Chapter 3: Setting the hook

"Whoooooah– That's something you can do?"

Sitri closed his eyes.

The second had passed, and he'd already seen Naüa's all. He'd caught sight of a brilliantly shimmering ocean.

Placing his silver claws atop his face, he peered back at the fisherman and exclaimed, "It is! In fact, it's something I was destined to do! Guided here by fate itself, I've ventured across the realm to arrive at your city! At this very moment! When your people need me the most!"

"Heh. It almost sounds too good to be true. You know, young'un. That's a lot of weight you're putting on your shoulders." Though Count Naüa wished he could bask in this sea of possibilities – ride the tidal wave of hope to its summit, he knew the heavy risk of crashing against the cliffside.

His old traits relaxed and his smile softened. "I take it you're an adventurer who caught wind of our requests for aid?"

"That's right!"

"I see." Count Naüa rubbed the back of his neck. "No offense, but I was mostly hoping for magic casters. It's nothing personal– just that we don't expect to face our enemy out on the fields. We'll be defending from the safety of our walls."

Sitri perked his brow, looking towards the guard's hip – who quickly caught the attention and glanced down at his quill. Smirking at how long it took the adventurer to catch on, the guard shrugged his shoulders and nodded.

"No frontline fighters? Counting on mages to save you!?" Sitri clutched the Count's shoulders – and though those skerries had endured for decades, they quaked back and forth. "How can you say that when you're this ripped? How many years of training did this take! And you're expecting some twink mage to help you out?"

"Huuuh–? It's not like I was ever a frontline fighter. What you're seeing is just the result of being a fisherman my whole life!" Count Naüa tried to grab Sitri's wrists, but those robust forearms refused to give him any leeway.

It got to the point where even the guard was wondering whether to intervene or not.

Count Naüa hadn't signaled for assistance. On the contrary, he didn't seem to dislike being shaken about, as if content to let his heavy mind get jostled clear of worries.

"Quit humble-bragging, you ripped old man! You know about the painful tear and wear of physical grind all too well for that! Place your hopes in a bunch of mages and the moment they get so much as a papercut they'll want to run away and flee! If you want a spellcaster so bad, then Fadila can cast magic, but let me help out too! Let! Me! Help! Out!"

The fisherman's head rung like a cowbell. He raised his arms again, this time to rest his calloused palms on top of Sitri's shoulders. "O-Okay! Okay, sure! You can help! Now please let me go, you're turning my brain to paste."

Sitri acquiesced, and the old fisherman was free to recollect his thoughts, "You probably know more about this stuff than I do anyway. 120 years of peace – and I'm the one stuck with this mess."

"That's no coincidence. Fate has been patiently awaiting my arrival."

Count Naüa could not believe his ears. He matched Sitri's gaze and challenged it. The fisherman's intensity took over the room. His gaze held harpoons – aimed straight at Sitri's eyes. Threatening to skewer through his facade, the fisherman waited for his armor to crack.

It never did.

"Haaaa– You're exhausting, sonny. I'll give you that. Look, I'm thankful for your demi-human friend at least. Just… try your best to help us out for real, okay?"

"Don't worry about that, but if I can ask you for one more thing—

"No, I am worrying." The headaches weren't over yet. Count Naüa kneaded the temples of his dome. "Haa. Favors, already? I assume you want some kind of reward? Even though you're the one who threw yourself at me begging to help."

"It won't cost you a thing! It's just…" Sitri drew closer, and the fisherman backed away in response – expecting another round of wrestling with the stupidly strong lug. But rather than tussle, Sitri wished to convey his next words to the Count alone.

"So there's this woman I've been hoping to impress for months now. She's headed to this very city and should be arriving anytime. If you could help with facilitating our introduction, I'd really appreciate it."

Not what Count Naüa expected to hear after all that – and yet the old fisherman wasn't too surprised, "Don't tell me you're doing all this for a woman… Introduce you, sure, but I'm not a matchmaker."

"Gaah! Don't judge how my passion burns!" Sitri caught the bulky veteran in a harmless headlock. Both Fadila and the guard knew this was going too far, but it was Count Naüa who laughed it off first.

"Ha! You're that serious about her? It's not like I don't understand, but what am I supposed to do about it?"

"Be my wingman! Find convenient ways to get us in the same room! All I need is a good excuse, and I'm set!"

Both men pushed into each other, but Sitri released the headlock before a minute had passed.

"If that's what it takes to save our city… Now leave! I don't want to be around for the next obnoxious thing you say or do!" The Count surprised both onlookers as he swung for Sitri's face! He leaned forward and struck a terrible blow; his elbow landed square on the warrior's chin.

Time seemed to stop, but Sitri staggered backwards. He clutched at his face, staring wide-eyed and unable to properly reply. Fadila sensed they had overstayed their welcome. She ran towards Sitri, pulling him away in case he did something even more ridiculous. Together, the pair left the room and faded down the hall.


"C-Count Naüa, are you alright?"

"Mm? Oh, I'm just fine."

"I apologize. Had I known that man would be so rude, I would've restrained him beforehand."

"Restrained him…" For some reason, those words made the fisherman scoff.

"I'm glad you paid him back for his disrespect. That last blow was fierce. But, Count–" The guard held up his report of the citation. He pointed out the information he'd jotted down.

"P-Public indecency!? That's what you brought him in for?"

"Y-Yes, but that aside. Here. His ranking."

The statement read clearly: Iron-ranked (eligible for promotion).

Swift in his follow-up, the guard added, "Should we eject him from the city? There's no need for us to go along with his whims."

The Count shook his head. "We're not in a position to turn down help. There ought to be a Mithril-ranked team arriving soon. I'm sure they'll handle him better than we could."

His elbow throbbed with pain, but that paled in comparison to what he'd seen.

That bastard… was hiding how hard he was smiling.

A shiver ran down Count Naüa's spine.

Perhaps humanity still had some monsters of its own left.


"Hm~ Hm~ Hmhm~ "

Caramel thighs swung up and down the tree branch. Comfortably perked atop their vantage point, an observer hummed a cheery tune to themselves. Tempting as it was to peek under that pretty white skirt, doing so was strictly forbidden. Those legs looked so soft – they beckoned attention and affection alike, but getting anywhere near them could result in a frightening kick. Either that, or a bonk from the wooden staff clutched in the observer's white-gloved hands. Dainty and slender, they looked almost tired carrying such a big wooden staff.

Yet to overcome the odds, to brave the adversities of their lithe physique and feminine body was an effortless thing! For this observer was on a very special mission. They turned their attention to the south and witnessed the abject sight of undeath.

Over a thousand rotting corpses marched towards the city of E-Naeurl. They dragged their broken carcasses and bony feet across the dirt and soil. Their skin came off from scraping against rocks, but still they advanced. A few held wooden spears, but most carried pitchforks and sickles. It was nothing short of a grotesque force of nature, hoping to overwhelm their adversaries like a slow-crashing sea of rot.

But amidst their ranks, three undead stood out. They were easily 3 meters tall and half as wide. One wielded a jagged sword in one hand, with a greatshield in the other. The second held two scimitars and the last of those towering undead held both a tome and a staff.

Rather than fear the sight of that army, the observer perked up and smiled. Cheering them on. "Ey! Ey! Ey! Go! Go! You can do it!"

It's amidst these macabre celebrations that the observer quickly clutched at the hem of their skirt and pulled it down. Nothing more than a reflex. "Oh, you guys are back! What did you find out?"

From the shade, a hooded figure spawned. Cloaked in black and muted gold, it bowed before the observer and revealed what information it had gathered.

"He's staying in the city? T-That's wonderful! Um… We're only supposed to watch for now, so let's do our best to cheer our friends on!"

Day turned to night, and the undead army advanced.