about him, another well-groomed man in black a dime a dozen in such a setting, but that was not why everyone in the room, even those in charge of security, had ignored him.


    He had been invisible because nobody had wanted nor dared to look.


    This man whispered a few brief words in the judge¡¯s ears, then just as quickly withdrew to the back, becoming once more an innocuous part of the backdrop.


    In the following three and half seconds (as Donovan patiently counted), the fatherly old judge went on to stare at a certain someone in the audience.


    There weren¡¯t that many people there to begin with, mostly the employees of Donovan¡¯s family and sundries, but Donovan didn¡¯t have to turn around to know who it was.


    The identity of the person on the receiving end of that stare was an open secret to every single person in the room.


    ¡°Well... let¡¯s see,¡± at long last the judge stammered, sweat beaded on his wrinkled forehead, ¡°I have been reminded, very timely, of course, of your circumstance. How do I put this... You are yet young, very young, Mr. McAeda, and we all make mistakes when we¡¯re young, don¡¯t we? To add, so young and already a professor for a reputed academy! And weren¡¯t you originally a mathematician too? Ha! A celebrated mathematician teaching English! Now that¡¯s what you call a genius! A prodigy? Or are you too old for that title, haha...¡±


    The old man, so composed and self-assured only a minute before, was now making not a lick of sense. He was rambling like a madman, sweating, trembling, almost verging on a comical display.


    Not that anyone laughed. Not even a silent murmur was raised in the courtroom.


    Forget bizarre, it was utterly absurd. One struggled to guess how someone at his age could behave in that manner at all, let alone someone in his office.


    And yet every single person in that courtroom knew and comprehended exactly what, or had expected it in some manner.


    The judge was one of those few blissfully unaware up until a minute ago.


    Naturally, even he should have known.


    An open secret is by nature open, unless you willfully choose to avert your eyes from it.


    In the first place, he was perhaps the only judge in the whole country proud or arrogant enough to take that seat presiding over one of the McAeda family, instead of waiving the case as one normally would. Any bystander, less brave or foolish, would have at once understood the inevitable outcome of this court. Only he had underestimated what was at stake, had dismissed certain cautions in his circle as rubbish.


    The folly typical of self-assured men in positions of power.


    Donovan said nothing in response. He stood still like a disinterested statue.


    ¡°In light of this realization,¡± the pitiable old man concluded, looking himself finished, ¡°I¡¯m sure we can overlook your mistakes, this once. You may go now--I mean, Mr. McAeda, your sentences are hereby annulled. I wish you a fruitful academic career!¡±


    The gavel tapped feebly and, at the same time, with fierce desperation, like the hasty retreat of a routed army.


    And like that, it was over, without the slightest resemblance of a closing procedure, only a collective escape of people pouring out of the room, that brought to mind a rout.


    With no one to stop him, Donovan turned to exit the room, his face set in a grimace even darker than before.


    ¡°Donovan.¡±


    A voice cold as ice called after him.


    Never so simple, eh?


    Turning, he saw a tall woman in a blue-black suit. Her long strides made loud and harsh clatters of high heels in the courtroom. The speed of her approach belied her rigid dignity.


    In appearances, she was neat and groomed to perfection: haircut shorter than her nape, makeup light and austere, gait straight as a parading soldier. \


    In her striking green eyes, there was a cold and cruel look.


    ¡°Yes, mother,¡± Donovan answered wearily.


    Almost everything about the woman was reflected in Donovan the young English professor: the jet black hair, the deep green eyes, the high and proud cheekbones, the sharp features. Only his shoulders drooped. And while his face was exhausted of life, hers was almost devoid of emotions.


    Almost, save for a hint of annoyance.


    ¡°That just now was a shameful display,¡± she declared, each syllable sounding clear and precise. ¡°Did you have any intention, any at all, to defend yourself? How are you so pathetic as one of our family?¡±


    ¡°Well, what¡¯s the point?¡± he spat, hardly able to keep his voice from being so forceful, ¡°Suppose I managed to beg a few months off of my sentences, you would still intervene to void it all anyway. So what¡¯s the point, really?¡±The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°The point lies in trying and proving--both seem a tall task for someone like you,¡± she said mercilessly. ¡°Yet is that the full extent of your conviction? Does Estella¡¯s last wish mean only so much to you? Does it really not merit a fight out of your lousy attitude?¡±


    Way too merciless.


    But what could he say, Donovan actually preferred this mercilessness, this unrestrained cruelty, over sage advice from self-assured old men.


    They were that kind of family.


    It was something he knew, and could deal with.


    ¡°But still,¡± he sighed, scratching his head while averting his eyes awkwardly, ¡°isn¡¯t talking about my sister like that now a bit too cruel?¡±


    She could have afforded to be a little more motherly, if nothing else, when it comes to her late daughter at least. But that, for her, would be a tall task.


    Even as they talked, people were still pouring out of the room. Most of the audience had been his family¡¯s employees, so these were faces he knew. The court officials gave them a wide berth, regarding his mother with a wary look.


    He wanted to laugh. What amounted to a normal conversation between him and his mother must have appeared like a debate with the outcome of life and death to those people.


    ¡°Well, I guess that¡¯s it then?¡± he said, only half-asking, as he already knew full well the answer.


    ¡°Naturally,¡± his mother¡¯s eyes narrowed, as though in suspicion he was having the gall to think otherwise. ¡°Listen, Donovan, your brooding time is over. You¡¯ll quit the academy at once. And despite your sentence, or the lack thereof, I will talk to the board and ensure you will never set foot on campus again. Understood?¡±


    ¡°Aye, mother,¡± he shrugged, ¡°time for the prodigal son to come home, I guess.¡±


    Her eyes thinned even more, now like a hawk¡¯s on a squawking prey. ¡°Do anything stupid and I will make sure you¡¯ll have plenty more to regret, you hear?¡±


    ¡°Whatever could give you the idea?¡± he answered with a shrug, ¡°I¡¯ve never regretted a thing in my life.¡±


    All lies, of course.


    Well, what was she going to do about it?


    But Estella¡¯s last wish, huh? The cruel woman sure knew to hit where it hurt.


    Not that she cared, of course. The damage having been neatly inflicted, his mother turned on her heel, and left like a silent storm.


    At length, he stared after the woman, almost the same way the old judge had stared at her before. Her departure at once lifted a heavy pang from the empty room.


    What does it feel like to be so uncaring of what others think about you, to be able to exert a dominating aura just by existing?


    Well, he might never know.


    Donovan did not immediately follow after her, but dallied around a bit more in the empty courtroom, just to be sure his mother had left the building before leaving himself.


    Not that he hated his mother, it was only a natural thing, even for her son, to stay clear of that woman.


    Only common sense.


    But what now? He thought idly.


    His mother had made it plenty clear enough. No more playing around, back to the family estate, be nice and obedient. By this time next year he would have been integrated into the family business, morphed into another cog in its chain of commands, another pawn in his mother¡¯s ruthless regime.


    Not that he had any qualms about it, such had always been the inevitable conclusion for his adulthood since the day he was born. Estella, his sister, had always been just a backup plan--a fragile and sickly plan that had not outlasted her sixteen birthday.


    In two words, his family business was organized crime.


    Although these days people prefer to call it by a more polite title--a mega-conglomerate.


    Such a mouthful phrase that was further from the truth than the shorter version. But that¡¯s the way of this age.


    All in the phrasing, apparently.


    His family¡¯s business was one that held much sway in the country, in more ways than one. One with a dead grip over its politics and economy from the shadow.


    For someone who was born a scion to that conglomerate owner, and who had been lauded as a prodigy, a gifted mathematician, with flattery and genuine praises alike, there had been precious few paths allowed him since the beginning. His future had long been destined, long decided.


    But if all this sounded like lamenting, he actually wasn¡¯t.


    He didn¡¯t have anything else in particular he wanted to do.


    Even the teaching gig he had been doing this last year hadn¡¯t been his own idea. He was never that passionate about literature in the first place.


    And putting it as his ¡°sister¡¯s last wish¡±, as his mother had done, makes it sound so much more dramatic than it actually was. It all started with an incredibly mundane conversation. A silly conversation, to boost, between him and his sister over a year before.


    To summarize...


    ¡°I¡¯m worried about you, Donovan,¡± Estella had said something to that effect one day, ¡°I mean, knowing my conditions, I might just go ¡®owie¡¯ after dinner or something--it¡¯s been like that for a long time, so it¡¯s totally a possibility--then you will be left with no one to play with. Wouldn¡¯t that be sad? Wouldn¡¯t that be so sad?¡±


    ¡°Firstly, no human dies with that stupid a sound effect,¡± he had said flatly in response, ¡°secondly, don¡¯t say it like you have anyone to play with other than me either. You don¡¯t get to pity me. And I do have friends.¡±


    ¡°You mean the snobs who sometimes come over to discuss equations with you, who sometimes look at me like I¡¯m a dying puppy? You really consider them friends? Ew!¡±


    ¡°Who the hell discusses equations... is that what you think we were talking about? Don¡¯t make it sound like doing math is my entire personality.¡±


    And she did look like a dying puppy at times, even if it was mostly out of boredom from being imprisoned in her own home, so the look of pity was more than justified.


    ¡°I mean those are not people you hang out with,¡± she persisted, ¡°it¡¯s like hanging out with only co-workers after work. It¡¯s sad.¡±


    ¡°What do you even know about work and co-workers, you have been lying around in that bed playing video games and reading comics all your life...¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like you do either. So how about this, you like reading, don¡¯t you? Why don¡¯t you try to connect with other people and make friends through your hobby? It should be better than hanging out with your math punks at any rate.¡±


    Putting aside whether math punks were even a real category of people, she might be making a good point, actually.


    Donovan nodded noncommittally. ¡°Except reading isn¡¯t a social activity, you know. And as far as book clubs go, those are stupid, people there prefer to talk about their lives or even hook up more than actually discussing the books. And I doubt anyone would go along with my taste.¡±


    ¡°Well true,¡± she tapped her chin with the hand not holding the controller, ¡°How about a professional setting then? You can try to be a professor and seek out students who are passionate about literature that way. They would be more or less around your age too, unlike the math punks. Sounds perfect, isn¡¯t it? There¡¯s that college mother just bought a seat on the board for another tax evasion scheme. Just ask her to make you a lecturer.¡±


    The outrageous bit of information she had included so casually in their conversation aside, that was yet another sensible suggestion.


    Even if a year later it had turned out disastrously.


    ¡°Well, I really hope you give it a try, Donovan,¡± she said conclusively before unpausing the game. Gunshots and loud groans of shredded zombies once again filled the room. ¡°At least let me smile down upon you from heaven, okay? The last thing I want is to catch second-hand embarrassment from you even in the afterlife. It would be a pain, totally.¡±


    ¡°Assuming you¡¯re even going to heaven with that attitude.¡±


    It had been a moronic conversation, the kind he would have with her literally every single day. Nothing more, nothing less.


    Even his decision to actually follow up with that half-hearted ¡°last wish¡± to act as a lecturer for an entire year was mostly out of anger, a sort of protest partly to annoy his mother, rather than out of any desire to avoid giving Estella second-hand embarrassment in the afterlife.


    Come to think of it, she probably had had her fill of it by now.


    But back to the present, another way to look at it was that, since he had never been allowed a choice in the first place, he had never thought of wanting to do anything.


    Forced to make one, he would probably choose a job to do with violence. Punching, kicking, wrestling. That sort. Because sometimes in life, you just want to punch things. The evil people, the smug people, the stupid people, are all more or less worthy of a punch. Combat sports are thus out of the question. You can¡¯t just punch anyone in the ring. And he was the sort to punch the referee himself when the guy couldn¡¯t do his job right.


    But that was not the main problem--even if there had been some mythical profession in the modern age where he could just punch away without a care, like a rampant cowboy or a wandering ronin, he would still need a purpose to his wandering. In revenge for his mentor, or something similarly morally compelling. Or he would have to be exiled from his ancestral home, alleged of killing his master in a duel when in actuality framed by a rival. Something to that highly specific effect.


    Such were the stupid thoughts that ran across the ex-English Professor¡¯s head as he loitered in that empty courtroom.


    After a while, he sighed, estimating that his mother must have left the building by then.


    He exited the room, then walked down the hallway, and suddenly realized it was perfectly empty of people. All the doors were closed.


    Had he accidentally spent too much time thinking that it was already lunchtime?


    He glanced out of the window just to make sure of the sun¡¯s position, and there, found an unfamiliar skyline.


    Not a single highrise in sight, and he was fairly sure the building he was in had faced several at least. In fact, his line of sight was filled with unfamiliar structures, domes, and towers of exotic architecture. These were nothing he had seen in this city before, let alone before entering the courtroom.


    Of course, it could simply be that he had made a wrong turn, and this window was overlooking a different angle of the building than he remembered. Except his memory wasn¡¯t that bad, and no way such a queer portion of the city could have escaped his notice until this day.


    The hallway, on the other hand, was as he remembered, except for the eerie emptiness, and all the closed doors. Even if it was lunchtime, there should have been plenty of people walking around in such a large building for civil services or, at the very least, some noise. On the contrary, there was only a dead silence.


    This was enough to creep Donovan out, who¡¯d never been bothered much by horror stories.


    He slowly began to walk down the hallway.


    No use just standing there and wondering. His idea was that his mental state was currently in a shamble from those depressing thoughts of his late sister, and before long he would find out the obvious reason behind this silence.


    But the longer he proceeded the hallway, which seemed far longer than he had remembered, the more the silence stretched. This went on until he finally heard the first human voice in a while.


    And yet what he heard was no common sounds, but more like quiet muttering, or monotonous chanting.


    Had the hallway been dark as though in the middle of the night, it would have fit perfectly in most horror movies where eerie chanting heralds the coming of a demonic creature.


    His skin crawled, but not for that horrific resemblance to such a cliche trope.


    It was a voice he recognized.


    And like a most exemplary character in a horror story, he went to investigate the voice.


    On his face there was a deep frown.


    He was angry. Really angry, even for a short-tempered man. For this seemed a cruel joke.


    After a few long, deliberate strides he arrived at an innocuous door, which muffled the monotonously chanting voice beyond. Words that were like faithless prayers or a dreadful incantation.


    He cracked the door open, wishing to confirm his premonition of a joke, that his hearing did deceive him.


    Instead he found a small and well-furnished bedroom, one that had no business being found in a courthouse. There was a large canopy bed in one corner, several antique-looking pieces of furniture, a curtained window on the opposite wall, which should not be there since he had entered from a hallway that faced the front of the building.


    But none of these were what had caught him off guard.


    Sprawling disorderly on the carpeted floor were books, some open, some closed and stacked in skewed order on each other, some half-bent, all looked as though they had been tossed unceremoniously all over the place. Five burning candles formed a circle around the books. All enhanced the impression of an occult ritual going on.


    But even these were not the true cause of his shock.


    It was the person who sat in the middle of the circle, a girl bending over a large spreading tome. She was chanting the words he had heard. From where he stood, he could clearly see her profile.


    Estella, his sister.


    The one person in this world Donovan would never mistake for anybody else.

 002

    Without thinking, Donovan stormed through the door, face red with fury. There were no more thoughts in him than that of a dreamer thrashing his body to force himself awake. For this could only be a dream, a terribly irritating dream.


    Startled by the commotion, the girl whose face he knew turned, and said, unperturbed. ¡°Ah, you¡¯re here at last!¡±


    It was a casual remark you would expect from someone greeting a friend who had just arrived five minutes late.


    As though she had been waiting.


    He could see her face in full now. And again there could be no mistake. Not that he could ever mistake that face out of all people.


    The image of his late little sister--tacked on a real, living person.


    A small face framed by fluffy locks, eyes greener than anyone in the family. Even the way she blinked twice in astonishment bore a bizarre resemblance.


    And yet it was impossible.


    How could it be?


    It could not--was the obvious answer.


    ¡°Wait...you really come?!¡± the girl repeated, this time with a gaping mouth, as though her brain was still processing something really, really wrong.


    There was nothing right in this situation to begin with.


    Then, ¡°Who are you?¡± she exclaimed, ¡°were you hiding in there all this time?¡±


    Hiding?


    Donovan turned.


    What he had thought was a door... no, there was no way it had not been a door. He was in a hallway, and had opened a door to this room--a room with a window on the opposite wall that had no business being there.


    And behind him was in fact a door. But a door to a closet of sorts. He could see a row of clothes being hung within.


    A closet.


    He, an adult man, had jumped out of the closet of a young girl¡¯s room, was what the situation looked like.


    It was nothing adventurous or mysterious. No witch, nor lion.


    Only a man hiding in a girl¡¯s closet.


    The girl, now in intense fright, began to crawl away, edging backward on her elbows, instead of climbing to her feet to escape the room. ¡°No...you couldn¡¯t be something I summoned...¡± she was muttering. Her pupils dilated.


    Then, suddenly, ¡°Help!¡± she cried, her upper half turned to the door--not the one led to the closet, but a real door, of the leading-in-and-out-of-a-room variant. ¡°Guards, guards! Someone¡¯s in my room!¡±


    That door shot right open. The mentioned guards marched in, two of them, their faces ashen in panic and agitation.


    Spears.


    Glinting, sharp, piercing spears, brandished in the guards¡¯ gauntleted hands.


    This went without saying, but it decidedly didn¡¯t look like they would be reading Donovan his Miranda rights before skewering him through.


    Spears--metal head, long shaft--abundant in movies but rarely seen in the modern world. Swords, maybe, ceremonial swords, decorative swords, swords for cosplaying,... Not spears. Strictly a fighting weapon, effective in ancient warfare and single combat alike.


    These spears were being leveled at him with unbridled hostility.


    ¡°Down!¡± one bellowed, thrusting his menacing weapon at Donovan.


    ¡°Whoa, easy,¡± Donovan raised his hands in a parley, ¡°Clearly there¡¯s some misunderstanding here.¡±


    Not that he really expected the guards to buy it right away. But the way they looked at him was filled with doubt and caution as though Donovan was an alien, and not just a simple trespasser.


    ¡°Do you know this man, princess?¡± the guard who¡¯d shouted at Donovan asked, turning his head only slightly to address the girl on the floor.


    ¡°N-no, not really,¡± she said.


    Really, it was such an uncanny resemblance that even Donovan still couldn¡¯t believe his eyes. She really did look like Estella. If moving his hands wasn¡¯t such an ill-advised course of action right now he would have rubbed his eyes with them.


    ¡°How did you get in here?¡± the other guard demanded, his eyes scrutinizing Donovan for any signs of concealed arms.


    It had been a good decision to hold up his hands, they definitely didn¡¯t look like the sorts of bouncers who would only give you a beating then let go. Steel means malice--killing.


    But why spears anyway?


    Judging from the urgent gravity the ¡°guards¡± had treated his trespassing, Donovan highly doubted he had simply wandered into a film set.


    Very swiftly he assessed the situation. The curtained window, itself a mystery due to its location, offered little glimpse of the outside for him to ascertain the situation. The room seemed...girlish? Silky draping over the canopy bed, embroidered fabric over the tea table and the desk, a bouquet of seasonal flowers at a corner of the room.


    While the girl¡¯s dress wasn¡¯t what he would call strange, the guards¡¯ armor looked real, if primitive. The spears had initially captured all of Donovan¡¯s attention, but they were also wearing mail over what seemed to be thick leather, steel caps over their head, and hands gauntleted with thick leather gloves. All of these appeared to be authentic articles, coordinated for combat, not just costumes put together for the cool look.


    As Donovan hemmed and hawed, unsure as to how he might answer the guard¡¯s question, the ruckus they had been making seemed to have drawn attention from outside. More guards showed up, armed and alerted. Whoever this girl of curious appearance was, she must be someone important, perhaps even as big as a McAeda.


    At some point, another young girl had wedged herself through the ranks of men with frantic haste. Her long, flowy dress and white apron brushed against the elbow-to-elbow steel that had filled the room. Fussing, she crouched down beside the girl on the floor, who until then still hadn¡¯t moved.


    Couldn¡¯t. Correction.


    Only so much you could attribute to paralyzing fear.


    That girl on the floor wasn¡¯t capable of walking.


    Crying ¡°Princess!¡± and trembling slightly with agitation, this new girl searched for any possible injuries on the girl. Satisfied that there wasn¡¯t any, she picked up this princess with practiced ease, flinging the girl¡¯s arms over her shoulders and carrying her up like a baby. The held-up girl¡¯s legs dangled uselessly.


    As she rose, the girl gave Donavan a hostile look behind the fogged lenses of her glasses. All this happened in a few seconds, then promptly with frantic steps, she carried the helpless princess out of the room.


    He couldn¡¯t blame her.


    If Donovan himself had been the caretaker of a young girl and some weird dude broke into her room without any obvious explanation he would be angry too.


    Unfortunately, he couldn¡¯t explain his sympathy with any effects to the guards.


    The guards, who until then had maintained a line before him, to ensure that the girl would be carried out safely first, began to press him once more, inching forward with their spearheads. Their formation was so tightly packed not even a fly would get through.


    Having concluded that Donovan had no weapon on him, one who looked like their captain ordered two of his men to apprehend the intruder.


    Rude and forceful gauntleted hands grabbed at the former English Professor then wrestled him to the floor. Before he knew it, he was gazing up at the scowling captain like a condemned prisoner.


    Perhaps he had been condemned already.


    ¡°Speak now,¡± said the guard captain, ¡°Who the hell are you? How did you get here?¡±


    ¡°Just a guy alright?¡± he answered lamely, ¡°I just happened to stumble my way into this room.¡±


    Yeah, like that would fly.


    He wouldn''t have been able to cook up a worse excuse if he¡¯d tried.


    And yet it was the stone-cold truth.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you be funny!¡± the guard exclaimed. And to emphasize his point, he struck the butt of his spear in Donovan¡¯s face. ¡°Answer properly, the king wouldn¡¯t mind it if we brought you before him with a few missing fingers.¡±


    ¡°Damn you,¡± Donovan snarled, abandoning his attempt to appear nice and harmless. ¡°Again with that and I shall snap you in half!¡±


    His threat predictably fell on deaf ears. With both of his arms had been restrained, the only thing he could defy the guards with was his glaring eyes. Meanwhile, the spearheads hovered perilously close to his face. With a thrust from one of them his brain would be skewered before he could even cry bugger.


    ¡°You¡¯re not from this land,¡± the captain observed. ¡°Are you with the men camped on the outskirts? Speak!¡±


    ¡°Look at his eyes!¡± one of the guards chimed in, ¡°Are those not like the king¡¯s? Those are green as emeralds?¡±The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°A Macaeda?¡± the captain said, wording it like a question.


    The pronunciation was strange, but no mistake, he had just said Donovan¡¯s last name. His family name. The family who owned the conglomerate of their namesake.


    Donovan McAeda--his name, was what he was to answer the guard with. A name that had often acted like a talisman throughout his life to those in the know.


    But he couldn¡¯t.


    His mouth opened, yet no sound came out, as though his vocal cord had been cut.


    Just then.


    Initializing registration protocols...


    A voice--an unfamiliar, feminine voice--rang in his head.


    The mortified look on his face was pronounced enough that the guard frowned at it.


    ¡°What is it?¡± the guard said, ¡°You recognize the name, it seems. Are you one of the royal family? Why won¡¯t you speak?¡±


    Because his brain was reeling.


    Static noise roared in his head as the cold, impersonal voice pierced through every thought. Very little of what was said, inside or outside his head, made any sense. He was going crazy, and that was the only thing that seemed certain in this situation.


    General profile logged and validated.


    ID: Player Character #5. Homeground: Tartary Empire. Assigned username: Agravain Macaeda.


    Grand Quest assimilated.


    Parameters defined as within range requested by participating archangels.


    Generating appropriate presets...


    ¡°What?¡± the guard cried, ¡°Speak! Weren¡¯t you so loud before!¡±


    ¡°We ought to take him in quietly,¡± another opined, ¡°If he really was with that man, Cadfan or something, this could have diplomatic consequences. The king made it clear there is not to be unprovoked aggression.¡±


    ¡°You call this unprovoked? And that¡¯s even assuming he is! You, are you with Cadfan?¡± the guard returned his attention to Agravain.


    Wait, what, Agravain?


    It was a strange name, one he had never heard of before in the context of his own identity.


    And yet, somehow, that was how he thought of himself now.


    Because when the voice in his head was addressing him as such, he had, almost instinctively, reacted as though his name had been called out in a crowd.


    Agravain Macaeda, Player Character #5,...


    Warning! An error occurred during preset assignment:


    More than one preset found, manual assignment required...


    ¡°What?¡± Agravain cried. Suddenly he was able to speak again.


    ¡°Cadfan,¡± the guard repeated, ¡°you know the man? You one of his barbarians?¡±


    Player Character #5, technical support will contact you shortly, please patiently await further instructions.


    What the hell was that?


    What the hell indeed. It bears repeating twice.


    ¡°Can¡¯t you understand what I¡¯m saying?¡± the guard pressed.


    ¡°Maybe he doesn¡¯t? Not all of them barbarians can speak Tartarian after all.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be daft, he just spoke in our language earlier!¡±


    ...Hm. Hm?! Coming in, coming in! Sorry for making you wait, lesse, Player Character #5... What¡¯s the problem here? Two presets? Huh? Kinda¡­ weird? Very weird indeed! Can¡¯t say I have seen this reported before. For Michael¡¯s sake, why is it always during my shift that--hah. Well, I suppose you just need to pick one and be done with... Hello? Can you hear me, err, Agravain Macaeda? Hellooo?


    ¡°What the hell? Who¡¯s speaking?¡± Agravain cried.


    The voice sounded markedly female, just as before, only not as impersonal but with a clear personality to it. And this personality sounded questionable to boot.


    ¡°You¡¯re speaking to the palace guards, man! Are you of the royal family, or are you with that barbarian Cadfan? Speak!¡±


    Huh, what do you mean who? Technical support, what else? Weren¡¯t you given notice? Well, doesn¡¯t matter. To begin with, we don¡¯t encounter errors like this very often. And, please bear with me here, but front office is far from one of my main responsibilities, not even close, or it shouldn¡¯t have been... At the very least you won¡¯t find it in my job description without a magnifying glass... talk about abusing the small prints, those dipshits... Hmm! Wait a darn bit, aren¡¯t customer support chats usually logged for reviewing--shit! I mean. Darn. Erm. Well! Whatever the case, I¡¯m here to help, however inept the help might be! So with that out of the way. You get to choose, see, errr, between two possible classes. Any is fine actually, but since the protocols can¡¯t resolve two equal matches, you will have to pick... Well, I can pick for you if you prefer it that way, but to be absolutely honest I would rather not bear that kind of responsibility, it¡¯s heavy...


    ¡°What classes?¡±


    Confused couldn¡¯t even begin to describe what he was feeling now. Not just the voice babbling on in his head but it seemed even the guards were losing their patience.


    It was like listening to a podcast while having a conversation with someone else. Or reading two books at the same time.


    ¡°What kind of question is that? I¡¯m asking if you¡¯re with those foreigners, the barbarians at the outskirts or the royal family?¡±


    ¡°Barbarian?¡±


    There¡¯s Grand Sag--huh? What are you saying? I haven¡¯t even listed it yet, or have I? Welp. You sure wanna be a Barbarian? That class¡¯s specialty is rather...unique, you know? In a bad way too... not that it is my place to say, of course.


    Barbarian (n): a person from an alien land, culture, or group believed to be inferior, uncivilized, or violent¡ªused chiefly in historical references.


    ¡°Yeah, you could say that.¡± With that understanding in mind, Agravain answered the guard cautiously, ¡°I¡¯m not from around here.¡± That was obvious enough. No matter how he looked at it, all these things and subjects: royal family, princess, classes,... were far from terms he would expect to hear in daily life. Whatever this place was, he sure as hell had no place in it. ¡°Right, I guess you can say that, I¡¯m a barbarian. Weird choice of words as it is.¡±


    That¡¯s decided then. Let¡¯s see... class assigned, Barbarian. Now this is a surprise, I never thought anyone would pick a class in this category--bet Jophiel will get a kick out of this, too. Good for her, I guess...


    ¡°So you¡¯re with Cadfan then? Did he tell you to infiltrate the princess¡¯s chamber?


    Anyways! Thank you for your cooperation, we hope to see you again...wait, that''s not something you say at the end of customer support, yeah? Ciao, then!


    ¡°This is a waste of time, this guy¡¯s probably just dumb,¡± another guard chimed in, ¡°Look at him: jaw slacking, eyes wandering. I reckon he isn¡¯t even considered bright among his own.¡±


    ¡°You may be right,¡± yet another said, ¡°yet even a dullwit could sing a note if you whip him hard enough.¡±


    ¡°To the dungeon with him then,¡± the captain concluded, ¡°I want a reasonable explanation for the king as to how this slack-jawed fool managed to infiltrate his daughter¡¯s chamber. Else, you can be damn sure heads will roll!¡±


    Only vaguely did Agravain comprehend the discussion over his fate. His mind was reeling still. Worse, the inner, disembodied voice had not stopped, only returning to its previously impersonal and cold tone.


    Preset applied.


    Profile assimilated.


    Player Character #5, Agravain


    Class: Barbarian


    Focus Attributes: Strength, Endurance


    Traits: Novice Fighter, Dump Stat Intelligence


    Feats:


    Modifiers:


    Skills: Rage


    Rage bar: 100%


    Attributes:


    Str 44 | En 28 | Dex 14 | Int 0 (-¡Þ) | Wis 8 | Cha 11 | Luck 15


    Player Character #5 is now eligible for participation in the Grand Quest.


    Your assigned Archangel will arrive at your location in a day¡¯s time. Please do your utmost to avoid getting yourself killed before then.


    Best of luck, and don¡¯t forget to have fun!


    ¡°And up you go,¡± said the guards as they hoisted Agravain up by the arms.


    ¡°Where¡¯re you taking me?¡± the barbarian said, still half-dazed. His head ached and his limbs were strained to the limits. He felt as though he was being stretched, pulled in all directions by strong ropes fasted to mighty windlasses. At least the voice inside his head had shut up, for now.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, this will only hurt a lot if you answer properly.¡± One patted his back.


    ¡°I want a lawyer.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll have a feast, a pretty girl, and everything else besides where we¡¯re headed, promise. Now come along.¡±


    The barbarian¡¯s mind was fuzzy, but he hadn¡¯t become the imbecile these men were making him out to be. Slowly as he adjusted after the shock of many clashing voices in his head, Agravain began to read the room. At least a baker¡¯s dozen of the guards were there, all with spears or sabers pointed at him except the ones restraining him from behind.


    By and large, the cautious mood from before had abated, thanks to what they perceived as their prisoner¡¯s lack of resistance. The men certainly weren¡¯t on guard anymore.


    Talk of tortures aside, it almost felt like he could get out of this peacefully if he played his cards right.


    One approached with a long rope.


    ¡°I¡¯ve done nothing wrong,¡± he protested, eyeing the rope with resentment.


    ¡°Are you dumb?¡± the captain of the guards sneered, ¡°A world of wrong you already did by sneaking in here.¡± He gave the back of Agravain¡¯s head a slap.


    ¡°You dog,¡± cried the barbarian, turning with a snap of his teeth to accompany the sudden bark, scarcely missing the man¡¯s hand with his bite.


    Immediately, he felt the impact of a spear butt on his back, then another without holding back on his temple, rattling his brain within. Any man would have fallen stone cold by such cruel strikes. But suddenly, Agravain felt like no common man.


    In fact, the sharp pains summoned something in him, something which coursed through his veins like a mad torrent. The restraints of the guards, both large and strong men, tickled at him like a nuisance, like thin vines lightly coiled over his limbs.


    Rage activated.


    Current rage bar capacity: 99.9%


    Briefly, the disembodied voice returned ringing in his head. He paid it no heed. His arms were working.


    It was little more than a shrug of his shoulders, but the guards who had been restraining him fell away as though hit by a rampant vehicle.


    In the back of Agravain¡¯s mind--the very back--a corner so overlooked it might as well have been deliberately hidden, there was an awareness of a change in his psyche.


    He had not become a mumbling fool the guards had been treating him as. But the intellectual habits, the practiced restraints, what little of it, he had learned all his life seemed to have eroded away in a blink of an eye.


    Sure, he had always been a reckless man, a short-tempered convict who resorted far too often to violence. Only thanks to his family¡¯s status that he had been bailed out time and again.


    But there had always been certain self-imposed limits he put on his actions. He had never leaned on his family name to cause needless suffering, inflict grievous harm on purpose, or ruin anyone¡¯s life. The most he had ever done was punched and punched away.


    Until then, there had been a pattern to his actions, certain things he himself acknowledged to be too much or too far on his part, during or after the fact.


    Being a modern man, born and raised in a modern society, he had never intended to kill.


    Not anymore.


    All limiters broken, discarded, exterminated.


    The spears that were thrust at him appeared like sticks--breakable sticks.


    Grasping one in his hand, Agravain snapped it with a twist of his wrist.


    Even as splinters flew, a deadly chain of reaction was triggered, and all the glinting steel in the vicinity shot for the barbarian¡¯s unguarded body.


    Further incited by the pains, by the steel lodged in his flesh, between ribs and puncturing organs, he wrenched one out as though it were a mere prickling thorn. Growling, the maddened man struck the head of a guard with it so hard the pole shattered into splinters.


    ¡°By God!¡± he cried, ¡°I will show you dumb.¡±


    Methodically, he yanked out another spear, again rattling another guard¡¯s brain.


    His foes looked on in horror as their soaked red steel were easily removed one by one.


    Then entered the men with the sabers, closing in as the spearmen pulled out.


    The speed of Agravain¡¯s response caught even himself off guard. His fist shot out with the power of a cannonball, the speed propelled by gunpowder. The melee ended before it happened, the swordsmen sent the way they had come, their feet never touching the ground.


    Even as blood oozed from his half-dozen wounds, Agravain pursued his enemies with snarling teeth. He seized a man, thought to strangle him, then changed his mind. Instead, he grabbed the man¡¯s legs, lifted him high and horizontally overhead, then tossed the body at the rest with such ease as would have puzzled him had he still had the mind to consider it.


    Still there were limits to what he could achieve unarmed. The guards switched to a more cautious approach. In a formation as wide as the room could afford, a line of spears advanced in concert.


    He could break them one by one, but their goal was to pin him using sheer number; a man disarmed by the barbarian would at once be replaced with another, thrusting home where the previous spear had been dislodged.


    Before long, Agravain found himself pinned against the wall.


    The more he struggled, the harder they pressed, fearing to let a seemingly unstoppable beast escape.


    His punctured lungs were killing him, flooded as they were with blood. A constant buzzing in his ears overrode the strange female voice that was still going, overriding even the spearmen''s desperate grunts. His body was being torn apart, swelling as though it would soon explode.


    Current rage bar capacity: 55%


    Then he felt the wall buckled under pressure. Shattered glass pierced his upper back. A breeze brushes his head through the broken window.


    With a last heave, Agravain flung himself backward, pulling the spears with him, and vaulted over this window sill.


    Naturally, the guards all let go of their weapons.


    The rest was a liberating fall.


    No more the stuffy air of the weird place he had stumbled into by way of a closet. No more the crazies poking at him with their sharp sticks.


    And so laughing, the barbarian fell.


    And struck the paved road far below with a meteor¡¯s impact.

 003

    For a long time, Agravain lay there, his entire body ached as though he was dying.


    Actually he was.


    Or not.


    Life and death can be uncertain, easy to confuse things, when one is in intense pain.


    But slowly, and agonizingly, his dazed mind resolved the jumbled shapes in front of him into coherent images.


    A big, big patch of the azure sky. An upside-down building, five-story tall. Helmeted heads were poking out of a shattered window on the highest floor.


    What a fall, he thought.


    Then, ¡°Oh, I¡¯m not actually dying.¡±


    This being an incredible realization it sounded like, he willed himself up, half expecting he would be floating in incorporeal form over a very dead body.


    But there wasn¡¯t one. Only himself, still in pain and wobbling on his feet like someone seasick.


    He felt more than strange. As though he was in someone else¡¯s body.


    Had his arms ever been so large? His chest muscles ever so pronounced?


    In fact, it was not only his body that was strange. Everything in his immediate surroundings was. The gathering crowd in clothes as though out of a film set. The same strange architecture as he had seen through the windows before.


    On the other hand, Agravain found himself unable to dwell overlong on those inexplicable questions.


    A vague enough reason came to him. Could it be that even the fall had been his imagination?


    But his confused mind couldn¡¯t even pursue this line of thought in earnest.


    Or rather, he did not feel like it.


    What one sees is what one gets, why contrive reasons for the world to be what it is?


    The way he saw it, this was a strange place. Strange people, strange buildings. Even the horse-drawn carriages roaming the streets were strange.


    The only and simple conclusion was clear as day: he had been transported to another world.


    Yup, as simple as that.


    A more complicated mind would have conjured at least a dozen of rational reason for this situation.


    Not he.


    He did not dwell on it.


    He felt vaguely that there had been some change in the way his brain worked. But he decided not to dwell on that either.


    Even the wounds that had hurt like hell were nothing more than spots of discomfort now.


    Strange, huh?


    All on his mind was: let¡¯s run.


    The first instinctual response other than fighting.


    So he ran, brushing aside the crowd that had gathered around the crater of his impact.


    No one made an attempt to stop him--a large and ferocious creature covered in blood, who had just got up and run away like nothing after a fall from the fifth floor.


    The air was also strange, but in a good way. It filled his lungs with a freshness more invigorating than any he had breathed before. And so he ran all the faster, and became all the gladder.


    Before he knew it, Agravain was laughing out loud.


    Frightened pedestrians leaped from his path, no one dared come close.


    Somehow.


    He felt incredible.


    He felt invincible.


    Bloody thoughts of the armed guards and his unpleasant encounter with them had vanished without a trace from his mind.


    When finally he stopped, having got a bit bored of running, he found himself in yet another new place that looked almost like a different town, if not for such large towers that could still be seen against the skyline.


    The houses were smaller, shabbier looking, the road unpaved. A district peopled with haggard looks and a wariness of strangers. Most people traveled on foot, but here and there, horse-drawn carriages of various degrees of fanciness or shabbiness roamed the streets. No automobiles, but there were ox carts and roaming dogs in every corner.


    ¡°Oi, fellow,¡± he grabbed the arm of someone passing by, a dirty man in worn and unclean clothes. Despite Agravain¡¯s effort to calm him, the stranger shook violently as though in a seizure.


    The folk around them averted their eyes, trying hard not to attract the same ill fortune had befallen the ragged fellow.


    ¡°I won¡¯t hurt you, man,¡± Agravain said, ¡°but tell me what this town is called.¡±


    ¡°It-it¡¯s Eisherat, the Tartary capital, sir, the capital! I swear I know nothing else! Please, sir!¡±


    ¡°My thanks, friend.¡± He said, releasing the man and trying to pat his back, but the poor guy had already fled.


    Agravain didn¡¯t have the chance to ask for his name. People here treated him as though he were a runaway lion, which hurt him a bit.


    An unknown place, an unknown people.


    It seemed he would have to go friendless in this world as well. Estella¡¯s soul watching over him in heaven couldn¡¯t even catch a break in this world.


    On the other hand, no one had any idea who he was. No more the scion of a wealthy house, unlikable English Professor.


    No more the obligation to his houses, no more the futile endeavor to fulfill a last wish.


    Agravain was a new person. A freshly born, unwritten page in the world.


    All new, save, well, for the fact that he was on the run from sneaking into a young girl¡¯s room. But just as soon as it came, he cast away the unhappy thought.


    There was an opportunity here up for grabs, though an opportunity at what, he could not tell yet.


    There was yet nagging thought in him that he was taking all this bizarre stuff a bit too breezily.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    But, really, who cared?


    Not he.


    The possibilities were endless.


    He wondered what else he could do. For surely there were some strange powers within him now. His strength, his endurance, his speed and other physical abilities felt positively limitless.


    No obstacles too great, no walls too high. No one he could not beat in a physical fight.


    What would happen if he tried to run and run again, until he dropped? Would he have completed several rounds around the globe by then?


    As for the reasons behind these strange powers he also did not care to think at all. No use dwelling on things one could not know.


    After musing over this for a little bit, he changed his stance, squatting down, took a breath, threw both arms behind him, then propelled his entire body in the air.


    The result was disappointing.


    He was not sure how high a professional athlete would have reached with such a leap, but he had not shot over a house or anything. His feet only passed the height of a tall adult man.


    He was no god then.


    For another test, he wandered to a larger street and walked along it until he spotted a house adequately tall. Without a care for bystanders¡¯ increasingly wary looks, he got into the starting position of a track runner: a low crouch, one leg before another. Then he broke into a spring. After a dozen steps, he made two long leaping strides, then shot up. The wind rushed by, filling his lungs with indescribable joy. Then easily he grabbed onto the eaves of a house¡¯s second story. And there he perched, scanning a street full of pointing folk.


    It was not too bad, he thought.


    His physicality could not compare to any god, but maybe a demi-god.


    Which still had a nice ring to it.


    Enough of that, he dropped from the house and resumed his wandering.


    Even though it was liberating to start anew, too much options also means aimlessness. There were no family for him to go back to. No duty to perform.


    Should he get a job, to make ends meet first thing?


    It was an unfamiliar thought for him who had never had to worry about his daily bread.


    Maybe something would happen soon?


    Some divine intervention, most like.


    Even as he thought this, there was a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and saw a stranger. A youth in a shirt almost as dirty as his.


    A pretty youth, Agravain considered at a closer look, who was giving him a broad and disarming smile as though they were long lost friends.


    ¡°Oh gods, how long has it been!¡± the youth said loudly, his voice booming for such a delicate throat. His eyes were wild.


    ¡°Do I know you?¡±


    Almost at once the youth¡¯s eyes turned dark. He stole a look behind his shoulder, before returning to him. The smile already vanished without a trace.


    ¡°Oh gods,¡± his voice was hoarse and frantic this time, as low as soft breaths, ¡°please, I beg you, don¡¯t say anything! Just pretend we are friends!¡±


    Once more he stole a look behind him. This time Agravain followed his eyes, and saw a shadow just then darted out of sight into an alley.


    And so, out of nowhere, Agravain had been invited for a drink. It¡¯s the sort of thing you do with an old friend you haven¡¯t met for a long time, it appeared: sharing a drink or two, and maybe reminiscing fond memories.


    So supposedly that is how it works with fake friends too.


    The youth did not hide the fact that he had no idea who, or even what, Agravain was. But if he had persisted with the idea they had known each other before, Agravain would probably have bought it too.


    Stranger things had happened since morning and he was in the mood to believe everything and anything.


    For now, it pleased him enough that someone had furnished a table with drinks and food at a tavern for his benefit.


    The youth, who introduced himself as Iranon, after ordering a full table, disappeared briefly into the tavern¡¯s back before returning with his face freshly clean, most of the dirt and grime washed off from his neck and hands.


    It was not by any means a fancy establishment, rather a seemingly shabby place even by this world¡¯s standards. A wineshop where peasants gathered for cheap drinks and meager foods. There were only tables and chairs enough for several large groups at most.


    In this place, both the barbarian and the youth seemed out of place.


    Agravain¡¯s first impression of the youth appeared all the more striking now that they faced each other across the table. He was pretty, if in a feminine way, skin so white it approached the point of unhealthy palish, long lashes seldom seen in a man, and bright, likable eyes. If Agravain was less trusting, he would have suspected this youth to be a crossdressing woman, and who was doing a terrible job at it too.


    ¡°You have quite the appetite,¡± Iranon remarked with amazement as his fake friend wolfed down the food, rapidly alternating between downing the mug of ale and gnawing on a beef bone.


    ¡°A man cannot know what meal will be his last, friend.¡±


    ¡°That is quite philosophical of you. But certainly not a philosophy often heard in civilized parts of the world.¡± He smiled. A smile with a peculiar effect to soften even the most offensive remark to an innocuous jest. ¡°Say, where do you hail from? I don¡¯t think you¡¯ve been in this country long?¡±


    ¡°Aye, my home was a less civilized land indeed. Supposedly we call it America.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t speak when you are chewing, please. But America, eh? Truly that name rings strange to my ears.¡±


    ¡°If you say so. Well?¡± Agravain gulped another mug of ale, then asked for a refill. He did not think the alcohol was practically strong, but the effect of which had been reinvigorating. He felt better and lighter already, and was in good spirits. Though of course it was no frosty beer. ¡°Are you going to tell me your business or not?¡± the barbarian asked.


    ¡°Oh right,¡± Iranon smiled again, this time nervously, ¡°I was coming to that.¡± He leaned forward. ¡°You see those men at the corner? A bastard who looks like he would slit your throat for just looking at him strangely, and the one with the stinky eyes? But don¡¯t stare!¡±


    Agravain was already staring. At a corner table sat indeed two men. One was tall, large and imposing with a broadsword at his girdle; the other smaller with his face half-shaded under a hood.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see them.¡±


    ¡°You were just staring at them!¡±


    ¡°They look like normal fellows having a night out, Iranon. You¡¯re being unkind.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m telling you they are not. They are men of the local cutthroat lord. The kind who terrorize the neighborhood and steal from old grannies, you know? And they are after me!¡±


    ¡°Oh? This is gonna be a bit rude to say, but Iranon, you don¡¯t look like you have a lot to steal from.¡±


    Indeed, the youth had not touched a morsel on the table despite his hungry glances at the food from time to time.


    ¡°Well, they think I still have some more coins to shake off. Which, aye, that I may. One cannot be too careful, you know.¡±


    ¡°Is that why you approached me?¡±


    ¡°Aha! That¡¯s right! You are a fearsome-looking fellow, Agravain. A genuine savage, I say. They would think twice before trying to accost me with you nearby.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t be next to you forever though.¡±


    ¡°Why not? We are practically friends already!¡±


    ¡°Are we now?¡±


    ¡°Aye!¡± Iranon said with enthusiasm, ¡°You may not know this because you hail from afar, but trust me, in this land, once two people have shared a meal they are already considered friends! Why, if the two are a man and a woman you may as well think of  them as being in a relationship!¡±


    ¡°Is that so? Curious tradition, I say. But not one I dislike.¡±


    ¡°Aha, that¡¯s exactly why I picked you in the first place! Master, some more ale here, please!¡±


    Another mug down and Iranon changed his tone, lowering it to whispers now. ¡°Well, another thing. When I said these brutes wanted to rob me, what I really meant is that they have sorta robbed me already. You see, recently, I kind of experienced some financial difficulty. And because of it these people stole from me my only tools of the trade.¡±


    ¡°Sad to hear, friend,¡± Agravain said, already digging in some more of the food bought by his new friend¡¯s coins. ¡°What is your trade exactly?¡±


    ¡°Why, I¡¯m a musician! No pro, sadly. I have never performed on any big stage or been patronized by any wealthy men. But my music is the real deal, I tell you. It makes your heart melt, verily.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound very healthy.¡±


    ¡°It may not be. But it¡¯s art. And real art is never all too healthy. At any rate, my harp, my precious harp is being held hostage by those men.¡±


    ¡°They stole your instrument? What use do cutthroats have for one? Is it something expensive?¡±


    ¡°Nay, I don¡¯t think they are aware of its true value. At any rate, they have it now, and unless I can pay back ten crowns soon they will sell it to someone else.¡±


    Agravain raised a brow, wagging the beef bone. ¡°Let me get this straight, you pawned off your only means to earn money? They didn¡¯t really steal anything from you, did they?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t sweat the details now. Whatever is my business with them, they are people who cheat poor folk off their hard-earned coins, they impose high interests and prey on desperate people like me. Can you really stand idly by and let them do as they please?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m planning to do, friend. How they conduct their business is not my problem.¡±


    ¡°Oh don¡¯t say so!¡± Iranon cried, reaching over the table and seizing his new friend¡¯s hand desperately, ¡°Are we not friends? We are friends, right? Surely you can help a friend out? Go to their boss, threaten them a little, give them a scare then tell them to return the harp to your friend. I will be gone from this city the next morn!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Iranon. That doesn¡¯t sound like a nice thing to do. Why don¡¯t you look for an honest job and buy back your things with hard-earned salaries? Then all the parties shall be happy.¡±


    ¡°Oh surely not me, I won¡¯t be happy! I can work my ass off for the next year and still won¡¯t be able to pay their ridiculous interests!¡±


    ¡°Even if you say that...¡±


    Suddenly, Iranon released his hand and shot back on his chair, staring with widening eyes at a corner of the room.


    Agravain turned. The two men from before had left their seats and were now walking towards their table.


    Once more Iranon leaned over the table, pleading, ¡°They are coming for us! You see? They don¡¯t need a reason to beat a fellow up! Villains, they! So don¡¯t hesitate now! Call over your barbarian friends! Teach those brutes a lesson!¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about? My only friend here is you, Iranon?¡±


    ¡°What! Are you not with the band of men camping in the outskirts?¡± The youth¡¯s face had turned even paler than before, which itself was a sight to behold.


    ¡°First I¡¯m hearing of them.¡±

 004

    ¡°Good fellows,¡± the smaller one said, sliding back his hood to reveal an awry grin and leering eyes. ¡°I think I can guess what¡¯s happening here.¡±


    ¡°Do tell, then. I¡¯m rather confused myself. Not familiar with the ways of the land, you see,¡± Agravain said pleasantly.


    ¡°Oh, foreigner, aren¡¯t you? No problem then. This guy there probably approached you on the street to beg for your help, eh? But truly you realize it¡¯s no business of yours?¡±


    ¡°We are something like friends actually, since we already had a meal together. Having, to be exact.¡±


    ¡°Why, aren¡¯t you sweet? But one can be too sweet, you know? This guy here owes my boss money, and I have a mind to inquire whether he is willing to pay his debt peacefully. Will you meddle?¡±


    ¡°What do you say, Iranon?¡± He turned to the youth. ¡°It¡¯s true you owe these people money? Then it is only right that you should pay them back.¡±


    The cutthroat nodded. ¡°Good, good. I see you are a man of reason. I welcome that.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you lie!¡± Iranon cried. ¡°You gave me crowns for the harp and I took it, no more no less.¡±


    ¡°There have been some changes to the contract after you left, see,¡± the cutthroat spread his hands, ¡°My boss realized your item is rather worthless after consulting an expert, and now he wants, let¡¯s see, half of the money back.¡±


    ¡°Daylight robbery this! You know well, if yours is any real expert! That my harp is worth twice if not thrice what you gave me!¡±


    ¡°That may be. But who am I to judge? You can argue over the numbers all you like with the boss. Now up you go!¡±


    As commanded, the larger one of the two strode over to drag Iranon up.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Agravain said, raising a hand.


    ¡°What is it now?¡± the cutthroat regarded him with annoyance, ¡°Changed your mind? Want to play the hero? I will have you know that while we waited at yond table, our men had gathered in front of this place. One wrong move and I shall make you mince meat!¡±


    ¡°Not that,¡± Agravain shrugged, ¡°But let the guy pay for the meal first. This is his treat.¡±


    ¡°Oh to hell with your meal!¡± Iranon cried, ¡°You are no friend of mine for letting them treat me like this, so why must I treat you?¡±


    ¡°Because a man should never go back on his word, now pay up.¡±


    ¡°You heard the man,¡± the cutthroat said wearily, ¡°pay his bill.¡±


    ¡°Hell no, I have not a penny left! See? I can¡¯t pay your boss so just let me go!¡±


    ¡°How unfortunate. Still no business of mine. I¡¯m sure the boss can find some way to make a profit out of your pretty face. Away now,¡± he barked at the other. With a nod, the armed man dragged the bard away.


    ¡°Now you wait right there--!¡± Agravain said, rising from the table with a shout.


    ¡°No, you wait,¡± the cutthroat said, ¡°be a smart guy.¡± Out of nowhere a pair of daggers had flashed into his hands. One shot for Agravain¡¯s face, stopping a few mere inches from his eyeball. ¡°Learn the custom of the land, man. Unlike in your home of thoughtless brutes, here even an unassuming man can kill you before you know it.¡±


    The barbarian¡¯s eyes narrowed, his anger mounting for being threatened.


    ¡°Quietly sit down,¡± the cutthroat commanded, ¡°And don¡¯t entertain any stupid idea. You have no weapon, and may soon lack an eye.¡±


    ¡°Do I now?¡± Agravain said, his hand gripping the gnawed beef bone. ¡±I see. So this is how your civilization works. Where if you are strong you expect others to perfectly obey you, as though it is some god-given duty, and those who don¡¯t are stupid.¡±


    ¡°Are you stupid?¡± sneered the cutthroat, dangling another dagger in his other hand, ¡°that¡¯s not just how this country works--that¡¯s how this whole world works! And if there were other worlds, I¡¯m sure they would operate the same way too! Don¡¯t you understand something so simple? The weak have a duty to obey the strong! Or are you going to prove me wrong?¡± To emphasize his point, the cutthroat drove the dagger half an inch closer to Agravain¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°As a matter of fact, no.¡± Agravain blinked. The dagger point was annoying as it obscured half of his field of vision. ¡°I just think that your statement is sort of an oxymoron. I mean...¡± he snickered, letting his eyeball get even closer to the dagger. Nostrils flaring. ¡°Of course the weak must obey the strong perforce, but to yield to force is an act of necessity, not of will. At the most an act of prudence. In what sense can it be a duty? Isn¡¯t duty something you choose to do because it¡¯s right, regardless of your liking, opinions, or sometimes even self-preservation?¡±


    Like duty to one¡¯s family.


    Or duty to a loved one¡¯s last wish.


    ¡°You said a lot of big words there, barbarian,¡± the cutthroat sneered again, ¡°And here I thought all of you savages were lovers of violence. Are you some sort of wayward pacifist or what? Some kind of warrior-scholar? Or simply your mother hit your head one too many times at birth?¡±


    ¡°The point of what I¡¯m saying is this: the strongest is never strong enough to be always the master. Suppose someone stronger comes along? Will you simply cede your point on grounds of being inferior in strength?¡±Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°That sounds awfully like a threat to me, hm? High time folk are reminded not to act funny in the presence of the Karvash Brotherhood. Some lessons really can only be taught the violent way¨C!¡±


    That said, he thrust his dagger forward.


    Agravain learned in gruesome practice that he was fast. But not unreasonable fast. Though he flung his head aside, the dagger still caught the side of his head, scoring a red-hot wound, slicing the tip of his left ear.


    ¡°Agreed!¡± the giant of a man bellowed.


    It was true, it had always been Agravain¡¯s belief that the most effective method of education was a beating.


    The cutthroat¡¯s other dagger entered his flank before Agravain could make his next move. But yet unfazed, the barbarian hooked the beef bone in his right hand upwards. The sound of the licked-clean bone crashing against the cutthroat¡¯s jaw was not wholesome to human ears. One or several things no doubt had been broken within that skull when his eyes rolled back. He fell like a tree cut.


    So that was one down and out.


    He searched for his next opponent.


    The entire wineshop was silent.


    Then once all the brains in that room had processed the sudden events, all hell broke loose.


    Patrons fled out the front door, crying, shouting, knowing a lethal quarrel would soon ensue. The large man who was holding Iranon discarded his captive mercilessly at a table. With a yelp, the youth fell along with all the crashing mugs and dishes.


    It seemed unbelievable odds. Agravain¡¯s opponent was even larger than him, and was charging with his broadsword drawn, while the barbarian was unarmed and had suffered what seemed a mortal wound at his flank.


    Agravain threw away the beef bone, reckoning it an inferior weapon to his balled fists. Instead he yanked out the dagger still stuck between his ribs. His face corrupted into a terrible grimace. Blood spurted in a stream from the open wound.


    Came the slash. Haphazardly the barbarian attempted to block with the dagger. His opponent¡¯s cold blade bit hotly into his fingers.


    Just as before, undeterred, the pain barely registered to his raging mind, Agravain¡¯s unoccupied fist shot like a cannonball to thwack his opponent¡¯s face. A blow so hard it displaced the man¡¯s features for the rest of his days. And few would be those remaining days indeed.


    Even as the second man fell heavily, more armed thugs rushed through the tavern¡¯s door in response to the commotion.


    It was just as the cutthroat promised, there were half a dozen of them.


    Nor did the enraged man care about the particular number.


    A dozen, dozens, or even a million would only serve as a meaningless number to anger him even more.


    One couldn¡¯t even say his brain was functioning in any capacity.


    Blood coursed in his veins, filling his brain, oozing from his wounds, frothing in his mouth.


    Rage activated.


    Current rage bar capacity: 9%


    From his snarling mouth, a primal cry shook the entire building and shattered his foes¡¯ spirit.


    Without a care for the broadsword in the dead grip of the unconscious man, Agravain seized the table he and Iranon had feasted on just a few minutes before, sending the dishes cascading to the tavern¡¯s floor. The next moment, this solid and heavy furniture was flying through the air, then crashing against the squad of thugs.


    Two of them had their heads bust with that one move.


    But the rest faltered and backed away for a moment.


    They watched how blood oozed still from the seething stranger, how his breaths toiled, and they dared think that last move was his last struggle.


    With renewed confidence and hatred, these four men bore down upon the barbarian.


    In the middle of their charge, Agravain began to move. Storming against storming, he met them head-on, unarmed as before.


    It was too late for them to realize their foe had not been weakened. But quite the opposite.


    The sides clashed.


    No flashes of steel between warriors in this battle, only a mad bull breaking against the all-too-fragile obstacles.


    Desperate strokes of theirs opened yet more grievous wounds on his naked body. But he cared not.


    His fists flew and his elbows whipped.


    Skulls were crushed and bones broken.


    Hot blood poured, painting the world red.


    When it was done, Agravain stood over the smashed things that had once been humans in shapes and forms.


    All were quiet.


    Only a voice that only he could hear was speaking something incomprehensible.


    Warning:


    Low Rage Bar capacity: 4%


    His body had suffered almost as many wounds as it had during his encounter with the palace guards, maybe even more. But because some of them had already healed or were healing, there seemed to be fewer.


    His wrath being none the worse for wear, Agravain still kept scanning the ravaged tavern for more opponents.


    At length, his restored ears caught a subtle sound. He strode eagerly for the tavern¡¯s corner, where a toppled table had been sent against the wall. Plucking it aside, he found the bard crouching behind it.


    ¡°Hi there,¡± the youth gulped at the sight of the barbarian¡¯s bloody body, ¡°I-I really don¡¯t know how to thank you, o brave warrior.¡±


    ¡°I know just how,¡± he said grimly, ¡°show me the way to these men¡¯s boss.¡±


    ¡°Wha-? Why! What are you planning to do to me?¡±


    ¡°What can I want to do with you?¡± he repeated, astonished. ¡°I want more fighting men. This fury of mine is to be vented! Will you or not?¡±


    Iranon didn¡¯t need to be told twice. He nodded quickly and repeatedly.


    He rose from his hiding spot, then almost fainted when he saw the battle¡¯s aftermath. Holding his mouth to prevent a retching, the youth circumvented the pool of blood for the door.


    The crowd outside dispersed just as quickly when Agravain and his guide emerged.


    ¡°Oh, good-hearted folk,¡± Iranon shouted, ¡°What are you staring for? This good man here only defended himself. Only self-defense against the villains who have been terrorizing you!¡±


    ¡°Get on with it,¡± Agravain grunted, ¡°else I will crush your skull.¡±


    Iranon whimpered. ¡°Why, this way, o brave savage warrior.¡±


    ¡°And give me no weird name.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    At once they walked down the road. It was the same shabby street as before, only this time everything was colored red in the barbarian¡¯s vision.


    ¡°How much longer is it going to take to get there? By Jove, if you try to mislead me...¡±


    ¡°I assure you I am neither brave nor stupid enough to do that. But don¡¯t you think we should wait for your wounds to heal first? The Karvash¡¯s boss has some mean guys under him, you know? And at any rate it¡¯s already dark... you alright?¡±


    Agravain nodded, then wobbled. A wave of lightheadedness suddenly swept over him, tiding over the seemingly insurmountable rage. He had lost an unbelievable amount of blood ever since morning, to be sure. But he was almost sure that wasn¡¯t the cause of this sudden illness. He was healthy only a few seconds before.


    After a few more steps, he wasn¡¯t even angry anymore, only exhausted.


    And before he knew it, everything was dark.


    When again the barbarian opened his eyes, his body was stiff as stone, his limbs laden with the tiredness of one in an intense fever. The room, one he did not recognize, whirled and whirled in his vision.


    Turning his head, he found how small the room really was: one could cross it with two long strides. Iranon¡¯s dirty cloak was hung in a corner, and next to it, the unrecognizable rags of what was once his dress shirt. A single, cobweb-covered, oval window graced the dusty interior with shafts of morning light, and there, next to a small table, was an unfamiliar woman.


    The first thing odd he noticed was her clothes: a tracksuit ill-fitting the room and his memories of this world¡¯s fashion.


    The moment Agravain stirred, she looked up from the rectangular slate in her hands and gave an eager smile.


    ¡°Morning, Player Character #5. You sure took one hell of a long nap, eh?¡±

 005

    ¡°Give me no weird nicknames,¡± Agravain grunted, trying to get up, but immediately fell back heavily on the creaky bed with a loud groan. The stiffness was not just sleepiness, his body appeared terribly ill.


    ¡°Easy now,¡± said the woman as she tapped away without a care on the strange slate, ¡°This is because you overspent your Rage bar, you know. Typical amateur blunder, really.¡±


    ¡°And who the hell are you?¡± Agravain glared sideways, ¡°Did you do this to me?¡±


    ¡°Are you daft? Weren¡¯t you listening? I had just done telling you it was all your fault. As for me, of course,¡± she grinned, as though expecting him to already have guessed something so obvious, ¡°I¡¯m Jophiel, your designated Player, one of the Seven Archangels of the Quest, patroness saint of all Knowledge and Hidden Records, the reigning champion, and all time keeper of the most titles in the current rendition of the Quest.¡±


    An angel.


    An odd thing to identify oneself as.


    This woman struck Agravain as nothing but. She looked the furthest thing from what comes to mind when one thinks of an angel. The tracksuit aside, she was leaning back on the table in a terrible posture that made one worry for her back, her legs spreading apart unladylike to brace her lower half. And while her face was perfectly sculptured as one would expect in an angel, she had swept her bang quite carelessly aside with a V-shaped pin, leaving only a few terse forelocks drenched with sweat draped across her forehead. And whereas the images of angelic beings you see in old paintings typically come with gorgeous golden hair, this self-proclaimed one instead sported a crude short bob cut of raven black.


    ¡°An angel, huh,¡± he said after a bit of musing over the supposed angel¡¯s appearance, ¡°were it you who gave me these physical powers, then?¡±


    ¡°Me? Hmm, it¡¯s a bit more complicated than that actually. I suppose you can say that I¡¯m partly responsible for that? In a philosophical way, I mean. If entities like me didn¡¯t exist you wouldn¡¯t be here. In fact, you would still be in your original world raging ineffectively away. But say, Agravain, you seem like an uptight, no-fun-allowed sort of guy, so I feel like I have to ask you this first. Do you know anything at all about video games?¡±


    ¡°I do actually,¡± Agravain narrowed his eyes. That decidedly did not sound like something an angel would ask. ¡°My sisters used to play games a lot, and she made me play with her.¡±


    ¡°Phew, that¡¯s a relief!¡± Jophiel wiped her brow, ¡°It would sure as shit drive me crazy trying to explain video games to a guy like you. Most people in the modern world play games, you know? Would in fact be stranger if you haven¡¯t played one before. Old people, young people, even toddlers play with their parents¡¯ phones these days. So you would be weird not to. Sports simulations, FPS, fighting, racing, farming, card games, there¡¯s something for everyone. Which is why our interfaces resembled them, it boosts user experience and ease of learning, yadda, so says Michael¡¯s leaflet. But that aside. Have you played a role-playing game before?¡±


    ¡°You could say so,¡± he shrugged noncommittally, ¡°That useless sloth of a sister made me grind stuff in such games, only to then drop them soon afterward. So yeah, I have got more experience with them than I care to.¡±


    ¡°Then you¡¯re aware of the main draws, yes? Things like levels, attributes, skills, and such? Customization, that is.¡±


    ¡°I guess?¡± Again he shrugged, ¡°According to my sister, though, all of those you mentioned are just fluffs to sell games to casuals who don¡¯t grind. In the end, she said, most if not all role-playing games are the same under the hood: a massive grinding simulation. You can beat just about anything with enough grinding.¡±


    ¡°A cynical little one, eh? I almost want to pity her, but she is dead anyway, so there would be no point in that.¡± At this point, the angel laughed gruesomely. Not that it sounded like she was relishing a brother¡¯s misfortune, more that she thought it was an actually funny joke.


    Go figures.


    ¡°Anyhow,¡± the angel continued, ¡°it works to my advantage that you are both aware of that genre and also not too keen on it. It¡¯s always a problem when the Player Character disagrees too much with my directions to follow their stupid preferences.¡±


    ¡°You keep calling me Player Character, what the hell is that? Use my name.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re who you are, no one can change what they were born as. You¡¯ve been designated as Player Character #5 for this Quest, so that¡¯s what you are now. You are an adult so don¡¯t sweat over small details. It¡¯s lame. You know about those characters you control in video games right? Like that. You¡¯re one. Congrats, you were demoted from a human being! Except not really. You still have your freedom of action, since this is the real world and not a game, for the most part. And though my title is technically that of a Player, I suppose I¡¯m more like a manager than someone who directly controls your every action. Or like an agent? Nah, that doesn¡¯t sound right.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s one hell of a lot to take in. So this world...is like a game? What happened to my world? Why am I here?¡±


    ¡°Are you daft? Are you not listening? I¡¯ve just done telling you this was a real world, if a peculiar one! And you are of course a real person. But the gist of it is this: we, you and I that is, may navigate this world in the manner of someone interacting with a game. It¡¯s still the same thing underneath, you know what I mean, only the interface is different. Like a UI skin, if you will. That is to say, technically, whatever you can do, the average person in this world only can, you and I just interface with it differently. And as for your own world, or why you and the others were chosen, who knows, that¡¯s not in my purview. I can direct you to the people in charge of that backroom stuff if you¡¯re desperate to know. But be prepared to wait three hundred to five hundred business days for an answer.¡±


    ¡°None of what you¡¯re saying is making a lick of sense.¡±


    Jophiel sighed, shaking her head. ¡°Of course, of course, my bad. I forgot. That¡¯s the sort of character you are, isn¡¯t it?¡± Her finger was now swiping swiftly across the rectangular device.


    It appeared whatever she had done with the device had caused the now somewhat familiar voice to ring in Agravain¡¯s head.


    Player Character #5, Agravain


    Class: Barbarian


    Focus Attributes: Strength, Endurance


    Traits: Novice Fighter, Dump Stat Intelligence


    Feats:


    Modifiers:


    Skills: Rage


    Rage bar: 100%


    Attributes:


    Str 44 | En 28 | Dex 14 | Int 0 (-¡Þ) | Wis 8 | Cha 11 | Luck 15


    ¡°You Int stat was dumped, eh? Or rather, that¡¯s thanks to a unique trait that comes hard-coded in your class. It¡¯s quite amusing to witness in person, truly. In fact, I didn¡¯t even know there was even one like that in this system! Like, who does that? Is this trolling? Or rather, hazing? There¡¯s useless and then there¡¯s deliberately bad. It was so funny I almost cried when the Operator told me you picked it.¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah,¡± Agravain nodded, somewhat aggravated by the angel¡¯s manner. ¡°I did hear some talk about classes and whatnot. So what? Am I actually dumb now?¡±Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    ¡°It¡¯s not that easy to get rid of an ingrained part in yourself, you know. I¡¯m sure you will still have your smart-aleck moments. More than anyone should like, even. You just won¡¯t be able to solve difficult problems as easily, or even inclined to. Anyways...¡±


    Anyways.


    Having said this word with gravity, the woman got out of her seat, flashing an intensity in her eyes.


    In half a step she was next to the bed, the room was that small. A blanket had been laid across Agravain¡¯s ill body, which the woman now yanked unceremoniously aside. For the next few moments, she poked at his body muscles.


    He let her do as she pleased, not like there was any point in being ashamed in front of an angel. Supposedly they were invisible and roamed freely in the material world, then none of him had ever been a secret in the first place.


    ¡°Well, those seem like real muscles,¡± she concluded after the intense study. ¡°This is the first time I have seen such a drastic change after profile assimilation. Which is just as well, I would hate to work with a twink playing pretend a muscular warrior. The aesthetics would clash too much for my taste.¡±


    Presently, she picked up the tablet again, switching her attention to whatever was written in there.


    ¡°Your class is the Barbarian,¡± she began, ¡°focus attributes: Strength and Endurance; Unique skill: Rage. A class of all brawl and no brain, in short. But of course, all classes have their subclasses to spec into later, as well as several viable builds to suit one¡¯s style. Training regiments, feats, skills, traits, modifiers, equipment,... will also contribute to any given build. Hmmm, this is going to be a tricky case, but if my calculation is right...¡±


    Abruptly, she stopped speaking to scan the room, landing on the articles hanging on the wall, Agravain¡¯s tattered dress shirt and Iranon¡¯s old cloak.


    The barbarian wasn¡¯t paying attention to her abrupt turn to quietness, he was thinking of his classification.


    A strange name, to be sure, and a sweeping term, Agravain thought.


    Barbarian: a word either to indicate an uncivilized person or merely foreigner to a state.


    In the latter sense he was an alien to this world, and because of that, didn¡¯t say much.


    ¡°I sure felt invincible yesterday,¡± Agravain said, ¡°I don¡¯t think there will be much of a problem, when it comes to fighting at least.¡±


    ¡°Oh? That is what you think.¡± Jophiel clicked her tongue, turning back to him, ¡°You haven¡¯t come across any real challenge yet, so don¡¯t get uppity. I pointed to that trait earlier. Dump Stat Intelligence. Hard-coded trait. You hear me? No-nonsense. What it means is that you are forever crippled from any sort of magic casting, or any potential subclassing to magical using classes. No amount of tinkering on my part would ever fix that. None. Zero. You know what else is swell? The current meta, as a matter of fact, is strictly about magic, for magic, and by magic! The undisputed powerhouses are classes with Intelligence and Wisdom focus, so much so that all else is just noise. Prior to yesterday, the concept of class not using magic in any manner was more a silly theory than something to be considered in a serious conversation. I¡¯m sure you will soon learn why. But I¡¯m telling you now and you better believe it. Another fact: with your Intelligence attribute so low, your magic defense is abysmal also, thus yours is a class hard-countered by the most widely-used classes in this system. To put it simply, you are screwed and then double screwed.¡±


    Agravain frowned, his eyes fraught with doubt. It was not that he didn¡¯t believe the woman. She seemed to know far more about what was going on than him. But then again...


    ¡°I will just punch my way through things, regardless. How hard could it possibly be?¡±


    ¡°How hard could it be?¡± She repeated, then laughed, shaking her head. ¡°Oh, you have absolutely no idea. Not at all, nope. Think of it like this, someone with an ordinarily low score in the Intelligence attribute could have half of their health evaporated by a magical attack at the opening of a fight. Yours? Yours is far from even ordinarily low, in fact, the value of the modifier is -¡Þ. Even a juiced-up cantrip can come close to evaporating you. It also means any gains you make to this attribute through items or training will be completely nulled. That¡¯s how hard-coded your class is against anything magic. You are compensated with absurd physical stats in return, sure, but that just makes you a glass cannon in the current meta. A glass cannon for a class with above-average mobility and no reach! It¡¯s so bad it really makes one cry.¡±


    ¡°Well, sorry you are stuck with me then,¡± Agravain was a bit hurt. Most of what the woman had said still didn¡¯t make a whole lot of sense, but the gist of it seemed to be that he was in a bad situation. ¡°Sounds like you were assigned as my Player against your will.¡±


    ¡°What the hell are you talking about?¡± the woman asked, tossing the tablet unceremoniously on the table. The thing made not even a sound on impact, betraying its immaterial nature. ¡°It¡¯s true that we would have to draw lots if two or more of us had picked the same character, that¡¯s why it¡¯s called assignment after all. But who else in the right mind do you think would pick someone like you for their Player Character? None! Zero! I was the only one who signed up for you. That was so freakin obvious it isn¡¯t funny!¡±


    Of course it was not.


    But the woman was now looking at him with expectant eyes.


    Having shot to the middle of the room and standing with her hands on her hips during the passionate speech, she was now hinting shamelessly for him to ask the inevitable question.


    How annoying.


    ¡°Well, why did you pick me then?¡± Agravain made a concession.


    ¡°Why, I¡¯m glad you did ask,¡± she said, huffing her nose proudly, annoyingly. ¡°Because if I didn''t take such a massive handicap, this thing they call a war would just end up being another thrashing for those casuals who call themselves my rivals!¡± She then commenced a savage laugh. Which was truly savage--high pitch and irritating. ¡°By doing this--by taking you as my PC, you get me, those filthy casuals are given false hopes that maybe, just maybe, they will have the slimmest of chance to win the Quest and claim the Egg this time around, and that I won¡¯t once more completely trounce them like the noobs they--¡±


    She was cut short.


    The door to the room suddenly swung wide open, startling both Agravain and the angel.


    A certain familiar youth came barge in.


    The following instant, Jophiel was gone, even her tablet had disappeared from the table.


    ¡°Oh, are you awake?¡± Iranon said, eyes wide as he entered, seemingly more astonished that the barbarian was alive rather than just awake.


    Meanwhile, Agravain could move again. So that self-proclaimed angel did do something to him after all. Though his limbs were still heavy, he got up. ¡°Is this your place?¡± he asked, slowly stretching his muscles.


    ¡°Mine? This dump? Not quite, after yesterday Karvash men are probably hunting for us so it¡¯s not wise to return to my usual place. This place is abandoned though, so no one¡¯s coming here.¡±


    Presently, the bard went over to his cloak and took it down. ¡°I only came back for this. To be honest I didn¡¯t think you would survive last night, what with so many wounds and so much blood, I reckoned no physician would answer the call for an enemy of the Brotherhood either.¡± As he got his cloak on, the bard peered at Agravain¡¯s scowl curiously. ¡°So what are you going to do now? Your idea to charge into the Karvash Brotherhood¡¯s place is probably gone now that your head¡¯s sober after a night¡¯s sleep, eh?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± the barbarian said tiredly.


    What was he thinking really, trying to beat up people who had nothing to do with him for no reason? What a waste of energy and time.


    But then again, what was the reason to do anything in this world? The point of all these classes and players and all the things?


    Suddenly, he realized something so vital and yet Jophiel hadn¡¯t mentioned it.


    ¡°Jophiel!¡± he cried out, caring not for the startled Iranon.


    ¡°Geez,¡± Jophiel clicked her tongue. ¡°Can¡¯t you be a bit more discreet? People will think you¡¯re crazy, you know.¡± She was again sitting at the table by the window, but seemingly invisible to Iranon. The bard looked at him warily then about the room, right through Jophiel yet seeing nothing.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mind him,¡± Agravain said, looking squarely at her. ¡°What is the point of it? The way you talked about it made it sound like there was a competition among you angels, some quest. But what competition? What game are you the Player of? And why should I compete in it instead of going my way?¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t I say you will know soon enough?¡± The woman carelessly examined her fingernails under sunlight, which were an uneven and rough affair, bearing evidence of being frequently chewed on. ¡°As I said, I¡¯m not in charge of all that tedious stuff. But there was a reason for the time and place you were sent here. Your own unique story event, so to speak, your own hook, though I know not what. Not something I particularly care about, unfortunately. A development that can convince you to desire a place in this competition. Fate arranges it. That¡¯s how it usually goes at least.¡±


    What in the world could possibly make him want to entertain the whim of a sloppy angel? Much less this rude one?


    What in the world could possibly make him do anything at all, now that he was free to pursue an unattached life in this world?


    He couldn¡¯t think of anything.


    Try as he might, Agravain couldn¡¯t think of anything that was real, tangible, reasonable.


    In truth, something did come to mind, but it was wrong, delusional, and unreasonable.


    ¡°Iranon,¡± suddenly he said, ¡°tell me something.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡± the bard regarded him with still wary eyes after his brief conversation with thin air.


    ¡°Do you know about a disabled girl near this place?¡±


    If Agravain remembered correctly, that girl who had looked like Estella, his sister, had been referred to as the princess.


    So of course even this lowly bard should know.


    And yet the answer stunned him.


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s strange,¡± Iranon raised his brows, ¡°you got wind of it already? Haven¡¯t you been sleeping all the while? But yeah, word around is that the Karvash kidnapped one like that off the street last night. Weird as hell he¡¯s into that type, but who cares, this is the opportunity for us to get out of this city while he¡¯s distracted with that bounty!¡±


    Agravain immediately got up, his body protesting all the while. But he didn''t have time to rest. He didn¡¯t even think about it.


    ¡°You¡¯re going with me, bard. Or I will snap your harp in half once I find it.¡±

 006

    ¡°Mission briefing time!¡±


    Half an hour later, the barbarian was hastening along towards the base of the Karvash Brotherhood¡¯s hideout, guided by the bard.


    Walking beside them but invisible to all but Agravain, Jophiel was in full battle mode.


    The angel was still in the tracksuit from before, but around her there were now several floating transparent displays. All of it and herself appeared immaterial, phasing through people and obstacles in a ghost-like manner.


    Even absorbed in the information presented on the various displays, the angel was talking animatedly and unceasingly.


    ¡°At your current state you are nothing to speak of,¡± she was droning one incomprehensible thing after another, ¡°A blank slate, or even worse, a cracked, chipped, and ugly base without any redeeming value. But that you have no skills, no equipment, almost as naked as the day you were born only means you can get better. Even so, your condition is terrible. After exhausting your Rage bar yesterday, you have only recovered roughly five percent of it. What I¡¯m saying is that...¡±


    With a sweep of her hand, she dismissed all the displays. ¡°...You will still breeze through this first challenge regardless. Putting aside other PCs, compared to the ordinary people born in this land, your potential is limitless, your starting point already dwarfed the common folk, you could snap the neck of a trained soldier with ease.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good to hear,¡± Agravain grunted.


    ¡°What did you say?¡± Iranon asked.


    ¡°Nothing you need to worry about. Hurry along. And if you try to mislead me, I swear...¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, you will crush my skull, I heard you yesternight, geez.¡±


    But Jophiel wasn¡¯t done. Yet another display she pulled up, this time a smaller one without any complicated information or numbers, only a neat checklist.


    ¡°It¡¯s not good to hear.¡± Jophiel clicked her tongue. ¡°You can breeze through this fight, yeah, but what is the point in that? Simply completing a mission is never the point. Opportunities like this only come around every so often, so you have to squeeze everything you can out of it. If you still can¡¯t wrap your head around something so simple, just follow my instructions and don¡¯t be stupid, okay? In the first place, you can¡¯t just wade into the fray with your Rage on right away. At its current state, your rage bar wouldn¡¯t last you a minute. It¡¯s already fatigued after yesterday¡¯s overspending. So swallow your anger!¡±


    Agravain scoffed. If it was so simple to control one¡¯s anger, the most violent of all emotions, most of the world¡¯s problems wouldn¡¯t exist. And at any rate, it would be a boring world, if a peaceful and happy one. Everyone would just be hanging around, making effective and sensible choices all the time. Not that they would make the right choices even then, so where¡¯s the point?


    ¡°And don¡¯t get all philosophical before the violence. It¡¯s unbecoming. That¡¯s my first instruction,¡± the angel added.


    She really was just saying whatever she damn pleased.


    This was really counterproductive if what she wanted was to keep him from getting angry.


    Even as the barbarian thought this, his nose caught a salty scent in the air.


    ¡°Oh, there¡¯s a port.¡±


    ¡°Of course it is, don¡¯t you have any geographical sense at all?¡± Iranon eyed him strangely.


    It was probably strange indeed not to know whether the capital of a nation was a coastal city or not.


    But it was, and a very busy port too. The wharf was filled to the brim with porters, wagons and craters, and, as always with such places where seamen gathered, an air of abandon and decadence. In the middle of the day, merry carousing blared from saloons and ale houses, coins freely changed hands without a care after long voyages at sea. A place where men were almost as foul and filthy as their language.


    Agravain found this place agreeable.


    ¡°Nice place.¡±


    ¡°I knew you would say that,¡± Iranon said, ¡°Me? I prefer more civilized grounds for merry.¡±


    Their destination appeared to be a wharf house at the waterfront. A fine estate made entirely of wood, which would have made a fine place to live in if not for the noisy neighbors. Compared to the other establishments nearby, even the large warehouses, it stood larger by a magnitude, and far cleaner looking. A ram skull was hung above the front door but no signboard.


    ¡°Is this it?¡± Agravain asked dubiously.


    ¡°Aye.¡±  The bards looked around nervously. The two were standing behind a house just shy out of view of the guards at the entrance. Or rather, Iranon was, Agravain was not hiding so much as standing there. For once, he looked less out of place with his bare chest and imposing frame than the bard. There hadn¡¯t been enough time to get him a new set of clothes. He had to make do with his set of trousers, which had also been torn in places.


    ¡°So what¡¯s the plan?¡± asked Iranon, ¡°don¡¯t tell me you are just going to charge right in.¡±


    ¡°Jophiel?¡± the barbarian inquired.


    ¡°Sure, why not?¡± the angel looked up briefly from her checklist. ¡°Only go about it in a calm and measured manner... And no raging!¡±


    ¡°We charge right in then,¡± he said.


    ¡°Not that I expected otherwise,¡± Iranon sighed, ¡°best of luck to you, friend. I mean-¡± The bard¡¯s eyes turned wary in a blink, ¡°I can leave right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I have no more use of you,¡± Agravain said.


    The lean youth would just be a hindrance, and at any rate, Agravain did not much care for his harp or dubious ways of life. He had even begun to doubt the supposed culture of making friends after just a meal together. A meal with an ulterior motive at that. ¡°We part ways here then,¡± he said.


    ¡°Wait, wait, wait! What are you talking about?¡± Jophiel exploded suddenly, ¡°Keep the twink around, he may prove useful!¡±


    Agravain raised an eyebrow.


    Useful how?


    But still, he nodded. ¡°Fine.¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    The angel seemed to know what she was doing so far, and that was more than he could say about himself.


    Agravain stooped and picked up a rock as big as his balled fist. ¡°On second thought, you see this here?¡± he asked the bard.


    Iranon nodded, then swallowed.


    ¡°Keep at my back and in my line of sight, yeah? Would you doubt it if I said I could smash your skull from a mile away with this?¡±


    ¡°No, sir.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡±


    He pocketed the rock.


    Mission commenced.


    What he did was strutting towards the entrance to the wharf house. He wasn¡¯t trying to act imposing or anything. It was only the best he could think of to control his temper. If he could act as though it was just a video game...no, that wouldn¡¯t work. Better to think of it as another day crunching away in the faculty office. Tapping a villain in the head would just be like grading test answers. Although even that benign task had sometimes sent him flying into immense wrath in the past.


    The guards sprang to their feet as Agravain approached. Two shabbily dressed young men, the kinds forever stuck at the bottom rung of a crime organization, whose only merit was acting mean. They glared at Agravain with hatred as though he was their sworn enemy.


    So far, treating it as just another monotonous task had worked. Agravain stared blankly at each of the men without any rising emotions. In fact, he was so calm something fairly close to a sensible approach occurred to him.


    ¡°Maybe I should ask them politely if the girl¡¯s in there first?¡± he suggested to the angel.


    ¡°Hah?¡± Jophiel gave him a sidelong look of disgust, ¡°What the hell would you do that for? What, you wanna talk your way out of loot and experience that freaking bad? Just deck them then collect the shitty loot!¡±


    ¡°You sure have a way with words.¡±


    During this little, senseless exchange, one of the grunt, the largest and perhaps of the more inflated pride, had begun to size Agravain up. The grunt drew close until his face was a few inches away from the barbarian. ¡°Hey savage, haul your ass off--¡±


    Agravain punched him. It truly wasn¡¯t out of anger. It still felt good regardless.


    The man fell in the direction of the strike, and never got up again.


    ¡°Oops,¡± the angel made a sound.


    ¡°What do you mean, oops?!¡±


    ¡°I forgot to tell you to take it lightly, and by that I mean try not to knock them out right away. The more you punch a living target the better your gains get. It¡¯s counterproductive to finish such an easy fight so quickly.¡±


    That¡¯s just how it works, she added.


    ¡°Fine.¡±


    By then two more men had just rounded to the front of the wharf house to investigate the ruckus. They and the one sentry at the entrance stared aghast at the barbarian.


    With angry roars they all came upon him at once. Daggers flashed.


    It didn¡¯t work out any better this time. Two went down with a punch just as with the first one. For the last, Agravain decided to elbow him in the stomach, hoping that would soften the blow. That one fell on his own weapon.


    Jophiel clicked her tongue. ¡°You really are useless. All muscles and no gray matter! Pointlessly strong! Well, there¡¯s probably more inside. Don¡¯t forget the loot. Tell the twink to do it.¡±


    ¡°Good idea.¡±


    And he signaled the bard, who had stood quite dumbly a distance away, to examine the bodies.


    For his part, Agravain picked up one of the daggers the grunts had wielded to no useful effect.


    ¡°Wait, don¡¯t do that!¡± again the angel interjected.


    ¡°What now? You¡¯re annoying.¡±


    ¡°Weapon skills matter, you know,¡± the angel pointed out, ¡°and for your class, your weapon skill with the dagger is pretty much useless. For now, concentrate on using your fist to raise your unarmed skill.¡±


    ¡°Sounds dumb as hell,¡± he grumbled. ¡°I will just pick up a better weapon later anyway.¡±


    ¡°You will, and should,¡± she insisted, ¡°But listen, the plan is to rush your unarmed skills to level 5 as soon as possible. That threshold rewards 2 general defense points. That¡¯s basically free magic resistance to compensate for your shitty Intelligence! So do as I say!¡±


    ¡°Still a dumb way to do things.¡±


    ¡°Only to idiots, it is. This is just the most optimized play, nothing wasted, every benefit exploited. Now stop complaining like a child, and onwards!¡±


    Agravain kicked the door. The thing was not particularly heavy in the first place, but it was Agravain''s overkill strength that sent it off the hinges and flying a good distance inward. They were greeted first thing upon entering the building by a crushed body under the door.


    ¡°In a calm and collected manner,¡± Jophiel gritted her teeth. ¡°What a damn waste.¡±


    As the barbarian now advanced into the wharf house, the angel kept pace with him, tapping away at her checklist. ¡°By my estimation, if you can afford two hits on every one foe, it will take fourteen to fifteen of them to get to Unarmed Level 3. Should be the most realistic quota for the day.¡±


    In the first place, he doubted there were so many men in this building, let alone if he could avoid knocking them out after the first contact. He was also getting more and more annoyed by the constant nagging by his side. It was not his style to punch people unangrily. No matter how you put it, it was an oxymoron of a task.


    And so, to the angel¡¯s chagrin, he simply went with the flow.


    Beyond the door was a long hall with a hearth in the middle for heating and cooking. Long benches were laid along this hearth, whereupon lounging men were still in stupor at the sight of the lone assailant and their crushed comrade under the door.


    There were in truth a lot more of them than he had reckoned. It seemed to be the hour of the day when they just lounged around here, waiting for more fools like Iranon to pawn their things, or for night to come when they would go out to harass the cityfolk.


    What deplorable business.


    Which was not the least of Agravain¡¯s concerns. He was here for a different reason, a far more personal reason.


    Instead of organizing a concerted attack as had the thugs in the tavern done yesterday, the suddenly roused men came disorganized from all corners of the house, often in angry groups of no more than two or three.


    Agravain could only think of the fighting ensued as using a batting cage.


    Back in the day, it had been one of the barbarian¡¯s favorite means to relieve his anger.


    The machine¡¯s rapidly discharging balls. His unceasingly swinging arms. All sizzling aggression concentrated on the solid bat, methodically and monotonously batting away.


    One hell of a way to work off one¡¯s steam.


    One naked fist for each of the thugs, one after the next. Saved for a bit of footwork to clear off the lifeless bodies, and to provide more predictable pathing for the mindless charge of the thugs, the barbarian never moved much from his spot, once his foes had arranged themselves into a predictable pattern of attack.


    A more gruesome, and perhaps more apt comparison would be the charge of a sword-wielding army across an open field versus a machine gunner in a pill box. It was a slaughter, and a ridiculous one at that.


    By the end of it, Jophiel had completely lost her mind. She had dashed her list to the ground and was stomping on it. ¡°Why. Can¡¯t. You. Just. Listen.¡±


    ¡°Calm yourself,¡± Agravain said dispassionately. ¡°I beat up at least twenty of them there, just count. It works either way.¡±


    Looking at him sidelong and darkly, the angel pulled up another display, then sullenly informed him that his Unarmed Skill had only barely passed level 2. Whatever that meant.


    ¡°Well, I guess even this is part of the challenge, dealing with a meathead, that is.¡± She crossed off a line on her list once it had become apparent that none more of the thugs would come out. ¡°Let¡¯s check our loot.¡±


    By then Iranon had per command ruminated through the pockets of the victims of the barbarian¡¯s slaughter. The booty numbered in meager coins and trinkets of dubious values: cheap rings, silver lockets, and shiny buckles.


    What were they, magpies?


    Agravain sighed.


    ¡°Let¡¯s just get further in. See if Este--that girl is kept somewhere in this building.¡±


    ¡°Why do you care so much about that girl, anyway? Is she an acquaintance of yours?¡± Iranon asked while pulling a ring out of a body on the floor.


    ¡°What? You don¡¯t know? Isn¡¯t she this country¡¯s princess?¡±


    ¡°What princess?¡± Iranon was equally surprised, ¡°Sure the little princess is disabled too, I guess, think I heard something like that, but don¡¯t you think if it was really her the Paladin would have already been storming this place? A realm¡¯s princess doesn¡¯t need you to come to her rescue, you know.¡±


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know. I think she sneaked out of the palace. You said that girl was caught while roaming the street last night, right?¡±


    ¡°Still a little far-fetched, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    But enough with that. Agravain proceeded to search the house. The long halls were flanked with rooms in the wings: kitchen, storage, pastry, and even a kennel. But no princess.


    Still, there was a door at the end of the long hall, he checked it last.


    The previous room was big, but this one was also nothing to scoff at, perhaps spacious enough to hold a dancing party. But before anything else about the room¡¯s function could be gleaned, the thing in the middle of it had captured all of his attention.


    Jophiel¡¯s eyes were gleaming, her mouth dropping like a child at the sight of her Christmas present. ¡°Oh, oh, oh, OH. GOD!¡±


    Behind them Iranon let out a scream that was almost inhuman.


    The terrible creature in the middle of the room jerked at its fetters, snarling with hate, before loosing a howl to shake the whole building and hearts of men.

 007

    It was twice an adult human¡¯s size, and only seemed to get larger as the enormous frame erected to its full imposing height. Horns jutted from its head in an angle for the headlong charge, its face a distorted, primal shape, its eyes an unfathomable dark. Each of its burly limbs bore the breadth of a tree trunk, upon which visible veins pulsated with a long-repressed rage.


    All the same, the monster, for it could be of no intelligent race, at best a bizarre primate, was a thing imprisoned, and try as it might with feet stomping the stone floor, the thing could not reach further than a few feet from where it was. An enormous stake had been driven to the ground, around which fetters on the creature¡¯s limbs had been set to.


    ¡°What the hell is this heaven-forsaken thing!¡± Agravain cried.


    ¡°An ogre!¡± Iranon shouted. The youth had pressed himself flat against the wall as though fearing with an effort the monster would reach him with its claws. The only thing seeming to keep him in this place was the closer and more visible threat in the barbarian.


    ¡°A tamed ogre, to be precise.¡± Jophiel had pulled up a list on one of her holographic displays. ¡°Well, even tamed is not the right word. A drugged one, more like. And...¡± She pinpointed one item on the list, then expanded it, ¡°...a desert ogre, judging from the skin color. Not one you normally find in this far south. And from the setup, I suppose you can say it is kept here as some sort of exotic pet, huh?¡±


    ¡°What man under the vaulting heavens would keep such a foul thing as a pet,¡± Agravain exclaimed.


    ¡°Why are you so surprised? Don¡¯t some people in your world keep baby-eating creatures as pets?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you¡¯re talking about. But what are we to do with this creature?¡±


    ¡°Well, the desert variants are usually sturdier than the common ones.¡± Jophiel returned to perusing her displays. ¡°But yup, you should be able to do damage even with your bare hands. It works as a punching bag, perfectly even, I reckon you will get at least several skill levels out of--¡±


    ¡°What!¡± Agravain looked at the unconcerned angel with astonishment. ¡°You want me to beat up this creature?¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± she replied nonchalantly. ¡°Should you find it too taxing after gaining Unarmed Level 5, you can just chop its head off, there¡¯s some weapons in yon corner, see?¡±


    As the angel pointed out, a rack at the corner of the large hall was lined up with certain tools: axes, maces, rods, whips and things of other unclear functions that Agravain dreaded to think of. Yet he could already subconsciously guess the chief usage of this room and these tools, judging from the weals and long scars upon the creature¡¯s ashen flesh.


    The chafed and scarred wrists of the creature where the fetters were attached told of long years in confinement. He would be angry too had he been subjected to such horrible treatments for so long.


    And too, upon a closer look at the thrashing limbs, snarling teeth and eyes tearing blood, the barbarian wondered if the monstrous features looked not so familiar. Though he had never seen a thing like it, of course, except for in his worst nightmares.


    Most people must have had such dreams at some point in their lives, chased by such nightmarish monsters for no reason. It was the kind of dream one awakens from drenched in sweat, heart beating fast, sighing a breath of relief.


    But for Agravain, it was different.


    Of course he had had those dreams too. Only, sometimes, he would wake up, wondering which one was he, the helpless man running for his life, or the monster.


    An ugly thing.


    An angry thing.


    Filled with hatred without an outlet, this anger could only be expressed in the snarling of teeth and throwing of fists--all other means forbidden by the chains and fetters of a rational life.


    Was this monster not him?


    Had he not once been a bound creature as such for men to make fun of and treat like an exotic animal?


    Forgetting failing to fulfill Estella¡¯s last wish, his whole life had been a failure trying to break from his bondage. Always he had told himself he did not care when the subject of his lineage came up, in a flattering or unflattering way.


    But in truth he was angry.


    All his life he had been in his own mental prison. His ideas had been praised, his words treated with respect, but only because of his family¡¯s prestige. Amazing how some people can sing praises for something they don¡¯t even care to understand.


    Even as a professor whose job was to be listened to, he soon found out that most people, young and old, only listened half-heartedly. There were those who robotically absorbed the lesson like mathematic equations, caring only for what was going to be on the exam. Then there were those hell-bent on bastardizing the idea, cheapening it to fit certain narratives.


    It was as though every single person in this world had built their own mental prison and refused to ever step out of it.


    What? Melville is boring but Hemingway is amazing?


    What? Add Fifty Shades of Gr*y to the course to make it more accessible?


    Can anyone in this world talk sense into such people?


    In fact, there really was no other conceivable response for them in this mortal coil but a beating. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    Extreme violence, while not always proving the best solution to a problem, remains a choice no matter the circumstance.


    This world is just full of people and things you want to punch from existence.


    And so, though his train of thought sort of derailed at the end, Agravain was feeling more of a kindred spirit with this desert ogre than with the cowering bard, or the angel who was urging him on to torture a pathetic thing in chains.


    He went to the rack of weapons, and from which picked a large axe.


    As expected, Jophiel went ballistic. ¡°What do you think you are doing?! Can¡¯t you just do as you are told for once?! You lazy ass, you coward, you...!


    ¡°Oh shut up,¡± he said, ¡°I tell you this, angel, I do things my way. I shall listen to you when I feel like it, but I¡¯m not your slave. And besides,...¡±


    He circled around the monster. The fettered creature struggled to even turn after him. Then he brought the axe overhead in a two-handed grip, and downward he swung.


    With one swift stroke the chains were broken.


    ¡°...I just need to punch the shit out of this monster, correct?¡±


    The ogre turned around, at first uncomprehendingly tugged at its limbs still attached to the broken chains.


    They say elephants in circuses are tied to small posts from a young age, so that they never attempt to break free even when they have grown large and strong enough to do it. The memory of an impassable obstacle remains, even after one¡¯s strength has outgrown it.


    Such mental restraints are common in this world. Seldom can we break ourselves out of the fetters shabbily called common sense.


    And so it stays, unless an immense rage could dash all ingrained reason and habitual thoughts from a creature.


    With a roar, the ogre charged headlong at Agravain, seeing in him the race it hated.


    And with a primal roar to match the ogre¡¯s, the barbarian threw aside the axe and leaped at it with his bare hands.


    He respected its rage, and had elected to let the poor thing discharge it for one last time.


    Or his. Whoever would emerge from this battle alive.


    Being the swifter fighter, he scored the first strike--a savage, full-force hook at the beastly face.


    Despite somewhat reeling at this effective opening, the ogre recovered even before he could retract his arm. A hammering fist sent him flying against the wall.


    The barbarian crumbled, yet as quickly climbed to his feet. His vision covered in red, he saw the ogre charging again, horns leveled at its target. Without a moment to waste, he leaped aside, and none a fraction too soon. The horns grazed his shin, shed blood, but still far from affecting the barbarian¡¯s mounting rage in any meaningful way.


    Now some distance apart from the monster. He attempted to study his foe. But neither time, the enemy¡¯s aggression, nor his own conditions was on his side.


    ¡°Your rage bar runs low!¡± Jophiel cried, ¡°End it quickly! Equip yourself if you must!¡±


    The angel seemed to have abandoned the plan her checklist had outlined. But he had not. It was a matter of pride now. Man against monster. Like against like.


    ¡°Well, I sympathized with you, beast,¡± he shouted, spitting blood, ¡°But that sympathy expands not into combat! Nor shall we ever be friends in this life though we are kindred. For two stars keep not their motion in one sphere!¡±


    The ogre charged. The barbarian leaped. His feet passed cleanly over the grievous horns. Upon its back he descended, and swiftly he swung his arms over the creature¡¯s neck, strangling it.


    With a loud chain of gurgles, the ogre thrashed violently. Side to side its massive body swung. And though the barbarian held on, that trunk of a neck proved far too large to maintain a deadly choke in such a condition.


    Realizing the futility of his move, Agravain let go of the monster, allowing himself to be dashed across the room, smashing against the rack of weapons. Along with the clattering arms, the barbarian fell to the floor.


    ¡°Take a weapon now! It¡¯s going to kill you!¡± Jophiel cried.


    ¡°Least of my concerns!¡± Agravain the Barbarian roared.


    Once again, both combatants charged at each other. And once again, Agravain¡¯s speed proved the better. Another hook caught the monster¡¯s jaw. But this time he neither cared nor spared a thought for his own safety, his other hand shot again at the monster. One. And one more. And one more! With all his rage behind each fist, his arms thundered away with stretched sinews like a madly hammering machine, if a machine could contain so much anger behind its hydraulic mechanism. With each strike he knew he had dented the beast¡¯s skull some more. Yet even this was not enough to conquer the unbelievable monster. Much reeled even then, the beast still managed to score with its hooked claws an open wound at his flank. This one strike was enough to throw him off balance.


    Warning:


    Low Rage Bar capacity: less than 1%


    ¡°3 seconds left!¡± cried Jophiel.


    Howling, the barbarian leaped to his feet, meeting the charging monster head-on. His burly, overwrought arms reached out and seized the beast¡¯s shoulders, barely enough to keep the jutting horns several inches from his fierce grimace.


    His terrible grips digging into the ashen flesh, the barbarian howled deeply, then with the last of his desperate might hauled the enormous beast overhead. Backwards he arched, slamming the creature headfirst on the stone floor.


    The gory sound of the ogre¡¯s neck being broken came when the last of the barbarian¡¯s strength deserted him.


    At once the barbarian limped away, ready to charge in again. But it was done. The ogre now spasmed in a death rattle.


    Thoroughly spent after overexertion, Agravain dropped to his knees, watching as the ogre¡¯s eyes rolled back.


    He sighed, ¡°Now you¡¯re food for dust and worms.¡±


    His rage almost immediately withered now that the fierce combat had ended. But he wasn¡¯t feeling sick like yesterday.


    ¡°Oh, god.¡± Jophiel was on all four, having dropped there due to the excitement and relief after the battle. ¡°Oh, god,¡± she repeated, face blanched.


    ¡°Well, what do you think?¡± he asked, breathing hard.


    ¡°What do I think?¡± She said weakly, seeming near to drop. ¡°If you weren¡¯t a non-fictional character I would have fallen in love with you right there. That was cool as heck.¡±


    ¡°Good to hear. But what about my skills or whatever?¡±


    As though on cue, the cool, disembodied female voice from before rang in his head.


    Achievement unlocked: Boss Brutalizer


    Defeating a boss-level creature with bare hands


    Effects:


    +1000 Unarmed skill points


    +Gain the trait: Pugilist


    Trait developed: Pugilist


    Effects:


    +5 points of magical and physical defense


    +5% Unarmed damage


    +15 tribal opinion


    ¡°You hear that?¡± Agravain asked. ¡°That was the weird voice I heard from before.¡±


    ¡°Yes! Yes! Of course I do! Am I dreaming or what?¡±


    Or what! the angel repeated, shouting.


    She was nothing but obnoxious, but for once, the excitement was contagious.


    Meanwhile, the strange voice went on.


    Reward from skill level milestones:


    +2 points of magical and physical defense (Unarmed Weapon skill level 5)


    + 20% to find enchanted unarmed equipment (Unarmed Weapon skill level 10)


    + 15% bonus to Initiative when an unarmed weapon is equipped (Unarmed Weapon skill level 10)


    + 2% bonus to Initiative when a melee weapon is equipped (Unarmed Weapon skill level 10)


    That didn¡¯t mean a thing to him, the barbarian concluded.


    ¡°This means a lot, a loooot!¡±


    ¡°Well, now,¡± he said, grinning, ¡°let¡¯s look for the princess, and hope there¡¯s no other boss-level thingy out there. Though I doubt that ogre was this gang¡¯s boss in the administrative sense.¡±


    He scanned the room, and immediately caught a face overhead. It was a second floor that he had not noticed before, accessible by a flight of steep stairs. Whoever up there must have been watching his fight with the ogre from the window of that tier.

 008

    The boss of the Karvash Brotherhood was prostrating.


    It was the first the Agravain saw when he entered the room.


    Coming through the door after him, Iranon confirmed with a nod.


    Yup, that was him, alright.


    The feared crime boss who had been lording over the livelihood of the townsfolk for months or even years until now, who commanded the thugs who had assaulted them on sight, and who had kept the ogre as a form of perverse entertainment. He was prostrating, quite neatly so, back bent and head ground against the floor, not even looking up as the bard shut the door behind him. Jophiel, of course, just phased through the wall.


    ¡°My, talk about anti-climatic,¡± the barbarian said, ¡°where¡¯s your pride as a boss?¡±


    What he called anti-climatic was a blessing, since his rage bar had already been depleted. If there had been another fight with a creature on the level of the last one, even he was not confident he could come out of it alive. Still, this was boring.


    His rage having subsided, he was not thirsting for another fight as much as disappointed.


    Still without lifting his head, the crime boss said. ¡°I¡¯m not the boss of this place anymore. It¡¯s you. I saw you fight the ogre. There¡¯s nothing at all I can do.¡±


    ¡°Quite a sensible guy,¡± Jophiel remarked, ¡°maybe that¡¯s why he became a boss, by being the only one with his head screwed right on his shoulders?¡±


    The angel did not seem as let down by the lack of another fight or a chance at loot. A testament to how pitiful this crime boss looked. His slick hair was pressed on the floor, his back bent. He did not look so frail as Iranon, but in his current state and thanks to his meek voice, the man could not incite the will to fight in Agravain either. In that sense, one could say that he was doing a rather good job at being submissive.


    ¡°All right, Mauven, now that you have known your place...¡± On the contrary, the bard was doing his best putting on a bossy attitude, ¡°Give me back my harp and I will consider telling this guy to spare you!¡±


    The crime boss, Mauven, glanced sidelong at the bard. If he was angry, he did well not to betray it, but saying in a diplomatic voice, ¡°Why, of course, I keep it with the rest in the shop. Pick whichever you like, there¡¯s several like it in there.¡±


    ¡°You still don¡¯t get it? And I already told you so many times, too! It is nothing like your average--¡±


    ¡°Shut up,¡± the barbarian cut him off, ¡°You brought a girl here last night--one in a wheelchair. Where is she now?¡±


    To his surprise, the crime boss already anticipated the question. ¡°Of course, of course, that one. She¡¯s waiting for you just beyond that door. I untied her as you were fighting down there. She¡¯s been treated well, she has, just ask her yourself. I even prepared some food. I didn¡¯t have the time to get her friends out of the cell, but they are all healthy, you can rest assured.¡±


    The guy was too clever. But how he already knew he was coming for her, Agravain could not say.


    The answer was simple enough.


    As soon as the door opened, the young princess, who was sitting at a table furnished with ample food and drink, cried out, ¡°I knew you would come! I told them you would!¡±


    Iranon poked his head in behind the barbarian. ¡°So? Is that the princess?¡±


    ¡°Yea, I met her the other day. That¡¯s her.¡±


    ¡°Haha, you savages are so funny. Surely that could not be--¡±


    ¡°I will crush your skull, get out.¡±


    ¡°Right, right, one cannot have enough spare skulls to stand next to you,¡± he said, then made his escape without needing to be told twice.


    With a sigh, the barbarian sat down across the young girl who was the twin image of his little sister. Not only did her outward appearance bear a bizarre resemblance, even her demeanor, her aura. And she was around that age when Estella passed away too, at the scant age of fifteen.


    ¡°So what grand idea got into your head this time, E... eh?¡± He came so close to saying her name in the end. This kind of situation was way too familiar.


    So familiar it¡¯s unreal. Unbelievable. Incredible.


    Just like a thousand times before even as this when he had sat down to scold her for mischief.


    ¡°Well,¡± the girl said sheepishly, looking away with a vague smile ¡°it¡¯s a long story...¡±


    ¡°How long can it be? Your name was... Soraya, I think. And unless those guards at the palace were only speaking nonsense, you¡¯re a princess, right? How come you¡¯re here, kidnapped by mere thugs?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± she avoided his eyes, ¡°I sorta... absconded from the palace, I guess?¡±


    In a wheelchair?


    Well, the crime boss did say she had some friends with her.


    ¡°But why?¡±


    ¡°Well, I mean,¡± she said, still averting her eyes, ¡°you are my responsibility, right? I summoned you to this world, albeit accidentally, but then I got panicked, and you started hitting people, after being hit, of course. I thought you would be lonely and frightened out there...¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah? Aren¡¯t you nice? Why did you sneak out instead of sending a search party for me then?¡±


    ¡°Oho,¡± Jophiel let out a sound, ¡°you are not all that stupid, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    He ignored her, who despite the remark was hungrily eyeing the food on the table: a rich assortment of meatballs, cheese and plenty of fish. Protein for days. But what sort of depraved angel would drool looking at human food like that? Not even a fallen angel could fall so low, he would imagine. Even Satan would have more self-respect than that.


    ¡°Well fine,¡± Soraya sighed, meeting his eyes at last, ¡°I sneaked out because I wanted you to help me with something, something my parents wouldn¡¯t allow me to... And then those people caught me and my handmaids. Haha, I¡¯m such a failure, aren¡¯t I? Rania always told me I didn¡¯t behave like a princess at all,...¡±


    He regarded the girl mercilessly. ¡°Well yeah, you don¡¯t.¡±


    This routine he only knew too well--always trying to squiggle out of trouble, that one, by putting on pitiful, self-deprecation acts, so that out of sympathy other people would fawn over her, trying to butter her up and make her forget her pitiful situation, and, in doing so, entirely forget her crimes.


    Or such was how his little sister was. His real sister, Estella, not Soraya. But they were so alike it was almost scary.


    Unless this was his sister who had been summoned over here even before him, and had been pretending to be a princess here since.


    How plausible is that?


    It sounded a lot like something she would do.


    ¡°So you¡¯re stupid after all!¡± the angel said.


    He ignored her.


    ¡°So what do you want me to help you with?¡± he asked.


    At once she sat up straight, looking firmly into his eyes. Scrutinizing perhaps, in an attempt to measure how much she could trust him, a total stranger with only a vaguely arcane connection with herself.


    The pitiable and abject look had been an act after all.


    ¡°I want to find my sister.¡±


    ¡°Your sister?¡±The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°Mm. She left home some time ago and I haven¡¯t received a word from her, so I want to go find her.¡±


    What are they, a pair of runaway princesses? Does it run in the family or what?


    He thought about it for a bit. ¡°But I mean, can¡¯t you send someone out to look for her? You are a princess, aren¡¯t you? Do you really have to do it in person?¡±


    ¡°Well, a search party has already been set out. There are periodic reports to the palace about their progress, what grounds they have covered during their search, and sundries. But everyone knows it¡¯s a fool¡¯s errand. Only I have the slightest idea where she could be, but they wouldn¡¯t believe me. And, to be honest, I don¡¯t know how to get there myself.¡±


    ¡°Yet you think I could?¡±


    She raised an eyebrow. This princess didn¡¯t look at all like the frightened girl back when he unwittingly stormed through the door of her closet. ¡°You are a summon beast. I was sure you could do something about it.¡±


    ¡°What a wild assumption! And don¡¯t call me a beast. I have a name.¡±


    Not that he had bothered to tell her it.


    ¡°It¡¯s Agravain,¡± he said. ¡°You may call me Agravain the Barbarian.¡±


    The girl accepted it easily enough. No hint of surprise. It was clear she never knew him by that different name, Donovan MacAeda.


    ¡°You call me a beast,¡± he continued, ¡°but you don¡¯t look at all frightened when you talk to me, do you? Though I guess you were trembling when I first appeared. Why¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Hmmm, I wonder,¡± the girl cocked her head, blinking twice. Even this small gesture Agravain knew too well. ¡°I was in a panic then, but now that I¡¯m sitting with you like this, somehow I just don¡¯t feel like there¡¯s anything to be  afraid of, not unlike with my sister, as though you were a family and it just makes me at ease for some reason, I guess? A natural connection between a summoned be--person and their summoner? I think it¡¯s kind of weird too.¡±


    In the middle of her sentence, the girl¡¯s mouth dropped. She stared wildly, an expression of terror lined her face.


    Her hand shot up to point at his side.


    ¡°Ah... ah!¡±


    At once alarmed, Agravain whipped around, ready to face the sneak attack of an unseen foe.


    There was only Jophiel sitting next to him.


    Who was merrily gorging on the food on the table.


    How stupid can this angel be?


    Noticing eyes turned on her, the angel spied around, mouth stuffed with food.


    ¡°Ellwo?¡±


    ¡°Someone appears!¡± Soraya cried.


    She decided to drop her invisibility just like that? After all this time? And after warning him against acting suspiciously too.


    Jophiel swallowed, drained a glass of milk, then wiped her mouth on the tablecloth.


    ¡°Yo, I¡¯m an angel,¡± she said.


    Even her self-introduction was sloppy. Do angels not come with the minimum training in personal interaction or what? At least throw a ¡°be not afraid¡± in there.


    ¡°A ghost!¡± Soraya meanwhile was still gripped by panic.


    And it seemed even in this world, ghosts and other invisible beings were no normal occurrences.


    ¡°An angel, I say!¡± Jophiel matched her shrill pitch.


    What are you competing at?


    ¡°Calm down, you,¡± Agravain sighed, ¡°she¡¯s an angel alright. She¡¯s sort of assigned to me because I was summoned to this world, I guess.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Soraya was still gripping the table with white fingers, face fraught with doubt. ¡°Is that a thing at your place, having angels assigned to them?¡±


    ¡°Mine? I thought angels were this world¡¯s thing? They were mostly things of myths and religious texts of mine.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s neither here nor there, actually,¡± Jophiel explained unhelpfully.


    ¡°Well putting that aside,¡± he said, ¡°You were saying your sister had gone somewhere, but you don¡¯t know how to get there. What is that place exactly?¡±


    The girl was still wary. A suspicious young girl.


    ¡°She¡¯s not gonna do you any harm, trust me. If she does I¡¯ll punch her.¡±


    ¡°Hey! Don¡¯t involve me with your slapstick!¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you one contradictory character? You aren¡¯t going to harm her anyway.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s still rude to threaten to punch a girl, you know.¡±


    ¡°You are no girl. You¡¯re an angel. And who says I can¡¯t threaten to punch a girl? It¡¯s perfectly normal in my world.¡±


    ¡°Who do you think you¡¯re lying to?!¡±


    ¡°Anyway,¡± he returned to Soraya, ¡°So?¡±


    The princess frowned, seeming to think hard. It wasn¡¯t difficult to imagine that the little exchange just now had raised their suspicious meter to the max.


    After a long while, the young princess finally said, ¡°Well, I guess it¡¯s true then. I did somehow summon you to this world, and now it seems angels are real too. So I can¡¯t but admit magic could also be real.¡±


    She was considering Jophiel¡¯s words seriously after all. What a trusting girl. How will you survive in this world if you can so readily trust such a dodgy character?


    ¡°It¡¯s rude to call someone you barely know dodgy.¡±


    ¡°Can you actually read my mind?¡±


    ¡°Just a guess,¡± the dodgy angel gave him a sidelong look. ¡°You don¡¯t exactly have a poker face.¡±


    Meanwhile, Soraya was persisting with her more substantial musing. ¡°And who knows,¡± she mumbled, ¡°if even the existence of other worlds is real, then maybe in one of them there¡¯s another me who is well and healthy? Or does by being well and healthy, that one essentially can¡¯t be me?¡±


    It was getting too philosophical for Agravain, so he dragged her back to the main subject. ¡°You were talking about your sister¡¯s whereabouts.¡±


    ¡°Right. Agravain, in your world do you also have a myth called the Cycles of Magic?¡±


    ¡°Nope.¡±


    ¡°Well, it is said that magic is a constantly changing force in this world. For a period of a thousand years it would gather the powers of the world in an object called the Mundane Egg. I have no idea if it¡¯s metaphorical or an actual egg. But, supposedly, once that egg hatches, magic will return to this world for a thousand years before waning again. So that¡¯s why it¡¯s called a cycle.¡±


    ¡°So currently magic doesn¡¯t exist but it will come back with this Egg?¡±


    ¡°Mm, according to the conspiracists, our generation was just the time for Mundane Egg to be hatched, and magic will soon come back to this world But it doesn¡¯t just hatch on its own. Someone has to go on a pilgrimage to find it. And whoever accomplishes this could shape the magic of the next one thousand years the way they want.¡±


    ¡°And you think your sister is attempting this pilgrimage? Why?¡±


    As soon as he imagined this, the reason came easily to him. He had no way to know for sure, of course, but from the way this girl spoke of her sister, they probably were on good terms. And if someone with a disabled sister that she loved learned of a miraculous way to shape the world however she wanted...


    ¡°She told me, of course. But no one would believe me. Well, not that I believed magic was real either, not until just now. I knew she believed it though. She even did a ton of research before setting out. As for the rest of the court, they all think she ran away from her engagement with a foreign prince.¡±


    That one sounded more plausible, at any rate.


    Yet somehow, Agravain knew he guessed right, and Soraya probably thought she did too.


    ¡°Well, too bad,¡± he said ¡°I have only learned of this Magic thing just now. No way I know how to get you to where that egg is, even if there¡¯s any truth to that myth, or where your sister is looking for it.¡±


    Jophiel coughed. ¡°About that,¡± she said, taking on a serious tone. She thumped the table with her palms. Somewhat notable that she had just cleaned all the plates in her vicinity.


    The angel gave both of them a look, deliberating holding out a dramatic silence to heighten the effect, then she began, ¡°In the first place, that myth is real. It is in fact the whole reason you and I were sent here, and the reason this young princess was destined to summon you over. And as the girl said, the person who obtains the Mundane Egg gets to shape the principles of the coming millennia¡¯s magic to their will. There¡¯s only one misconception about its nature. It¡¯s not that just any random person could find the egg. Even if they do, they wouldn¡¯t be able to unlock it. Sure, after magic has been conceptualized, common people can learn to use it, but only qualified people may find it, use it, and shape the general magic of it.


    ¡°If you still can¡¯t get your heads around what being a master of this Egg entails, then let me put it this way: it¡¯s like getting to construct for yourself a system that will allow you to do anything you want, a machine to make every one of your wishes come true. Not one, not three, but all of them. Since you can just rewrite this world however you like as the new Founder of Magic. But this could only be done by one of the few chosen people.¡±


    ¡°I can see where this is going,¡± Agravain grumbled, ¡°it¡¯s us, isn¡¯t it? The people you call Player Characters.¡±


    ¡°Close. It¡¯s both the Player Characters and their Summoners. Think of the Summoners as the ties you have with this world, which in the first place ¡°hooked¡± you from your world to this one. The Angel, the Summoned, and the Summoner. Respectively, the Player, the Player Character, and the Hook. There¡¯s a total of seven such groups, each centered on one of the seven individuals, summoned from another world from different walks of life. And that¡¯s the point of the competition I spoke of: a quest to claim the Mundane Egg for yourself. But what if you don¡¯t want to engage in this competition? What if you want to live in this world without concerning yourself with the Egg?¡±


    ¡°Just say why.¡±


    ¡°Because,¡± the angel nodded in Soraya¡¯s direction, ¡°of the hook. All seven of you get one. Each one¡¯s is different, of course. Technically a ritual is actually unnecessary. Sometimes the PC just pops up thanks to an intense prayer from the Summoner. But at any rate, the circumstance and connection between you and this girl is just how the Angels of Fate arranged it. Those Angels are what you may call the organizers of this competition. As for what that connection is, you already know too well, right?¡±


    There was a long silence. Neither Soraya nor Agravain could fully digest what they just learned. But at length, the girl who looked just like his sister was stealing glances at him sheepishly. She understood, he thought, perhaps even better than he did.


    Of course, and of this there could not be a doubt, he wanted to help her. Even though he knew she was not his sister. Just someone else who looked like her, who acted like her, maybe even thought like her.


    Still, she was not Estella.


    Estella was Estella. Soraya was Soraya.


    But if this was how fate had designed it, maybe he could just think of this girl as a reincarnation of his sister?


    In the end, he groaned out loud, slamming the table with his fist.


    Estella, no, Soraya jolted.


    Even in surprise, she could never jump from her seat. Because she could not walk.


    Just like Estella, who had been sickly for the entire time of her short life.


    Who was confined to bed most of the time.


    Who always got scolded for trying to plot an escape from the four dreary walls.


    Because her parents and her brother loved her.


    Because, according to the doctors, if she could survive to adulthood, she would have a greater chance to live a long and fulfilling life.


    She did not.


    ¡°Very well,¡± Agravain the barbarian declared, ¡°let¡¯s go on an adventure to find your sister!¡±


    ¡°Woohoo!¡± the angel clapped. She wasn¡¯t even trying to pretend she hadn''t already anticipated the decision. ¡°Well, now that¡¯s over with, let''s get this underway, yeah? Speed is of the essence in this competition. There¡¯s a reason that we three meet up in this place. There¡¯s quite a few handy things, and people, we can make use of in this place. It was a nice arrangement by the organizers.¡±


    Having said this, she snapped her fingers. A large book popped into existence. Not holographic as before, but a large and very book, leather-bound and presenting information on antique parchments.


    It dropped onto the table with a heavy thud.


    ¡°Behold,¡± she said, all smug and standing akimbo, ¡°what set me apart from all the casuals! The Angel of Knowledge and Hidden Records¡¯ lifework: The Codex of Anything and Everything!¡±

 009

    ¡°Didn¡¯t you use floating screens before?¡± asked Agravain as the angel perused the very much physical tome.


    She was not flipping the pages so much as commanding the pages to flip itself, while hovering her hands over the rapidly moving parchments.


    ¡°Gotta keep up the appearance, you know,¡± she said, strongly suggesting it was the most obvious thing in the world, ¡°I¡¯m still an angel after all. A book is simply more setting-appropriate.¡±


    So she said, while still slouching in her tracksuit.


    To be completely fair, floating screens of unknown material would no doubt raise more questions from the locals than just strange attire.


    It worked on Soraya, at least. The young princess was staring in complete fascination at the pictures and text written on the codex¡¯s parchment.


    ¡°Can you find my sister¡¯s location with this?¡± she asked in a voice full of wonderment.


    ¡°I said this was the book of everything and anything, didn¡¯t I? Of course I can. Though there are certain rules. The method I use to gather and update the information in here can¡¯t track other Player Characters¡¯ activities. Literally anything else in the realm of mortal knowledge is fair game. Just give me a name. Ayesha, is it? Hmm an Ayesha of house Macaeda, let¡¯s see, First Princess of the Tartarian Empire.¡±


    ¡°Macaeda, you say!¡± Agravain cried.


    ¡°Yeah?¡± Soraya was startled.


    This went beyond being convenient. So that was what that name was: he had heard it once before, during the jumble interrogation full of confusion with the palace guards. They had used that name then, prompted by the similiarities of his appearance with those of the royal family.


    The pages of the Codex Of Everything and Anything was flipping at dizzying speed.


    On and on.


    And then it stopped on the very last page. An empty page.


    ¡°No good,¡± Jophiel said, ¡°I can¡¯t find her.¡±


    ¡°Wait, then is she...¡± Soraya paled.


    ¡°Nope, not dead. This thing records even those who have passed away. Unless she had been captured by some eldritch creature to another universe, my best guess is she got involved in the Quest in some capacity.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± Agravain pointed out, ¡°Didn¡¯t you say only people summoned from another world can look for it?¡±


    ¡°Well, in this case and so early into the game at that, it¡¯s most likely because she¡¯s used as a hook for one of the other Player Characters. Just like Soraya here.¡±


    Soraya pouted, ¡°Then what do we even use this book for?¡±


    ¡°Quick to judge, aren¡¯t we?¡± the angel arched an eyebrow. ¡°You could think of it as slight blessing, though. By pursuing the Mundane Egg, we would find her eventually along the way. And incidentally, that¡¯s my main job and all, gunning for that Egg.¡±


    Soraya did not look much more convinced. ¡°But where do we even begin to look?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s where this place comes in!¡± Jophiel declared, as though it was the most natural course of action ever. ¡°We use this place as a base of operation. There¡¯s so much we can find out by setting out blindly in any direction. Nope, this is the kind of thing the network of a state is necessary. Or at the very least a wide net of informants and scouts to every corner of the world to seek information for the Egg.¡±


    ¡°Eh? That¡¯s a bit, you know,¡± Soraya frowned, ¡°I have some personal funds from my estates, but it¡¯s not enough to sustain something on such a scale.¡±


    ¡°Not yet, anyway. As I said, this place serves as a starting point. You can build it up from there. It¡¯s not like the Egg¡¯s location would be revealed in a day or two. This gang being situated in a heavily trafficked port can only work to our advantage.¡±


    It sounded awfully like she was passing the responsibility to someone else, but Agravain was not one to talk. He had begun to tuned out of the conversation, having already long decided to wipe his hands clean from anything not involving punching a guy.


    ¡°Very well,¡± the  nodded with a strong sense of irresponsibility, ¡°do what you like. When you find it, if you ever find it, I can just beat anyone who stands in our way.¡±


    ¡°What!¡± the angel eyed him sidelong, ¡°what are you, a sloth? Look, you are going to work hard because of your dumb class. Yeah, I¡¯m gonna work you to the bone, train you up, and obtain all the necessary equipment so we can kick the first Player Character¡¯s ass coming along. Understood?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± he gave a tremendous yawn, ¡°as I said, do what you want. I¡¯m fine with punching and kicking stuff. But that¡¯s enough for me today. I¡¯m spent, remember? We can start doing whatever training you want tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Whaaat!¡± with an even longer shriek than before, she pinched his ear and started dragging him along out of the room. It didn¡¯t hurt at all. Nor did he move an inch. ¡°You won¡¯t fight but there¡¯s a shitload for you to do around here. Need I remind you that your class is shit? It¡¯s shitty! Come along! We must start recruiting! Why won¡¯t you move you ass!¡±


    He was standing rooted in place, and tried as she might, either because of her immaterial nature or inherent weak physicality, the angel could not get him to budge. He was busy judging the situation, scanning the room.


    Soraya was giving a forlorn look.


    ¡°Hm, where is it?¡± After a while, his eyes caught what he was looking for in a corner.


    It was stuck under the table so he hadn¡¯t seen it at first--Soraya¡¯s wheelchair. Unlike the ones he was used to in his original world, this one was made entirely of wood and amply padded with cloth and cushions, and still were light enough for the user to move the wheel themselves.


    It took the girl by surprise, but effortlessly the barbarian transferred her over before she could voice a protest. God knows how many times he had helped his sister with this, so he was used to it.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, you know,¡± she said sheepishly. ¡°Just go do whatever you have to, I can wait here.¡±


    ¡°Nah, you are in this now. So you are going to have to be involved in everything I do, you hear? Take responsibility as my summoner!¡±


    ¡°Eh? What a pain!¡±


    So she said, but Agravain knew her, or at least her doppelganger on the other side, well enough to know when she was happy inside.


    They exited the room.


    It took some convincing to get the crime boss, Mauven, to recognize Soraya as the princess. Even then, he was not sure if the guy bought it wholly.


    ¡°Of course, boss,¡± the man said, ¡°Whatever you and your friends want to call yourself.¡±


    He probably didn¡¯t buy it one bit after all.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter if you don¡¯t,¡± the barbarian shrugged, ¡°I¡¯m going to toss you somewhere out of sight anyway, or if Soraya¡¯s so inclined, in her palace¡¯s dungeon.¡±


    ¡°Wait, wait, wait, you don¡¯t get to decide that by yourself!¡± Jophiel cried.


    ¡°I do actually, I¡¯m the boss here.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but I¡¯m the boss¡¯s manager, so whatever I say, goes.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not how it works.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m saying this guy can be of use.¡± She slammed the Codex on the table. Again the pages flipped by itself.


    As he sighed, Agravain caught the former crime boss¡¯s glance at the self-flipping book. The man had been told by the angel to go stand at a corner and had obliged without complaint. If he found the magical device or the sudden appearance of an angel strange, he didn¡¯t betray any strong reactions.


    This time it arrived at a page somewhere in the middle. The portrait of the man himself was neatly painted on the page in black ink, and following it were several lines denoting his name and information.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Mauven


    Class: Merchant


    Focus: Charisma, Intelligence


    Trait: Expert Tradesman, Adept Diplomat, Silver Tongue, Frail, Coward, Shrewd.


    ¡°Curious, eh?¡± the angel asked smugly, ¡°Well, the first two traits you see here are called vocational traits, calculated from your various skill levels. You can just look at the traits to assume what someone in this world is good at. The Expert descriptor means he¡¯s among the top five percent of this country in the field. You can usually expect to see them in the service of kings and other heads of state.


    ¡°While vocational traits act as the base for how well he does his job, the other traits act as various modifiers. For example, Silver Tongue adds to his Charisma and Leadership, or more practically, improves prices when purchasing or selling goods. The others, Coward and Shrewd all add nice bonuses to his job as a merchant. There are almost as many traits as there are people out there, so it¡¯s not always useful to compare one with another, and it¡¯s not like their whole personality is reflected in such few words, but think of it as the most vital part of one¡¯s resume. Their core when the fluff is stripped off.¡±


    ¡°Well, so?¡±


    The angel sighed, ¡°What I¡¯m saying is, not only is it rare enough that you can get someone this good at his job to serve you, but this trait combination on its own is simply way too good to pass off. The trait Frail basically is not a beneficial trait as it reduces his combat skills, but this works to our advantage, since he would be just as less likely to betray us. Get it now?¡±


    Agravain looked sidelong at the man still quietly standing in a corner of the room. Just like when he was prostrating, the man seemed obedient enough, but that was how someone who was shrewd would like to appear.


    ¡°I still feel like we can¡¯t trust him.¡±


    ¡°Well, this would help, somewhat.¡± Jophiel balled her fist, then unrolled it again to reveal a pair of rings within. One was embedded with an emerald stone and the other with a white crystal.


    ¡°As you are now, you won¡¯t be able to make effective use of many of these, so use them sparsely,¡± she said and held up the emerald ring, ¡°this one is the master ring. The other is a servant ring. They don¡¯t have any binding magic in them or anything. But a connection will be established between you and the ones wearing servant rings. It helps me read deeper information in them and other advantages. Your contracted servants can still betray you of course, hell, they may even work with your enemies behind your back, but the connection works like a non-aggression pact. As soon as they seek to harm you in some way, you will be alerted that the connection has been broken.¡±


    ¡°So I wear this, and be the master, and those who wear rings like the other one will be my servants? Isn¡¯t this just like in--¡±


    ¡°Shut up! Don¡¯t say it out loud! Don¡¯t even think about it!¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡±


    He called the former crime boss over and explained the use of the ring to him.


    ¡°Sure,¡± Mauven said simply and slipped it on his finger.


    The guy clearly didn¡¯t buy it at all!


    What a rational and clever guy.


    So this is what they meant when they say smart people are usually stupid in some ways.


    Having done musing the nature of his new employee, Agravain turned to the angel, having just then remembered a vital issue.


    ¡°So you want me to employ him, but to do what?¡±


    ¡°Run this business, duh! He¡¯s good at this job, so just let him keep doing what he¡¯s doing, while taking a cut and using the profit to send spies out to search for the information on the Source of Magic.¡±


    ¡°Hm, I don¡¯t know, Jophiel. I mislike the business he¡¯s conducting. Of course it is all just business to him, but Iranon was quite adamant that his organization worked as nothing more than daylight robber.¡±


    Speaking of, he wondered where that bard had gone.


    He gave the room a quick scan, but that youth was truly nowhere to be found.


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Agravain lifted his head, ¡°Isn¡¯t that him?¡±


    And by ¡°that¡±, he meant a scream just then rising to high heaven.


    For a moment, Agravain hesitated. Wouldn¡¯t it be better to leave Soraya behind to go investigate the noise alone? There was no way he could tell if he would be able to protect her while dealing with what danger down there.


    But then he thought, what the hell.


    He could just punch the shit out whatever it was.


    There¡¯s such a thing as being too cautious.


    So with one swift motion, he hauled the little princess overhead, wheelchair and all. The whole mass must have weighed two hundred pounds, yet did not burden him much more than a puppy would have a normal person.


    In that acrobatic manner, he carried her downstairs, jumping two steps at a time while the girl was screaming her lungs out.


    By the time he had reached ground level and Soraya¡¯s shriek had died down, Iranon¡¯s rose to a crescendo new. He followed the sound to the front hall, and then to the storerooms in the building¡¯s wing.


    All along, the bard¡¯s scream never ceased, though at times faltered before rising anew. Guy did have a powerful voice. That¡¯s a singer for you.


    Soraya¡¯s eyes went wide as they crossed the hall strewing with bodies. ¡°Did you kill all of them?¡±


    ¡°Hmm? I think some. Most of them are probably just sleeping.¡±


    A very deep sleep, at any rate.


    Only when he had crossed into the wings and was searching the room was the bard¡¯s desperate plea for help silenced. In its place, the muffled sound of him kicking and struggling led them to an unlocked door.


    Since the door was left open, he could peer inside and saw the youth lying at the opposite wall, all tied up and gagged. He was still conscious, fairly energetic even, seeing that he could still thrash mumbling inarticulately behind the gag.


    As though the bard was trying to tell him something.


    There was around him a messy assortment of crates and random junk, some had been toppled, broken and scattered. He must have been trying to look for his harp before entering into a struggle with whoever had tied him up.


    There was no one else in sight.


    Hm, how suspicious.


    Better investigate.


    The barbarian boldly strode into the room.


    As soon as he had crossed the threshold, something came down on his head hard.


    No, not just a trap or anything, judging from the trajectory and the force behind it, someone had swung a hard object, as large as a board, at his head with all their might.


    Geez, he really should¡¯ve expected this.


    Maybe next time.


    Having promised himself this, the barbarian turned around to look for the culprit behind the sneak attack. Meeting his eyes was a glare containing unmistakable hatred. The owner of the glare was holding up a chair¡¯s back in both hands. A girl, who judging from the look could not be much older than Soraya.


    Now this was a dilemma, he couldn¡¯t bring himself to just thwack the girl¡¯s face. Call him old school or whatever, but Agravain just couldn¡¯t do it. True, one of his victims back in his violent teaching days had been female, but he had plenty of reasons to be angry then.


    The strike, though without any holding back on the girl¡¯s part, had not caused him much trouble. He could not muster enough anger to just punch her.


    As though reading his mind and reluctance, the chair came down again without hesitation, squarely aimed at his forehead.


    No scruple at all!


    It struck his temple so hard, sending splinters clattering on the floor afterward.


    ¡°Rania!¡± Soraya finally wheeled into the room with a cry.


    ¡°Princess!¡± the girl called Rania dropped the chair at once and leaped for her princess, inserting herself between her princess and the barbarian. And turning about, she gave him that scathing glare again.


    ¡°Now, now, I¡¯m fine, totally fine,¡± Soraya poked the girl¡¯s back. ¡°Oh, and don¡¯t worry, Agravain. This girl is my handmaid. Rania, say hi. He¡¯s the one I summoned, remember? He¡¯s just saved me from the bad guys too.¡±


    The girl really struggled to follow this order. For a good second she glared Agravain up and down, until it seemed to her satisfaction that he would not make any sudden move, she took a step back, and gave a curt bow. ¡°I thank you. I understand that it was thanks to you that the princess is safe.¡±


    ¡°Hey Soraya,¡± the barbarian said with doubt, ¡°are you sure she understands? She¡¯s still glaring at me hard.¡±


    ¡°Oh right,¡± the little princess struck her own temple, ¡°I was wondering what was missing. Can you look for her glasses, Agravain, it must have dropped somewhere.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    The bard was still struggling on the floor.


    ¡°Just relax, I will be done in a minute,¡± he grumbled. ¡°Here it is.¡±


    The pair of glasses lay in a corner, the drop seemed to have scratched the rims, but thankfully the lenses were still intact.


    ¡°Still, I must say, Iranon. It is kinda embarrassing that not only did you get beaten and tied up by a girl, the best you did in retaliation was knocking her glasses off.¡±


    Really embarrassing.


    ¡°Oh come one, I just didn¡¯t expect a girl to come for me with a chair like that,¡± the bard spurted out as soon as his mouth had been freed from the gag. ¡°I mean, what ordinary girl would tie me up so calmly even when I was screaming for help! She¡¯s weird, I tell you!¡±


    The weird girl had commenced wiping her glasses with a handkerchief, not saying so much as a word in protest.


    ¡°I apologize,¡± she bowed again, ¡°I didn¡¯t realize he was here to help the princess.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t seem sorry at all--¡±


    Agravain cut the bard off with a pat on his back, hard.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± he said, ¡°he didn¡¯t help any, now that I think about it.¡±


    The entire time Iranon had just been collecting loot. And now that Agravain thought about it, was there any point in having him pick up spare coins when they were just going to take over this place¡¯s business anyway?


    What a waste of time.


    ¡°Aww,¡± Soraya was examining her handmaid¡¯s back, ¡°Your hair is all frayed, and I took care of your braid so well too.¡±


    Seeing them like this, the princess fussing with her little fingers around the handmaid¡¯s long braid, one wondered which one was the lady, and which the servant. Rania at the least didn¡¯t seem to mind, she allowed Soraya to attend to her hair without protest, while standing rigid and scanning the room. Now with her glasses on, her face had relaxed and the glare was gone. Though still appearing formal, or should he say, professional? she was not on guard anymore.


    And, this perhaps was rather slow of him, but only then, when her braid had been fixed and her glasses put on that he recognized the maid as that girl who helped Soraya escape back when he was confronted by the palace¡¯s guards.


    ¡°She was trained in personal combat, you know,¡± Soraya said, ¡°so it¡¯s understandable that your friend was caught off guard.¡±


    Looking at the bard rubbing the places the rope had bitten into his flesh, Agravain shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if we are even friends,¡± the barbarian said, ¡°how come you got caught then, with a servant who could fight on your side.¡±


    ¡°Ahaha,¡± the little princess laughed weakly, ¡°I accidentally wandered away and gave them the slip, I guess.¡±


    Accidentally?


    Not that he would scold her for it. For someone who spent most of her life confined in the palace, she probably just wanted to experience a bit of her rare freedom when she was at it.


    ¡°Ah, right, Rania,¡± the princess suddenly tapped the handmaid¡¯s back, ¡°Where¡¯s Lamia? She¡¯s fine, right? I can¡¯t imagine someone like her would come to any harm.¡±


    ¡°Oh her,¡± Rania clapped her hand. ¡°As soon as there were sounds of fighting outside, she called one of the thugs over and choked him with her legs. Then she got me free and went to rescue you.¡±


    With her legs?


    ¡°Another of your handmaids?¡± Agravain asked the princess.


    ¡°Aye. Then I wonder where she is now. You don¡¯t think she got caught...¡±


    Someone dropped on Agravain¡¯s head.


    Or rather, phased through the ceiling over his head.


    Jophiel clutched his head while still floating midair. ¡°Be quick! Someone¡¯s murdering my rare character!¡±

 010

    ¡°Easy now,¡± Agravain wrestled the angel aside, ¡°what the hell¡¯s going on?¡±


    As he said this, the maid immediately stood on guard, an arm crossed in front of her lady. It seemed she could see the angel, but couldn¡¯t understand where she had come from.


    Because of Iranon¡¯s appeal for help, he hadn¡¯t paid much attention to the angel, but apparently she had stayed behind with Mauven while they went to investigate the noise.


    Then that one showed up.


    Not that he was a genius anymore, but the barbarian could still guess who that was.


    Again as before, he lifted Soraya overhead, wheelchair and all, while rushing to the back of the building.


    ¡°But why?!!¡± she shrieked.


    ¡°Explain to your maid as you did just now, it seems she¡¯s killing Jophiel¡¯s rare character.¡±


    One hell of a way to refer to a human being. Not that anyone could call an angel out for how she calls a human.


    When he, Soraya, and Rania arrived, the murder appeared to be already very close to being carried out.


    The former crime boss was being pinned flat against the wall by a woman. In her hand a knife, perhaps taken from one of the defeated thugs along the way, pressed at the man''s throat.


    The window that was not opened before now revealed an azure sky and the port city. So it seemed she had evaded the fighting and sneaked across the building to this place.


    Agravain¡¯s entrance into the room with Soraya atop of him had caused enough noise for the woman to turn their way.


    Something of her clearly resembled Rania, not just her occupation as a princess¡¯s handmaid, though he could not tell what. Yet at the same time, hers was an entirely different demeanor, far more intense, not just because she seemed older, nor that her hair hung loose instead of in a cute braid, but because her glare was the real deal, not just a squint caused by bad eyesight.


    Her eyes were filled with only murderous impulses.


    And yet they vanished right away the moment Soraya cried for her to stop.


    Blinking, Agravain wondered if it was only his imagination. She was pressing a knife against a guy''s throat, after all, of course that was the right impression she gave off.


    After the brief explanation, she backed away, standing with her hands clasped before her in the same demure manner as Rania¡¯s.


    ¡°Well, as you can see, phew,¡± Soraya was laboring her breaths after two rounds of screaming down and up the stairs, ¡°this is Lamia, my other personal handmaid. And now you have met the meager number of my staff.¡±


    She made the same mannerly bow as her colleague, ¡°Sir Agravain, I can¡¯t thank you enough for fulfilling the responsibility I have failed.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it. I¡¯m also no stranger to failing my responsibilities, I get you.¡±


    The angel, incidentally, had dropped on a chair by the table and was rambling away without a care for appearance. ¡°Ah, I forgot how fragile you humans can be. Ahhh, you are like babies, now that I have come to understand the feeling of you mammals--you really just want to shut your babies up in a box and keep them there forever, safe from the hand of this dangerous, dangerous, world.¡±


    Putting aside how weird it was to compare a grim, old man to a baby, it was rather unseemly for an angel to lay her face flat on the table, so he lifted her up by the collar of her tracksuit. ¡°The only mammal you resemble is a sloth. Now, get up, didn¡¯t you say we have recruiting to be done?¡±


    ¡°Right, right,¡± she pushed the codex, which had been lying on the table all this time, towards him, ¡°check those maids out for yourself, I was talking about them.¡±


    Though annoyed by the attitude, Agravain attempted what he had seen the angel do with the tome.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see,¡± Agravain mumbled, his hand hovering experimentally over the opened codex. ¡°What were their names, Rania and Lamia?¡±


    As soon as the sounds of their names escaped his lips, the pages began to flip at the dizzying speed as before.


    Still an interesting sight, but this time, he noticed the little princess was not looking rapt at them anymore. She was lost in thought.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡± he asked. That look he knew well of her version in the other world, that marked her being engrossed in the scheming of some mischief or resolving a tricky puzzle.


    ¡°I have been thinking, that¡¯s all. You know the people at the palace must be worrying sick about me. And it¡¯s only a matter of time before they find us here. I mean even you who was a stranger of the land caught wind of me being kidnapped, right?¡±


    ¡°Why worry about it? If they come, I will just beat them up.¡±


    ¡°Ughh, that¡¯s what I¡¯m trying to avoid.¡± She looked at him as though he was a thoughtless brute, which he was. ¡°Unlike these villains, they are only people trying to look out for me, you know, overbearing as it may be.¡±


    ¡°No way around it then, we just have to drop the plan to make this place our base. Not that I¡¯ve had more than a minute to get attached to it or anything.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s what I¡¯ve been thinking. There¡¯s a way for us to keep this place and for me to avoid being dragged back to the palace. I mean, sure, my parents are worried about me, but if we could just let them know I¡¯m safe and doing this on my own accord, they wouldn¡¯t go out of their way to send the entire host of paladins after me.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Soraya, I may be stupid, not entirely, but even I know how this royalty stuff works, don¡¯t you have obligations to the throne or something? Like being in line to inherit, or political marriages and whatnots.¡±


    Rania coughed. Still austere as usual, devoid of emotions and overly formal, yet it was a tactful cough.


    The girl in glasses intervened, ¡°Sir Agravain, in this land, women don¡¯t inherit the throne, and as for marriage prospects, for the princess, there is none.¡±


    What with that tactful cough, Agravain stared at her, only to then say something so blunt anyway?


    Still, he could understand why. Political marriages are in essence a symbolic exchange of goodwill between two states. Giving out your crippled daughters to an ally hardly seemed an offer in good faith from a political perspective. Of course, there should be plenty of rulers of varied importance who would leap at the chance at a princess¡¯s hand, crippled or not.


    Nevertheless, it was easy to understand what Soraya meant when she said they would not go out of their way to get her back.


    A crippled princess¡¯s political worth didn¡¯t really merit the mobilization of an army.


    And this goes without saying, but most parents want their children to be happy. Not all, of course, but most.


    It would be erroneous to assume all royal families think of their children as mere political tools. Nothing could be further from the truth.


    There was a thing as keeping up the image, sure, but it would be a convenient excuse as any to let your already absconding child do whatever she pleases without going out of your way to correct it.


    Even his mother, a woman cold as any stone, had allowed him one year to do whatever he pleased after his sister¡¯s death. A complete stranger would never be granted so much leeway by that woman.


    It wasn¡¯t a stretch by any means, one only needed to think deeper than surface values to understand the way it worked. Nothing Soraya had said had hinted at her father¡¯s personality one way or another, but on the flip side, nothing had painted him as a heartless monarch either.


    ¡°Sure,¡± he shrugged, ¡°Assuming they are going to trust what you have to say. You¡¯re going to leave a letter?¡±This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°A letter could be easily faked,¡± she pointed out, ¡°but if we left one of my maids behind to inform the search party of my safety, it could work., I think.¡±


    ¡°Would their words be any better than a letter? They¡¯re just maids. I¡¯m sure you trust them endlessly, or whatever, but you can¡¯t say the same for your father, can you? For all he knows, the maid you leave behind could be lying, or cooperating with your kidnapper. They could have been threatened, bribed, or even fooled.¡±


    ¡°Except they couldn¡¯t,¡± it was Jophiel who contested the notion. The angel was still slouching on the chair and laying her face flat on the table, so her voice was muffled. ¡°Check the codex.¡±


    The pages had ceased flipping for a good while during his exchange with Soraya, and were now presenting the information of the pair of maids side by side, each one on her own page.


    Rania


    Class: Bodyguard


    Focus: Endurance, Dexterity


    Trait: Journeyman Fighter, Adept Housekeeper, Genie, Honest, Near-sighted


    Lamia


    Class: Bodyguard


    Focus: Dexterity, Charisma


    Trait: Expert Fighter, Expert Steward, Adept Housekeeper, Genie, Deceitful, Trained Assassin


    ¡°See the trait Genie?¡± Jophiel pointed without looking, ¡°They¡¯re a kind of modified humans. Genies can¡¯t betray nor can they lie to their masters. Or to be precise, they have no desire to. Excellent mental fortitude. In a word, they have the emotional range of a coffee maker.¡±


    ¡°But if you are their master...¡± the barbarian looked to Soraya.


    ¡°Nope,¡± she said, ¡°my father keeps their lamps. They are just assigned to take care of me. It¡¯s not like I can give them any command that contradicts my father¡¯s.¡±


    Her explanation only added further to his confusion. And were Agravain the curious type, he would have inquired further into what she meant by lamps, a peculiar call back to the stories of beings of the same name in his world. But he didn¡¯t care to. Not that it would become relevant later. Probably.


    He liked to live dangerously, and that meant not asking too many important questions.


    ¡°All well and good then,¡± Agravain nodded. ¡°Then that¡¯s decided. We set out as soon as possible tomorrow to avoid the search party. So long as Rania can explain that you¡¯re leaving on your own accord we should have one less thing to worry about.¡±


    The angel suddenly leaped from her seat, her head jerked up like a jack-in-the-box, eyes flared where moments before there was barely any intelligent life. ¡°Huh? Huh? Huh? What are you talking about, you can¡¯t just decide like that! You are supposed to ponder over this deeply before picking one!¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s there to ponder? Just look at their traits and compare. I may be stupid, but even I can tell when something is obvious. No matter how you look at it, this Lamia will be of better use for us on the road. It¡¯s not even a contest.¡±


    There wasn¡¯t even a competition. Like, really? Near-sighted or Trained Assassin?


    Not that he wasn¡¯t aware of how rude his direct comparison of the two living humans next to him was. But then again, Jophiel did say they weren¡¯t exactly humans. You would probably require some capacity for basic emotions to mind.


    Just to make sure, he stole a glance over to the bespectacled maid.


    It was only momentary, barely a split second and then vanished almost as soon as his eyes settled on the girl, yet it was there beyond doubt: an annoyed, almost hostile look. It was exactly that one she gave him when he first stumbled into Soraya¡¯s bedroom, the scowl without the excuse of a lacking pair of glasses. The disagreeable expression was gone before he could make sure it was anything more than just his imagination. The girl turned away, staring at nothing particular, placid like it was someone else¡¯s problem. Not that her pass at a poker face was perfect by any means. In fact, she looked exactly like someone trying too hard to appear unconcerned.


    Probably just his imagination.


    ¡°Well, but, but, but,¡± Jophiel¡¯s exceeding frustration was exploding to compensate for that one¡¯s deliberate lack of attitude, ¡°Just you look at her! I mean, glasses! A girl in glasses and even a braid! Speaking nothing of the maid outfit! Isn¡¯t that just peak moe!¡±


    ¡°What the hell is moe?¡±


    First time he¡¯d heard of that word, yet all the same the barbarian had a hunch the era-inappropriate angel had just uttered a word no angel should have in her vocabulary, whichever the era, let alone speaking out loud.


    ¡°Well, when you get down to it,¡± Jophiel suddenly took on a solemn tone, ¡°there¡¯s no one correct answer to that question! Oh, could it be you are trying to subtly imply your taste for the mature and composed kinds of characters?¡±


    ¡°Oh, do you?¡± the princess widened her eyes.


    If Soraya had been his real sister, he would automatically assume the intent look on her face was her gathering ammunition for later.


    But she could not possibly be! It¡¯s not nice to assume the worst of someone you don¡¯t know well.


    This world¡¯s version of his sister could well be an innocent, good-natured young girl. One should never give up hope in humanity.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s time you learn this, Soraya,¡± he decided to treat her as such, ¡°you¡¯d do well going forward to dismiss this woman¡¯s nonsense unless it¡¯s directly related to her job, ok? Anyways.¡±


    Anyways.


    ¡°You heard me. I think we should go with Lamia,¡± he concluded, ¡°I doubt that moe thing you talked about is anything useful anyway.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t anyways me!¡± the angel protested, ¡°let¡¯s think over this a bit more! Let¡¯s! First, don¡¯t you understand in the first place the greatest advantage of a genie over humans?¡±


    ¡°You did say they don¡¯t betray their masters, so what? They are both genies. Though I must say the genies I know of tend to hand out wishes instead of serving as garden-variety handmaids.¡±


    ¡°Well, since they are modified humans,¡± she wagged her finger, ¡°they¡¯re less susceptible to hunger, thirst, fatigue and other human needs. That is to say, they can be very capable at their job given the right training regiment. More training time, faster recovery speed. You could say that both their ceiling of potential and learning rate are superior to your average human.¡±


    ¡°Just get to the point.¡±


    ¡°The point¡¯s staring at you, begging you to look at it like a bashful maiden, you are just too dumb to acknowledge it! Don¡¯t you see, the ceiling may be high, but most people, genie or not, can only specialize in so many things. The older one of the two here has better skills and traits and attributes, but that just means she has less room for customization. While the other one is basically a blank slate. There¡¯s literally no better foundation for min-maxing!¡±


    Surprisingly, she did end up saying something sensible, despite the nagging feeling in him of a serious stretch behind her argument. Agravain rubbed his square chin. It¡¯s true, the more one grows and accumulates knowledge and experience, the less they are inclined to learn new things or open themselves to new ideas. Not to say someone older wouldn¡¯t be able to master new skills, they just tend not to. In fact, there were older students in his course who still sought knowledge and experience different from what they were used to, but these were by no means many.


    ¡°Alright, I concede your point. Let us go with Rania then. You have no problem with that, right, Soraya?¡±


    ¡°Nope,¡± Soraya said, ¡°Though to be honest, I¡¯d have loved to take them both, since they have been taking care of me since I was a child.¡±


    You are still a child.


    ¡°That¡¯s decided then,¡± he concluded the matter the second time, ¡°Rania, you go with us. Lamia, you will stay behind to hold the base. Good?¡±


    ¡°Tch.¡±


    Did the older one just click her tongue?


    Emotionless my ass.


    He was starting to suspect the angel was mixing facts with fiction just to mess with him.


    ¡°Anyways,¡± the angel said. She seemed visibly happy, so much so that Agravain wondered once more if the whole thing with the younger maid being better to develop was just a giant excuse to satisfy her irrelevant preferences. ¡°Anyways, Lamia here can keep an eye on that guy there for us. I¡¯m sure she would have no problem, judging from her high Steward skill, and without a hostage she wouldn¡¯t have to hold back should it come to that.¡±


    What with her having had a dagger against the guy¡¯s throat and all.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we just send Lamia straight back to the palace to explain our situation?¡± Soraya pointed out. ¡°It¡¯s not like she has to be here waiting for them, right? So long as we¡¯ve been gone long enough, it should be fine to inform my father.¡±


    ¡°Well, except,¡± Jophiel slammed her fist on the table, more excited than the situation called for. ¡°I said to make this place our base of operation. I need her to stay behind and secure it. There will be a need for it later.¡±


    ¡°You mean keeping this as a place for us to crash whenever we come back later?¡± Agravain asked, ¡°You put it vaguely enough before, but I don¡¯t see how we can build a network of information from a local business like this.¡±


    It¡¯s not like a game where you can just allocate points to ¡°business¡± and wait for it to grow on its own accord, or something.


    ¡°About that,¡± Soraya ventured, ¡°it would be probably a bit much to expect my personal fund can cover the expense for searching parties, and I doubt my father would be willing to fund our journey either. But he wouldn¡¯t be too opposed to me starting a business or something?¡±


    ¡°What, are you going to assume the post of a gang leader?¡±


    It seemed his mother¡¯s backup plan finally worked, albeit in a different world.


    ¡°Yeah, the king would rather kill his daughter than allow me to assume such a vulgar role,¡± Soraya rolled her eyes. Not sure whether that was meant to be praise for her father¡¯s character or otherwise, though. ¡°But I can arrange with my factor to turn this place into a legitimate shipping business. The starting point is far from ideal, but father wouldn¡¯t want me to run a cutthroat gang. We can then get a loan out in my name to fund some voyages to foreign countries. Between Lamia¡¯s connections and mine, we should be able to set them up without much trouble.¡±


    It was a good idea. A princess¡¯s credit points must be nigh infinite.


    ¡°Ah, that¡¯s genius,¡± Jophiel agreed, ¡°a shipping company surely can cast a wider net for intelligence than a bunch of bandits. Anyways,¡± she pointed, as though it was a brilliant idea of her own contribution, ¡°I shall allow you to enact this plan, you and your maid I mean, I leave it all to you.¡±


    This time, Agravain could not blame the angel too much for wiping her hand clean. All this talk was also starting to hurt his head.


    Thinking this, an idea came to his mind.


    The barbarian patted the twin image of his sister¡¯s head. ¡°You have a good head on your shoulder, Soraya.¡±


    ¡°Well, something has to function well at least!¡±


    ¡°Then take care of this. I have high hopes for you.¡±


    He took off the emerald ring and slipped it on her index finger.


    ¡°Whoa... such responsibilities... Wait, are you just trying to skirt yours?¡±


    ¡°Yup, you are my summoner, so you gotta share some of mine too. That¡¯s fine with you right, Jophiel?¡±


    Whether she was fine or not, the angel did stare at him for a second. But then as though realizing something, she shrugged, ¡°Sure, why not. I can work my stuff with either of you bearing the master ring. But are you sure? It¡¯s really easier to manage your recruits with that ring on you, you also won¡¯t be able to react as quickly if one turns on you.¡±


    ¡°I would just deal with them physically when the time comes. And yeah, I can¡¯t just be bothered to worry about things like employees anymore. Almost had enough with it back in my world.¡±


    Two more servant rings were then produced, one for Lamia, another for Ramia. The two betrayed little more than a hint of suspicion when they received the rings. Yet despite the initial reluctance, they both put the rings on.


    ¡°Well now all that sundries are arranged,¡± the angel declared, ¡°we depart on the morrow, and you two,¡± she pointed at the barbarian and the young, bespectacled maid, ¡°will enter my training regiments. Look forward to it!¡±

 011

    ¡°My bones chilled! I feel fost crawl in their marrows!¡± Soraya whined. Her voice was muffled under two layers of rugs in the back of the wagon. Clattering teeth matched the tune of the horse¡¯s trots and the shaking vehicle as it hurried along in the early morning.


    ¡°Well, you got what you wanted,¡± Agravain sneered, ¡°What did you expect? A dignity¡¯s fist rate carriage? We¡¯re fugitives. And you¡¯re a fugitive princess now, yup, there¡¯s a nice ring to it.¡±


    ¡°But must we depart so early?¡± she groaned again, ¡°The sun isn¡¯t up yet, it¡¯s basically still yesterday!¡±


    ¡°There, there, princess,¡± Rania huddled together with the girl in the wagon, ¡°try rubbing your hands together.¡± She turned to Agravain with a frown, ¡°Can you not be so uncouth? Mind your manner towards the princess, please.¡±


    ¡°What? Do you want me to lend her my coat? Can''t you see that I have none?¡± The barbarian waved his hand dismissively. ¡°She¡¯ll learn to bear with it. This journey won¡¯t be all smiles and sunshine. You know that.¡±


    ¡°For a lack of trying, it¡¯s looking to be.¡±


    For a being supposedly emotionless, the maid nagged too much.


    ¡°You¡¯ll have to work on your glare a thousand years more before you can act my mom,¡± he brushed off her scathing look.


    ¡°At least put something on. You stand out too much in that jacket. Isn¡¯t that defeating the purpose of our secrecy?¡±


    ¡°On the contrary!¡±


    He did have on something: an unbuttoned waistcoat and a pair of breeches.


    It wasn¡¯t exactly half-naked, but surely not something you would expect the servant of a princess to wear.


    Besides, it was liberating.


    Not that he was an exhibitionist or anything.


    ¡°I don¡¯t mind it,¡± Jophiel agreed, ¡°it suits the barbarous aesthetic. Not my type but you¡¯ve got to commit to the aesthetic. And besides, we probably won¡¯t have to worry about your armor class until much later, if ever. Heavy armor or stark naked, neither will affect my plan for you. That¡¯s just the sort of class yours is.¡±


    Just as himself, the angel was not bothered by the cold, and, still in her tracksuit, was lounging in an unseemly posture next to the girls from the royal household.


    In the driver seat and wrapped in a woolen coat was Iranon, who still stole glances about as they left the city. ¡°You sure don¡¯t hear horse hooves or something, I swear I heard some just now.¡±


    ¡°Pipe down if you¡¯re so scared,¡± the barbarian growled. He rode abreast the wagon on his newly purchased steed, a black stallion who restlessly stirred under him, as though begging to break into a liberating gallop.


    It was such a refreshing morning.


    These had been their only purchases for this trip: the wagon, two horses and some meager supplies. The plan was to make for the nearest town and there stock up for the next part of the journey. Soraya did not think it wise to withdraw her personal money from her factor in the city, but the fund they robbed from the gang was more than enough to keep themselves fed before they could source money from somewhere else.


    Or resorting to banditry, as suggested by Jophiel.


    Some angel.


    Not that the barbarian cared. Making ends meet had never been an immediate concern for him, either in this world or his old one. What will be, will be.


    Nor was his family¡¯s business back then in the clean by any means.


    The only thing occupying his mind was the exceeding excitement of starting on a trip. All carefree, he breathed in the freezing morning breeze as they crossed the sleeping town.


    As for Iranon¡¯s fear, it was insubstantial. For all the caution they had taken yesterday to hide Soraya in the attic of the abandoned house he had slept in the day before, the palace¡¯s soldiers never did visit the wharf house.


    The first sign of waking life they found was on the city¡¯s outskirts. Half a league from the city, tents and campfires huddled together in the dozens, forming by themselves a small village.


    He tapped on the wagon¡¯s hood. ¡°Soraya, look at those funny people.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean funny?¡± Iranon said, ¡°They look just like you.¡±


    Unlike in the city, the camp was bustling with activities even so early. Men and women were milling about, wearing garments of the poorer, coarse and meager sorts compared to those in the city. All of them had a darker complexion than the city folk. Some of the men were bare-chested, and every one of them carried weapons: spears, broadswords, or even primitive stone hammers and axes.


    Despite her complaints, Soraya poked her head out with the handmaid¡¯s help. ¡°Oh, the barbarians from the West! I heard they¡¯ve been camping outside of the city for some time now, but this is the first I¡¯ve seen of them. They really do look like you, Agravain!¡±


    ¡°What do you mean like me? Ragged?¡±


    Even as they passed, the campers exited their tents in increasing numbers and were pointing at the wagon.


    ¡°I wonder what they find so curious about us,¡± Agravain said, ¡°Are they known for robbing travelers?¡±


    Soraya shook her head. ¡°If they were, father would have driven them away long ago. But they''ve been doing nothing but sitting around and occasionally sending delegates into town.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t they also send a delegate to the palace or something,¡± Iranon asked, ¡°Quite a stir in the city, it was. There were talks of the savage prince wanting the princess¡¯s hand. That is, I mean, yours.¡±


    ¡°Some stupid rumor.¡± Having had her fill of those barbarians, the little princess retreated into the wagon with the help of her maid. ¡°I heard they did request a meeting with my father, but that probably came to nothing, seeing as they are still here.¡±


    ¡°So long as they don¡¯t cross our path,¡± Agravain said, urging his horse on.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    They did not, and the group passed safely.


    The angel probably knew who the campers were, if not their purpose. But Agravain didn¡¯t feel like asking. He was the type of traveler who enjoyed the sceneries more than any minute details any tour guide could babble on and on about.


    So they followed the road that wound around hills and laid across rivers on stone bridges until noon. Only when the last trace of civilization besides the occasional waymarkers had vanished for hours did Jophiel call them to a halt.


    They parked in the middle of a grassy plain under a large, lone acacia, near a stream where the horses could be watered.


    After having breakfast they couldn¡¯t afford the time for during the hasty escape from the city, Jophiel summoned the barbarian and the maid Rania out of the shade.


    Under the tree¡¯s great boughs, the bard and Soraya sat watching the first of Jophiel¡¯s training sessions unfold.


    Rania, hands clasped demurely before her, allowed the angel to examine her without a word of protest.


    Then when the examination was done, which only really amounted to a minute of intense gazing from head to toe, the angel dragged Agravain to a distance.


    ¡°What now?¡± he asked, ¡°having second thoughts about bringing her along?¡±


    ¡°Nope, the girl¡¯s fine as it is. Nothing to complain about, nothing to praise either. I said she was a blank slate, didn¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°Except for her vision, that¡¯s one hell of a disadvantage in battle.¡±


    ¡°Hey, that''s her charm! Don¡¯t you dare take that away from her! What I mean is, and this has always proved a problem in my experience, don¡¯t you think the girl is just full of pride or what?¡±


    The handmaid was just standing there, all alone, hopefully out of earshot. She didn¡¯t even seem bored, just looking straight ahead, intensively.


    ¡°Pride? Didn''t you say them genies had the emotional range of a coffee maker? Do coffee makers have pride?¡±


    ¡°Who knows? Maybe the human variants do. But that isn¡¯t important. The girl¡¯s self-assured. She has no idea what we are going into, a bit more than the little princess, sure, but it won¡¯t be common street thugs I¡¯m going to throw her at, you know. She would be squatted like a fly if we don¡¯t do something about it!¡±


    ¡°If you don¡¯t do something about it. Just say what you want me to do.¡±


    ¡°Well, you gotta show the girl her place.¡± The angel grinned, and it wasn¡¯t a cutely mischievous grin, but one of malice and cruelty.


    Some angel.


    ¡°You mean haze her?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± she twisted her face, ¡°what sort of monster do you think I am? No, just beat her up.¡±


    ¡°Is there a difference?!¡±


    ¡°Just do it!¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡±


    The barbarian strode over to the waiting girl. She turned at his approach, placid face betrayed not a sign of emotions, either anxiousness or boredom. The picture of a perfectly poised royal servant. But not for a moment had the barbarian forgotten the chair in the face he had received from these deceptively dainty arms.


    ¡°Let¡¯s spar,¡± he said.


    ¡°Why?¡± The girl frowned, eyeing him strangely and then the angel in the distance.


    It''s sort of a trope that people with bad eyesight appear as though they¡¯re glaring all the time, when in truth they¡¯re just squinting. Not with this girl. What with her having her glasses secured on her little nose. There was no need to squint. Girl¡¯s just easily prone to glares and distrust. Which on this occasion wasn¡¯t exactly unwarranted.


    She was sharp, perhaps already guessing some prank was going on.


    Only it would be no prank.


    But the real thing.


    ¡°We went over this, didn¡¯t we? I can¡¯t guarantee I will always be there to protect Soraya. So you will have to pull your weight too. That ang--that thing,¡± he thrust a finger in the angel¡¯s direction, ¡°knows her stuff, she can improve your combat prowess.¡±


    ¡°So we spar? Is this some sort of training?¡±


    ¡°You may think about it like that.¡±


    The girl nodded. For all his effort to make her agree to it, the girl did not seem any less wary.


    And he thought the angel was perhaps on the mark this time. It was not exactly pride, but Rania seemed to be preoccupied with keeping a distance, still treating him and the angel as though they could turn on her and the princess at any point. An attitude like that just wouldn¡¯t do.


    ¡°Let¡¯s then,¡± he said, ¡°what manner of fighting are you accustomed to?¡±


    ¡°I was trained in personal, close-quarter combat. I can use a dagger, but not as well as Lamia.¡±


    ¡°Do you prefer the dagger then? We had some in the wagon, take one if you like.¡±


    Of the items they had robbed from the wharf house was the armory full of weapons. Nothing impressive to be found there, to be sure, only some garden-variety weapons--axes, swords and spears. The angel had insisted they brought along at least one of each type.


    ¡°What about you?¡± Rania asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine as is.¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯m fine too.¡±


    Quite a stubborn one.


    ¡°If you say so.¡± He shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m not going to beat you up too hard, but I¡¯m not going easy either, good?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    With the maid¡¯s confirmation, he dropped into a fighting stance, but was instantly startled by the angel¡¯s voice. It had the same disembodied quality as the voice he had now used to, loud and clear as though next to his ears, but was without a doubt Jophiel¡¯s voice.


    ¡°I¡¯m sending you the girl¡¯s information for reference. Use your judgment accordingly.¡±


    Rania


    Class: Bodyguard


    Focus: Endurance, Dexterity


    Trait: Journeyman Fighter, Adept Housekeeper, Genie, Honest, Near-sighted


    Str 6 | En 9 | Dex 6 (-1) | Int 6 | Wis 6 | Cha 6 | Luck 6


    Yup, nothing amazing.


    The barbarian took a few steps back, allowing space between them. Then he came at her.


    A plain throwing of his fist, nothing fancy, though with the might behind it, he was sure he could fell a tree with one strike. Still, it was a clumsy, inelegant blow, even if it was faster than most ordinary folk could react to.


    Rania dodged it well enough. Ducking under his blow, she lunged at the barbarian, thrusting her naked hand at his abdomen. It was a trained piece of movement. Nothing less than expected from a bodyguard.


    Yet her fist bounced away, having done no more damage than she had with the chair yesterday.


    A wild guess, but this probably wasn¡¯t among the situations she was trained for.


    Credit to her quick awareness. Instantly she acknowledged that her strength was insufficient to break his defense. She squeezed away, trying to put a distance between them instead of following up with another attack. But already the barbarian¡¯s elbow had come down, striking the girl¡¯s shoulder as she sprang away.


    With a painful cry, she staggered, stumbling her retreat. He did not give pursuit.


    She turned to face him. The bruised arm where the barbarian had struck trembled.


    Having allowed her a moment to somewhat recover from the shock, Agravain closed in again. Another crude punch with no thought behind it.


    Even fully on guard this time, she could not cope with the strength. Her guarding arms merely blocked her head from taking a direct blow. But her entire body felt the spreading tremor of the devastating impact. As though hit by a charging bull, she staggered back. And in stumbling, she exposed herself to any following strike. There was no prospect of it, at any rate, as her legs which could no more hold buckled.


    She fell with her mouth aghast, both from pain and helplessness.


    Agravain approached steadily and slowly, looming like a mountain taking its time to crush all creatures beneath with sheer force of pressure.


    The maid was reeling still, unable to catch sufficient breaths to rise to her feet.


    ¡°Stop!¡± Soraya cried. The wheels of her chair bounced and struggled over the hard and uneven ground, but with an effort she had got close enough to make her voice heard. ¡°Stop it, Agravain! This isn¡¯t a fair fight! Just plain bullying,¡± she shrieked, looking as worried as she was annoyed.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t bullying her,¡± he grumbled, but already stopped in his tracks. ¡°We were just sparring.¡±


    Although it was true Jophiel¡¯s intention had been quite close to bullying. No, perhaps it had already gone beyond that, crossing straight into hazing.


    ¡°He¡¯s right, princess.¡± Rania struggled to her feet. Really struggled, for her legs were wobbling even when she was on her feet again. ¡°And I¡¯m not done.¡±


    ¡°Nah, we¡¯re done,¡± Jophiel declared gravely. She strode towards the pair with the codex under her arm.


    ¡°You sure?¡± the barbarian arched his brows, ¡°I also think it¡¯s far from enough.¡±


    The angel gave him a sidelong look, ¡°I¡¯m not questioning your method of teaching, Mr. Ex-Professor, I¡¯m all for it. But this isn¡¯t going to work. Even should you beat her to death, it won¡¯t. Girl needs a taste of the real thing.¡±


    And having said this, she spread the codex before her, the heavy thing looking light and deftly handled in her slim hand. He doubted it was any heavy at all, seeing that it was only a substitute for the floating displays to suit her aesthetic taste or whatever.


    Then she pointed, eastward, at the treeline of a dense forest, whose shadow curtained the ground further in.


    ¡°There¡¯s a settlement in the forest. For our new recruit¡¯s first test, we¡¯re going to rob it!¡±

 012

    They quarreled in front of the treeline for an hour or so.


    It was not because of the morality of the mission, though Jophiel insisted that it would be nothing immoral, for all that the word from an angel like her was worth.


    Agravain insisted on bringing Soraya along into the battle.


    For the little princess''s part, she hemmed and hawed on whether she wanted to come along or not. In the end, an appetite for excitement after long years of being confined in the palace won over, and she was gravitating towards approval.


    ¡°It¡¯s not just thoughtless,¡± Rania put calmly, ¡°only an imbecile would suggest such a thing.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, isn¡¯t it?¡± the barbarian said, ¡°if she wants to come along then it¡¯s fine. I won¡¯t allow anyone to come near her. And even if any does slip through, you can deal with them, eh? Though if you¡¯re not confident you would be able to do that much, then I understand your concern.¡±


    In the end, it was the cheap taunt that worked on the maid.


    With a click of her tongue, she asked if her lady was really fine with getting herself into needless danger.


    ¡°I want to go after all!¡± After a mere half second spent to weigh the risk, Soraya decided. ¡°Agravain¡¯s right. With him and you with me, there¡¯s really no need to worry, isn¡¯t there?¡±


    There were probably plenty, even the barbarian was not dumb enough to not know this, but all the same, he shrugged the worries away. How he had not realized this before, he could not tell--but really, the fastest way to deal with all possible flaws in a plan is to stop thinking about them.


    So long as the problem at hand is something you could punch off the surface of the world.


    ¡°Iranon, you stay here and watch our things, you hear?¡± he told the bard, ¡°If one thing goes missing, let alone yourself and the wagon, you know what¡¯s going to happen, right?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not the sort of brute you are. You are  looking at a thoroughly civilized guy, see?¡± he complained, ¡°We have an agreement to stick together till the next town, there¡¯s no reason for me to leave now.¡±


    ¡°Who knows, you could be dumb and care not for the shape of your skull. At any rate, don¡¯t take a step from this spot, even if you have to wait till tomorrow.¡±


    So they entered the forest.


    The dense overgrowth proved a struggle for Soraya¡¯s wheelchair. But even for a brute, Agravain dared not carry her and the chair overhead, lest she proved a prime target for what enemy lurking in the forest.


    Jophiel had made it clear: whatever they were assaulting would put up a fight and some.


    Instead, the angel stayed back to push the chair, while the barbarian and the handmaid went before, watching for any sign of danger.


    The greatest danger of all, they almost stumbled upon before they knew it. The treeline ended abruptly, just after a dense formation, so dense it seemed to be put there deliberately. As soon as Agravain tossed aside several fallen trees stacked skewed on top of each other, they were exposed to the settlement Jophiel had hinted at.


    Around the great clearing they emerged into, there were many such great fallen trees, apparently haphazardly thrown together to form a crude barricade. Such clumsy and inefficient work had caused them to think of the fallen tree as a natural occurrence.


    Before them a small village lay in utter silence like a haunted place. Walking between the small huts, they found no sign of civilization or humans. Many of the huts bore signs of long years in disuse, thatched roofs with holes unmended. No smoke nor fire could be glimpsed anywhere in this settlement.


    ¡°Some challenge, this,¡± the barbarian snorted. ¡°Who are we fighting? Wild beasts, or worse, boredom?¡±


    ¡°You are the type to die first in horror flicks, you know?¡± Jophiel said. The angel was perusing her codex again. Since her hands were occupied with Soraya¡¯s wheelchair, she let it float before her instead. The angel¡¯s commitment to realism was eroding by the minute.


    ¡°Not that I don¡¯t trust you, but I don¡¯t want to go around hunting for foe. Much more convenient if they come for me.¡±


    The barbarian then tested a few swings of the battle axe. He had taken it from the wagon when told by the angel to pick one. There was no point fighting unarmed anymore, according to the angel, now that he had reached the level with the needed bonus.


    Rania, on the other hand, stubbornly went unarmed.


    Though now that he thought about it, it was probably not so much that she wanted to boast her unarmed combat abilities, and more that she wasn¡¯t all that confident in her handling of a knife. To say that she couldn¡¯t match the skills of her fellow maid, who had the trait Trained Assasin, was probably putting it lightly.


    Not that the barbarian himself had any worth being proud about in his own skills, be it fighting with a weapon or unarmed.


    Suddenly he made a wide arc with the axe, severing the trim of a thatched hut. The blade was sharp, cutting through the straw cleanly. A crude weapon, single-bladed with an unbalanced shafted--there weren¡¯t many two-handed axes as such in the cutthroats¡¯ storehouse to be picky, it was apparently an unpopular weapon.


    ¡°This thing suits me,¡± even so, he said, ¡°simple, effective.¡±


    And that was all he needed. Expertise be damned. Just about anything would drop if you hit it hard enough.


    ¡°Sometimes I envy your freedom from complicated thoughts, you know,¡± the angel sighed. ¡°Only sometimes. Now listen.¡± She tapped on the codex, and out of nowhere, the familiar female voice rang in Agravain''s ears.


    Player Character #5, Agravain


    Class: Barbarian


    Focus Attributes: Strength, Endurance


    Traits: Novice Fighter, Dump Stat Intelligence, Pugilist


    Feats: Boss Brutalizer


    Modifiers:


    Skills: Rage


    Rage bar: 67%%Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    Attributes:


    Str 48 (+4)| En 28 | Dex 14 | Int 0 (-¡Þ) | Wis 8 | Cha 11 | Luck 15


    ¡°So there¡¯s your current status,¡± the angel said. ¡°The little number in brackets is the bonus from your weapon, by the way. I will configure it so that you can call up your own information with a password later. But for now you can see your fighting ability is far worse than our cute maid. You¡¯re a Novice Fighter, while the girl is a Journeyman. So don¡¯t get uppity now, even if you did beat her handily with sheer strength. We still have a lot to do to get you up to speed.¡±


    ¡°So cut a few heads with this axe? Got it.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t get anything at all! Just shut up and listen! Unlike the Unarmed Weapon Skill which doesn¡¯t work at all in the build I¡¯m planning, you can work on your skill with the axe while doing general training. But today we aren¡¯t just trying to improve your weapon skill. Pay attention, this is what you need to do today.¡±


    Once again the impersonal, dispassionate voice echoed in his head.


    Custom Daily Training registered and accepted:


    -Defeat 12 pigmen without using more than 5% of your Rage Bar


    ¡°Question,¡± the barbarian said.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s a pigman?¡±


    ¡°They are like pigs, but also man, you know--¡±


    Soraya¡¯s scream cut her off.


    At once on full alert, the barbarian whipped around.


    There in front of the hut they had just passed, that very one whose roof he had trimmed with his axe, a creature was standing dumbly, looking slightly dazed in the sunlight.


    Pigman was a term far from literal to describe it. For the thing was certainly more pig than human despite its ability to stand upright: a large, flabby face with an ugly trout and big ears, a roundish body entirely naked, and hands that were more trotters than human digits, save for a crude thumb which allowed the creature to hold the shaft a of a stone-headed axe.


    As it had come out very near Jophiel and Soraya, there was a moment when the barbarian thought it was too late to prevent an attack. But Rania was already moving. The speed and reaction of a bodyguard. She closed in on the creature in a heartbeat, hurling herself in a tackle even as the stone axe raised. The thing¡¯s body was far too fat to maintain balance, its mental state as much caught in confusion as themselves, and so stumbled easily.


    Still, the foul beast was strong, fat limbs belying the inhuman strength. Very soon it recovered its footing. Even having inserted herself between the beast and Soraya, the maid could do little to block its retaliation. The pig thrust out its burly arms, sending her staggering like a fragile blade of grass in the wind.


    A wide opening.


    ¡°You¡¯re mine!¡± roared the barbarian, his battle axe already swinging before the creature could pick between Soraya and Rania to attack.


    The crude blade sank deep into the pig¡¯s skull, cleaving its brain in half. With a snorting whimper, the creature collapsed.


    ¡°One!¡± he said.


    And there would be many more.


    The noises just now had drawn the rest of the pigs out of hiding. But the more he looked at their sluggish and clumsy movements, the primitive tools they employed for weapons, the less he believed these were the original residence of this village, for these trotters could not have built the huts in which they dwelt.


    What had happened to the villagers, one could easily guess.


    Not that he cared. There were pig heads to be felled.


    Their number quickly swelled to the dozens, enraged by the slaying of their kind.


    With a loud snarl, the barbarian threatened them back. Even those dumb creatures would scruple before a greater and fiercer beast. Yet it would only be a matter of time before their advantage in number rendered the pigs the confidence to mount an attack.


    Meanwhile Rania covered the princess¡¯s retreat.


    The pale, dirty and flabby flesh of the pigs seemed to melt together, the loud shouts and squeals they made were like the disgusting sounds of one¡¯s bowel movement. The barbarian could not put a number on the mass of flesh anymore, only he knew there were too many for him to completely block their paths to Soraya. He had used the fact to taunt Rania before, but clearly the handmaid could not cope with just one of those creatures, let alone a horde or even several of them.


    The angel had either failed to calculate the risk or did not care at all for Soraya¡¯s safety.


    Though to be fair, it was on him for wanting to bring the young princess along.


    Amidst the noises and jumbled thoughts the barbarian was trying to block from his brain, a shrill voice pierced through.


    ¡°You oaf!¡± Jophiel cried, ¡°Get angry! 4 percent should be plenty for this lot. Activate your Rage bar!¡±


    ¡°Not now!¡± shouted he, ¡°I fear not the swine, but I have to stop them from getting to Soraya.¡±


    Foolishly thinking it could sneak in an attack while he was distracted, one of the nearest pigs lunged at Agravain with its stone axe. The might behind which could easily fall a tree, let alone crush human bones. And yet the barbarian seized the crude weapon with one hand, stopping the movement as easily as catching a feather midair. In the same breath he yanked it from the clumsy trotter, the next he carved the pig¡¯s skull in with its own weapon.


    Yet instead of wavering, the rest of the pigs saw this as the signal for a charge. Stone axes and spears were raised at once, and on they came in raving battle rage.


    The barbarian¡¯s well-being was the least of his concerns right now, for these things could prove a threat to his person, yet no amount of self-regeneration or improved strength could help him get to every single one of them in an instant.


    ¡°That¡¯s why--just do it! Didn¡¯t I tell you how your rage bar works, idiot!¡±


    She hadn¡¯t.


    Definitely hadn¡¯t.


    ¡°Fine!¡± The barbarian roared.


    His hand caught the nearest skull, in an instant pulverized it with a terrible grip.


    His wrath burst like a dam broken by all the infernal forces of hell.


    A battle cry with nothing human in its timbre escaped his trembling throat, signaling the commencement of an onslaught.


    In a wide arc he swung the bloody battle axe, revealing entrails and other disgusting contents in the pigs¡¯ foul bowels to the light of day. With each of his terrible strokes, several pigs at once met their demise, and their beastly squeals soon took on the tinge of driven panic and madness.


    Yet even this could not check the horde¡¯s advance. On they came and spilled over. Already the barbarian had noticed several making away beyond his weapon¡¯s reach, circling for the easier targets: the princess and the maid.


    Thoughts of what harm the filthy creatures could cause them, and not least his own powerlessness to prevent it, incited Agravain further.


    More devastatingly his axe fell upon his foes as he tried to cut a path out of their encirclement. Even then, one of the pigs made a reckless charge, disregarding its own safety while hurling itself into a headlong tackle. As the barbarian had just finished a wide swing, the tackle caught him off guard and reeling back.


    The foolhardy pig¡¯s tusk slashed at his skin and its teeth gnawed on his flesh.


    Snarling, Agravain dropped his axe, dug his hands into the pig¡¯s flanks and lifted it skyward.


    His arm and chest muscles bulged, and with a skin-crawling sound, he tore the pig in half.


    As putrid guts and blood rained upon him, the barbarian loosed an ominous roar like dark oaths from an ancient god across the village, shaking every bone and heart still beating in that forsaken place.


    The sight, the sounds, and the ever-mounting fear caused a devastating effect on the disorganized ranks of the pigs. The ones next to him were driven mad, while the peripheral ones froze in their path to the girls. Compelled both by primal fear and instinct, the creatures wheeled all at once from their previous directions, either charging for the veritable demon who had ascended in their midst, or fleeing as they had never fled before.


    The rest was a massacre.


    If Agravain had thought their flesh seemed to melt together before, when he was done, there was no way to tell where one ended and the other began. Flesh and limbs piled upon each other, entrails mixed, and headless bodies spasmed in a sea of blood.


    Turning from the nauseating battlefield, the barbarian scanned for the ones who had fled.


    But before he could take a step, the angel shouted for him to stop. ¡°That¡¯s enough!¡± She circled the mess, pushing Soraya along. The little princess was looking away from the black-red aftermath, paling and covering her nose from the stench rank to high heaven. Rania followed with her face set, eyes still glancing from side to side for any sudden danger.


    ¡°What?¡± he grunted, ¡°Is the five percent spent already?¡±


    ¡°Nah, I¡¯m glad you can still think about that though. But the job is done, overdone even. Have you noticed where the remaining ones are fleeing?¡±


    ¡°Deeper into the village,¡± he observed.


    Here and there the pigs were limping far ahead. There was a large hut in the center of the village, which seemed to be their ultimate destination.


    ¡°The swine rally for a stand,¡± Agravain grunted with disgust, ¡°yet desperation shall not avail them.¡±


    ¡°They are not half that intelligent,¡± Jophiel pointed out, ¡°no, they flock for protection. If I must guess, there¡¯s a big one in there, their chief probably.¡±


    ¡°So a boss?¡± Agravain picked up his discarded battle axe, by then had been dyed in foul pig blood. ¡°All the more reason to go all out.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± the angel insisted, ¡°your part is done. The boss is for her to deal with.¡± She nodded in Rania¡¯s direction.


    ¡°Her?¡±


    The girl had been clearly shaken, either by the terrible battle whose aftermath still assaulted all of their nostrils, or her almost failure to protect Soraya. Her face, though composed as ever, had taken on the faintest hint of doubt and uncertainty.


    The barbarian had a bad feeling about what to follow.

 013

    Frowning, Soraya looked on with doubt as her maid nodded grimly to the suggestion.


    Agravain rubbed her head, her face still pale after his battle with the pigs.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry too much,¡± he told her, ¡°I will come in if things look dire.¡±


    ¡°I trust you,¡± the princess hesitated, ¡°It¡¯s just that...¡±


    ¡°Only when she¡¯s near death, mind,¡± Jophiel said, swiping at her codex, a gesture that betrayed the real nature of the thing.


    The voice again rang in Agravain¡¯s head.


    Custom Daily Training completed:


    Bonus experience to Focus Attributes and Weapon Skills received.


    The bonus didn¡¯t even amount to one point to either attribute, talk about lame.


    According to the angel, since Soraya had the master ring, every minute change in his information was also broadcasted into her head. But the young princess was having a far bigger concern on her mind.


    ¡°She¡¯s joking right.¡± She glared at the angel¡¯s suggestion to allow her maid to be beaten near death.


    ¡°Ignore her,¡± he shrugged, ¡°I won¡¯t let that even come close to happening.¡±


    Oh his side, the maid crouched down, and from that position drew a dagger from the side of her boot.


    So she did bring one along, after all. But for what god-forsaken reasons she had not taken it out till now.


    Maybe she really wasn¡¯t confident in her skills with it.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. You don¡¯t have to worry about me,¡± she said.


    The tension in her voice hardly inspired confidence. The girl was clearly still shaken by her earlier failure to guard the princess.


    Their destination was the large hut at the village¡¯s center. Sounds of loud crashes and hurried shuffling of feet came from within, but so far none of the pig-like creatures had come out to confront them.


    Holding firmly the battle axe in his hand, Agravain gave the maid one last glance. He had the mind to overturn Jophiel¡¯s decision should he deem the girl too nervy for battle. But Rania¡¯s face was set.


    Her tightly pressed lips reminded Agravain of a certain fearsome woman in his old world.


    He wondered how much of this tenacity was innate and how much was thanks to her nature as a genie.


    He probably should have trashed Jophiel¡¯s notion of an emotionless genie by now. Rania¡¯s behaviors had been anything but rigid or robot-like.


    Guess it didn¡¯t matter.


    They entered the hut.


    Hut though the barbarian might call it, the interior was spacious, almost as large as the hall he had fought with the desert ogre. There were timber beams supporting its structure, and traces of furniture that seemed to have at one point served as a gathering place for the whole village. And it was rancid, only a degree less filthy than the aftermath of his last battle.


    The ground was strewn with dead pigs and those still barely alive in the pools of their own blood, clutching their mortal wounds. Those still mostly intact huddled together in a corner.


    In the middle of it all, a large pig stood.


    It was smaller than the desert ogre, but unlike that naked beast Agravain had fought, this one was clad in crude armor. Though to call the patchwork armor might be overstating it. Rather, it was a mass of leather, iron and rags sewed haphazardly together. Bones varied in origins and sizes hung clattering all over this incomprehensible get-up. Its limbs were larger than the other pigs, and its hands more closely resembled that of humans. In those, it clutched an oversized club, one wrought entirely from some dark metal and covered at the large end with studs. So large was the weapon it dwarfed even the burly creature, as long as a man and half again.


    As soon as his group entered the group, the chief of the pigs uttered a chain of gibberish. Whether the passionate speech was a curse in its language or mere beastly insanity, they would never know. Only madness would drive one to seek the futile understanding of such a species.


    And so they prepared at once for battle.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Go,¡± Agravain told the maid, ¡°I will take care of the small ones. Remember, there¡¯s no shame in calling for help.¡±


    Rania did not answer. She angled the dagger in front of her body, and charged in.


    It seemed hopeless no matter how he looked at it.


    The closer the maid approached the pig, the more her already small figure seemed to diminish, her knife infinitesimal compared to the metal club of staggering length.


    Yet the pig was slower, slower than Agravain and slower than its own underling, burdened as it was by the haphazard armor and the weapon that defied understanding.


    By the time its club had slammed heavily on the ground, the girl had dodged cleanly from its path, circled the creature, and lodged her knife in one of the armor¡¯s tiny gaps.


    When she yanked her knife out, blood came in a stream, yet this small wound did little to deter the sturdy beast. It turned around, swept the club in a large arc, almost grazing the maid as she rolled out of striking range.


    Again she came, again she dodged, and again she inserted the small blade through a chink in its armor. And too this wound could affect it little more than the last.


    As this repeated, on and on again, Agravain had finished dispatching the smaller pigs from life. Wiping the axe on a fallen pig¡¯s rags, the barbarian shook his head.


    ¡°This is pointless. Where¡¯s the point in carrying this on?¡± he asked the angel.


    ¡°It¡¯s tiring, yeah,¡± Jophiel nodded. ¡°I suppose she must have learned how powerless she is by now. That is a must for someone to start working their ass off to improve.¡±


    She had been keeping close behind him while pushing Soraya along. The princess never took her eyes off the desperate battle her maid was engaging in, her face fraught with anxiety.


    Even as they were talking, Rania seemed to have grown impatient. She rushed in with greater frequency, even when the club was still swinging in her direction.


    And finally, inevitably, she was caught. In an eager attempt for the pig¡¯s throat when its body had turned awkwardly, she failed to read the club¡¯s trajectory. The weapon smashed against her flank. And despite having recoiled in time to yield herself to the direction of the strike, the girl was sent flying.


    For any normal human that impact would heavily imply a few broken bones.


    Jophiel had never mentioned that genies possessed exceptional endurance. To his knowledge, they were only as fragile as humans.


    ¡°My turn now,¡± he said, switching to a two-handed grip of his battle axe.


    ¡°Seems so,¡± the angel said simply.


    With a roar he redirected the beast¡¯s aggression. It was easy enough, now that its other foe had fallen, and the one approaching by all appearances proved the more troublesome enemy.


    Yet it judged wrongly.


    Even as the two sized up each other before charging into maddened combat, a small figure dashed from the edge of Agravain¡¯s vision for the beast.


    Once more the maid came on, knife glinting in hand. As though the devastating hit had not winded her at all, Rania¡¯s eyes behind the askew glasses glinted with an intensity to rival that which Agravain had marked in her older colleague.


    This time she made a small leap, lunging at the beast who could not react in time.


    One hand clutching a metal piece jutting from the beast¡¯s armor, she hung her entire body on it, her other hand stabbing in rapid succession its throat, its chest, its face, its every space of exposed flesh. Not just a series of attacks enacted like her life depended on it, it was as though all of her reasons for being had been condensed into the sole purpose of killing this beast. She stabbed away without a care.


    Even then the beast refused to reel, it whirled and whirled in violent circles, trying to shake the girl off. And inevitably it did, no matter how determined she was to hold on. The force sent her staggering off a good distance.


    Covered in its own fresh blood, the chief of the pig charged at Rania on the ground, smashing its weapon wildly. Pained by her own unreserved effort thus far, Rania gave a cry and leaped away in the nick of time.


    To even the barbarian¡¯s amazement, the beast seemed even then undaunted by the many wounds it had suffered. Its loud squeal betrayed a wealth of vitality still ample in its sturdy body.


    ¡°Cease this foolishness,¡± Agravain cried, ¡°You are only wearing yourself out! Let me deal with it.¡±


    Somehow, the maid still found the time and a breath in her to answer him as she dashed from the pig¡¯s earth-shattering strike, ¡°Stay out!¡±


    ¡°Ah, the folly of youth,¡± Agravain sighed.


    ¡°You are not too old yourself, stop acting sagely,¡± Jophiel sneered, ¡°come here, I just found something curious.¡±


    ¡°Can you not multitask? That girl might be dead any second now.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯ll be fine. I think.¡±


    ¡°You think?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I think!¡± she hissed, ¡°just come!¡±


    By then the angel and Soraya had rounded to the back of the building. Soraya was watching the battle still, her hands wringing, paying no heed to the thing engrossing the angel at their feet.


    Warily, he strode over, an eye on the maid¡¯s life and death situation.


    It was a box Jophiel was digging into. One normal looking in all aspects, the sort a poor man would store his clothes, keepsakes, and other belongings precious only to himself within.


    ¡°You know what this is?¡± the angel asked.


    ¡°How the hell should I know? Some rags?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re one big spoilsport, you know that? This is something to be excited for, it¡¯s a boss chest.¡±


    ¡°So rewards you get from beating a boss?¡± he scratched his chin and eyed her with doubt. ¡°But that¡¯s after beating a boss, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Who cares!¡± she flipped the lid open unceremoniously, ¡°it¡¯s right there. And it¡¯s not like anyone¡¯s around to stop you from taking a peek.¡±


    ¡°You really have no dignity, do you? So much for your talk of respecting the aesthetic.¡±


    ¡°Shut up,¡± the angel ground her teeth, glaring, her voice grew dark. ¡°I will kill you.¡±


    ¡°Not like you can. All right, all right. So what¡¯s in there.¡±


    He crouched to examine the box¡¯s contents. There were some changes of clothes, a tiny pouch with a few coins within--hardly enough to purchase a decent meal at a respectable inn, some crude tools--chisels and hammer, and a pair of gauntlets.


    ¡°So this?¡± he picked up one of the gauntlets, the only thing remotely interesting within the chest. The steel article was bland looking, barren of any luxurious carvings or decorations. It could cover the wearer¡¯s wrist and back of hand but not fingers.


    A voice rang in his head.


    Item obtained:


    Gauntlets of Perseverance


    Rarity: Rare


    Quality: Superior


    Effect:


    +2 physical defense


    +1 magical defense


    Skill bonus:


    Prevail level 9


    ¡°Isn¡¯t this nice?¡± he said, slipping his hand in the gauntlet, ¡°but still, I don¡¯t see the rush that you have to call me over...¡±


    ¡°Who said anything about you?¡± the angel snapped. In one swift move, she snatched the gauntlet off of him. ¡°Call the maid over, these are for her!¡±

 014

    ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake! Just get over here already!¡± Agravain cried.


    As though to get at him on purpose, Rania persisted in her endless harassing of the pig like a fly, coming in and out to poke holes in its flesh to the creature¡¯s annoyance. Neither of them had betrayed the slightest sign of fatigue, and the chief of the pigmen only seemed to grow stronger as the fight dragged on.


    Indeed its squeals came in no lessening haste as it struck the earth rapidly, having already rendered the packed dirt floor full of craters with the enormous club. So far the maid had yet to be caught again. If the first hit had caused some damage to her it was not immediately visible. Her retreating and dodging and rushing in were no less nimble, if taken with far more caution now.


    Still, anyone could see it was a hopeless matchup. She would inevitably be hit again, if not now, then in an hour. And no matter how many times she poked the pig with her dagger the countless small wounds on its body would still fail to prove the slightest hindrance to its virile movement, let alone deciding the battle.


    Jophiel clicked her tongue. ¡°Fine, this is stupid. But we¡¯re out of options, get ready, Agravain.¡±


    ¡°Confound your ready, I¡¯m entering the fray!¡±


    She kicked his shin. ¡°I. Said. Get. Ready.¡±


    Even then, the pages of the floating codex were flipping fast. Abruptly, the angel jammed her fingers between the pages, it stopped dead. Agravain could see  the page of Rania¡¯s information before the angel took it from his sight. She shoved it at Soraya¡¯s face, her finger tracing a line on the page.


    ¡°You see this, princess?¡± she hastily pointed, ¡°drag this from here to here, just do it.¡±


    Though somewhat bewildered, the princess did as she was told.


    The gauntlets Jophiel had tossed back into the box disappeared.


    Shortly after, a surprised sound came from behind the barbarian.


    Next he looked, Rania had stopped in her tracks, her eyes staring at her arms surrounded in a strange light. When the light was gone her hands had been wrapped in those gauntlets.


    This absurd change took less than one second to happen. And yet that one second was more than enough.


    For the pig.


    Amazed by the unexplained phenomenon, Rania had come to a standstill--a deadly standstill in the middle of her enemy''s flurry of attacks. By the time she came to, it was too late. It hit her this time, crashing hard against her side, this strike way worse than the last.


    As before, she was sent flying, now she also hit her head against the hut¡¯s side, and there lay unmoving.


    With a loud curse, Agravain charged in. He hacked at the pig¡¯s makeshift armor, staggering it. At once it wheeled about, sending the club sideways as it had done with the maid.


    Caring not for such nonsense as dodging, he took the blow head-on. So it struck his flank. The terrible sound of ribs being broken echoed. Heedless of the sharp pain, the barbarian hooked a fist at the pig''s jaws. Hard was the pig¡¯s skull, yet harder was his fury, ejaculating a broken tusk from the beast¡¯s snout.


    As the pig staggered, the barbarian gripped his battle axe in both hands. But even as he raised his weapon for a downward swing, the creature retreated with fumbling feet, backing away.


    ¡°Coward!¡± cried he, ¡°to my best mercy, give thyself, pig! Be slaughtered, or sausage!¡±


    And thus enraged, he crouched down for a charge.


    ¡°No!¡± came a cry before he could.


    ¡°What now?¡± he grunted, glancing over his shoulder. There Rania stood on her wobbling feet.


    ¡°Move away! It¡¯s my foe!¡± Her voice was almost desperate.


    ¡°There¡¯s folly and there¡¯s crazy. You can¡¯t choke a chicken as you are, let alone a pig.¡±


    ¡°Are you deaf!¡±


    He turned to look at the stubborn girl now. She was wobbling, true, and her face was dripping with blood from the gash on her temple, one of her lenses was broken. Yet the intensity in those eyes had not flagged in the slightest way, only doubled.


    She barked a command that brooked no arguments, ¡°Away! I say!¡±


    And in that moment the amazed barbarian was sure of one thing: if he did not do as she said, the girl was fully intended to lunge at him also.


    ¡°Fine,¡± he shrugged, his rage deflated, ¡°who am I to steal a girl¡¯s prey, eh?¡±


    Nor had the pig been waiting for their little conversation to play out. Already it was charging at the barbarian, slamming earthward its devastating club.


    The barbarian leaped aside, raising his palm. Bewildered for a split second, the maid then struck his palm with her own.


    Tagging in, Rania.


    Once more into the fray.


    The two split before the pig entered their range.


    With a neat sidestep, Rania danced around the club that rocked the ground, an alacrity not of one having been battered for almost an hour.


    She ducked under the pig arm, thrust her gauntleted hand at its chest. The simple, unfancy strike sent a tremor across the beast¡¯s armor, rattling the loose bones attached to it. An understatement to say her attack this time was nothing like before. For the first time her opponent visibly reeled. The tremendous body that had been full of virility a second before now swayed with uncertainty. Blood frothed from the gurgling throat and out its slacked mouth,You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Still, life held on within the beast, it raised the club again. And again Rania dodged, in and out, only this time with far more effective attacking power.


    Meanwhile, the barbarian had returned to the others. Rubbing his healing ribs, he remarked, ¡°Never knew the girl could punch that well.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Jophiel pointed out, ¡°not all her. Can¡¯t you already guess it¡¯s thanks to her shiny new equipment?¡±


    ¡°So may one conclude. I¡¯m no expert when it comes to this gaming thing, but the stats don¡¯t have anything to do with boosting her damage, do they? It¡¯s all defensive bonuses.¡±


    ¡°Well, only to a noob,¡± the angel grinned, but then dropped it for a more neutral expression, ¡°though it¡¯s an often overlooked skill for most. You can even say that it is useless in most worthwhile cases.¡±


    ¡°That thing, Prevail?¡±


    ¡°What else? For traits with many levels of effects, nine is the maximum number. So the gauntlets gave her the maximum possible effect of that skill. As for the effect itself, it¡¯s quite simple. It boosts your various stats and attributes, namely, all that contributes to attacking, defending and evading related skills, in proportion with the amount of life you lose in combat.¡±


    ¡°So the more she¡¯s hurt, the stronger she gets?¡±


    ¡°To put simply, yes. But that¡¯s not all there is to it. Look, the fight¡¯s ending.¡±


    By then the pigman chief had suffered no less than a dozen blows from Rania¡¯s fists. It was in a miserable state, but the maid was not all that better. She too had taken another blow and was by then stumbling along, her fists moving more firmly than her feet.


    For all the help the gauntlets had rendered her, it hadn¡¯t changed the fact that she had taken too much damage. Even now, a lucky hit from the pig could decide the fight in its favor.


    But as Jophiel said, it was time the fight was ending.


    Rania¡¯s finisher was a full-throttle blow that finally carved in the beast¡¯s much-dented skull.


    It toppled heavily, and she along with it.


    The girl went on her knees, laboring her breaths and shaking from the tremendous exertion and the pains in her bruised body.


    ¡°That¡¯s not all there is to it,¡± Jophiel repeated as she strove over along with the barbarian. ¡°Heck, looks like the girl synergizes too well with this trait. I think I just changed my mind on how to build her. A bit. Still,¡± she added, ¡°the purpose of this training session was to teach her how powerless she is against a real foe, then she just went and beat the boss mostly on her own. Talk about a plan derailed!¡±


    They went over to check on the maid.


    She wasn¡¯t unscathed, of course, but she would live. And recover fast, Jophiel added, genies don¡¯t have a particularly sturdy constitution compared to humans, but they recover faster from injuries, part of why intense training regimens work so well with them compared to normal humans who need more recovery time.


    ¡°Can you stand?¡± Agravain asked.


    Making no effort to rise, the girl sat there. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said.


    ¡°Are you all right, Rania?¡± asked Soraya, her face fraught with concerns and anxiety. Also partly crumbled because of the smell.


    ¡°Not well, I think,¡± Rania said, still casting her face dejectedly to the dirt floor. ¡°You¡¯re right, I¡¯m weak and useless. In this state, I¡¯m no help to you, Soraya.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t say that now.¡± The princess struggled to lean her body forward, then she patted the maid¡¯s head, whose hair was caked with blood and dirt. ¡°Even if you are little help, which you aren¡¯t, a crippled girl needs all the help she can get, you know.¡±


    ¡°You must not say that!¡± the handmaid lifted her head at last, on her face a pained expression. ¡°Don¡¯t talk about yourself like that!¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s true,¡± Soraya was unfazed, ¡°What¡¯s true is true, if you call yourself useless, then what the heck am I?¡±


    Ah right, Agravain was thinking, that¡¯s the kind of girl she was.


    ¡°Still,¡± Jophiel broke in, ¡°the cute maid isn¡¯t wrong. In her current state she is useless.¡±


    ¡°Very helpful, Jophiel,¡± the barbarian grunted.


    ¡°What¡¯s true is true,¡± the angel echoed Soraya¡¯s words. She crouched down to the maid¡¯s eye level, grinning. ¡°But I can help you become strong. See that dumb thing of a man over there? I can help you become as strong as he is now, but it will take a while. And you will have to listen to what I say, okay? And that means pulling out of a fight when I say so, and also fighting the way I want you to. So basically, follow my words just like that barbarian. I can¡¯t guarantee you will ever become as strong as him, but I can guarantee that you will one day be looking at beasts like the one over there as small fry. How about it?¡±


    She looked at the angel, and then Soraya. She nodded, ¡°The princess trusts you, so what can I say?¡± Although she didn¡¯t look as resigned as her words implied. Her eyes wandered to the gauntlets on her arms. She could guess the only reason they were there in the first place.


    ¡°Good girl!¡± Jophiel cheered, then touched the ring on the maid¡¯s finger, ¡°For your first taste of power. Don¡¯t be alarmed, you hear?¡±


    That familiar voice again rang in Agravain¡¯s head just as she did.


    Alert: Changes in an ally¡¯s abilities!


    Achievement unlocked: Boss Brutalizer


    Trait developed: Pugilist


    Reward from skill level milestones:


    +2 points of magical and physical defense (Unarmed Weapon skill level 5)


    Latent Trait Manifested: Tenacious Level 1


    +10% bonus to the effects of the skill Prevail


    +2% bonus to the effects of all defensive skills


    +5% chance to nullify a lethal attack


    As the maid¡¯s expression changed, Agravain knew she was listening to the same thing in her head.


    ¡°There,¡± Jophiel said, ¡°Better to have you understand the changes in your abilities, lest you get caught off guard again like back then. I will explain everything later, or try to, so don¡¯t worry too much if you don¡¯t get a thing.¡±


    Then the angel stretched and yawned. ¡°And I guess that was a day¡¯s work done. Let''s get out of this place, the smell is getting unbearable.¡±


    The rest unanimously agreed.


    Just once, however, on their way out, Agravain stopped next to the corpse of the pigman chief.


    He picked up the enormous club. Far heavier it was than the battle-axe, yet not so heavy he could not swing it with some effort.


    ¡°Hey, Jophiel, how do I do that thingy?¡±


    ¡°What thingy? Say clearly. Are you stupid?¡±


    ¡°As if you ever said anything clearly. I mean that thing you do so that voice reads out the information of a thingy. That thingy.¡±


    ¡°You really have a way with words, don¡¯t you?¡± With a sigh she flipped open the codex and gave it a few taps.


    Item obtained:


    Pigman¡¯s Metal Club


    Rarity: Uncommon


    Quality: Awful


    Enchanted item effects:


    +8 melee damage


    -5 mobility


    ¡°Even I know this thing is shitty,¡± he grumbled.


    Next, he tried with the battle axe he had taken from the store of the cutthroats.


    Steel Battle Axe


    Rarity: Common


    Quality: Mediocre


    Effects:


    +4 melee damage


    -1 balance


    ¡°Like seriously, why only I get the terrible stuff? Even I want nice things, you know.¡±


    ¡°There, there,¡± Jophiel patted his back as she pushed Soraya¡¯s chair by, for once appearing genuinely sympathetic. ¡°I get how you feel. I totally do. But have patience, okay? Leave the good equipment to the cute maid for now, since even with the best gear you will still have to carry her for a long time.¡±


    ¡°Hm,¡± he grumbled, ¡°I will just check all the weapons we brought along. One of them is bound to have some special qualities.¡±


    ¡°Eh? I seriously doubt that,¡± the angel shrugged, ¡°You rarely find anything of better grades than Mediocre and Common in a generic store. But you do you. You¡¯ll find out soon enough.¡±


    But she was wrong. All of them were wrong.


    There were no weapons to check.


    For when they came out of the forest, there was something remarkably wrong.


    The wagon and the horses were gone.


    And with them, the bard.

 015

    Agravain broke from the river¡¯s surface, his bulky body dripping with water after an intense rubbing session. Like a male underwear model with all the muscles but none of the smirking charm.


    As he climbed the river bank, his face was dark.


    Soraya by then was still drying her hair in the afternoon sun, attended by her maid. Jophiel was lounging on the grass, perusing her codex.


    There was nothing to do. They were in a bind.


    No horses, no other means of transportation, and a good distance from the closest human settlement.


    No food.


    Plenty of wrath.


    ¡°By the dark binding river,¡± the barbarian roared, ¡°I shall crush that bard¡¯s skull to ash then scatter it to the seven seas!¡±


    ¡°There are more than seven seas in this world,¡± the angel remarked lazily.


    ¡°You act like it¡¯s someone else¡¯s problem!¡± he hissed, ¡°can¡¯t you use your magic to teleport us to a town?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not that convenient! What am I, a genie?¡±


    Not that genies in this world were that convenient either.


    They were just modified humans.


    Rania seemed unperturbed enough. After all, without the pressing need for human sustenance, she would be able to hold on for a night in the wilds. But such was not the case for the barbarian, and most assuredly not for Soraya.


    Or rather, Agravain did not worry about himself as much as for the young princess. His body right now should be able to endure a rough working day without eating or resting. But a long journey on the rickety wheels of her chair would wear any young girl out, much more so one already fragile and sickly.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you go hunting or something?¡± the angel pointed out, ¡°There¡¯s animals in the forest, you know, games and critters. Then we can camp around for the night.¡±


    ¡°Are you stupid?¡±


    ¡°Rude!¡±


    Not one of them possessed the skills to survive in the wild. A princess was out of the question. A chambermaid also.


    ¡°Hm?¡± Soraya seemed surprised, ¡°I totally expect you to just run off and return with a deer over your shoulder, Agravain, then skin and cook it in no time flat!¡±


    True, in all appearances, Agravain seemed a rough-living barbarian who was used to living off the land. Or that should be the right amount of expectation for someone with his looks. But nothing could be further from the truth. Under the hood he was still Donovan MacAeda, the now-not-so-genius English Professor. Being born in the purple, he had never once in his life had to worry about making ends meet, let alone learning skills to survive in the wilds. Such was the simplicity of the modern world when you are rich and have a personal chef in your house.


    Not so when you are dumb, unskilled, and poor in an industrialized world.


    Though to be fair being stranded away from civilization is terrible even back on earth.


    But there was no way around it.


    So they walked.


    Rania handled herself well. The angel mostly floated along, having forgone all pretension for realism now that Rania had been clued in on her nature. And though fatigue set into her faster than the rest, Soraya was mostly sitting in her chair as the barbarian pushed it along. Even without the skills of a true primitive man, Agravain had the stamina of one and some. So it was not all bad.


    For the princess and the barbarian who were both accustomed to city life, the views along the way provide just enough distraction from the boredom of walking. They passed small hillocks and winding rivers, strange birds and funny clouds.


    And as they walked the barbarian got a strange feeling that was not just the wonder of a city man surrounded by nature. For there was indeed a strangeness not at all like the quaint charm conveyed in wildlife magazines or documentaries of his old world.


    It was difficult to explain, though no doubt in his past life Agravain would have been able to articulate it far better. As though life was filled to the brims in every stone and every leaf. That the trees seemed greener, the rivers ran wilder, the birds sang more freely. He wondered if it was some kind of magic flowing freely in nature. A power in everything and anything waiting to be unleashed.


    To make a simple, tentative comparison, the world he used to live in felt dead.


    And the rumbles of automobiles, the endless white noises of communication devices were but chemical hissings of a bloated corpse. Listless. Desolated. Abandoned.


    Forsaken.


    No wonder he had never met an angel there.


    ¡°It sounds like, what do they call it?¡± Soraya put a finger on her lips, ¡°Ah, like in those post-apocalyptic novels!¡±


    So that genre existed in this world too. Who could have guessed?


    ¡°Is that why you are always so angry and fearsome, Agravain? Are people in your world all like that?¡± the princess asked.


    ¡°Not really,¡± he said, ¡°Apparently, even by my world¡¯s standards I had what they called anger issues.¡±If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Such idle talks, so on and so forth.


    Eventually, as the sun sank past the horizon, the terrains around them flattened into vast farmlands.


    In the dying light of sunset a quaint fishing town appeared. Lying on the main road to the capital and next to a bountiful river, it was a prospering place, the road packed with travelers and well-fed cattle. The closer they got to the crossroad just outside the town, the more travelers they passed, catching eyes for the curiosity of each of them: a prim and proper maid, a giant of a man carrying an oversized club on his shoulder, a girl in a wheelchair. At least Jophiel had stopped floating. It was not too long a walk, all things considered. Not as long as he had expected. And the barbarian reckoned he could have made it in half the time if not out of a consideration for Soraya.


    It was already late when they reached the town, but not so late that the nearest tavern was deserted of patron.


    ¡°We have a problem,¡± just as they reached the door and the prospect of a warm meal and long rest in a soft bed was beginning to fill Agravain¡¯s thoughts, Rania said.


    ¡°What kind?¡± the barbarian grunted. In his hand that wasn¡¯t handling Soraya¡¯s wheelchair was the enormous club he had looted from the pigman chief. Whatever problem the maid was speaking of likely had nothing to do with wandering thugs seeking trouble in his vicinity.


    She said grimly, ¡°We have no money. Only this.¡± She dangled the little pouch they had found in the box back then, the one from which they had found the pair of gauntlets she was now wearing. ¡°This much can only buy us the meal for one person,¡± she added. Devastatingly.


    ¡°By the dark binding river,¡± he grumbled, ¡°I shall make that bard¡¯s meat into soup if I ever get my hand on him.¡±


    Without choice. The group pushed into the tavern, found a table, and ordered a meal for one.


    Contrary to expectation (or quite within the common kind of expectation), there wasn¡¯t a surprisingly kind man or woman who took pity on a disabled girl and her friends and offered to treat them.


    No such wholesome development, since it was a rather large establishment, bustling with colorful travelers and local folk alike. Even their group hardly stood out.


    Hardly anyone paid them a second look.


    The only silver lining was that none of them wanted to draw attention to themselves. Two seeming adults and two teenagers sat at a table around a meager bowl of cold soup and a loaf of hard bread.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m hungry,¡± the shameless angel was first to speak.


    ¡°No, you don¡¯t,¡± the barbarian grumbled, ¡°you are a freaking angel. Why on earth would you be hungry?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t help that I made a habit of having three meals a day, ok?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡± He pushed the bowl towards Soraya. ¡°The princess is the only normal human here so she should eat. No argument. Rania is a genie so she can live without food for a day.¡±


    The maid nodded wholeheartedly, for all that she seemed no less miserable than the whining angel. Even putting her broken glasses and tattered attire aside, she was looking haggard after the hard-fought battle and the long walk. He wasn¡¯t sure if having a faster recovery speed meant the maid had to consume a bigger amount of nutriment or what, but she sure looked like she could do with some food. But still, she was stubborn.


    ¡°Of course,¡± she insisted under Soraya¡¯s pressing look of pity, ¡°I¡¯m not hungry.¡± She coughed, then repeated, ¡°I¡¯m not hungry,¡± louder this time to override the growling echoing from her stomach. It would have been funny if it wasn¡¯t so pathetic.


    With a sigh, Soraya dipped her spoon into the soup then took a sip. Then sighing again, she put it down. ¡°I can¡¯t do this after all. I just can¡¯t eat while you all are hungry. Feeling like shit, I think that¡¯s what you call it.¡±


    ¡°Language, princess.¡±


    ¡°Oh gosh!¡± the angel cried, ¡°this is why you are the cutest angel!¡±


    The barbarian barred her reaching hands with a burly arm. ¡°How shameless can you be? You are the one who needs to eat the least of us. If you can¡¯t bear it, Soraya, share it with Rania. But not this stupid angel.¡±


    ¡°Rude! Rude! Rude!¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you go steal from an honest man then,¡± he persisted, ¡°weren¡¯t you fairly open to the idea of banditry or something?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t! I¡¯m limited in what I can do physically in the mortal realm!¡±


    ¡°Then don¡¯t eat either! What happened to the notion of earning your daily bread.¡±


    Very, very reluctantly, the maid broke a bit of hard bread to put into her mouth.


    ¡°You too, Agravain,¡± Soraya was not satisfied, she could be stubborn with the most stupid things. ¡°You eat something too.¡± She pushed the bowl his way.


    ¡°What do you think I am? I¡¯m no fallen angel or a young growing girl. I¡¯m not hungry,¡± he said, ¡°I¡¯m not hungry,¡± he repeated, trying in vain to hide the thunderous growling of his stomach.


    The princess was nothing but persistent. In times like these she almost always ended up having her way. And he was reminded how shameless his sister could be when she beckoned a tavern maid over to ask for three more spoons.


    One bowl of soup, four spoons.


    ¡°Are you sure this is alright?¡± even the angel was taken aback by the ridiculous setup.


    ¡°Why are you backing out now,¡± the barbarian growled, already annoyed by the look the servant had thrown their way, ¡°Just all dig in! And forget the shame, I guess. Hell, one night of near empty stomach won¡¯t kill anyone, not even a young girl!¡±


    So he dipped his spoon in, and the other quietly followed.


    ¡°Still,¡± Soraya said as she waited for her turn, ¡°I guess tomorrow we¡¯ll have to return to Eisherat. Not like we can continue this way without money.¡±


    ¡°Life sure is inconvenient without cash,¡± the barbarian said.


    ¡°What a line to be heard from a barbarian, eh?¡±


    The angel was toying with her codex again as she dipped her spoon lazily in the almost emptied bowl. Not that Agravain expected any table manner from her, but still, he found the sight of her to be exceedingly irritating.


    Not that she cared. Jophiel only looked up when suddenly a chorus of chatters and giggles came through the door. ¡°Oh, cute girls!¡±


    ¡°What a line to be heard from an angel, eh.¡± the barbarian grumbled.


    There was indeed a group of around a dozen or so young girls entering the tavern, which, unlike Argravain¡¯s group, seemed to be an exotic sight even for the locals of this heavily trafficked town. All eyes turned to them. Even the taciturn Rania turned to the source of the commotion.


    Those girls were clad in garments strange to the land: long fitting gowns of smooth austere black, but doubtless of rich material. Whereas the people Agravain had encountered thus far in this land all had brown to black hair, these girls¡¯ were of varied hues: blonde, platinum, red and blue-black. Although each possessed their own individual charms, one stood out from the rest, making herself the center of attention. In addition to the same gown as the rest, she fashioned herself colorfully with a red cloak, an elaborate hairstyle with a myriad of silky curls, the likes of which would be hell to maintain without a salon always at the ready, or the kind of treatments only nobles in this country could afford.


    It was this woman who stopped dead in her tracks when she spotted them. There was the look of someone seeing a celebrity in the midst of commoners.


    ¡°Hey, it¡¯s you! Wait, is it really you?¡± she said, pointing at Agravain¡¯s group.


    Perhaps he had been too optimistic to hope they would be able to conceal Soraya¡¯s identity, having only gone so many miles away from the capital.


    ¡°Someone you know, Soraya?¡± he asked.


    She frowned deeply. ¡°I¡¯m... not sure. I don¡¯t think I have met her before.¡±


    Even stranger was the way the peculiar woman strode towards them. It wasn¡¯t a show of reverence towards a country¡¯s princess. As she walked, jewelry of colorful gems clattered all over her body like a show of wealth. Once she had made the short trip to their table, she stood with her hands firmly on her hips, studying each of them, and then the empty bowl of soup with four spoons stuck in it. And an angel burying her head under the codex.


    ¡°Michael¡¯s sake, this is just preposterous! Deary me, I, not even I can predict this!¡± the woman cried, mouth aghast, ¡°You just manage to plunder my opinion of you every time we see each other, Jophiel!¡±

 016

    ¡°She¡¯s a friend of yours?¡± Agravain asked with his eyebrow arching as high as could.


    ¡°Friend my ass,¡± the angel whined with a curse, and despite the rude remark still hiding under the cover of her codex.


    ¡°Well, yeah,¡± the stranger cocked her head, endlessly bemused by the spiteful greetings, ¡°I also wouldn¡¯t say friends exactly. Not least because I might catch your poverty else! But deary me indeed, you never fail to impress me with ever new lows, Jophiel!¡±


    Sure it was a miserable sight. Even for an uncouth barbarian, in appearances, huddling four heads together over a single bowl of soup was embarrassing. In fact he would rather have been caught feasting on a raw, uncooked animal like a caveman. That would at least have fit the so-called aesthetic of a barbarian better.


    But that wasn¡¯t what was important here.


    ¡°But, um,¡± Soraya raised her voice, ¡°Miss, if you aren¡¯t Jophiel¡¯s friend then what¡¯s your relationship with her exactly.¡±


    At once the woman sized the princess up. As though her rather polite inquiry was a challenge. Her demeanor, while casual at first when she called out Jophiel, suddenly turned composed. For the first time, her demeanor matched her appearance, hinting at her identity as someone of status, or at least well-used to polite society, much like her companions. The group of young girls were watching intently from their own tables, silent in rapt attention as though waiting for a signal from the woman.


    ¡°Well,¡± the woman answered in a grave tone, leaving no possible mistake that she was joking, ¡°you can say we are enemies. Or to be precise, we are archrivals.¡±


    ¡°Rivals my ass,¡± again Jophiel mumbled. At long last she emerged from below the codex, slamming it on the table, but still averting her eyes, ¡°I don¡¯t remember ever taking you on as my rival, Hanael. You proclaimed it yourself.¡±


    ¡°Oh, excuse you!¡± Hanael drew up her voice, ¡°Not that I¡¯m extra proud to be calling someone in your current state a rival, if anything...¡± With a great sigh heaving from her chest, the woman dropped uninvited to the chair next to Rania, ¡°...and to think I made all that haste to this country, now I can¡¯t even muster up the will for a fight. You sure know how to ruin the mood at all the wrong times, don¡¯t you? Naw, It¡¯s so pitiable I almost want to cry.¡±


    ¡°At least introduce yourself if you¡¯re going to sit down,¡± Agravain grumbled. ¡°Are you an angel like that thing over there or what?¡±


    That much seemed obvious enough, he couldn¡¯t guess any other reason for someone to seek a fight with an angel. It could only be for the Mundane Egg. And thus, their enemy.


    ¡°Yes,¡± she said, shrugging, ¡°Hanael is my name, well met. Archangel of the Grand Quest assigned to Player Character #4. For that matter...¡± She turned to the group of young girls and raised her voice to a ringing, clear pitch, ¡°Maria, Ophelia, over here! And order some food by, I might catch these poor sods¡¯ misery else.¡±


    The two who were named rose obediently at her command. The one leading the way was tall, her hair golden as sunlight reached to her waist, yet her expression was anything but a ray of sunny. She introduced herself as Ophelia.


    The other one was unassuming in comparison, far less gloomy for starters. With short hair and a sheepish look, a face full of freckles, she was every bit the antithesis of her companion¡¯s existence. Like an easily frightened small animal, she introduced herself as Maria. It didn¡¯t take a genius to guess which one was the Summoner and which the Player Character. And as the girl stole glances at Agravain he knew she was of the same impression.


    ¡°Nice to meet you,¡± Maria was the first to open up. She extended a hand towards Agravain, ¡°Could it be we are in the same line of work?¡±


    Weird way to introduce herself. Still, Agravain took her hand. He had expected a more violent first meeting with his competition, judging from Jophiel¡¯s general hostility towards other Players.


    ¡°Are you also summoned over?¡± he asked conversationally, ¡°it¡¯s not even a few days, is it? Must have been hard.¡±


    ¡°Tell me about it!¡± the girl beamed, the barbarian¡¯s casual manner having lifted heavy pressure from her shoulders. She must also have anticipated the same thing as he had from a competitor, that is, an enemy baying for her blood from the get-go.


    She had a round, if normal face, blink and you miss it in a crowd. Credit where credit''s due, she was trying her best to appear friendly. And despite a lingering sheepish look about her as she stole glances at her companion, she appeared the more approachable of the two. ¡°It¡¯s been one confusing event after the last. I¡¯m glad I¡¯m not the only one overwhelmed here.¡±


    ¡°I actually don¡¯t mind.¡± Agravain shrugged. ¡°But we¡¯ve only been hanging around these parts. Did you really travel here from another country?¡±


    Maria nodded, ¡°We came on a ship through--¡±


    ¡°Maria!¡± the other girl, Ophelia raised her voice, while giving Agravain a distant look. For someone with so soft and gentle a voice, her reprimand was clear and precise. ¡°I beg your pardon, Sir Agravain, I am given to understand that we are, by definition, enemies. Is it really prudent to treat with each other so casually?¡±


    Her excessive sternness in a way reminded Agravain of his mother, only lacking in venom and overwhelming intimidation.


    ¡°Aww, it¡¯s fine,¡± Hanael dismissed lazily with a wave of her hand. At the same time of the gesture, she smoothly shifted her body to allow space for the servants bearing hearty dishes to their table. All the grace Jophiel lacked she displayed in abundance.


    And they say only humans are born unequal.


    Now nudging a dish towards Soraya with a smile, the angel said, ¡°It¡¯s not like a bit of chatting can hurt. Knowing Jophiel, she can dig up those useless stuff herself if she wants. Just don¡¯t reveal too much about our abilities.¡± She turned to the young princess, ¡°So, what about you? What do you want so bad that you would pursue the Mundane Egg for?¡±


    ¡°Nothing much, really.¡± Soraya stole a brief glance at the still-pouting Jophiel. Then having taken her silence as permission to speak freely, she went on, ¡°My older sister is the one who¡¯s after it. I just want to see her again.¡±


    ¡°Oh, is that just it? Then you don¡¯t really need the Egg so long as you can find your sister?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s about it,¡± the barbarian said.


    ¡°Yeah, right,¡± Hanael snickered, looking anything but buying it at face value. ¡°I have seen that stuff before.¡± She shrugged. ¡°Well, I have seen a lot, to be sure. Nothing surprises me anymore.¡±


    Then the angel shifted her gaze to Rania. The maid naturally had not uttered a word. Instead, she was attending to Soraya with usual care, removing shells from the shrimps before moving them to the princess¡¯s bowls like a mother bird.


    Hanael gave her fellow angel a sidelong look. ¡°Chatting is fine, yes. But is it a good idea to allow that girl to listen? She¡¯s not a party member, right?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Jophiel grumbled, leering at the food. For how shameless she had appeared before to share in a meager meal with a human, she was scrupling now from touching the food offered by her bitter rival. ¡°She¡¯s one actually, and I already told her about the quest.¡±


    ¡°Oh? No freaking out or anything? I don¡¯t even tell party members most things if I could help it. I find humans better motivated when they¡¯re left mostly in the dark. But you do you. Still a surprise that you would build a party member this early into the game--now that¡¯s unlike you.¡±


    ¡°The glass-wearing maid is prime material.¡± Jophiel was still taciturn, but had at last straightened up to appear an equal to her rival. ¡°Also, don¡¯t lump me together with the likes of you. I don¡¯t have a particular game plan I religiously follow every time. I only do what is optimal--Ugh!¡±


    ¡°Just eat, for Michael¡¯s sake!¡± Hanael rolled her eyes, shoving a dish her rival¡¯s way in exasperation. ¡°Stop eyeing it like that! You can pay me back later!¡±


    ¡°Ugh, fine. If you insist.¡± So she said reluctantly, but it did not take long for her to start digging in earnestly.


    The general mood was friendly thanks to Hanael¡¯s easy-going nature. And though the dour manner of Maria¡¯s summoner still dampened the mood, it was long before everyone else at the table began to relax. Even Rania seemed to have dropped her guard a slightly bit as the conversation between the angels went on.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    ¡°But even if you say that,¡± Hanael quickly returned to the previous topic, ¡°you do have a playstyle you stick to, Jophiel, whether you like to admit it or not. You do certain things the same way all the time. I would know. Like, knowing you, I¡¯m sure you delegated the running of your information network as soon as you could hand out the rings, yeah?¡±


    ¡°So what?¡± Jophiel was stung, ¡°I found a couple of capable stewards who could do the job. Do you expect me to sit around running a business, heck, even a country, like you, while neglecting my Player Character? No, shut up, don¡¯t even argue. The way you do it is just ridiculous.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m arguing. And that¡¯s just what I¡¯m saying,¡± Hanael sighed, ¡°There¡¯s delegating certain small tasks, and there¡¯s neglecting it altogether. You refuse to make use of every tool at your disposal and instead focus everything on your Player Character. That¡¯s what you call a one-tracked game plan. And unless your name is Raguel, every one of us has our preferred approach. Nothing wrong with that, so don¡¯t be so defensive. Just as I like to build wide, you like to build tall. We both are just on the opposite sides of the spectrum.¡±


    ¡°Meh, worthless terms,¡± she spat, ¡°I do what¡¯s optimal, as I said, and that¡¯s focusing all my time and energy on what really matters. Tall or wide my ass.¡±


    ¡°Optimal? You? Now you¡¯re just making fun of yourself.¡±


    ¡°My ass, I say, my ass!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re being uncouth, Jophiel,¡± the barbarian interrupted her mounting tantrum, ¡°But what are you two talking about? What do tall and wide mean?¡±


    ¡°Just terms,¡± Hanael said, ¡°Jophiel likes to focus her resources in one place: her main character or a very small party, so it¡¯s like constructing a tall building, focusing every living space in one horizontal area. You get me? On the contrary, I like to spread my resources, building networks, structural powers and task forces scattered around to spring for rumors of the Egg as soon as there¡¯s the slightest sign of it.¡± She leaned back on her chair, looking over her shoulder and gesturing towards the girls she had brought along. ¡°See them? They are just this one task force I picked out for the sole purpose of accompanying Maria. Naturally there are many more moving parts under my command, even now my net is cast wide across the world in search of the Egg. And as I get even more rings, they shall grow even more expansive and elaborate.¡±


    ¡°You did all this in three days?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s her thing,¡± Jophiel said after downing a tankard and slamming it on the table with a tad too much force behind it, grumping and glaring all the while. ¡°She prepares a detailed plan prior to the competition and then speedruns it out of the gate to catch other angels off guard. Why else do you think she sought me out so early if not for such a shameless plan?¡±


    The other angel was beaming, taking it as a compliment in spite of Jophiel¡¯s plain tone for the contrary. ¡°Mind, not three days,¡± she said, endlessly proud of her own accomplishment, ¡°just one, the other one and a half were spent traveling here. Though I must admit, I never expected to run into you guys so soon.¡±


    ¡°One day? In one day you established a worldwide army?¡± Even the barbarian was impressed by this mathematically impossible feat.


    ¡°It was quite a sight,¡± Maria finally wedged into the conversation. ¡°She popped out, Hanael I mean, then together with her we stormed the Council of High Priests with a bang. Positively unnerving stuff. First we unearthed some long lost relics hidden in the crypt of an ancient lord. Then she went on to solve all the material and spiritual problems that had been plaguing the country for decades, though for that one she used me as her mouthpiece and only showed up surrounded by divine light at the end. Then arguing against the theologians, she pointed out passages in the holy book that prophesied her advent, before kicking off the quest to recover a religious artifact. The entire country turned upside down in a little more than half a day! I think everyone was equally confused and dazzled at the same time.¡±


    ¡°Yup, aren¡¯t I amazing?¡±


    ¡°I concur,¡± the barbarian duly nodded, ¡°quite so. At least several magnitudes more amazing than that thing there who does nothing but whine about stats all day.¡±


    ¡°Rude! Rude! Rude!¡± Jophiel cried, ¡°Is this because I gave the gauntlets to Rania instead of you, you traitor!¡±


    ¡°What are you gonna do if I say yes?¡± the barbarian growled.


    The tantrum aside, a more constructive conversation was going on on the other side of the table. Soraya was asking the human pair for their reason to seek the Egg.


    Maria turned shyly to her summoner. ¡°Well, I know it¡¯s unfair after you have told us your story, but ours is, you know... a bit personal. It¡¯s not something we can just...¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Ophelia said coldly. The grave woman met the princess¡¯s eyes squarely, and though older, she seemed to regard her as an equal, perhaps on grounds of being fellow summoners. ¡°Your request is not unreasonable, princess. It¡¯s only fair that I answer with my reason in kind, the gravity of it matters not. And I trust Hanael¡¯s judgment that it¡¯ll do no harm to our cause.¡±


    ¡°Ugh,¡± Soraya¡¯s curiosity was immediately put out by the serious turn, ¡°You don¡¯t have to if it¡¯s that serious.¡± It was obvious she had expected a more light-hearted exchange, or at the very least a reason as casual as wanting to see a family member again.


    ¡°I¡¯m saying it¡¯s fine,¡± Ophelia insisted. ¡°The official reason for this trip is that I, the High Priestess appointed by the Chosen One, was the one selected to restore the Mundane Egg to the Churches.¡±


    ¡°And the not-so-official reason?¡± Agravain inquired in Soraya¡¯s stead.


    Looking at the solemn girl, one would think she rarely did anything improper or for her own selfish desire. The kind who thinks what is good for others is good for herself.


    Selflessness, or just plain disregard for herself.


    ¡°My fiance,¡± Ophelia said, ¡°I want to bring him back to life.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s dead?¡± Soraya couldn¡¯t help it. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry for putting it so bluntly, that must have been quite sad.¡±


    Her even tone betrayed not the slightest sorrow of a grieving maiden for a dead lover.


    ¡°It¡¯s sad when someone dies, no matter who it is. But this matter is greater than my personal feelings. Do you know of our Theocracy?¡±


    ¡°Judging from your attire. It could only be Rheda. It¡¯s governed by two separated churches, I think.¡±


    Ophelia nodded in approval of Soraya¡¯s geopolitical knowledge.


    ¡°The two churches were once of the same religion, but a schism broke it apart. I shall spare you the dogmatic differences between the two. But the heart of the matter is that, I am a High Priestess and heir to the See of the Ordinance Church. While my fiance was the heir to the See of the Mundane Church.¡±


    ¡°So it was a political marriage?¡± Agravain asked.


    It was Hanael who answered, ¡°So it was supposed to be. Then the guy went and got himself killed, rather, assassinated. The marriage was naturally problematic, for whoever controls the two Churches effectively controls the Theocracy of Rheda. Parties of vested interests were naturally displeased to see so much power to be soon concentrated in the hands of those two¡¯s children.¡±


    Soraya thought over this a while, then put a finger to her lips, musing, ¡°Not to be mean to the guy or anything... But wouldn¡¯t it be simpler, if you ever obtain the Egg, that is, to simply mend that schism with magic, rather than restoring a person from death to life and go through the marriage for the same outcome?¡±


    ¡°Oops,¡± Hanael let out an awkward laugh, ¡°You poke at a touchy subject, girl.¡±


    Ophelia¡¯s already thin pretension for friendliness was torn apart as she drew her voice up. ¡°And What on earth do you think using magic in such a way would entail?¡±


    ¡°Ughhh,¡± Soraya seemed to be in trouble.


    Although he felt quite sorry for the princess, Agravain could not do a thing for her in this instance. Ever since the conversation took a political turn he had lost all of his interest. Instead he wolfed down the food as he observed the growing tension between the summoners.


    Soraya took a while to consider the matter more carefully this time, then ventured, ¡°To reconcile two different religious views, I suppose the magic would have to alter the people¡¯s beliefs... It would be mind altering, or enslaving people¡¯s minds. I think.¡±


    ¡°That and some,¡± Ophelia said gravely. ¡°No more shall the beliefs be true, and no more would the general will of the believers matter, but instead bent by the power of one¡¯s subjective will. That would not just be the act of a tyrant, but the corruption of the devil. It is the act of robbing humans of their own minds, their last bastions of freedom. Whereas with a political reconciliation, generations of men and women would naturally amend their differences over time--and even should that prove irreconcilable, there would still be lasting peace under one ruler, instead of those with conflicting interests dictating. All over the world, there are no few empires where folk of clashing beliefs cohabit. It wouldn¡¯t be ideal, but still more desirable than endless conflicts or corrupting the general will.¡±


    A pang of silence fell over the table after the speech that was more earnest than necessary. And save for Soraya¡¯s mumbling of an agreement and the barbarian¡¯s loud chewing, no one uttered a sound.


    ¡°Well,¡± after washing the oily fish down his throat with a drink, the barbarian broke the silence, ¡°That¡¯s cool and all, but what about you, Maria? Is there a reason for you to follow your angel¡¯s whims? Or why do you want to help Ophelia.¡±


    Her hook, so to speak. The catalyst for her to chase after the Mundane Egg.


    ¡°Well, haha,¡± the girl looked away awkwardly. She certainly possessed nothing of the graveness of her summoner. ¡°I guess I just find Ophelia¡¯s goal quite admirable... What about you though?¡± She quickly tossed the question back to himself.


    ¡°Me? Nothing much either. Soraya just reminded me of my little sister so I decided to help her.¡±


    Soraya frowned, ¡°First I¡¯ve heard of it.¡±


    ¡°Well, you never asked. What? You think I¡¯m helping you just because you are my summoner?¡±


    ¡°Wha? It¡¯s not like you have anything else you want to do right?¡±


    There was that too, true enough.


    A good reason as any.


    Nothing better to do.


    But it was not his main reason. Soraya being a close resemblance to his late sister was.


    And he doubted Maria was telling the truth either. He had the hunch that a hook that could force one into a life-and-death battle would go deeper than simple admiration.


    Occasionally Maria would throw worrying glances over to her summoner. Such were not the glances of admiration. Far from it.


    Well, not that it was his problem.


    ¡°But really,¡± Hanael whined, ¡°and here I was itching to kick your ass for once, Jophiel. Then you guys just went and showed me something so pathetic it made me lose all of my appetite.¡±


    ¡°Oh, won¡¯t you just quit it!¡± Jophiel glared, slamming her both fists on the table like a child throwing a tantrum, ¡°Like you¡¯re going to let go of this opportunity now that you have caught me off guard. Just say it!¡±


    In spite of her hostility, Hanael simply smirked, endlessly bemused by Jophiel¡¯s riled-up state. ¡°And yet I¡¯m saying it. I¡¯m giving you the choice. Fight me or not. You know as well as I do what''s at stake.¡±

 017

    ¡°Well, for my part, I¡¯m gonna say no to that.¡± Agravain shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t really care for picking a fight with someone who¡¯s just treated me to a meal¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you shameless?¡± Jophiel thrust a finger at him, clamoring, ¡°Someone bribed you with a bit of food and you already lost your stomach for a fight?!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re one to talk. I don¡¯t want to hear that from someone who just wolfed down free food on the same table as me..¡±


    ¡°Well, who cares! I surely don¡¯t! She pissed me off!¡±


    Hanael¡¯s grin was growing wider. Whatever she was planning, clearly Jophiel¡¯s attitude was within her expectations. ¡°As I said, I won¡¯t deny you a fight if that¡¯s what you want. But Jophiel, are you sure that¡¯s actually what you want? Think about it--I did come here prepared, you know. But knowing you, you must have only trained up some unintuitive skills for your long-term plan, maybe some training here and there, and so haven¡¯t got any real tools for a real fight yet. It¡¯s exactly because your builds are always needlessly complicated that they come online so late into the game. Why do you think I speedran for you but not the others? There¡¯s simply no better time than now for me to put you out of the contest. ¡°


    ¡°Well...!¡± But that was her last protest. Almost immediately, Jophiel sank back into her seat, looking deflated.


    So it seemed she disliked losing a fight more than losing face.


    ¡°You say that,¡± Soraya pointed out as she faced Hanael, ¡°but you also said you didn¡¯t expect to run into us so soon. Maybe you are not that prepared? There¡¯s no reason to allow us the choice if you can just finish us now.¡±


    ¡°Aha,¡± Hanael laughed. ¡°Clever girl! True, I could have done with a bit more firepower and coordination between my girls, which actually has a lot to do with the reason we were headed to this very town instead of any other that is closer to the Tartary capital. But seeing you guys like this I¡¯m sure you haven¡¯t got your hand on that either.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about now?¡± Jophiel grumbled. ¡°It was pure luck you ran into us here, right?¡±


    ¡°Not pure luck, no. I was at least sixty percent sure you would come this way, Jophiel. Talk about predictable. It takes only a look at the class of your Player Character,¡± she nodded at the barbarian, ¡°there¡¯s no way you can pass up this one. Or rather,¡± she shrugged, ¡°there¡¯s one reason I could think of that would make you give up on it, but in the end I was on the money, eh?¡±


    ¡°What? No, what? You mean, wait, you mean it? Ugh!¡± the angel commenced a series of painful coughs, choking on the food, ¡°I mean, of course, it could be, if you put it in a way, useful, but, but, but, but, it¡¯s, well, it¡¯s not like I absolutely want that thing either...¡±


    And just then she threw a sullen glance at the barbarian, as though accusing him of something.


    ¡°What?¡± Hanael laughed loudly this time, ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you are still hung up on that! You never change, do you? Oh my, this is so funny I want to cry. But yup, if you are not going for it, I will, you know? You know well that I would rather get my hand on it than have to risk losing it by fighting you. So, if you want to stop me or to get it for yourself, you will have to fight my PC for it. Proper rulings, no friendly spar. To the death, or sundries. How about that?¡±


    ¡°Ugh, I mean...¡± and Jophiel went quiet. The quietest she had been in the few days the barbarian had known her.


    For a while she seemed to engage in a fierce mental battle with herself, so the barbarian turned to Hanael instead. ¡°What is this thing you guys have been talking about?¡±


    ¡°Nothing really,¡± Hanael answered nonchalantly, ¡°just Jophiel¡¯s laughable quirk, one among her many, sure, but the most ridiculous one yet. If you ever want to find out what it is you will have to fight me for it.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to know that badly, to tell the truth.¡±


    ¡°Fine then!¡± suddenly Jophiel cried, ¡°We go for it after all! Agravain, we fight them, whether you want to or not. This is your freaking job!¡±


    Hanael nodded, ¡°See? It¡¯s too good to pass up after all, even for you. And she¡¯s right, Agravain, you can pay me back for the meal later. In fact, letting Maria kick your ass could actually serve as a decent payment.¡±


    The barbarian shook his head. ¡°If I¡¯m going to fight, I¡¯m going to do it properly.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have asked for any less. Well, I could do worse than fighting my rival at her worst, I suppose.¡± The angel rose from her seat. ¡°But not now. We¡¯re all tired after a long day, so let¡¯s rest. I will pay for you guys¡¯ lodging too so don¡¯t concern yourself with it. But tomorrow, we will be enemies when we meet at the place--Jophiel should know where. Then we will have a fair battle.¡±


    And so, with a few customary farewells from the polite young girls, the three left the table to return to their group.


    It really was a marked difference seeing the commanding aura their angel exuded, compared to the sloppy thing that was slumping moodily in her seat next to Agravain.


    ¡°Hm,¡± the barbarian scratched his chin, addressing the maid, ¡°What do you think about them, Rania? You have been quiet all this time.¡±


    There were colors on the poor handmaid¡¯s face now that she¡¯d had something in her stomach, but with her glasses still sporting a broken lens, she was looking miserable still.


    ¡°I think,¡± she said measuredly, giving the table full of young girls a thoughtful look, ¡°even counting all those girls together, even with that girl Maria being the most physically capable, I don¡¯t think they would be able to stand a fight with you.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think? Well, I¡¯m sure I won¡¯t lose in a physical fight with anyone, priestess or not...¡±


    ¡°But it won¡¯t be so,¡± Jophiel sullenly confirmed his suspicion, ¡°It won¡¯t be a purely physical fight as the ones you have fought in until now. Not this one. This one is an honest-to-goodness Player Character.¡±


    She did say the other Player Characters all employed magic. Needless to say, magic was Agravain¡¯s hardcoded weakness after all.


    ¡°Sounds like you¡¯re already regretting it.¡±


    ¡°And you are full of loser speeches today, eh? What¡¯s the problem? Isn¡¯t it your job to punch anything coming your way? What, having an identity crisis? Developing a midlife slump, you big lump of meat?¡±


    ¡°Someone¡¯s prickly,¡± Agravain shrugged. ¡°Still, you¡¯re surprisingly easy to rile up, or maybe that angel just knows you rather too well, eh?¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be told that by a barbarian with anger issues. Anyway,¡± she shot up, ¡°I lost my appetite. Let¡¯s sleep, and tomorrow whack that bitch.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t get to say you lost your appetite after stuffing yourself full!¡±


    But the angel already disappeared into thin air along with her codex, in a room full of people. Talk about irresponsible.


    True to Hanael¡¯s promises, lodging was paid for them, one for Soraya and her maid, another for Agravain. He doubted angels required sleep. But she still wandered to gods knew where. What she was up to all night, or not up to, he did not care to know.


    The barbarian was out cold the moment he hit the hay. A day of hard work tends to reward you with a good night¡¯s sleep. That and a mind free of cares.


    Someone more optimistic, or trusting, would have hoped that angel was spending the night to devise a battle plan for tomorrow. The barbarian was simple too, but he had the benefit of having known the angel for a few days, and so easily guessed that her night was mostly likely spent fuming.


    The next dawn brought about a clear and glorious day, with only terse traces of clouds across an otherwise spotless sky, promising the perfect weather without any element to impede a match. Stretching his body in the middle of the room, the barbarian felt himself in tip-top shape. Thanks to his new physicalities, even the exertion of the past few days couldn''t keep him fatigued for long. And having not spent much of his rage bar the day before, he was positive it had been filled to the brim for his first serious challenge to come.


    Satisfied with the little exercise, he thought to take a look if the others had got up, he left his room and chanced upon a Maria with a towel wrapped around her neck.


    The girl greeted him with a slight smile, ¡°Good morning! I see you''re an early riser too.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t really have a routine, I just wake up whenever I feel like. Is your summoner still sleeping?¡±


    It was rather sporting, he thought. Like two athletes before a contest, not two rivals who would soon beat each other to death or close to it.


    ¡°She is.¡± Maria nodded. ¡°I tip-toed out of the room so she wouldn¡¯t wake up. Oh, and...¡± she raised her hand, as though to stop him from leaving, though he wasn¡¯t. Her eyes darted nervously. ¡°I didn¡¯t get to talk much to you yesterday, but I¡¯m really glad to meet someone from our world. The others are nice too, but it¡¯s just not the same.¡± She smiled awkwardly.


    ¡°Oh yeah, it¡¯s nice. Though I can¡¯t say I¡¯m overly attached to that place. Our old world, I mean. I kinda get you though. That summoner of yours is rather scary, isn¡¯t she?¡± he put it bluntly.


    ¡°Ophelia?¡± the girl seemed surprised, ¡°Oh no, not at all. I truly admire her way of thinking, and she¡¯s really nice and kind deep down once you get to know her better. Her serious side is just more apparent. No, what I mean is, everything. I don¡¯t know how to put it, but don¡¯t you find everything about this world so...grandiose? Like everyone is on some important quest to resolve matters on such a large scale, or is it just my impression? I mean, I¡¯m just a high school student in our world, and a plainly average one at that. It¡¯s just hard to wrap my head around such a big scope as a world-altering adventure, you know. Like it doesn¡¯t seem real.¡±


    If all this sounded like a lame attempt at conjuring a conversational topic they both could share in, the girl¡¯s face was expressing otherwise. She seemed particularly troubled, and maybe was venting more than sharing her view of things.


    The barbarian scratched his chin, unsure of what to say. In truth, he hadn¡¯t given it much thought at all. He had just been following along with the angel¡¯s antics and whatever Soraya wanted. And this might just be owing to the angel¡¯s lax attitude and Soraya¡¯s humble desire to search for her sister, but he had never thought it to be anything grandiose at all. If anything, the whole thing was just a giant excuse for him to go around beating up people, or creatures.


    But from her perspective, being associated with a woman who sought peace for an entire nation, he guessed it wouldn¡¯t be strange if she felt some amount of pressure.


    ¡°Well I could kind of guess how you would feel like a fish out of water, or something,¡± he said after a while, trying to be considerate, ¡°Not that I would know, even my life in our world was hardly something you can be called normal, so maybe I¡¯m just more desensitized to it? You should just look at the positive sides of things. Like an upgrade, you know. You are allowed to do things you weren¡¯t in our stuffy world now. Not many rules, and few who could oppose you.¡±


    Not sure if speaking like a soon-to-be villain would do much to help the girl¡¯s problem, but it was his honest opinion.


    And to be fair, it most likely wasn¡¯t such a blessing for a young girl like Maria. Not that he had much experience with school girls nowadays. His little sister was hardly a good point of reference. But at the very least he knew how attuned youngsters in his world were to technology. Even Estella, who had taken every opportunity to sneak out of the house despite the many security systems put in place just to prevent those excursions, had been attached to her electronic devices and the internet.


    Not that Agravain himself, who Jophiel had accurately diagnosed as a no-fun-allowed guy, was clueless when it came to the benefits of technology and the various conveniences they provided. He was the kind who read electronic books on e-readers instead of obtusely clinging to the smell of physical paper and all that jazz. He also didn¡¯t use social media much, but he also didn¡¯t turn his nose up regarding them like some. They had their uses, he just didn¡¯t care for those purposes himself.


    Not to say that he claimed to understand youngsters, or had ever tried to. Nevertheless, he wondered if this very normal-looking girl was simply despairing at a lack of social media for three days straight.


    But that didn¡¯t seem to be the case.


    Maria sighed. ¡°I knew it. So even you¡¯re someone special too. Just like all the girls who come with us--handpicked among the most exceptional priestesses and theologians in the country, they all are. Just nothing like what I¡¯m used to.¡± She smiled bitterly.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean much when you think about it,¡± he pointed out, ¡°We are both special: people summoned from another world--one hell of a status compared to just being wise and smart.¡±


    ¡°That isn¡¯t the point.¡± She said this in her normal timid tone, without raising her voice, and yet her face clouded over, as though Agravain had just said something incredibly wrong and offensive. ¡°I mean, of course you wouldn¡¯t get it. Even you have this aura that just repels ordinary folk like me, see.¡± She sighed, and the shadow vanished. ¡°Anyway, I shouldn¡¯t keep you here with this depressing talk. Not that me being a garden-variety good-for-nothing could amount to a talking point.¡±


    What the hell is wrong with you, was what crossed the barbarian¡¯s mind.


    ¡°I will just prove the point when I lose to you,¡± she was still going on, all the while staring absently at the floor, ¡°a stepping stone as intended, indeed. A side character whose entire job is to be defeated halfway through a stage, or for the protagonist to test a new move. Not even a boss, but more like a, err, like some unnamed mid-boss, something lame like that...¡±


    Is this the younger generation¡¯s twisted version of trash talk before a game or what? Arousing pity in your opponent¡¯s heart? Demoralizing an enemy so they couldn¡¯t fight properly?


    Because this was going well beyond self-pity and straight into the zone of self-abuse.


    Not that it was any effective on someone like Agravain, but still, it did make him uncomfortable.


    If she had been one of his students, Agravain would have sent her to a counselor. Even in his teaching days, the barbarian was not the right person to vent your problems. Certainly not in any peaceful way.


    One did not sense any peaceful intelligence in him.


    ¡°Ah,¡± suddenly Maria let out a sound. As though she had just woken from her stupor. A lapse of expression. ¡°Wha! I¡¯m really sorry about that! It just really came out, didn¡¯t it? I was just talking out loud.¡±


    That in and of itself was a problem.


    The barbarian sighed. ¡°You sure you¡¯re in the right state of mind for a fight, girl? We can postpone this for a day or two if you would like.¡±


    ¡°No, no, of course not,¡± she stammered, ¡°that would be too much of a hassle. Don¡¯t mind me, I just get kinda like that all the time. So yup, I have been keeping you long enough. Let¡¯s do our best and have a good match.¡± She bowed.


    ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s have a good match,¡± the barbarian said, more than a bit dumbfounded.


    For all that the girl had treated their coming fight like some end-of-the-world crisis, hearing her parting words you would think they were going into a sports meet or something.


    Or not even a competitive event, more like a collaboration.


    Let¡¯s have a fight where I would definitely lose, she seemed as though to say at the end.


    Somewhat foreboding, that. If she had come at him boasting about how she was going to give him a thrashing, it would have been motivating. But this? He would do well not to let his guard down, after all.

 018

    The location for their battle was an ancient ruin. There was nothing remotely special or even mysterious about this place as the title might suggest. It had simply been in ruins for so long, there was hardly anything left to hide or suggest any deeper secrets about it.


    A couple of stone pillars lay strewn about, one standing as tall as a man¡¯s waist, the other lying half-buried. Some evidence of a broken paved floor poked out here and there among the overgrown.


    A corpse of a place having been reclaimed by nature for so long no one could guess its original function anymore. Hardly a standing wall to provide shelter from the elements for wayfarers. Not even enough nooks and crannies for the children to use as an adventure-worthy place.


    A place desolate, forgotten, emptied of all mystique.


    It could have once been a castle, a temple, or even just a public bath, for all the townspeople knew.


    Even so, the light of day shone brilliantly on the beaten stone, turning the few patches of visible slabs under the layer of verdant grass into a golden haze. So it was a nice enough scene for a battle, if uninteresting.


    Since the place lay only a bit out of the way from the main road leading out of the town, it felt like a pleasant post-meal stroll to the two groups who headed there.


    One group consisted of a dozen or so young girls in black habits.


    The other was a mountain of a man wielding an oversized club, a woman in a tracksuit walking hunched, a girl in a wheelchair, and a girl with a pair of half-broken glasses.


    ¡°Mission briefing time!¡±


    Jophiel declared when they arrived, a good deal less gloomy than the day before.


    In fact, she looked smug.


    ¡°Have you come up with something?¡± the barbarian eyed her with suspicion.


    ¡°Huh? Something like that, yeah, I will explain shortly. But first let¡¯s go over the main objective of the day.¡±


    Customarily, the angel took out her codex--materialized it from thin air, to be exact.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you guessed this already,¡± she said as the pages flipped on their own, ¡°but you get stronger even when fighting normally, not just through training. My training regiments, the daily training, are but to put your battle experience to more effective growths. But on occasions like these when you face a real challenge, limiting your methods of fighting would just be a nuisance. What I¡¯m saying is you can just go ham this time.¡±


    ¡°Good enough for me,¡± the barbarian nodded.


    ¡°Then allow me to state the obvious: your mission today is to defeat Hanael¡¯s Player Character #4, Maria. As for the girl, the restrictions put in place that prevent me from checking my competition''s information should be lifted when you enter a proper battle with her. We will learn more about the opposition then, but for now I can give you the basics: Hanael¡¯s specialization is her affinity for the Holy Element.¡±


    ¡°Specialization?¡±


    ¡°Haven¡¯t I mentioned this before?¡± She arched an incredulous eyebrow.


    ¡°No, you definitely haven¡¯t.¡±


    What the hell is wrong with her?


    ¡°My specialty,¡± ignoring his accusing look, Jophiel wagged the Codex of Everything and Anything, ¡°is this. Information digging. Intelligence gathering. My domain is Knowledge. Get it? And don¡¯t play dumb, I told you about it before! I¡¯m one hundred percent sure!¡±


    As in, when she had said the codex was what set her from the rest? And that she was the Angel of hidden knowledge or something?


    What a dumb and misleading way to impart information.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± she went on with her lecture, ¡°Elements have more applications than just the direct channeling of them in combat. You find them in enchanted effects on items, people, places and even concepts, et cetera--Hanael¡¯s speedrunning is an art in and of itself, but it was also thanks to Holy affinity that she managed to so smoothly take over an entire Theocracy. And this is the gist of it: Hanael is someone who plays to her strengths. That is, she¡¯s the opposite of me. While I attempt to salvage even the worst of character templates with my specialty, she picks her Player Characters based solely on her specialty, and with almost the perfect starting point with it too.¡±


    The angel was of course hinting at her picking of the barbarian as her Player Character--a class at a major disadvantage in a meta that heavily favored Magic Users, that much, he understood.


    ¡°In fact, you could say,¡± Jophiel lifted her chin smugly, ¡°pulling all the stops like that is the only way for her, my self-proclaimed rival, to hold any hope in contending with me.¡±


    ¡°I take it that you have a fool-proof plan then?¡± The barbarian couldn¡¯t care less if her self-worth got further inflated thanks to how seriously other angels took her. It would just make his life harder.


    He was only half-listening to the strategy talk anyway, for he never intended to fight in any way other than what he was used to. If a need for a change in approach arose in the fight, he might follow her instructions then, but he was not going to devise a plan in advance.


    ¡°Not so much as a plan, but a realization,¡± the angel laughed, ¡°I did not spend last night thinking in vain, you know.¡±


    ¡°So what is it? Did you find out their weaknesses?¡±


    ¡°Not really. Well, it¡¯s more like a lack of strengths. Think about it, no matter how much of a speedrunner Hanael could be, there¡¯s a limit to what she could have done in just a few days.¡±


    Dubious.


    Though to be fair, it really had only been just a few days. If you¡¯re being strict about it, since it was currently morning and he had been summoned over in the afternoon, it had not even been three days. In that span of time, he had fought, what, four or so battles? And he had gained some meager stats out of it and a couple of shitty weapons. While according to Hanael, she¡¯d spent the majority of her time in this world exerting her influence over a country and then traveling across the sea. So logically speaking, she must have been able to do even less for her Player Character.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    There¡¯s such a thing as building too wide.


    ¡°Yup,¡± Jophiel nodded, ¡°I have no way to know for sure, of course, until we are shown her character sheet. But there¡¯s absolutely no way she has trained her character up to the point she could prove a real threat as she made it out to be. At most, if I¡¯m being charitable, that Maria girl could have obtained some favorable stats, one or two pieces of equipment that suit her class, maybe even an offensive skill if we are being extra generous. None of which should give her a clear advantage over us. Think about it, I know it¡¯s not your forte, but try thinking: what main factors do you think could decide a fight between two individuals?¡±


    ¡°Sheer strength and strategies?¡± Agravain ventured.


    ¡°Basically. Those factors are part of why Magic users are the meta. Their tools are highly versatile and their damage ceilings overshadow Physical classes. But as of right now, a character three days old could possess neither many tools at their disposal nor the ability to reach the full potential of their class.¡±


    The barbarian¡¯s brows furrowed, ¡°But when you put it like that, aren¡¯t I the same? I haven¡¯t any tool yet, hell, my only weapon is something of ¡®awful¡¯ quality, worse even than ¡®mediocre¡¯. Now I kinda wish I didn¡¯t leave my axe in that village... and there¡¯s the fact of what you said about my weakness to magic. No matter how you put it, they may lack strengths, but I am the only one with an exploitable weakness.¡±


    ¡°Hah? So your brain could even establish that level of sophisticated thoughts? Clearly I underestimated ya a little, eh? But that¡¯s also the absolute limit of a barbarian¡¯s brain! Listen here, you are not just anything. Everything about your class is an abnormality. Abnormally shitty in most cases. But not this one. Remember the only advantage of your intelligence attribute being dumped? That¡¯s right, every other attribute of yours skyrocketed. And what makes a difference between two practically naked characters? That¡¯s right, attributes! Pure raw stats! You, Agravain, are a goddamn walking, talking stat stick!¡±


    The barbarian rubbed his chin. ¡°While I have a lot of problems with your choice of words and probably only getting half of what you¡¯re saying, I think you managed to convince me. Somehow¡±


    ¡°Even such a thick skull as yours should get something so simple. So well, I guess that brings us around back to the most appropriate tactic for this battle. As I said before: just go ham.¡±


    ¡°I suppose you can call that my favorable tactic. Well, let¡¯s get this going, enough explanation.¡±


    But still, all she had achieved after a night thinking was that they had nothing to fear in the first place? No strategy or whatever, just that there was nothing to worry about?


    Oh well.


    It was time to go.


    Maria and Hanael were coming over. It seemed their side had also been done with discussing battle strategy.


    Or so he thought.


    ¡°There is something we want to do first,¡± Hanael declared.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Jophiel sneered, ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you want to discuss handicaps at this point. Even I am not generous enough to allow it, you know?¡±


    She really was brimming with confidence. The polar opposite of last night.


    ¡°Ugh, insufferable as always,¡± Hanael muttered. ¡°I¡¯m only allowing it because it wouldn¡¯t sit right with the girls otherwise.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Ophelia who suggested it,¡± Maria said. The girl¡¯s summoner had not come over but remained with the rest of her group. All of them were watching intently. ¡°She wanted to fix your friend¡¯s thing.¡±


    Friend?


    The barbarian looked around. And he realized, of course, there was no one else for her to refer to that way. Not him, the Player Character. Not Jophiel, the angel. Not Soraya, the summoner. But the last person, who she could only refer to as a ¡®friend¡¯.


    ¡°Oh, you mean this?¡± Rania asked, taking off her glasses with one lens broken.


    ¡°Aye,¡± Hanael said, ¡°Ophelia thinks it would be unfair otherwise.¡±


    So instead of asking for a handicap, their side was looking to remove one of their opponents.


    So they were confident too. Or maybe just too magnanimous.


    ¡°Well, may I?¡± Maria extended her hand hesitantly.


    Jophiel shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s fine, Rania. I doubt they are going to sabotage your eyewear of all things... even Hanael is not that low, right?¡± She narrowed her eyes.


    ¡°Pissing me off already?¡± Hanael rolled her eyes. ¡°Are you incapable of saying thank you like a normal person or what?¡±


    Despite the needlessly useless exchange going on, Rania handed her glasses over with a humble thanks.


    ¡°Well so...¡± Maria muttered, then held up the locket hung from her neck. It was a plain accessory, round and seemed thick enough to keep a picture or certain small objects within its case. Although the girl did not seem all too used to the magic she was about to perform, the locket glowed for a brief second, infusing the pair of glasses in the same light, and when it was done, the lens had been fixed without a trace of its broken state before.


    ¡°Phew,¡± the girl sighed and returned it to Rania, ¡°so even I could do this without problem.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t say it like something unexpected,¡± Hanael chided, ¡°Do you have so little faith in my tool?¡±


    The barbarian was no stranger to the girl¡¯s self-deprecating nature anymore. But something the angel had said something that piqued his interest. ¡°Some handy tool, how did you find something like that?¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡± Hanael seemed surprised, ¡°Did Jophiel not tell you about my specialty?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, your affinity with the Holy element or something.¡±


    ¡°Aye, and that means an affinity for items of that element. It lets me find Holy items easier. In fact, I looted the Theocracy¡¯s treasury for their store of holy items. This is just a little thing.¡± She folded her arms, taking a step away. ¡°Well, that¡¯s done with. Can we begin this already?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s,¡± Jophiel nodded. ¡°But put some distance between us and the non-combatants first.


    So they went away, Hanael returning to the group of girls and Maria to the empty area in the middle of the ruin.


    Before moving, Agravain asked Jophiel with a concerned look, ¡°You heard what she said? A store of magic items. Can we be sure that she¡¯s lacking in options as you think?¡±


    ¡°We-well,¡± the angel stammered, suddenly looking away, ¡°even with magic items, it¡¯s not like just about anyone at any level could equip anything too powerful. Just get out there!¡±


    Her complete confidence seemed to have flagged. Not that the barbarian would run from a fight just because of that. Grunting, he left a worried Soraya for the battleground.


    ¡°Be careful out there!¡± Soraya¡¯s voice followed from behind.


    The barbarian gave her thumb up without turning around.


    On the other side, it seemed Maria¡¯s summoner was also giving the girl some much-needed encouraging words.


    Well, nothing to it.


    Agravain heaved his war club up, preparing to enter his first battle with another Player Character.


    And as soon as he faced the girl. The now-familiar disembodied voice rang through his head.


    Main Event Duel Engaged


    Duelist:


    Player Character #5, Agravain


    Class: Barbarian


    Focus Attributes: Strength, Endurance


    Traits: Novice Fighter, Dump Stat Intelligence, Pugilist


    Feats: Boss Brutalizer


    Modifiers: Pigman¡¯s Metal Club


    Rage bar: 100%


    Str 52 (+8) | En 28 | Dex 9 (-5) | Int 0 (-¡Þ) | Wis 8 | Cha 11 | Luck 15


    Player Character #4, Maria


    Class: Acolyte


    Focus Attributes: Intelligence, Endurance


    Traits: Novice Mage


    Modifiers: Necklace of Regeneration, Ring of Thousand Prayers, Variable Chains


    Feats:


    Attributes:


    Str 6 | En 15 | Dex 14 (+2) | Int 22 (+4) | Wis 13 (+1) | Cha 7 | Luck 10

 019

    From the dozen girls Hanael had brought along, she had picked seven to stand in a wide half-circle around Maria. The distance they maintained was far enough from their Player Character, Agravain could guess they weren¡¯t going to play a direct role in the battle. Though he didn¡¯t fancy being on the receiving end of a barrage of fireballs or something similar were he to enter that half circle.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what they are up to, but Hanael might pull some devious tricks later,¡± Jophiel regarded them warily, ¡°so I¡¯m going to keep Rania here for now and watch how it develops.¡±


    The angel¡¯s voice sounded as though she was speaking next to his ear, yet in reality, she had retreated with Soraya and Rania to the edge of the ruins.


    The master ring on Soraya¡¯s hand worked as a transmitter, apparently. For all the good and bad of it, he was going to have the angel¡¯s constant nagging for the duration of this match.


    ¡°That¡¯s fine. But one thing,¡± Agravain thumbed the massive club on the ground, causing a small crater in the grass, ¡°you said I could go ham, but is it really a good idea to ignore the other girls?¡±


    ¡°Well, you can bet they aren¡¯t there to play cheerleaders. But no matter what their roles in this fight are, normal folk just can¡¯t compare to a Player Character. You defeat her and the rest will naturally crumble. So focus all your attacks on her. Take the main piece down and it won¡¯t matter a thing what Hanael has in store for the rest.¡±


    ¡°Very well,¡± he grumbled.


    Totally wasn¡¯t going back to bite him the ass or anything. But just going at it with everything he had was as good a plan as he could ask for.


    Without further preamble, he broke into a charge.


    Across the empty area he ran, club raising high for a strike.


    There was a good distance between them, but nothing his long strides couldn¡¯t cover in a matter of seconds.


    Maria had not stirred up until that moment, nor had she done anything that might have hinted at the preparation of a trap. But as soon as the barbarian started moving, so did her hands spring into action, clearly having been waiting for just the moment.


    Her weapons, called Variable Chains in her information, finally manifested.


    Streaming like water from the sleeves of her black habit were two thin lines of silver. So thin they appeared almost immaterial, like twisted rays of light. And just as delicate they sparkled and stretched on and on from each of her hands, then rose in spiraling patterns into the air. Their movement defied gravity, rising and twisting as though with a life of their own. At a certain height they finally twisted downwards, from there tore through the air with a long sharp hiss, like a fierce pair of serpents burning through the air.


    For all this fine display however, Maria did not seem to be in full control of their movement. Her unfamiliarity and inexperience showed through she struggled to control their lengths, seizing hard once the chains had extended at the very least six feet to either side. If the thin silver appeared almost immaterial, the girl¡¯s whitening grips of her fingers betrayed their very real mass. Very subtly, her hands shifted, yet violently the chains swung, seemingly to follow the command coming directly from her mind rather than the awkward tugs of her small hands.


    As a result of this struggle, Maria was finally able to direct both of the chains towards the charging barbarian. Her face grimaced with a combination of fright, apprehension, and mental concentration as their full lengths swung out. At the same time, the tips twisted and coiled, resolving into the shapes of spiraling hooks. Sharp enough to eat through his flesh like butter.


    As they came, the barbarian swung the club like a batter, roaring thunder. Upon impact, they didn''t bounce away, but bit into his weapons with the sharp hooks. Hard to know if they did so upon the girl¡¯s command. For it worked to her detriment.


    As they were caught at full length and pulled to the club¡¯s wide motion, so was Maria yanked forward.


    She cried in surprise, stumbling blindly to the ground.


    The barbarian howled triumphantly. There was a foe for the taking. He could well finish this with the first blow.


    But it never connected. The hooks stuck in his club dug themselves out of the solid metal and shot away. Backwards and away from him they flew this time, shooting past the girl and pulling her with them, in doing so saving her a hair¡¯s breadth from the club coming down.


    A small crater was made on the ground, leaving the ancient stone paving in an explosion of smashed pieces.


    That could have been the girl¡¯s face.


    ¡°Fight or flight, pick one!¡± he growled, and charged towards the girl again.


    Her movements were that of an amateur, her reflexes even slower. By the time she had managed to sluggishly regain her balance, Agravain had eliminated half of the new distance.


    Once more she attempted the acrobatic evasion with the flying chains, this time to the side.


    The barbarian proved the quicker.


    The massive club crashed against her side, hitting with terrible brutality. The force of the impact, wielded by a barbarian with boosted strength, made a joke of what the club¡¯s former owner had inflicted on the maid Rania yesterday.


    The maid would certainly have met her demise had she been on the receiving end of this blow. There would never have been such a heroic comeback.


    No room for mercy here.


    Jophiel had made it abundantly clear that a Player Character was not one to take lightly.


    They were nothing like humans, or even genies.


    Maria shrieked. Her skin-crawling cry mixed with the ghastly sounds of bones broken. There she crumbled to the ground, shaking and commencing a series of painful hacking coughs.


    ¡°Maria!¡± from the distance came the stricken shout of Ophelia.


    She wasn¡¯t the only one who let out such loud gasps, Agravain could even hear Soraya¡¯s voice mixed in.


    ¡°Oh come on!¡± the annoyed barbarian roared, half turning to the expressive audience. ¡°What did you expect? A gentle slapping contest?¡±


    ¡°Focus!¡± Jophiel¡¯s voice blared in his head, ¡°Something¡¯s happening!¡±


    Even as the barbarian whipped his head back to the girl, he cursed the distraction. He knew he couldn¡¯t afford to take his eyes off such a dangerous opponent, but it galled him that Soraya had to witness this.


    Agravain braced himself with the club across his body. He had expected a sneak attack, but his opponent had barely recovered enough to get on her feet yet. She was hugging her flank where she was hit, trying to crawl away. The peculiar thing that perhaps had prompted Jophiel¡¯s caution was a green light enveloping her body. The very one that had mended Rania¡¯s broken glasses before. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    That amulet was at work, but the speed of its healing hardly threatened to undo all the damage before he could get in another blow. One more and she wouldn¡¯t be able to get up again.


    But Jophiel meant something else. ¡°The other girls!¡±


    His eyes darted to the others at the edge of the ground, seven of them, half expecting them to be coming at him all at once. But not one had moved an inch since the beginning of the fight. Even then they stood rooted in place, eyes closed, caring even less for the brutality he had wrought on Maria than the idle audience.


    Only one thing had changed.


    Before each of them floated an almost transparent crystal, each half as large as their lithe body. Each was tinted with a different color.


    Two blue, two green, one red, one white, and one gold.


    ¡°What now?¡± the barbarian growled, ¡°Should I smash those things?¡±


    ¡°Erm--No!¡± the angel shouted, finally getting her thinking straight. ¡°Focus on your task! The girl¡¯s health is low, finish her and all of this will be over, no matter what tricks they¡¯re going to pull later.¡±


    ¡°This smells like a goddamn trap,¡± he grunted.


    ¡°And may as well be one,¡± Jophiel said, ¡°Rania, go smash the floating things!¡±


    The maid at once sprang into action.


    And a different voice rang in his head.


    A new party member enters live combat on Player Character #5¡¯s side.


    Rania


    Class: Bodyguard


    Focus: Endurance, Dexterity


    Trait: Journeyman Fighter, Adept Housekeeper, Genie, Honest, Near-sighted, Pugilist, Tenacious


    Feats: Boss Brutalizer


    Modifers: Gauntlets of Perseverance, Prevail Lv.9


    Str 6 | En 9 | Dex 6 (-1) | Int 6 | Wis 6 | Cha 6 | Luck 6


    Somehow he had doubts the maid would prove any great help.


    Even her stats were vastly inferior to Maria''s, let alone her loadout.


    Not that he could be choosy.


    And he had his own job to do.


    By then Maria had steadied on her feet. The silver chains issued from her hands again, though they pulsated to the throbbing pain in her body.


    There might have been a doubt at the beginning of the match, but now the difference between them was clear, at least in raw stats.


    The barbarian¡¯s entire frame was solid as a rock. His stroke was crude, without any subtlety to its motion, but all the mass and gravity to crush all in its path.


    And the girl couldn¡¯t even consistently outspeed him to get away.


    He could tell from the girl¡¯s eyes that she was perceiving all this, becoming ever more keenly aware thanks to the pain.


    She feared.


    One of the chains flew back, stabbed on the ground and pulled her along with it. She was trying to run away, without the will to continue the fight anymore.


    Not deciding yet to chase after her, the barbarian spared a glance at Rania¡¯s endeavor. To whatever opponent else this might have proved a fatal mistake, a needless lapse in concentration. But Maria was decidedly outmatched.


    This time his lack of focus proved a fortunate decision.


    As he looked, the maid had rushed straight for the nearest crystal, and was almost upon it, her gauntleted hand pulling back in preparation for throwing a punch. But even then, Maria¡¯s chain, the one that had not done the duty of pulling her out of danger this time, shot for the girl. And unlike the previous times when the sharp hooks had come for the barbarian, this time blinding flashes of light accompanied it. And so flashing like a lightning bolt, it crashed and burned through the air, crackling as it went.


    ¡°Rania!¡± the barbarian managed to force out a warning.


    The maid, ever on alert, caught his voice at once. She whipped her head about, in time to notice the bolt.


    Barely in time to throw herself aside.


    Where a fraction of a moment before her feet would have carried her, the blazing hook struck. The stone paving exploded into burning sparks. Blackened grass filled the air with a scorching scent.


    From his position, the barbarian could not tell for certain if the maid was hit by the strike, but a portion of her breeches was blackened. Having darted away in so great a hurry, she was then sprawling on the floor. Most normal people would have caused themselves an injury with such a reckless throw.


    One more cause for anxiety was the girl in habit behind the nearest distance. With Rania so vulnerable, that girl could easily step out to finish her.


    But she did not budge. Her eyes still closed, heedless of the explosion just now, as she went on to move her mouth in silent prayers.


    The hooks from the silver chains were swirling in the air again.


    With a curse, the barbarian shot for Maria, trying to limit her window of opportunity.


    The functions of the chains were now clear, for despite their potential for devastating magical attacks, they were no offensive tools, not even for defensive purposes.


    The girl was using them to control the battlefield.


    ¡°Focus on keeping yourself alive for now!¡± the barbarian cried.


    The maid was stubborn as ever. Having crawled up, she then darted for the nearest crystal again. ¡°I can take care of myself! Worry about your task!¡±


    Yet again the chains shot for her.


    With a leap, Agravain positioned himself in his rush between Maria and the maid.


    As soon as the chains shot past him like serpents lunging for prey, the barbarian swung his club overhead, catching the thin threads in the middle. Whirling the club with a mighty holler, he wound the chains around his weapon, then smashed the ground with it. Any convenient chains would have been snapped by the impact so violent the stone beneath burst apart, but these, thin like threads and smooth like water, were simply unfazed.


    Maria let out a yelp unbidden and stumbled forward, again being pulled by her weapons.


    Agravain reeled her in, using his club like a fishing rod with the most deadly lines possible. His free fist balled for a barehand strike.


    By then, it seemed Rania had arrived at one of the crystals, for there followed a cracking sound and a grunt from the maid.


    Unable to afford a glance in her direction, the barbarian focused on the task at hand.


    She must be trying and failing to break the crystal. So it seemed that those things weren''t as fragile as they appeared.


    Even then, the hooks came alive again, by themselves they unwound from the club, and once one had freed itself to a sufficient length, it lunged, crackling like thunder.


    In that split second, Agravain was presented with two choices: either let go of the club and evade the strike, or eat a direct hit.


    He chose the latter.


    The hook struck his shoulder, exploding fire and thunder, raining blood and scorched flesh.


    As he endured the unbelievable pain, his other, flinging arm kept its steady trajectory.


    Without the barbarian¡¯s fierce and mad personality to face pain head-on, she cried and let go of her weapons to shield her face.


    Agravain could feel bones and flesh shattered under his fist.


    Reeling after the brutal strike, the girl fell over backward, shrieking like mad from the pain of broken bones.


    The chains dropped lifelessly as soon as her hands had let them go.


    The barbarian brought his club overhead, chains, hooks and all.


    Gritting his teeth from the red-hot pain in his shoulder, and grimacing even at his own relentlessness, he sent the massive metal weapon downwards.


    Tender flesh yielded easily to hard metal.


    The fight was pretty much decided by then. His opponent had lost her weapons, and it seemed also her will to fight.


    But he was not done.


    Far off, there came the cry of a girl--Maria¡¯s summoner, it seemed.


    One could only imagine what she was feeling seeing her partner being subjected to such terrible violence.


    Ophelia was pleading with him to stop.


    Yet the victim herself had not yielded.


    Now that was strange. The girl hadn¡¯t looked like such a strong-willed individual.


    Agravain stopped his blow in midair.


    Even as he wondered if she was still conscious, the barbarian squatted down next to his opponent, putting his hand on the girl¡¯s shoulder to turn her over.


    He decided that if she was unconscious, he would be done. If not, a few light slaps should convince her to give up.


    All he could see was her ashen face, pupils dilated from fear and pain.


    After that, everything in his field of vision was covered in a green light.


    And then, a blue light.

 020

    The succession of these flashing lights, one green and then blue, was all the barbarian could see before the whole world whirled, wheeled, and finally hung upside-down.


    Once Agravain had regained his wits, he saw that he had been thrown flat on his back, face upturned to the cloudless azure.


    He had no time to wonder, as already the whistling sounds of these silver chains were cutting through the air again, this time louder, and more numerous.


    Jumping onto his feet he saw that his foe had not only recovered from her stricken state but was now bolstered with allies.


    Not the other girls from her group, no, for these still stood like unmoving statues at their respective crystals. And even then, Rania was still smashing her fists desperately on a blue crystal. So far her effort had only left several deep cracks on its surface. The one she was pouncing on and another of the same color blue were shining brilliantly, suffusing their surroundings with the hue, though not as blinding as before. On the opposite side of the area, two green crystals were likewise shining.


    And so those who had come to Maria¡¯s aid were not those girls, but inanimate objects.


    Shields.


    Large shields, heater-shaped, as tall as a man and twice as wide, their fronts crusted with blue gems. Upright they stood in great numbers. Not two, not three, but ten of them surrounded the girl, shielding her from every direction.


    Through cracks in their formation, the barbarian could see a green light suffusing over the girl¡¯s entire body. This light pulsated the same way the one from her locket had, only at a larger scale. Without being told the nature of this light, even he could guess that her body was healing: the posture was straightening, her limbs growing steady, her breaths less ragged. Although a look of terror still haunted her face, she was lucid now. And prepared.


    ¡°Now!¡± came a shout, the angel Hanael¡¯s command rang clear and precise even with haste. ¡°Green Two, Blue One, to White One, go!¡±


    With practiced reflexes, two of the girls at the ground¡¯s edge, one at the green crystal and the other at the blue one which Rania had cracked, at once opened their eyes and swiftly became animated after a long period of standing still. They abandoned their posts and ran with alacrity for the white crystal, their skirts fluttering in the breeze. In a heartbeat they joined their ally, again closing their eyes.


    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± the barbarian roared, visibly confused.


    Rania, who had been laboring on the blue crystal now abandoned, was equally confused, and had ceased her assault.


    ¡°Focus!¡± Jophiel cried shrilly. ¡°Rania, keep hitting it! Agravain, stick to the plan, go for the girl!¡±


    ¡°What about the crystals?¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t you tell by looking?! The green ones heal, the blue ones generate shields! But they won¡¯t heal as fast as you can hit her. Activate your rage bar!¡±


    With a grunt, the barbarian charged for Maria behind the wall of shields. They did not seem so sturdy that he could not shatter with his club. But then again, those shields had managed to toss him a distance when they first appeared.


    ¡°Let them come! Must I chase you forever, girl?¡± the barbarian roared, feeling rage well up in his being.


    His shoulder, struck by the explosive hook before, was even then regenerating rapidly.


    As if to obey his rude command, the silver chains started moving. They slithered. But no hooks came for him this time. Instead, the chains wound across the shields, picking them up with their ever-elongating lengths. He could not be sure if there were only two of them anymore. There were an untold number of threads flowing from the girl¡¯s trembling hands now. Though only two hooks as before hovered over the girl¡¯s shoulders, watching, waiting.


    While the rest rushed forth.


    The shields he had thought inanimate now shot out, tethered to the chains.


    He timed the club¡¯s swing at the foremost one in the formation. It trembled violently under the impact and recoiled, yet remained intact. Knowing he could not take them lightly, he slammed once more with his full devastating might. This time it shuddered and the material yielded, the gems shattered and its structure snapped in half. But with its destruction there followed a forceful wave that exploded outward. Caught in this blast, the barbarian was flung backward off his feet.


    This time prepared, he landed on his feet, squaring his shoulders against the chasing shields. Even in that short span, he could tell there were too few of them. A glance revealed several of them had headed for Rania, who was still absorbed in her task of destroying the crystal.


    His nostrils were wide, the barbarian inhaled deeply, filling his broad chest with the invigorating morning air. A heaven-tumbling battle roar he loosed, rattling every heart and courage in the vicinity. A roar to bid the gentle morning breeze into wild-bettering gales, and wildly it blew, howling upon the scattering stones and even bringing a slight tremor to the rock-solid crystals.


    Deeply shaken by the roar, Maria let out a scared whimper. And without a second thought, the shields that were coming down on Rania¡¯s unguarded back suddenly wheeled towards the barbarian, joining the rest of their kind in a mad rush. Even the hooks hung back no more. And so all the shields and all the hooks came for him at once.


    Having exerted himself to draw the attacks away from the maid, the barbarian couldn''t react to the attacks from all directions at once. Savagely the shields tackled him, slamming their hard surface like giant bulls upon the unbalanced fighter. They pinned him in place, then the thunder-crackling hooks struck home, piercing the flesh of the arm he raised to block the strike.


    The impact of the explosion was terrible enough to repel the nine shields pinning against the man.


    But unlike before, Agravain¡¯s vigor and toughness had been emboldened by his Rage. Searing through raw flesh as the maddening pain might be, it was nothing he couldn¡¯t bear, once sufficiently enraged.


    Now freed from the shield wall, Agravain bounced away. With a wide swing he shattered one and pushed several back. Another metallic arc he described in the air and one more shield lay broken.


    The blast wave that came with each one¡¯s destruction was something he could grow used to, something he could learn to deal with.


    He braced himself as soon as one shuddered.


    He adapted not in the way of a clever man observing and reasoning, but like a ferocious beast who develops new instincts through perilous experiences, by ingraining reflexes in the very movements of his sinews, getting more and more bedded in with the hostile environment.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    That the number of his foes had not much dwindled did not escape his notice. Every time a blue light flashed, more of them materialized next to Maria and rushed at him to join the ranks of their brethren.


    Some of them headed towards Rania, but he could not afford a moment to let out another battle cry amidst the constant swinging of his arms, his elbowing and bracing for the impact each time a shield shuddered.


    Rania would have to hold her own. Or die trying.


    Yet their effort needn¡¯t be futile. The tide of battle truly turned again when at last the awaited jangling sounds of shattered glass graced the ground.


    Agravain allowed himself a glance. The maid was running away from the remains of the broken blue crystal, already headed for the next one, though ragged, bruised and chased by the shields.


    ¡°One down!¡± Jophiel announced. ¡°We can do this yet! Keep steady on and pressure the girl as soon as you can, your Rage is still over sixty percent!¡±


    By then there were only three of the shields still harassing the man. One of the hooks he had crushed with such force that bent it out of shape. The accuracy of their explosive strikes had also greatly diminished without as much harassment to hamper the barbarian¡¯s movements.


    In a moment he crushed another shield. Without wasting time on the remaining, the barbarian stormed out of their feeble encirclement, slipping under a sweeping hook, and soon were in the open field, at least out free.


    Without a moment''s waste, he headed straight for his main opponent, who now stood without a personal guard.


    At his heels, hooks and shields gave chase, but none could reach him before he gained the girl. Another shield materialized as soon as he did, but this too, he rent apart with a decisive blow. By then having learned the patterns, he neatly sidestepped the subsequent blast wave, rotating his body to minimize even what little time it could afford the girl to escape.


    To give his foe some credit, she did not drop her weapons this time. Nevertheless, the barbarian struck without an ounce of reservation. The assault flung Maria off her feet like a ragdoll. She gave a cry, but even before her body hit the ground, a green light enveloped her body.


    Jophiel let out a sound of triumph, ¡°Finish her now! We are close!¡±


    So close.


    But then, a light flashed, enshrouding the ground in red.


    And it was just then that the hooks giving pursuit finally arrived. The twin bolts of lightning embed deep in his turned back. Even before he could give a grunt of surprise, they exploded. The scent of scorched flesh and boiled blood filled the air. His vision was painted red. The barbarian¡¯s absurd vitality managed to keep him from a mortal wound, but a mark of vulnerability had been left nonetheless. The man fell on his knee, leaned on his club for support with a throaty grunt.


    It was a strike as never before, he was instantly aware.


    A few times during his struggle with the shields he had been struck by the hooks, but those had been nothing like this.


    And in the moment, the disembodied voice rang through his mind.


    Buffs applied to duelist¡¯s attributes:


    Player Character#4, Maria


    Red prayer x1: +5 to final magical damage


    And elsewhere there came Hanael¡¯s commanding tone, ¡°Red One, Blue One, Green Two, to White One now! Gold One, status report!¡±


    Even as the barbarian leaped to his feet, his foe had retreated, taking the remaining shields and the hooks with her, for now abandoning further offensive attempts.


    ¡°Keep pressing!¡± Jophiel blared in his head. ¡°Don¡¯t let this drag out any longer, she¡¯ll only get stronger at this rate!¡±


    That much was obvious, not just the fact the red crystal, if left intact, would only further empower the girl¡¯s magical attack, but also how the fight had dragged on for far too long, to the many detriments for their side.


    And then there were the White and the Gold Crystal, both had yet to activate. He could not guess their functions, but there could be no doubt that they would only make his life harder in time.


    The only option was to forge ahead, pressing every inch to tip the scales of this gradually growing lopsided battle.


    A quick glance showed that Rania was alive still, though fatigue seemed to have caught up with her, flanked as she was by two of the shields without any prospect of breaking out towards the rest of the crystals. Before Maria were two others of the solid shapes, a deadly hook, and another bent but still capable of inflicting death. The rate at which the shields generated had been halved. But with the red crystal now poised to pulsate at intervals, he had not a second to waste.


    Again the raging barbarian was charging, club swinging.


    At once he demolished one of the shields that rushed out, simultaneously dodging a lunging hook.


    The two green crystals had restored the girl to full health. She seemed vigorous and lethal now, as opposed to the barbarian who she had steadily whittled down.


    No inferior was the rapid regeneration of Agravain¡¯s body in his rage, but it would be meaningless if he could not end the fight soon. His only blessing was that till then, true to Jophiel¡¯s words, his assaults would outpace her mounting defense--the intervals between the blue and green crystals activated effects.


    It was close, so close.


    He could feel his assaults tiding over the hanging balance at last.


    All the shields shattered, the hooks batted away. He was once more upon the girl. He struck. The green light flashed.


    Nor did he have the time to pay attention to anything other than inching towards the finishing blow.


    But Hanael¡¯s voice reached the edge of his hearing and consciousness.


    She was not giving any new commands, instead, it sounded like a taunt. Like idle chatter at such an inappropriate time.


    ¡°It¡¯s time you admit it, Jophiel,¡± Hanael¡¯s laugh reached to high heavens, ¡°You may excel at long-term strategies, thanks to your domain, but your tactical awareness is just terrible.¡±


    ¡°Shut,¡± Jophiel cursed curtly ¡°As if using stationary supports is such a mindblowing tactic! But laugh while you still can!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s exquisite compared to what you¡¯re capable of doing,¡± Hanael did not let off. ¡°There¡¯s the truth, and nothing you do will stop me from rubbing it in. You¡¯re without finesse, no capability to adapt to the situation. You¡¯re a brick in real-time combat!¡±


    ¡°Save that for when you¡¯ve won! Agravain,¡± Jophiel¡¯s voice turned shrill, ¡°what the hell are you doing? Take her now! Get her!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m trying!¡± the barbarian bellowed.


    Maria had completely switched over to running now, not even hitting and running. Seeming satisfied with leaving Rania to struggle with the shields, she was using the hooks to pull her out of Agravain¡¯s reach, evidently wanting to buy time. Still, it was only by a hair¡¯s breadth that he had been missing, and any second now...


    ¡°You¡¯re blind as a bat!¡± Hanael laughed savagely, ¡°Can¡¯t you see? The victory is already mine. At long last, long last! Your fate is sealed.¡±


    And as she said this, a white light covered the entire ruin.


    ¡°Gold One, to White One now!¡±


    What followed the white light was a chain of effects.


    These were not immediately obvious, but the barbarian could see a gleam of triumph in the chain-wielding girl¡¯s eyes, and also one of relief. Whatever their plan was, its final phase had come at last.


    It didn¡¯t change a thing, however.


    All he could do, would do, was charge ahead regardless, hoping to finally land a blow.


    The metal club whirled towards the defenseless girl, or at least defenseless till the last moment. For ere the studded head landed a shield emerged between the weapon and the victim. It shattered, blasting both away from each other.


    At this point, the barbarian had not noticed the odd occurrence. But what came next bred the first hint of suspicion.


    Unfazed, the barbarian commenced another charge. He was closer now.


    And again, a shield inserted itself in front of his weapon just at the last moment.


    And the area was flashing red.


    Flashing.


    Flashing and flashing.


    Like bathing in the warning light of a fire alarm.


    Buffs applied to duelist¡¯s attributes:


    Player Character#4, Maria


    Red prayer x2: +10 to final magical damage


    Red prayer x3: +15 to final magical damage


    Red prayer x4: +20 to final magical damage


    Red prayer x5: +25 to final magical damage


    ...

 021

    The voice went on, and on, and on.


    And on.


    In the blink of an eye the barbarian stood stunned, five of the moving shields had materialized again, one after another as they bypassed the window of time he had been accustomed to.


    And it was a blink he could ill afford, for the hooks, rattling at the head of their silver chains, were darting towards him.


    By the split of second he managed to dodge the strike. It being too close for comfort, his body felt the heat and sheer intensity as they whistled through the air to strike the ground a second before he had stood.


    A simple word like explosion no longer sufficed to describe the hook¡¯s impact. The ground did not explode so much as evaporated following the deafening clamor. No fragments of stone left to count, not a piece of grass to pervade the air with a scorching smell. It was a pocketed nuclear reaction, leaving not so much as ash behind in the area of impact.


    Upon seeing that aftermath, or the lack thereof, the barbarian, for all his maddened rage and recklessness, knew not even his absurd regenerative capability could withstand such a power head-on.


    When they came again, and the wall of shields surged forward to seal his fate, the barbarian put all the power and agility his legs could muster to make a great leap away, and still was flung by the blast wave.


    Even then the red light kept on flashing, without failing and only intensifying at a rapid rate.


    Without a thought for offense left in him, the barbarian lapsed fully into defensive mode, straining his body just to keep himself alive as the hooks came and came again at him with unwavering ferocity. Leaping and ducking to evade the shields were all he might do now.


    In a battle where the difference in strength was multiplying by the second.


    Meanwhile, across the field, a remarkable change had come over his opponent.


    It was something prior to now the barbarian was more than familiar with.


    Anger.


    Anger comes in many shapes and forms, born from many sources and causes.


    Indignation. Outrage. Hurt. Hate. Even the tiniest annoyance.


    But the most primal, the purest form of anger, can only be found in the hurt and harmed.


    The anger of the wounded. The thirst for brutal vengeance.


    An eye for an eye.


    A notion as old as time.


    It is a fact of life that anger is a privilege, exercised only by those with the power to afford it. While the prey, threatened by talons or fangs it could not contend with, must dampen its emotions to survive, their chief tool for survival often being the direct antithesis of which: fear, caution, meekness.


    And yet when the weak grow strong, by chance or amassed numbers, even they may fight back against their oppressor.


    And thence anger manifests.


    Throughout history, even mighty lords were overthrown by meek peasants. For the strong, no matter how strong they are, all eventually end up under the mobbing claws of their subjects. Only upon the foundation of deep-seated anger, the wrath silently seethes even in the days of peace and oppression, that revolutions are made possible.


    Without fury, a healthy dose of indignation, there could only be obedience. Only submission. Only acceptance of the established truth.


    You can even say the only thing keeping the world changing instead of standing still throughout the ages is anger.


    No matter how low someone''s self-esteem, how little is their confidence, even they could turn a different face when they gain the strength to fight back.


    So even that girl, who had until then constantly regarded herself as a stepping stone, wailing at every turn of the battle, could make that face.


    A face that astonished even Agravain when he saw it: crumbled with hatred, cruelty, a sadistic need to inflict as much pain as she could muster. To match the hurt she had been the victim of and some.


    Ultimately, it wasn¡¯t Agravain¡¯s fault. They both had agreed to battle knowing full well there would be hurt.


    They weren¡¯t playing pretend.


    But all the more.


    All the more, because this was a battle, a battle in which she had finally, at long last, gained the upper hand, that she could go all out with all of her pent-up frustration, without being hampered by morality, conscience or reason.


    You get angry when you are hurt.


    So you want to hit the person who hurt you.


    Simple as that.


    ¡°Haha, so you¡¯re capable of making such a face too!¡± was Agravain¡¯s remark to her changed state. All the while he was running away.


    She was none too pleased, of course, feeling mocked. With such intensity she rained destruction on his path.


    There was a limit to how far and the directions the barbarian could run. Towards the non-combatants was out of the question, and he had to mind Rania too. If Agravain could not survive a single strike, the maid stood no chance.


    He had to keep running. Leaping.


    A small blessing--the tiniest of blessings, was Maria¡¯s growing inaccuracy.


    It was less a technical issue and more a mental issue.


    She was angry, elated with violence, and perfectly assured of victory.


    If she was less so, she would have taken more care to end the fight efficiently.


    There was no way for her to lose now. The fight, once the snowballing effect had rolled in, was pretty much done with, just as Hanael had declared.


    ¡°Stop running!¡± his opponent cried harshly. Gone was any trace of the timid and demure look.


    She was out for blood.


    And she had uttered an absurd and unreasonable command that could only come from a smug person on the winning side.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Well, it was the exact same thing the barbarian had done.


    With every red flashing, her power grew, and the barbarian¡¯s chances diminished.


    ¡°Stop running!¡± she repeated, inanely.


    ¡°You want to get me?¡± the barbarian growled, ¡°then put more heart into it!¡±


    Another strike arrived deadly close, the hook stabbing the earth as he leaped away. The blast wave thrust him into rolling circles on the ground. The world wheeled, warped. But again the barbarian leaped to his feet, his hand still clutching the heavy club. That thing hindered his movements, and the logical thing to do perhaps was to cast it off.


    But doing so would be giving up any attempt to fight back. He might as well yield then.


    But not yet.


    Not yet.


    He hated losing more than anything.


    In that aspect, he was quite similar to his angel.


    ¡°Jophiel!¡± he cried, ¡°Say something! What should I do?!¡±


    Perhaps it was too much to expect that angel to come up with something now. After all she was the one who spent the whole night contriving an explanation that this fight was for him to lose.


    To begin with, he had no secret weapon to turn this fight around. His Rage bar hadn¡¯t been depleted, but even the boosts it granted him could not avail a single direct hit. Before this, he hadn¡¯t been able to destroy the shields quickly enough to get to the girl, so what chances had he now that the white crystal had been activated?


    Its effects were clear now: with its activation, the white crystal had greatly reduced the cooldowns of the other crystals¡¯ effect. Healing, generating shields, and boosting Maria¡¯s attacks, all of which were happening rapidly.


    His only chance was to get to the crystals and destroy them, but that was nigh impossible, now that Hanael¡¯s strategy had come fully online, with Maria using the shields and the chains to control the battlefield. Destroying the shields fast enough while keeping himself alive was out of the question.


    The situation really had snowballed out of control.


    ¡°Jophiel!¡± he roared again.


    ¡°I¡¯m thinking!¡± Her voice was shrill with panic.


    Upon this lackluster response, the barbarian threw a glance in the direction of Soraya and the angel.


    She was on all fours on the ground, the codex lying open before her, but wasn¡¯t flipping.


    She was screaming intelligibly.


    ¡°What the hell!¡± cried the barbarian, ¡°Pull yourself together!¡±


    But to be fair, even he knew it was easier said than done.


    Not that he was expecting some last-minute brilliant strategy.


    But this was a desperate enough situation that only such a thing could salvage it, or a miracle.


    Even then his feet never ceased moving, a row of shields were dropped blocking his path. Menacingly they stood, even as the crackling twin bolts were homing in. Once again he made a narrow escape, leaping sideways, using the edge of the shield wall to block most of the impact.


    It wouldn¡¯t be an overstatement to say that this was the first remotely difficult fight he had got into. In the barbarian¡¯s previous, he had overwhelmed each and every foe, only coming close against the desert ogre because of a self-inflicted handicap.


    This one was different, overwhelming.


    That girl, Maria, might be being inaccurate with her attacks due to her anger. But it was also thanks to this anger that she was coming on all the fiercer, meting out punishment after punishment. Almost as though she never paused for breaths.


    This ruin that had seemed so idyllic and unremarkable before was now horrendously scarred with enormous craters, like a battlefield bombarded by artillery strikes.


    It was no time to act dumbfounded.


    ¡°But what else is she supposed to do, eh?¡± Hanael broke in with a jeer, ¡°Well, she may accept defeat, that is! Or does as she¡¯s doing now: wallowing in despair,¡± A grating and unending guffaw followed. She was really getting into good spirits. ¡°And here I was wondering what got her so confident. I bet she told you something like there¡¯s a limit to how much a person can grow in a couple of days, eh?¡± She sighed. ¡°Well, that one is always like that, so lacking in tactical awareness. Of course you can only teach someone so many tricks in a day. But you can teach different tricks to many, a simple one to each, and so coordinate them towards an effective battle plan, thus combining their strength. It is so elementary only someone who keeps funneling everything into her main character could overlook.¡±


    ¡°Oh shut up!¡± Jophiel was saying something coherent at last, though it was something quite useless. ¡°I¡¯m trying to think!¡± she added, amazingly enough.


    Wasn¡¯t that her entire job?


    What else was there for her to do?


    She was mumbling under her breath, but the barbarian could hear every word clearly in his head.


    ¡°Red: two seconds, blue: one second, green: three seconds, break in three, leaving two...timed to half one! Red, red, red, though, red, why two seconds! How much does white reduce? The green, no the gold, what does the gold... argh...no the biggest issue here is the white, I think one hundred and fifty percent is the boosted rate if so... if we can break white then go red then blue then green, that leaves five second for a cycle...but what about gold, what does it do?...AAAARGH!¡±


    Suddenly, with a cry of exceeding frustration, the angel banged her head on the ground--the hard marble under her. Like someone kowtowing and apologizing frenziedly on all four, she slammed her head repeatedly. Except the sounds accompanying the act was the wild shrieking of a beast.


    On and on her forehead struck the stone.


    And when she got up, there was blood trickling down, painting half of her face red.


    Now that was new. He didn¡¯t know angels could bleed.


    Or that their blood was red.


    Her eyes were wide. A stupid sound escaped her mouth, ¡°Ah!¡±


    ¡°What are you doing?!¡± asked the amazed barbarian.


    Could angels actually go mad as humans do too?


    Or could it be...


    A special move to rattle her brain and come up with a solution for this desperate situation?


    A desperate measure for a desperate time.


    Surely it must be worth it.


    ¡°Did you come up with something?¡± he called, dashing still across the ground, ¡°If so, be quick! I can¡¯t afford much time here!¡±


    ¡°Not really,¡± she said, eyes blank, blood dripping, ¡°my head hurts so much I can¡¯t think of anything!¡±


    ¡°Then what in seven hells did you do that for?!¡±


    Forget being inept, her tactic until now had been nothing but harmful. If he had focused on destroying the crystals first instead of the girl in the first place, then it wouldn¡¯t have turned out this bad.


    And now she had gone and inflicted herself with further brain damage.


    Fine then.


    No use crying over it.


    It is what it is.


    Time to face reality.


    His opponent was only getting stronger the longer this fight dragged on.


    The crystals were not going to destroy themselves, but he had no way to get to them either.


    The angel, who was supposed to be the brain of the operation, had proved beyond doubt her uselessness.


    Both the brain and the muscle had failed.


    And there was no secret technique in his arsenal to turn the situation around.


    Nor was he going to be granted a convenient skill or something right at that moment to fight back. Nothing that convenient was going to happen, even if he was foolish enough to hope for it.


    There was then only one thing left to do.


    And that is to face defeat like a man.


    What the hell was he doing, running like that?


    If he was going to lose anyway, if there was really no way to come out of this alive, then why not face death with his head held high?


    So he wheeled around. Facing the coming shields and the coming hooks and the coming death.


    The face of his opponent as soon as the barbarian came to a halt was not one of mercy. It was of delight. Without hesitation, she went in for the kill.


    He couldn¡¯t ask for a better final foe.


    ¡°Stop it.¡±


    Said someone. Just then. A strange voice.


    The barbarian wheeled his head around.


    Could a new ally have arrived to save the day?


    But no such things either.


    The voice might have sounded strange at first, or rather the tone was, but it was someone he knew.


    Someone he knew too well.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you getting a bit ahead of yourself?¡± said Soraya in a cold and detached tone.


    The tone his sister used to employ when she wasn¡¯t amused in the slightest.


    ¡°I mean, this is hardly a desperate situation as you make it out to be, isn¡¯t it? So stop fretting already.¡±


    ¡°Oh come on,¡± Agravain growled, ¡°it¡¯s not as easy as it looks--¡°


    ¡°Oh shut up.¡±


    He would, of course, not go as far as saying it was her true voice. No, she only used it so often. But it was one that most reflected her mental capacity.

 022

    Estella, the person reflected in the young princess Soraya, was just that, a young teenage girl prone to pouts and mischievous streaks, for most of her life bedridden because of a terrible illness. All these were true and did not deceive.


    But a person does not exist in a vacuum. For every different circumstance, we may behave differently.


    An overbearing boss at work could well be a meek husband at home. We are molded by our varied environments, too often yielding easily to other people¡¯s expectations.


    In that light, someone like Agravain¡¯s little sister was unfathomably impressive.


    She was the same no matter who or what she faced.


    She might act cute and self-deprecating and even resort to her disability to get out of trouble, but these are just tactics, only weapons. A set of items carefully selected to deal with enemies with respective elemental weaknesses. What beneath never changed or altered in any way.


    All this might not be saying much, people with particularly strong core values are not rare.


    But her circumstance was one in particular extreme.


    There was her sickness, of course. That rare disease which confined her to bed all day. Such a life could make just about anyone depressed.


    It takes someone with a particularly strong will to not only live such a life with a genuine smile always on her face, but also to constantly plot escapes from her prison, the only environment which kept her reliably alive.


    You may even call it reckless stupidity, or on the flip side, bravery in the face of adversaries. But that would be understating it.


    Because, like Agravain, his sister was a member of that household. The infamous McAeda.


    His mother was her mother.


    The kind of woman for whom frightening a state judge with a few choice words was something she could do while multitasking. It wouldn¡¯t even be legal to list the thing she was capable of doing, much less the lengths she was willing to go.


    In such a household, such a strict household, where express commands had been given out to keep the daughter safely locked within the house, all her possible needs taken care of. Commands for the staff, and commands for the girl herself.


    Nor was she the kind of woman who spoils her daughter just because she is sick. One simply did not gainsay that woman¡¯s will.


    In such a circumstance, the girl had still defied her overlord without fail, without fear, without even anger, even if only to take a brief stroll in their estate¡¯s massive garden.


    Someone who could consistently stand up against such a woman, an ever-dominating presence in her life, while being sickly, could not be brave, or stupid.


    They would have to be someone with nerves of steel.


    A cool head even in the face of dire adversaries.


    To face reality.


    For someone who spent most of her day in bed, you hardly saw her indulge in idle fantasy.


    Role-playing games, for many are the ultimate tools for escapism, a medium to express themselves in ways they could not in real life, were something she simply treated as grinding simulations.


    If Agravain was an idealist who sometimes brute forced his ideal image into reality, his sister was someone who treated reality with utmost solemnity.


    She never looked away from it.


    Never averted her eyes from the harsh truths.


    ¡°I¡¯m telling you to shut up,¡± Soraya said measuredly, ¡°and stop fretting, it¡¯s not all that bad.¡±


    While the words themselves were simple and offered no solid reasoning, the way she said it brooked no argument. One gleaned truths from her firm conviction alone.


    It was the kind of tone that bids soldiers to hurl themselves gladly onto the battlefield.


    Frightening.


    ¡°It¡¯s not all that bad,¡± the young princess repeated, ¡°far from it. You are only being swept away by the flow and allowing yourself to think so. But it¡¯s really not, ok? It¡¯s not hopeless, not yet.¡±


    ¡°What are you saying, Soraya?¡± Jophiel¡¯s voice came along. ¡°Are you seeing something we could not? Did you notice a trick they¡¯re playing?¡± She scrambled for the open codex. ¡°Is it something in here...?¡±


    The angel¡¯s voice was echoing closer to Agravain¡¯s ears, while Soraya¡¯s was somewhat more distant. He felt like listening to a conversation through the phone between the receiver and someone nearby.


    ¡°No such thing,¡± Soraya said firmly, ¡°what you see is what you get. There are no tricks here, no hidden moves, nor secret tactics to unravel this situation.¡±


    Though the barbarian wished if she had some brilliant plan or insight to impart she would do it quickly. Not like they were having the luxury of discussing a battle plan before the real thing. This was the real thing. And even then, he was running from a certain death that inched ever closer.


    Maria¡¯s deadly hook-chains were still flinging around. And though her attacks might be inaccurate for now, all it would take was one hit to finish him off.


    ¡°No matter how you look at it,¡± Jophiel said, ¡°Hanael¡¯s Player Character had already snowballed out of control. Even if we destroy the red crystal now the buffs still won¡¯t go away¨Cit¡¯s applied effects, not a constant effect!¡±The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°Then it doesn¡¯t matter, does it?¡± she countered. And the barbarian could practically see in his mind the way she was arching her brow at Jophiel¡¯s useless remark. ¡°It does not matter,¡± she repeated, ¡°if Argravain¡¯s going to die in one hit anyway, it doesn¡¯t matter how much stronger she¡¯s going to get. Pretty irrelevant, if I must say. And in the first place, the red crystal does not offer Maria anything in terms of protection. She¡¯s as vulnerable as before it was activated.¡±


    ¡°But the green crystals...¡±


    ¡°Can be destroyed. And then she will have no way to heal her own wounds anymore. In fact, the only thing standing between us and a victory is the blue crystal. The shields it¡¯s generating are hindering Agravain¡¯s movements. These are the real annoyances, not the girl¡¯s attacks. Agravain had been evading the hooks just fine thus far, right? You still haven¡¯t got it? Let me reiterate from the beginning since you still can¡¯t wrap your heads around something so simple.¡±


    After a moment, Soraya¡¯s voice grew louder. It seemed she had moved closer to the angel.


    ¡°No matter how fast the blue crystal can generate shields now, once you break it there will be no more shields. Without the shields, you just have to focus on evading the hooks. Then you just have to proceed to break the green crystals: no more healing. At that point, Maria will just be as vulnerable to attack as during the first phase of the fight. Evade the rest of her attacks and only then strike her down directly. That¡¯s it. Ignore the red crystal and the white crystal is what I¡¯m saying. Destroying the former is pointless now, while the latter is useless without the green and blue crystals, since the only thing it will reduce the cooldown of by then is the red crystal. And that¡¯s the whole crutch of things. The biggest vulnerability in their side¡¯s plan is that we have managed to destroy one blue crystal. It would have been troublesome with all the shields coming at once, but with only half the amount, it is feasible. Break the remaining blue one and the flow of battle should swing instantly to our advantage.¡±


    Of course, when she put it like that, the situation was perfectly salvageable.


    One single right move and most of the big advantages Maria was enjoying over them should at once vanish.


    Such an overwhelming force suddenly did not seem so invincible anymore.


    It was far from complicated once you sit down and calmly think about it. Certainly no masterful tactic. But even something like that both Agravain and Jophiel had not managed to. They had truly been swept along by the flow and willed themselves into believing the hopelessness of the situation.


    Or not.


    ¡°Except,¡± Jophiel pointed out, ¡°there are two things you forget to consider, and because of that you make it out to be simpler than it should. Firstly, there¡¯s still the golden crystal. Whatever it is, it could be something that once again thwarts our effort just like the others!¡±


    The angel had grown cautious after the many surprised their foe had sprung upon them thus far. And true enough, every activation of the previous crystals had pushed the opposition closer to this nigh invincible state. And the golden crystal had thus far taken this long to activate, one would naturally assume its effects would prove the most devastating.


    ¡°Not really,¡± Soraya dismissed flatly. ¡°Hanael began the battle with one girl at each of the crystals, right? Then only once a crystal had activated did she move the assigned one over to the white crystal. With the blue and green, she reassigned two of four. With the red one she reassigned the only one stationed there to the white one at once. That white crystal seemed to be their focus, their finisher, so she had focused all her force there thus far. I think the task of those girls at the crystals is to reduce the time it takes for them to activate and then their cooldowns afterward. But if so, then why didn¡¯t she just place all of them at the white crystal to begin with? With the white crystal in effect that much sooner, the rest of them should have been activated all the faster, that would be more effective. So why?¡±


    ¡°Ughhh,¡± Jophiel mumbled, clearly struggling, ¡°Could it be because the crystals had to be activated once for the effect from the white one to be applied?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s my guess,¡± Soraya agreed, ¡°I might be wrong, and there might be another reason for Hanael¡¯s maneuvers, but from what I have observed, these crystals have been steadily glowing brighter and brighter up until their activation. The golden one hadn¡¯t got any brighter at all since the one assigned to it was moved away, despite the white crystal being in effect all this time. It¡¯s logical to assume they had abandoned their effort to activate it at all, instead of tunneling everything into the white crystal.¡±


    And this too was true, the golden crystal seemed to have entered an idle state, neither getting any brighter or darker. Yet another observation those who were engrossed in the frantic flow of battle could not easily notice. Soraya had naturally had the benefit of watching from the side. She had a complete view of the area as Agravained zoned in upon Maria.


    In the end, the whole thing was obvious if you care to pay a bit of attention. Or if you weren¡¯t stuck dealing with a life-and-death situation.


    It should be safe to ignore the golden crystal, the last of seven.


    But Jophiel had noticed not one, but two problems in how Soraya had simplified the situation.


    ¡°There was still the problem of...¡± Jophiel began.


    ¡°How to break out of the shields and the hooks to destroy the blue crystal in the first place, all while he¡¯s being sieged by hooks, yeah?¡± Soraya cut her off. ¡°That too is simple.¡±


    That one single simple move to swing the flow of the battle to their side--that in itself was something the barbarian could not realistically do now. But Soraya did not think so.


    She had always been a frightening realist.


    If her voice was loud before, now she drew it to a higher pitch: ¡°Rania!¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Agravain cried. ¡°She won¡¯t stand a chance!¡±


    ¡°Stop it.¡± The princess¡¯s voice was cold. ¡°I have faith in her, and I know her better than you do, Agravain. Rania, you understand what to do?¡±


    The maid did.


    So far, the barbarian had tried to run in the opposite direction of the maid. Only one shield had been assigned to block the girl¡¯s path, but even that had been enough to lock her in place.


    As soon as Soraya gave the instruction, however, she wheeled away and raced towards Agravain.


    With a curse, Agravain came to a halt, not running anymore.


    Having learned the patterns of Maria¡¯s thoughtless attacks at that point, he ducked just in time as the hook homed in. Then like a tiger propelling itself on powerful hind legs, the barbarian performed a powerful leap, bashing the shields in front of him with a wide arc of his club. With that one strike, all the shields in front crumbled.


    At once, the blue crystal came into effect, flashing wildly its light. A fraction of a second later, they materialized again at Maria¡¯s side, and once again, the silver chains swung them out towards the barbarian.


    Only this time, the maid had wedged herself in their path.


    Whatever happens, happens.


    Agravain grunted, turning from the maid and leaving her life to fate. He wheeled towards the blue crystals. It would be a waste of her sacrifice if he did not make use of it.


    The twin hooks had recovered their trajectory by then. They shot through the air and intercepted his path to the blue crystal, forcing him to turn away unless he wished to perish at their incredible power.


    The painful cry of Rania reached his ears from behind. The maid had only managed to hold them for so long.


    If he turned from the hooks now, even just sidestepping, even taking a breath too long, all the girl¡¯s work would be in vain, and the shields would gain him again.


    The only way is ahead.


    Ever onwards.


    He discarded the Pigman¡¯s Metal Club.


    What he needed now was speed.


    And jumped.


    On his first day in this world, he had managed to reach the roof of a two-story house with a similar leap.


    With his rage activated, these slim hooks in midair were nothing he could not jump clear.


    It wasn¡¯t the first time he had attempted the same thing.


    Every time he had tried the trick before, the shields had without fail moved to intercept his movement.


    But now they were lagging behind, thanks to Rania¡¯s effort.


    And so he completed the great leap.

 023

    The whistling of the silver chains bearing deadly hooks did not concern the barbarian. He had finally got past them. Finally.


    Finally.


    And nothing stood between him and the blue crystal now. No shields. No hooks. Not even his own heavy weapon to hamper his mobility, to reduce his Dexterity.


    A few strides carried him to his destination: the blue crystal.


    The might of his burly muscles was all he needed.


    And he landed it. The hard surface shattered at once under his balled fist.


    This, of course, exposed him to Maria¡¯s attack from behind.


    He had committed everything he could to land this punch, without any regard for subsequent safety.


    Teeth gritted, he rolled away from his spot, but it was too little too late. One of the hooks struck close to where he was moving. And this time, be it because he was too slow, or that the hook¡¯s power had been raised to a sufficient level that the radius of its impact had grown, the explosion caught his leg, shattering his foot.


    The sheer force of the impact hurled him across the ground. And he could not rise again.


    With his rage bar activated, even such an injury could be healed, but it would take more time than an instant. An instant he could not afford. Already the other hook had corrected its trajectory to lunge at the sprawling man.


    Shit, he cursed, all over now.


    The barbarian faced down his doom with a hard grimace.


    In the moment before the impact, however, the hook inexplicably jerked backwards, and flew in the opposite direction. The other one, which had grazed and smashed his foot before, also followed it, flying away.


    ¡°The hell...!¡±


    No way Maria had chosen now of all time to show her mercy.


    No freaking way someone who was being so senselessly angry would be capable of it.


    Then why?


    His gaze followed the chained hooks along their trajectories.


    Rania, his ally that should have been done for after the little distraction she provided to allow him to break away, was clinging to Maria.


    What she was trying to do, he could not begin to guess.


    The girl was weak, even weaker than Maria who did not excel physically. And the green crystals being still intact meant what little damage she could inflict upon this overpowering foe would be meaningless.


    Even in melee range, Rania shouldn¡¯t be able to harm Maria. She would be at most an annoyance.


    The correct play here would surely be to ignore the maid and finish the barbarian while she still could. It was the first time in this battle that he had been crippled.


    And yet, Maria had for some reason decided to give up on the golden opportunity, just so she could deal with a paltry threat, an inconsequential foe.


    Anger is a great driving force, yet a great many things could quench it.


    The girl might have been consumed by the moment¡¯s anger, but deep down, her personality had not changed. Her lack of confidence, her low self-esteem, her tendency to expect defeat--all played a big part in her decision-making. It was something deeply ingrained in her psyche.


    But most importantly, she lacked the habit of reckless abandon of a certain barbarian. And there lay her ultimate weakness.


    Even knowing she was practically invincible with the green crystals still active, she still reeled at the sight of an angry maid, whose intense gaze had once caught even Agravain off guard.


    Her instinct had kicked in, and all logical thoughts vanished in an instant as she channeled all her effort into keeping herself from harm. And so the hooks had pulled away.


    Even knowing that the majority of snakes are harmless, most people would still be frightened out of their wits were they to find one in their bedroom.


    Much like anger, instincts and fear are not supposed to be logical.


    Whatever training Hanael had managed to instill in the girl, nothing could change the fact that up until a few days ago, she had just been a normal teenage girl in a normal world, who probably had not faced anything remotely violent in her entire life.


    And then she had been accosted by a maid with a look to kill. Her natural response was to defend herself.


    ¡°Agravain,¡± Soraya¡¯s voice echoed in him, ¡°The crystal!¡±


    Half-stunned by sudden development, the barbarian had sat there unmoving, but now recalled to the task at hand, he leaped to his feet, his broken limb already regenerated to usable shape.


    Without thinking, he resumed what he was doing and raced across the ground for the green crystals. This was a fortunate choice. Had he instead chased after Rania to help her, the girl would have met certain death.


    With one decisive blow, he shattered another crystal.


    The effect was keenly felt by Maria as she jolted at the corner of the barbarian eyes. Rania by then was still clinging to the girl, quite literally so, with both of her hands wrapped around the girl¡¯s waist from behind.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    The chasing chained hooks halted midair. Maria must have realized by now the purpose behind the maid¡¯s suicidal charge. Her eyes darted to the side of the green crystals, one of which was now broken. Should her hooks strike Rania now she would also be caught in the resulting explosion, undone by her own boosted magical attacks.. With one of the green crystals gone, her chance of survival from mutual destruction had been reduced by half. She feared.


    Before his foe could pull herself together, Agravain had arrived at the remaining green crystal.


    One punch and it was done.


    As the glassy surface crumbled under his fist, the barbarian loosed a triumphant roar.


    At last, at long last, the tide of battle had turned again. And this time there would be no more scruple, no more uncertain mercy.


    Wheeling the way he had come, the barbarian ran, on the way picked up the club he had discarded in the strained effort to break the combat¡¯s perilous balance.


    Before long, he had reached Maria. Without the shields, evading the hooks was no more a problem for him.


    Only when the man was towering over his helpless foe did Rania let the girl go.


    One strike would be all it took. One finisher.


    Maria knew this, and her eyes widened with fear. He saw in her eyes the resurfaced memories of the previous pains he had inflicted. And she looked as though begging, her expression miserable and stricken.


    Please don¡¯t do this, she begged silently. Then her eyes shifted to frantic desperation, pleading without regard for reasons or logic: please, just this once, let me win!


    It was no mere last grasp of a sore loser who hates losing.


    Agravain saw that whatever her purpose in entering this battle was, she seemed to have wagered or depended her whole life upon it. For some reason unknown, the girl was desperate to win. Not just for her admiration for her summoner, or her wish to claim the egg for herself. It was something else.


    Something far more than winning or losing.


    The barbarian didn¡¯t give a shit.


    He had but one task to get done. One business to complete: his own.


    He raised the massive war club with both arms and slammed it earthward.


    Before the metallic weapon could touch the girl, however, she dropped the chains from her hands and let out a whimper:


    ¡°I yield!¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± the barbarian muttered, halting the club midair.


    Then he called, ¡°That¡¯s good with you, Jophiel?¡±


    In the distance, the angel shrugged, ¡°Well, it¡¯s not like the girl has any chance to fight back anymore.¡±


    The long, grueling battle had finally come to a close.


    Main Event Duel Ended.


    The voice in his head announced.


    Winner: Player Character #5, Agravain the Barbarian


    Modifier added: Duel Victory x1


    Focus Attributes (Strength, Endurance) +5


    Intimidation +5


    Tribal opinion +5


    Feudal opinion +5


    Rewards from skill level milestone:


    +2% magical and physical penetration (Club Weapon skill level 5)


    +20% reduction of Dexterity penalty from Club weapons (Club Weapon skill level 5)


    Occupational Trait Developed:


    Novice Fighter has changed to Journeyman Fighter


    It finally, truly had ended. The announcement made sure to leave no doubt about it.


    This fight that seemed to have dragged on and on after time and again when the conclusion seemed close.


    Like a braked vehicle discharging its exhaust, the barbarian breathed out. Carefully he took a step back, away from the girl who was still shaking with fear.


    Just as soon as she did, Maria¡¯s legs gave out, her face that had gone through so many layers of emotions now a blank sheet of white, exhausted mentally and physically.


    Jophiel was right, no way she could mount a comeback after all this.


    All of her side¡¯s stratagems had been overcome.


    Then those in the audience finally arrived. Ophelia broke into a sprint towards the girl.


    They sure made him look like the bad guy here, hugging and trembling with each other.


    The poor girl was already in tears. ¡°Oh, Ophelia... it was all me, all me,¡± she sniffed, ¡°I ruined everything, everybody¡¯s effort...¡±


    Agravain scratched his head awkwardly, looking away.


    Soraya was looking at him disapprovingly. Like he had just taken a child¡¯s candy.


    What? She also played a part in his victory, not like she was completely innocent.


    ¡°Well,¡± said the young princess, ¡°you really didn¡¯t have to traumatize the girl in the process!¡±


    Not like he could control how scary he was when angered.


    And also, Maria wasn¡¯t entirely wrong to lay the blame on herself.


    Hanael¡¯s tactics had been almost too perfect. Even with the setback of having one of the blue crystals destroyed, Maria had had one too many chances to finish the fight.


    Many other important factors contributed to this result also: Soraya¡¯s timely intervention that helped them look at the situation with a cool head instead of giving into despair, Rania¡¯s correct judgments at the right time and right place to save her own life and Agravain¡¯s. But it was ultimately Maria¡¯s inexperience and weak character that had decided the fight. Unfair as it was to ask so much of someone who had just been a normal schoolgirl a few days before.


    It had been a thing close, too close.


    ¡°Well, credit where it¡¯s due, you helped out a lot,¡± Agravain patted the young princess''s head.


    ¡°Of course,¡± she took the compliment in stride, ¡°What do you think I tag along for? But thank Rania too, she did way more than me.¡±


    The maid in question could hardly stand aright on her own. After releasing her dead grip on Maria, she had been wobbling on her feet. Without the handles of Soraya¡¯s chair to lean on she might have already dropped to the ground. ¡°I did only what I could,¡± she said coolly.


    Indeed she had done all she could, which had wrought numbers on her. Her clothes were tattered in many places, her braid tangled, messed up, her face paled painfully from the beating she had taken. At least her glasses had been left intact this time


    ¡°So what now?¡± Agravain asked, turning to the only one who had been useless for most of the fight.


    ¡°Well, we won,¡± Jophiel answered, seeming more relieved than elated. ¡°Your first victory against another Player Character, congrats. That leaves five more to go. Now we finish our business here and move on.¡±


    The barbarian stretched his body, his bones cracking under the pressure. ¡°I¡¯m beat. It¡¯s still morning and I¡¯m already craving a long nap. Do we loot those girls or what?¡± He tossed a finger in their direction.


    The girls had gathered around Ophelia and Maria, who were still sobbing on the ground. All of them gave the barbarian a look of apprehension.


    What did they expect? He raised a brow. They lost, fair and square.


    ¡°Loot them?¡± Jophiel rolled her eyes, ¡°What do you think we are, bandits? Have you somehow missed the fact we¡¯re on a quest? A competition? Ring a bell?¡±


    ¡°Well, your usual ruffian attitude does rub off on me a bit. So what, we let them go?¡±


    Jophiel sighed, ¡°Have you not been listening? Do I always have to spell everything out for you? Didn¡¯t I tell you how this match was always supposed to end?¡± Suddenly her face went dark, ¡°This was a fight to the death. So it¡¯s only proper now that we¡¯ll take their lives.¡±

 024

    ¡°Huh, what are you saying?¡± Agravain blinked.


    Not that the angel was saying anything strange. Or maybe it was strange in some unexpected ways, but considering how frequently she mouthed off incomprehensible nonsense, it wouldn¡¯t be too out of place to think it was a joke, or worse, a communication breakdown. Even though she had spoken with a grave tone there. He could not shake off the impression that she had just used some video game terms he did not know.


    Like kicking those girls back to their spawn point or something. That kind of killing.


    Because actual killing is kinda bad. Or definitely bad.


    Gaming terms or not, if she was really going through with it, there would surely be real consequences. So he ought to ask to be clear.


    He grabbed her arm, ¡°What are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°Oi, let go!¡± she cried with ire, ¡°I¡¯m not doing anything to them. Didn¡¯t I tell you? There¡¯s limits to what I can do physically in this world.¡±


    ¡°Well if you aren¡¯t...¡±


    ¡°But you will,¡± the angel said, jabbing at his chest with her free hand. ¡°It¡¯s your job. You are the one whose job is ¡®doing¡¯ around here, not me.¡±


    His face darkened, ¡°You are really telling me to kill them?¡±


    At the very least, it hadn¡¯t been a misunderstanding. Nor was Agravain alone in being caught off guard by the angel¡¯s demand. The utterly shocked expression both Ophelia and Maria were wearing told him they too hadn¡¯t expected this turn of events.


    In fact, the only ones who were acting as though it was the most natural thing in the world were the two angels.


    Hanael gave a long sigh of resignation and a barely audible click of her tongue, wearing an annoyed but resigned look.


    So she also knew.


    Of course she did.


    She was in the know, one of the angels with all the information about this quest. It was only the mortals who were dripped fed information as those beings saw fit.


    They were the ones who had competed in many such quests countless times, doubtless having experienced the death of their Player Characters after such duels.


    Only naturally the Player Characters and Summoners did not know.


    Ophelia, who was holding Maria in her arms, glared at her angel with a look of hate, not one for an ally. She put the question in a quivered voice, ¡°What are they talking about, Hanael? You never mentioned any of this.¡±


    ¡°Well, what do you expect?¡± Hanael said prickly, as though she deemed the question too stupid to bear. ¡°I told you this wouldn¡¯t be an easy journey. I told you to prepare to risk your life. Did you think I just said those big words for the effect?¡±


    ¡°You did. You also said destiny was on our side! That so long as we follow your guidance I should be able to fulfill my goal.¡±


    ¡°Well, problem being,¡± the angel huffed, ¡°you and Maria aren¡¯t the only people whose sides destiny is on. There are seven groups of them, I made it clear. Without me, you would never for a million years come close to getting your hand on that Egg or fixing your country. You were given a chance, which you failed to take advantage of.¡±


    It was only simple facts, even put in such a cruel way. Even the barbarian could understand that.


    Seven groups.


    Seven angels. Seven summoners. Seven Player Characters.


    Each was a world apart from their peers. No normal person could ever aspire to such height, to attempt such a grandiose quest for such an unfathomable treasure. The mere privilege of being chosen as one of the seven should be cause enough for pride, for celebration. You would have a shot at something billions of people could never dream of.


    But among the seven not one was the Main Character.


    It was a fair competition.


    Though naturally there would be some with greater advantages than others, at the end of the day, any one of them could fail, could be eliminated from the contest.


    Still, it¡¯s not so easy to accept when you¡¯re the one who fails. Especially when those girls had only begun their journey a mere three days ago.


    It would be like being defeated in the tutorial stage without even a chance to learn the control or to adapt and change your approach. Eliminated before you could even try in earnest. Hard not to think it was the game¡¯s unfairness and not just your own failings.


    But that was also a consequence of rushing things, of speedrunning a high-stake game. By striking others when they¡¯re unprepared you also take on greater risks. Hanael¡¯s strategy backfired, and now her Player Character and summoner were going to pay for it.


    And yet the barbarian could not accept it. So couldn¡¯t Soraya, for the same reason.


    ¡°But I don¡¯t want to,¡± the young princess said with a frown of displeasure, ¡°quest or not! There¡¯s no reason to take their lives, is there? The fighting is over, we can just go our separate ways--¡±


    But Jophiel cut her off, taking on a rare tone of seriousness, ¡°Princess, you got all this totally wrong.¡±


    Looking annoyed, she gave Hanael a sidelong glance, who shrugged. Then back to the barbarian and his summoner, she sighed, ¡°Seriously, this is the reason we usually don¡¯t spell it out until the first duel is over. There are even cases when they refuse to fight at all.¡± Then she took a deep breath, wearing the strained expression of someone who must inform a child that his pet just died.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if calling it a quest or competition makes it all seem so harmless?¡± she began, ¡°It¡¯s on you though, if you think this would be anything less than a bloody and gruesome war. We aren¡¯t doing an athletic meet here, for Michael¡¯s sake! This is the kind of thing that rouses nations to war and shifts world orders. Literally everything is at stake. No one is ultimately safe with the Egg up for grabs. So forget about your scruple against killing one or two people for a moment! All the atrocities humans are willing to commit for a little gain may not hold a candle to this. Murdering a child to claim a throne? Wiping out a country with weapons of mass destruction to win a war? These are but petty mortal squabbles! We are talking about a prize that grants the power of a literal god here, not just mere political influence or simply tremendous wealth. What wouldn¡¯t people do to get their hand on it?¡±


    ¡°What wouldn¡¯t people do? I say a lot,¡± Soraya countered, sporting a glare that often heralded her stubborn streak. ¡°Not everyone¡¯s the same, some have bigger reserves of morality and conscience, you know. Are those not reasons enough?¡±


    ¡°Morality! Oh, well, excuse me for not laughing evilly at this point!¡± the angel let out an exasperated huff, putting her hands on her hips. ¡°Do you expect me to say screw it like some heartless alien who doesn¡¯t understand how the human heart works? Nah, I know you humans all too well. How long do you think I have been working with your kind? I understand what you¡¯re getting at. But this is the one special and particular case where morality doesn¡¯t matter. Trust me on this one.¡±


    ¡°How could it not matter in any circumstance?¡±


    ¡°Quite simple, actually.¡± She shrugged. ¡°Think about it carefully. It was precisely because the Mundane Egg is so all-powerful that it doesn¡¯t matter what you do to obtain it. Now, now, I get it, stop glaring. I¡¯m not saying it in the most cliched way you can contrive for a comical villain. This is actually a case where the end justifies the means in a moral way. Think about it. When you kill one person to save two others, that¡¯s still something bad because someone has to die. Similarly, a war for a good and moral cause will still result in suffering and bloodshed. So that¡¯s no good either. But neither of those, and pay close attention here, neither of those has anything to do with what I¡¯m telling you to do. I¡¯m not talking about pragmatism here. It¡¯s just facts. Because nothing you do to obtain the egg matters, nothing at all, because it would ultimately be inconsequential. No death, no loss, is permanent.¡±


    ¡°What the hell are you talking about,¡± Soraya muttered suspiciously.


    Jophiel sighed, ¡°I thought it was supposed to be obvious by now? Aren¡¯t you supposed to be the smart one of two? We were just talking about it yesterday.¡± Presently, she turned to the girls on the ground, Ophelia specifically. ¡°Your motive for the egg means you at least know what the egg is capable of, don¡¯t you? Don¡¯t pretend you don¡¯t. You must have asked Hanael if that was possible in the first place, even before you set out for this quest.¡±


    Agravain recalled the conversation last night. Apparently, it was to bring her fiance back to life that Ophelia had embarked on this quest.


    To revive the dead.


    Maria¡¯s summoner simply returned her look blankly.


    ¡°To put it simply,¡± the angel continued, ¡°nothing you do before getting the egg is permanent. This thing we are talking about is not a magical lamp that grants one wish, or three wishes. It¡¯s the god-like power to reshape the world through redefining the all-powerful magic, the laws of the universe itself. With a flick of your fingers, you can wipe out the entirety of humankind, just like that. And just the same, you would be able to reverse all the harm done in the process. Though of course the internal logics of the new laws have to be consistent, the gist here is that you can simply fix all the wrongs done after obtaining the egg. Forget about killing, genociding, or any needless bloodshed, even wiping out humanity as a whole is not out of the question.¡±


    Even wiping out humanity.


    The power of a god. To destroy and then recreate at will.


    ¡°Though, of course,¡± she added gravely, ¡°that¡¯s only if the new master of the Egg is willing to fix the world afterward. If it¡¯s someone who doesn¡¯t give a shit about their victims, then they would obviously be gone for good.¡±


    And by puncturing her speech with those last remarks, she stopped short from stating the obvious, which was so obvious even the barbarian could understand: the most ruthless Player Characters would most likely have the edge over those who don¡¯t want to get their hands dirty. And the more ruthless they are, the less likely they are to care for what would happen to their victims after claiming the Egg.


    The only way to make sure all the wrongs done would be reversed was to claim the egg for yourself. Be the one who could make the choice.


    It¡¯s not a task to entrust to others.


    In some way, it was a bizarre twist of the trolley problem. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    In the trolley problem, you have to choose to idly watch a number of people be killed, or actively steer the train so that it would run over another group of fewer people instead. Here, you have two even more extreme, lopsided options: to do the killing then undo it all later, or stand by and watch as the slaughter unfolds with likely permanent consequences, in doing so even endangering yourself.


    On paper, it begs some of the same questions as the trolley problem, albeit with far more radical outcomes and certain nuances.


    Is killing acceptable under certain circumstances?


    Do you think the ends justify the means?


    Is killing someone then reviving them later actually killing? Or is it just like knocking them unconscious for a time?


    Will you sacrifice a number of lives for a temporary time to secure the future of humankind?


    It was that kind of question.


    In that sense, the angel was right, there was but one correct if you were being logical about it.


    Soraya was quiet.


    ¡°And, Soraya,¡± Jophiel continued, ¡°you can¡¯t say something childish like, ¡®I just want to see my sister again¡¯ or ¡®I don¡¯t care about that stupid Egg¡± either.  You are already involved through your contract with Agravain. Whether you like it or not, you are a contestant. The other angels and their Player Characters will chase you down. And you would be a fool to think you can convince them that you won¡¯t stand in their ways later. You have the choice to eliminate your competitions first, when you are still in the position to do so, then restore them later. Letting those girls live won¡¯t do you or anyone good, understand?¡±


    Soraya hesitated.


    There were certainly some senses to the angel¡¯s words, wild and ridiculous as the scenarios she had been painting were.


    But on the flip side, only an item with such ridiculous power could be the ultimate reward for a competition on the scale between angels, one that also involved the summoning of people from another world, the movement of political forces, as in the case of Ophelia.


    Everything in the world was at stake. No one and nothing would be safe from the influence of whoever ends up getting their hand on the Mundane Egg.


    And it was precisely for this reason, this ridiculousness, this incredibly vast scale that surpasses most people¡¯s comprehension, that you could not quite expect a logical answer from the one being asked to make the decision.


    It was like a group of adults gathering around to ask a child for a solution to some worldwide problem. No matter how logical and reasonable they make their case, the child would still be overwhelmed. She would be unable to arrive at the answer.


    Normal people simply can¡¯t process such grand problems.


    And in this case, to most normal people, the notion of killing someone they bear no malice against is utterly ridiculous. Out of the question. The fate of the entire world would likely not be factored in their decision-making at all.


    No one can make such a choice so simply, logical or not.


    To think that the Egg operated on such a grand scale. And yet until then Agravain had thought of it in the small scale of the magical lamp, or the monkey¡¯s paw.


    And he would be forgiven to think so. For most cases in classical literature, wish-granting mechanisms usually have strict limits imposed. No bringing the dead back to life is a big one, for example.


    But not only could the egg make the dead come back to life, it could do it on such a grand scale as reverting the destruction of humankind?


    Not even the Holy Grail in Arthurian Legend could compare.


    ¡°In fact,¡± the barbarian surmised, ¡°the only thing comparable I could think of is Shenron and his balls.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to be an ex-professor of classic literature?! What¡¯s with that choice of reference?! Mind the time and place, I''m being serious here!¡±


    Well, still, for something on such a grand scale...


    Perhaps, Agravain thought, someone who was a firm realist, someone with nerves of steel to overcome her own emotions--perhaps that someone could make the difficult decision...


    It was then that Ophelia rose, standing tall to face down Jophiel.


    A fierce look came to her eyes, that Agravain half-thought she meant to fight back to the bitter end, something Maria could not do anymore. But she was only human, and having witnessed the combat just now, it should be obvious she wouldn¡¯t stand a chance against the barbarian.


    Instead, she said, holding her head high after sitting on the ground all this time, ¡°If anyone must take responsibility and offer their life here, it¡¯s me. I convinced this girl to aid my purpose. She was without a friend coming into this world, so I took advantage of her pitiable state. I convinced her to work for a cause that has nothing to do with herself! So take me only, and let Maria go!¡±


    The girl at her feet whimpered something inaudible.


    Though the speech was brave, the notion admirable, it did little to faze the angel she was facing.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t work that way, you know,¡± Jophiel sighed. ¡°It¡¯s not just the dangers to you summoners. Sure, you are the cause for your Player Character coming to this world. But that¡¯s just it. You are the catalyst, the binding that gets the PC involved in the quest. But even with your death, it¡¯s not like the latter would suddenly lose their powers... If anything, I should have that girl Maria killed only and let you go freely. She is the main threat here, not you.¡±


    At these words, Maria trembled even harder, hanging her head as though exposing her neck to an executioner.


    There was a period of damning silence. As though the sentence had already been passed.


    Then.


    ¡°No,¡± Soraya finally found the words for her feelings. It took her a while, but she had gathered her thoughts, had considered Jophiel¡¯s reasoning. She leaned forward on the wheelchair. ¡°Look, Jophiel. I get what you¡¯re saying and all. I understand what you¡¯re getting at. Nothing you have said is wrong at all. I would never call someone who follows your line of thought a bad person. It¡¯s as simple as this: I don¡¯t want to. I will not take her life. I¡¯m not naive.¡± She sighed, looking tired. ¡°I¡¯m not just any random kid, you know. I¡¯ve been involved enough in my father¡¯s day-to-day governance of the realm to know that sometimes you must dirty your hand. That not every person deserves to live regardless. Some even well and truly deserve death. But these girls aren¡¯t that--no person who deserves death would willingly sacrifice herself for someone else, to begin with! I will not deprive them of life, even for a day, you hear me? Even if tomorrow I could have that Egg to bring them back to life, I won¡¯t! Why? Just because I don¡¯t want to. I don¡¯t care. So I won¡¯t!¡± She shook her head stubbornly. ¡°And as for my safety, I don¡¯t want to harm someone just to live a little longer, for some false sense of right and wrong! This is not what I set out on this journey for! Heck, Agravain just has to try harder to protect me if it¡¯s getting that much more dangerous by leaving them alive! Other than that, hell do I care about this world or what would happen if it falls into the wrong hands! A disabled girl would do well enough worrying only about her immediate surroundings.¡±


    ¡°So you make your case,¡± Jophiel clicked her tongue, then turned to Agravain. ¡°But then the Player Character is the person who matters here. So at the end of the day, it doesn¡¯t matter if the summoner wants to sacrifice herself, or her own safety. So, Agravain, are you going to do this or not?¡±


    He did not even think about it. Naturally, the barbarian had not thought deeply or hard about this complicated issue at all. Everyone standing around him had been thinking hard about all the implications of morality and the practicality of the situation. Not him, troubling his head over complicated issues had never been a prominent part of his job description.


    ¡°I do what Soraya wants,¡± he answered simply.


    ¡°You can¡¯t outsource your decision forever, you know?¡± the angel countered, getting irritated by the careless answer. ¡°If you care about her, you should make the correct play, regardless of whether she wants it that way or not! You are not an animal, for Michael¡¯s sake! You may be dumb, but can¡¯t you try to think a bit with that head of yours?¡±


    What followed was a small earthquake. The barbarian¡¯s enormous war club, held vertically, had thumped deeply into the grassy soil.


    Some of the girls behind Ophelia let out startled cries.


    ¡°Then I will tell you this, angel,¡± he growled, ¡°I don¡¯t give a shit about your stupid Egg. Much less your stupid Quest. I don¡¯t give a shit even if the others of your kind are going to gang up on me and Soraya--like she said, I will just have to punch them all off the surface of the earth!¡± Here the barbarian shook his fist fiercely. ¡°There¡¯s but one purpose and that one alone for which I set out on this journey: to make her happy! If doing things your way undermines that, then I won¡¯t, simple as that! Who the hell cares if letting these girls go will endanger Soraya down the line? Who the hell cares if some people may be killed without being brought back to life? She¡¯s right, this damn world can just go and wipe its own ass. So what if this is the wrong decision? What if it¡¯s risky? A life is better short and happy than long and bleak! And if living life the way we want is such a dangerous thing, then let us die in arms and fight back what may! So to hell with your logic and correct plays!¡±


    After the fierce speech of the barbarian, a pall of silence fell.


    Jophiel looked troubled.


    The rest were anxious.


    Then the barbarian grumbled, ¡°So, what do you say to that? I gave you my answer. There will be no killing today, and that¡¯s that.¡±


    ¡°What do I say?¡± Jophiel said bitterly, ¡°What do you think I can do? As I said before, you are the one whose job is doing here. If that¡¯s your decision then that¡¯s that. You think I haven¡¯t prepared myself for this? How many soft-hearted humans I have worked with until this moment, you can¡¯t even begin to count.¡±


    She sighed, then took a step back, away from Ophelia, practically announcing the end of her effort to force the issue. ¡°Do you know how many times I have seen my Player Characters end up in a terrible mess due to their soft hearts? You can bet this isn¡¯t the first time! And you think you need to tell me, so passionately at that, how humans are?¡±


    Not just bitter, she sounded forlorn, the barbarian felt, and he knew that there were indeed things he could never understand when it came to angels. Immortal beings who had overseen countless bloody quests for the Mundane egg. He could not even begin to understand.


    ¡°We-well, if you¡¯re really letting us go, then you have our gratitude,¡± Ophelia stammered, momentarily losing her usual composure, still not knowing for certain whether she and her summoner were getting out of this alive or not.


    ¡°Agravain said so,¡± Soraya said softly, ¡°and so have I. We won¡¯t do you any harm.¡± She took a brief glance at the angel. ¡°Jophiel¡¯s fine with it too.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯d better,¡± the barbarian grunted, ¡°not like she has done any help today to have a say.¡±


    ¡°And you only swung a stick around like a dumb ape,¡± Jophiel turned prickly. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t even be standing here if--¡±


    ¡°Now, now,¡± Hanael broke in. She seemed relieved now, but for some reason was also annoyed. ¡°I am thankful, of course, but saying all that is uncalled for, you know.¡±


    ¡°You are telling me what to do now?¡± Agravain glared at her.


    Shouldn¡¯t she be happy that they were getting away scot-free?


    What with the demanding tone?


    ¡°Yes, and you would do well to listen!¡± the angel¡¯s voice suddenly gained an edge, which astonished even the barbarian.


    What with her?


    Didn¡¯t she hate Jophiel?


    ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± Hanael exhaled, ¡°I hate taking the side of an archrival too. Still, it¡¯s something that just has to be said. There¡¯s many ways a partnership could work, but this just ain¡¯t it. You¡¯re being dumb, you know. Sure, I¡¯m grateful that you decided to spare us. But you really don¡¯t understand what Jophiel¡¯s trying to tell you, do you?¡±


    Jophiel gave her a sidelong look. ¡°Butt out, Hanael, don¡¯t try acting all gregarious after losing.¡±


    ¡°It annoys me, that¡¯s all!¡± the angel huffed. ¡°You¡¯re still my rival at the end of the day, an insult to you is also an indirect one to me.¡±


    ¡°What do you want to say?¡± asked the barbarian, ¡°That I ought to have killed your girls instead?¡±


    ¡°What meathead you are... Well, I said listen well, so keep quiet and listen,¡± Hanael raised her voice,  ¡°I¡¯m only going to say this once. That one odd angel may have a mountain of problems, heaps of useless quirks, terrible at communicating like a normal person, no fashion sense, no manner, no situation awareness whatsoever, even her taste in music is weird--¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± Jophiel shouted.


    ¡°You be quiet too! Well, I was saying, she¡¯s flawed, but despite all that, there¡¯s a reason her sides are always favorites to win the Quest, alright? So when she tries to tell you about the disadvantages you¡¯re putting yourself into with that decision you better damn listen! It¡¯s fine if you absolutely don¡¯t want to kill needlessly, it¡¯s far from the first time this has happened, but at least be aware of what doing that entails, what you will have to do to compensate for it. Because one single misstep could get you and your summoner killed. So put a little faith in her, if you are willing to make your life harder due to your principles. Can you understand that much? I can¡¯t abide you calling her useless when she might well end up being the only thing keeping you both alive.¡±


    His face was hot. Not a nice feeling being chided. But even for someone with anger issues, the barbarian recognized the truth, the good faith in her words. ¡°Fine, I get what you mean. Not like I think she¡¯s completely useless. We would require her help to help Soraya find her sister.


    ¡°You should do a better job following my guidance then,¡± Jophiel complained, giving him a sidelong look. ¡°An abysmal job at it you have been doing thus far.¡±


    ¡°Well yeah? Whose guidance did I follow at the start of that duel, then?¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s an exception...¡± she mumbled and her voice trailed away.


    And so, the decision was made. The outcome decided. The consequences acted upon.


    Agravain¡¯s first battle with another Player Character really came to an end.


    However, for some reason, the argument after the battle had been more taxing mentally. So he almost forgot one important thing that should have followed immediately.


    Until Hanael herself helpfully added, ¡°So, Jophiel? About that thing for which we fought in the first place, are you going to get it or not?¡±


    ¡°Oh, that?¡± The angel¡¯s shoulders dropped, suddenly taking on a painful expression, making the argument just now seem a joke in comparison. ¡°Ughh... I mean, fine. I guess. That¡¯s the whole point of this after all.¡±


    ¡°Why are you hemming and hawing now?¡± the barbarian grumbled, still a bit stung from being chastised by Hanael. ¡°You should be happy we are getting whatever you wanted so much that you got us into this fight in the first place.


    ¡°I get it. I get it. Let¡¯s just get this over with,¡± she said, looking for all the world would rather not to.

 025

    That ¡°thing¡± was apparently buried right under the ruin. Agravain and Maria had fought in. To call it a ruin was itself an overstatement. There had been barely any of it left before the battle, and now the scene was decorated with so many craters caused by Maria¡¯s haphazard attacks it had been transformed into an oversized whack-a-mole panel.


    Still, it had been buried deep, according to Jophiel, and so shouldn¡¯t have been damaged during the fight. She held the Codex before her like a dowsing tool before pinpointing a spot.


    Following closely behind with Rania pushing her wheelchair, Soraya was regarding the spot with curiosity.


    ¡°So, do we have to dig it up?¡± asked Agravain.


    He had the strength, to be sure, but would be hard-pressed to get excited at the prospect of digging up so much soil barehand. They didn¡¯t have any proper tools for excavation with them, no money to purchase any, nor shameless enough to ask the other group for it.


    As for that other group, Hanael and her girls still hadn¡¯t left, and were standing on the other side of the ruin, discussing something, perhaps their strategy onwards after their first loss.


    Jophiel at least gave them no heed so it was safe to assume they wouldn¡¯t prove any more threat for now.


    ¡°Nah,¡± presently the angel said, ¡°It¡¯s not something anyone can just dig up by hand. There¡¯s a seal on it. As usually is for most rare items. But I can use my angel power to break it open.¡±


    ¡°You mentioned it before, angel power, huh?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m fairly sure I explained it.¡±


    He was fairly sure she hadn¡¯t.


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t expect a meathead like you to remember everything I say anyway. But with Soraya here it should be fine to repeat it just this once: as an angel, I can do certain things in this world, breaking seals, tapping into dragon veins, making rings and other small tasks to aid you in your quest. But there¡¯s a limit to my power, as most of it is used for my specialty, just as Hanael used hers to imbue or find items of the Holy Elements. I have to expend a tremendous amount of energy to maintain a network of information. My Codex wouldn¡¯t be up to date otherwise. If I use too much of my angelic power for other tasks, it will affect my Codex¡¯s refreshing rate for a while, so keep that in mind if you ever want to ask me to do something with my power.¡±


    Having said that, she hovered her hand over the spot she had located. As she stood there, he half expected her to start chanting a spell or something. But without a word spoken, a deep rumble echoed from deep underground. The earth burst upward with a violent quake, strong enough to nudge Soraya¡¯s chair back on its wheels.


    A small box shot up into the air, then dropped to the ground next to the newly made hole with a heavy thud.


    It was made of the same marble as the ruin¡¯s remaining pillars, no larger than a normal strongbox for jewelry. There were some bas-reliefs on its surface, but had been worn to an indiscernible state.


    Still if the ruin had looked old, this box must have been buried at least before this place was abandoned.


    Jophiel sighed.


    ¡°There it is,¡± she said. ¡°Now, now, Mr. Barbarian, you wanted a rare item so bad, so here you go. Have your fun with it.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t you sound a bit more enthusiastic about it?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t because I¡¯m not.¡±


    Naturally expecting an unhappy twist, the barbarian crouched down next to the box with rare apprehension. The lid was heavy, but nothing that could trouble him. He flicked it open and reached for the item within.


    Item obtained:


    Rosa Brooch of the Saintess


    Rarity: Unique


    Quality: Stellar


    Effect:


    Absorbs and converts 30% of incoming magical attacks into temporary Wisdom bonus


    +1 Charisma


    +5 religious opinion


    +10 male opinion


    ¡°Oh hey!¡± the barbarian called, ¡°Isn¡¯t this actually amazing? What¡¯s wrong with it? This is pretty handy for my weak magical defense!¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Jophiel cried, ¡°What¡¯s wrong with it, you ask? Why do you even need to ask? Isn¡¯t everything about this wrong?¡±


    Without waiting for an answer, she snatched the brooch from Agravain¡¯s hand and shoved it in his face. ¡°Look at it! Just what about it isn¡¯t wrong?!¡± she shrieked like a mad banshee.


    It was a brooch shaped prettily like a blooming rose, the petals so finely wrought it wouldn¡¯t be strange to mistake for the real thing, save for the gleaming sheen of silver that betrayed the metallic material. Such an item, for its craftsmanship alone, could sell for good money in his old world, let alone in this one where the industrial level was fairly low.


    ¡°Just say what you mean. I really don¡¯t see a problem with this.¡±


    ¡°Oh that,¡± it was Hanael who had come over to provide the answer, apparently amused. One would think she was waiting around just so she could bear witness to this. ¡°Just one of her laughable, childish quirks. You can¡¯t even call it funny, really, more like pitiful. If you¡¯re fine with it then just ignore her.¡±


    ¡°What does it feel like living without principles, Hanael? I hope your curls rot and fall off!¡±


    ¡°What the hell?¡± Jophiel screamed hysterically. How do curls even rot...No, that hardly even qualifies as a principle! You are just obsessive over the stupidest things!¡±


    ¡°So what is this stupid notion of her? Is it what I¡¯m guessing?¡± Saying this, Agravainsnatched the brooch back, and presently took it upon himself to secure it on the left side of his jacket.


    The thing was dazzling, reflecting the brilliant morning light with colored refraction that caught the eyes. A fancy item, to be sure, much fancier than anything he had got his hand on thus far.


    ¡°It probably is,¡± Hanael said, ¡°see, this girl is hardcore when it comes to aesthetic--¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Jophiel cut her off with a cry, already snapping and lunging like an animal at the barbarian. In the swiftest move he had ever seen in the slothful angel, she yanked the brooch from his jacket before he could react. ¡°A sin against all refined taste! Against the law of the universe and just about anything that matters! Take it off! Burn it! Bury it till the end of days!¡±


    ¡°You are being hysteric again, Jophiel. Get a hold of yourself,¡± Hanael sighed, ¡°It¡¯s just an item!¡±


    ¡°Well yeah,¡± the barbarian said, grabbing Jophiel¡¯s wrist to prevent her from doing something stupid with the rare brooch. ¡°I kinda get what you mean, the thing may not look best on me, but hey, the effects are good!¡±


    ¡°Let. Me. Go!¡± The angel flung her arms wildly to ward off any attempt to retrieve the brooch in her hand. ¡°It clashes with your image as terribly as could! What kind of rugged-looking barbarian would wear a flower brooch?! This is madness! This is a crime against humanity and all angel folks!...No!¡±


    In the end, it did not take Agravain much effort to pluck the brooch from her dainty hand and replace it on his breast. Angel or not, the difference between their power levels was just too great. ¡°Look, I told you I would follow your lead. But this is obviously not to my interest.¡± He released the angel then turned away. ¡°What do you think, Soraya? It¡¯s not that bad, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    The young princess was giggling like mad, it was almost insulting. ¡°Yes, yes, it fits you like a glove! You look almost a courtier in the palace!¡±


    ¡°Fine, you¡¯re not the best person to ask,¡± he said.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°No, she¡¯s not!¡± cried Jophiel. Suddenly she lunged for Rania and shoved the maid in front. ¡°Tell him what you think, girl!¡±


    Looking nonplussed, the maid now adjusted her glasses and reluctantly looked from Soraya to the barbarian, trying to discern if it was a serious request. The young princess gave her a solemn nod of assent. Only then did the maid sweep a scrutinizing look at the barbarian, his set of a battered war club, bare chest under the jacket, and a tacked-on rose brooch.


    Trait: Honest.


    ¡°I mean no offense, sir Agravain, but...¡± she hesitated.


    ¡°Say it!¡± Jophiel jabbed savagely at her back.


    ¡°It¡¯s ridiculous, and,¡± she said without a speck of emotions on display, ¡°to be frank, sir, like a brown bear wearing a flower wreath. It is rather unbecoming.¡±


    So that¡¯s how it was.


    The girl really needed to work on her similes though.


    ¡°Fine,¡± Agravain sighed, ¡°if Rania said it is ridiculous then it is. I don¡¯t need it anymore.¡±


    And he tossed the brooch on Soraya¡¯s lap.


    ¡°Really?¡± Hanael widened her eyes. ¡°After all your hard work? That one item could go a long way to compensate for your weakness, you know. And,¡± she shrugged, ¡°I¡¯m still against giving advice to a rival, but sprucing him up some and that brooch wouldn¡¯t look too bad, you know.¡±


    Kinda strange that this riled her up even more than the argument earlier though. Or maybe not. Her priorities seemed anything but consistent.


    ¡°Well more than anything,¡± Soraya picked up the brooch, examining it, ¡°we may as well please Jophiel this once. She looks ready to go ballistic if Agravain keeps this on himself. Come here, Rania.¡±


    The maid obediently got down to the princess¡¯s eye level. With some swift handiwork, Soraya fastened the brooch on the girl¡¯s hair. All things considered it looked well on her, even the barbarian must concede.


    ¡°Well,¡± he said, ¡°I guess that means I can hold her up as a shield next time another Player Character shows up.¡±


    That would have just about the same effects as tanking with his own body. She was rather small and light, only the slightest bit fleshier than Soraya.


    Would make for a ridiculous image though, and most likely wouldn¡¯t fit well with Jophiel¡¯s sense of aesthetics either.


    She was satisfied for now, though. And she was all over the maid, literally. ¡°See! This is what I want! Isn¡¯t it just nice when the right item goes to the right person? Screw stats, screw effects, screw builds! This is how the universe should be! My own cute maid!¡±


    He still wasn¡¯t sure what this ¡°moe¡± thing the angel was obsessed with was about, but it seemed this fit well according to her standards.


    Meanwhile, Rania was frantically trying to get out of the feral angel¡¯s chokehold. Unlike the barbarian, it seemed she still wasn¡¯t quite sure how to deal with the angel, and couldn¡¯t bring herself to act rough physically against her, nor could she find the right level of respect to show the seemingly divine being. If she had been more like Hanael who was refined in appearance, if rather haughty, it would have been easier, of course. But such an angel as Jophiel...


    Speaking of a dignified display, Ophelia and her little entourage of young girls had crossed the field to catch up with Hanael. Coming to say goodbye, probably.


    Ophelia and Maria stepped out to the front of the group. The latter had calmed down now. She still averted her tear-stained eyes from the barbarian, but her body wasn¡¯t trembling anymore. Point for improvement, he supposed.


    They both bowed. Formal, low bows at that. Maria, naturally, lagged a bit behind, as she was only following the other¡¯s lead when it came to social etiquette.


    ¡°We thank you again for your mercy and kindness,¡± said the high priestess, somewhat overbearing mannerism and all that. ¡°We owe our lives to you. And although words alone may not mean much, we will try not to inconvenience you in the future.¡±


    ¡°What she means is that we¡¯ll stay out of your way for now,¡± Hanael added, ¡°But this quest is something those girls are willing to stake their lives for, not just something either could politely step away from. If the both of us could stay alive till the end, we would have to face each other eventually. I can¡¯t promise any courtesy then, you understand?¡±


    ¡°Fine with me. I¡¯m planning to own up to my decision after all,¡± the barbarian nodded. Then he turned to the timid girl, ¡°You didn¡¯t do badly today, Maria. So train up, give it your own so we may have a good rematch in the future, alright?¡±


    The girl gave a feeble nod, but said nothing. He highly doubted those words had been remotely enough to lift her spirit, which was evidently in tatters.


    ¡°Still, words are empty enough,¡± Ophelia said, ¡°however you look at it, there are no greater debts than that of spared lives. So at least we want to show you some real gratitude, meager though it may be.¡±


    And saying this, she inserted her hands inside her collar and brought a necklace over her neck. It was one with the same design as Maria¡¯s necklace, but with a silver chain and a silver locket.


    ¡°You really don¡¯t have to,¡± the barbarian began, ¡°it¡¯s only because Soraya...¡±


    ¡°Just take it, Agravain,¡± the princess said, nudging at him with his elbow, ¡°You don¡¯t need to belittle them. Nothing wrong with taking a gift given with goodwill.¡±


    ¡°Fine then.¡±


    He took the delicate silver chain from Ophelia¡¯s hand.


    Item obtained:


    Necklace of Regeneration


    Rarity: Rare


    Quality: Excellent


    Effect:


    Passively restores the user¡¯s health over time


    Skill Bonus


    Restoration lv.2


    ¡°Hey, this is one quite useful thing,¡± said the barbarian. At the corner of his eyes, however, a certain angel was staring dagger at him. Although the locket¡¯s design wasn¡¯t exceedingly feminine like the Rosa broch, it would still look rather wrong on his chest. Most things would, in fact.


    How limited is the pool of suitable accessories he could equip according to her standards, anyway? There couldn¡¯t be that many necklaces made of human skulls or something similar out there. And if there were some, they wouldn¡¯t be guaranteed to have powerful effects anyway.


    ¡°But too bad,¡± he went on, ¡°I¡¯m not the one who needs to worry about my health all that much.¡±


    So he turned around and put it on Soraya. ¡°This suits you better, and at any rate, I¡¯m not the type to sit around healing things or people. My hobby is more the opposite.¡±


    His sister Estella had never been big on her appearance, seeing that her whole day was spent inside her room, so he wasn¡¯t sure of Soraya¡¯s take on the thing. But she didn¡¯t protest it at least.


    The princess fingered her new accessory with a look of curiosity, musing, ¡°I guess sitting around fixing stuff is just about the only amount of legwork I¡¯m suitable for.¡±


    Despite the joke she didn¡¯t seem to hate it, not outwardly at least. ¡°Oh and you too, Ophelia, thanks!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what little I could offer,¡± Ophelia said gravely. ¡°Then I believe it¡¯s time we are moving on,¡± to Hanael she said, ¡°There¡¯s still a lot we need to do and improve if we want to challenge for the Mundane Egg.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, so I guess this is goodbye for real this time,¡± Hanael said, ¡°That leaves only one thing.¡±


    ¡°Still more?¡± Jophiel complained, ¡°This has dragged out long enough as is.¡±


    ¡°Call it an exchange of favor, if you want. You know well the rest of us can only rely on your specialty for it.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± Jophiel said, eyes wide in realization.


    ¡°You know how important it is, I trust,¡± Hanael nodded. ¡°So what¡¯s the news on Bombay? You know why I asked, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, I know, my memory is not so lacking. But no,¡± Jophiel shook her head, clearly having anticipated the question. ¡°You can bet I¡¯ve been keeping an eye out, but still no sign of it.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s only been three days,¡± Hanael sighed, shoulders drooped in disappointment. ¡°I¡¯ll pass the information on to the others when I can. Raguel seems hell-bent on taking the initiative this time. So watch out for him.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m certainly not one to guess what¡¯s on that guy¡¯s mind, but that sounds about right. At any rate, it¡¯s something I would have told you anyway if I had it, but since you called it an exchange of favors, let me ask something in return. Feel free to refuse though.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s awfully petty and generous of you at the same time. Well, shoot.¡±


    ¡°That Golden Crystal,¡± Jophiel thrust her finger towards the ravaged field Agravain and Maria had battled on. ¡°What is it? Why did you bother to bring it out but not use it in the end? I¡¯m curious.¡±


    ¡°Oh that,¡± Hanael chuckled, shrugging, ¡°Just a failed experiment. In theory its effect is the most powerful of the crystals. Or at some point it should have been. But you know how some items or skills are so overpowered they are eventually nerfed to oblivion, to the point you have to struggle to justify using them after the nerf? I think this is one of those cases. And yet I thought it was worth a try in case there was something missing in my analysis, in the end it works just exactly the same as advertised. Let¡¯s just say for that crystal to be deployed and activated it would take such a long time that it would never be useful in a normal fight.¡±


    ¡°But you can still set it up with preparation, right? Like placing that crystal there a day in advance then luring or tricking a competition to fight near it. You could almost have done that, if you were sure we would come across this town. Hell, you could have set it up in advance after meeting us last night. Since the only reason for me to come here, by your calculation, was for the brooch, this ruin where it was hidden would obviously be an ideal ground for the official duel. I wouldn¡¯t have suspected it one bit.¡±


    ¡°True, but there¡¯s one caveat to it. I¡¯m betraying my side¡¯s deeper strategy here, but since you are probably going to figure it out again anyway before we meet again, there¡¯s no harm in telling it. The crystals require a constant supply of a user¡¯s magic capacity to be activated. The amount that golden one requires, taking into account all the time to prepare it, would tax even a fully developed Player Character with Wisdom Focus, and still would take long weeks of charging to boost.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s beyond useless, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Tell me about it. Well if that¡¯s all you want to know. Take care of yourself until our rematch.¡±


    ¡°Already making me tired thinking of dealing with you again,¡± Jophiel shrugged, ¡°but yeah, whatever, later.¡±


    And with that, the angel and her girls turned away, walking out of the ruin, this time headed towards the town, perhaps already looking for transportation to leave the country. Dazzlingly and mesmerizing as they came, a group of young girls walking together in habits, their shoulders slightly slumped.


    ¡°Well, what now?¡± the barbarian asked.


    He wouldn¡¯t be opposed to a day off at least.


    ¡°Back to Eisharat I guess,¡± Soraya said. ¡°Ugh, probably walking all the way too, not that I¡¯m going to walk anyway. But still, instead of this necklace they could have offered us some cash.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t thrilled about the prospect of pushing the girl all the way back to the capital either. It would be thrice the distance from the village occupied by the pigmen to this fishing town.


    But Jophiel had another idea.


    ¡°Well about that,¡± Jophiel offered, ¡°we do have a means of transportation now.¡± As she spoke, she pointed to a formation of hillocks beyond the town. ¡°It¡¯s up there.¡±