Chapter 5: Okay, So There's Bad News and There's Bad News.

Lower Wind Month, 11th Day, 600 AGG

Freire covered his mouth as he yawned.

It was a nice day. Almost made guarding the city walls an enjoyable experience.

Almost.

"Hey man, so last night I got hella smashed, ya catch me?" his fellow guard-on-duty, Romas, rambled on about his late night exploits. "And there was this girl at the bar, fan-fuckin-tastic ass I'm tellin ya—"

Freire tuned the man out, emptily gazing towards the gentle rolling green hills of the Mohajarn countryside. The fertile farmland surrounding the city produced vast amounts of vegetables, fruits, and fodder, making it one of the largest exporters of agricultural products in the Draconic Kingdom.

Of course, this also made it a particularly tempting morsel for the Beastman Country. The two cities that lay on the path between the border and Mohajar had fallen; the fates of the residents unspeakable.

The thought cast a dark shadow over Freire's mood. And it was such a nice day too.

Romas wiped the beads of sweat off his forehead. "Hey man, what's got ya all worked up, huh? Ahahaha."

"Nothing," Freire stoically kept his gaze on the horizon, refusing to give Romas any more attention than what was strictly necessary.

"Damn, we really need to get ya shacked up," his fellow guard bumped him in the ribs. "Gotta loosen up and live a little, and it's not like the beastmen are gonna come for us today—"

The bells on the watchtowers rang as red smoke rose in the distance. Freire groaned while Romas awkwardly laughed.

"Ahaha, maybe it's just some bandits, yeah?"

'Why would bandits attack a fortified city?!' Freire bit back a scathing retort. Honestly, why would the rangers release red smoke for some damn bandits?

The two ran to the nearest watchtower. As they approached, they saw the sergeant of their squad was already there along with the rest of their group and was looking at them with a foul scowl on his face.

"What took so damn long?"

'We're stationed right on the damn edge of our company's patrol area,' Freire bitterly cursed in his heart. Fucking bastard.

"Ah, yanno how it is, Sarge," Romas put his hands behind his head. Truly, Freire envied the man's idiocy at times. "Just shootin' the crap and lost track of time, ahaha."

"Hmph," Sergeant Lorenzo snorted and turned around to face the Captain again. "Then you're lucky that you all are going to be getting a bit of excitement today."

"What do you mean, sergeant?" Freire had a sinking feeling that the next few hours were going to be very unpleasant. Assuming he survived the next few hours.

Ugh. Why did he have to be born in the Draconic Kingdom?

"『Listen up, maggots!』" Captain Marwon yelled at them with that weird voice-effect. Some kind of skill probably, but that really wasn't anything he cared about. "『Our rangers and scouts have spotted a detachment of demihumans coming straight for us from the east!』"

Everyone immediately began shifting nervously. War had finally come to their gates.

"『Now, I know what all you lily-livered punks are hoping. No, they are not some rogue raiders or scouting force. This is a group fully bent on taking down our city and eating all of your damn sorry asses!』"

Strangely enough, the speech that should have been demotivating incited the anger of the Company, the soldiers now shuffling around in anticipation rather than nervousness and fear.

"『And by the gods, are we going to let them do whatever the hell they want?!』"

"NO, CAPTAIN!" their company roared as one.

"『Then get into position and get ready to knock those damn bastards off the walls!』" Captain Marwon dismissed them, following along to reinforce wherever he saw fit.

"Ah shit," Romas had a frozen smile on his face, already coming down from the high of the Captain's speech. Freire held back a frown. "Didn't think we'd actually fight the beastmen."

"Too late to worry about that," Freire said with a clipped tone and briskly walked towards their assigned position. "We either fight and die, or we give up and get eaten like cattle."

"Ya really don't think we can win?" Romas looked down at the ground as he followed Freire. "Like, we got a whole buncha people here."

"It's better to not get your hopes up," Freire muttered. After all, Almersia and Caldevera had a 'whole buncha people' too, and well—

It was better not to think about such useless things before a battle. Freire swallowed thickly. As much as he had rebuked Romas, the fear of losing and its consequences bit deeply into his spirits as well.

Maybe he'd apologize for being such an ass later. Assuming they both survived.

"『Look sharp! Rangers sent word saying that they're picking up the pace!』"

The soldiers stationed on the walls all bristled, preparing for the inevitable conflict.

They did not, however, expect a group of demis to teleport right on top of the walls.

Freire cursed the damn demihumans in his heart. How the hell did they have access to something like group teleportation?!

Panic overtook their company as a squad of goat-looking fuckers—Bafolk—with swords cut a swathe of destruction through their defenses.

Gods above, this wasn't a fight; this was like a butcher doing the rounds at the slaughterhouse.

"『Hold fast! Hold—』" Captain Marwon's last command was cut short as a Bafolk decked out in a priceless panoply bisected him from shoulder to hip in one clean cut.

"Ahhh, the commander here was weak as hell too," Freire was surprised when a distinctly female, albeit thuggish, voice came from the Bafolk. "What's the progress on the gates, eh?"

"Smoothly, Rajan Vadh," one of the other Bafolk respectively bowed before her. "There will surely be worthy opponents in the depths of this city."

"Damn pain in the ass," the Rajan—clan head, Freire recalled—groaned. "Old fogies on the Council better not have lied to me."

'So she's their leader,' Freire shuddered. A lord-type demihuman wasn't something he could hope to defeat in his lifetime.

But at this point, he still had to try. Even if he could buy only a second of time with his life, perhaps that second would mean the difference between doom and salvation for the city.

As he made to step towards the Bafolk lord, Romas yanked him back.

"What the hell are ya doing, man?!" he loudly hissed. "Captain didn't stand a chance, the fuck d'ya think we can do?"

"Oh? You left two here," Freire and Romas froze in fear as the Rajan looked at them disinterestedly.

"Forgive me, Rajan! I will correct this error at once," the Bafolk swordsman approached them with a cold glare. "Weaklings should perish silently."

"Shit, shit, shit," Romas's arms trembled as he raised his spear against the demihuman. "We're so fucked."

For once, Freire was inclined to agree with Romas. Despite the poor odds, he grimly raised his spear as well.

"Hoh, they still have a bit of spirit, huh? Don't die now, Kshatra Katavaar," the Rajan laughed before leaping down the wall.

The Bafolk snarled at the pair before rushing forward. "Curse your own misfortune!"

"『Piercing Strike』!" Freire fell back on his instincts acquired from countless hours of drills and exercises. His spear lunged forward with preternatural speed as it buzzed through the air.

"Pitiful!" the Bafolk batted his spear away, attempting to close the last few steps, but was forced to step away from Romas's clumsy thrust.

"Eeeek!" Romas rattled his spear in a fashion that Freire assumed was supposed to be threatening. Unfortunately, it only served to anger their opponent even further.

"『Ability Boost』," and the Bafolk was even faster than before, his sword already swinging down on Freire's head. He managed to get his spear up to block the blow just in time, his entire body rattling with the impact.

"Stab him!" Freire shouted. Godsdammit, why did the last person standing have to be Romas?!

Katavaar pulled back and followed up with a flurry of slashes. Freire gritted his teeth as he blocked all of the hits that would have certainly killed him, but he was accumulating damage at a worrying pace. At this rate, he was going to bleed out from all the cuts in minutes.

"Hmph, it appears you are a step above the rest of the rabble," the Bafolk praised him. "But this is your limit. 『Slash』—"

Before Katavaar could finish his Strike Art, Romas aimed for a low strike on his leg. The Bafolk aborted his attack, leaping back as he directed a dark glare at the interrupter.

"Together!"

The two of them launched a『Piercing Strike』at the same time, each targeting different parts of the Bafolk's body. Katavaar parried one before unnaturally regaining his balance—damn Martial Arts—and deflecting the second strike with a grunt.

'This sucks,' in all honesty, they had survived a lot longer than Freire thought they would. From what he saw, the group of Bafolk that decimated the forces on the wall were some kind of special crack-team.

"Enough!" Katavaar's furious voice shook him out of his thoughts. "『Pace of the Wind』."

The Bafolk vanished.

Romas screamed as his arm was sliced off, his spear dropping to the ground with it.

Freire blinked. 'What the hell?'

That speed… No, that wasn't something that could be obtained with just Martial Arts. It was an incredible ability that was the result of countless hours of difficult training.

'We really didn't stand a chance at all, huh?' he thought forlornly as he raised his spear against the Bafolk once more.

"You have already given up, human," Katavaar casually walked up to him and batted his spear to the side. "Pathetic."

Freire tiredly glared at the damn demihuman. "Fuck you."

For his troubles, he got kicked into the wall. He probably broke something—not like that really mattered at this point. It would've been nice to go out less painfully though.

"The weak have no right to be impudent," Katavaar raised his sword before jolting in shock. Despite his wounds, Romas managed to stick a spear into the joint of his chausses; it was a shallow wound, barely drawing any blood at all, but it was enough for Freire to struggle to his feet for one last attack.

"『Piercing Red Dragon Tusk』!"

His spear ignited as it struck twice with one thrust, one blow bruising the Bafolk's chest through his breastplate and the other punching a cauterized hole in his sword arm.

Freire felt a surge of grim satisfaction as Katavaar's eyes widened in surprise and pain before narrowing in fury. He closed his eyes as he waited for the final blow.

'Guess I don't need to apologize to Romas anymore. Heh.'

A hail of arrows whizzed over him, and Freire slowly opened his eyes to the miraculous sight of really was receiving spectacularly bad and good luck in equal measures today.

"Dyurga damn you!" Katavaar growled in frustration, arrows and crossbow bolts stuck in his armor and limbs. Despite that, the Bafolk was somehow able to avoid any crippling wounds and used the pause in the arrow volley to quickly scale down the wall.

"Oi! Anyone still alive?!" one of the soldiers shouted with his hands cupped to his mouth as he walked around the carnage.

"H-Here," Freire coughed and raised his hand, gesturing towards Romas. "Him too."

"Shit, you're one lucky sonuvabitch," his fellow soldier picked him, lifting his arm around their shoulder and grabbing his waist with their other arm. "Not so sure about your buddy over there though."

Freire struggled to turn his head towards Romas who had a cleric busy trying to stop his blood loss—not a Theocracy priest, thank the gods, he couldn't stand them—as another cleric gave him a quick once-over before brushing past him to inspect the rest of the people, or corpses now, strewn over the battlements.

If they were both still alive after this disaster, Freire swore that he would give Romas's suggestions a chance. Even the really stupid ones.

"Ah, looks like you'll be fine with some rest, trooper," he was gently laid atop a stretcher to be carried to relative safety. "Leave the rest to us, eh?"

Freire closed his eyes and blissfully passed out.

Blood.

Blood and the stench of death as far as one could perceive.

Pallavi Ro Vadh took a deep breath in. Truly, she never tired of this scent.

The scent of the battlefield. Of raiders, defenders, rulers, servants, and wanderers all thrown into the boiling pot that was war and frantically fighting for dominion and survival.

It wasn't enough to overcome her boredom, however. The soldiers she had fought so far were nothing noteworthy, and the whole expedition was shaping up to be a waste of time. What was the point of fighting and conquering the weak?

"Rajan Vadh, we have secured the guardroom. The gates can be hoisted up at any time," one of her Kshatra's bowed as they informed her.

"Huh," Pallavi grunted. If the humans here only amounted to this much, why the hell did the Viziers need her to come? "Well, get on with it."

"By your will!"

Pallavi had already stopped paying attention as she yawned and looked for another group of human combatants to terrorize.

"Ah! There's a group there… tch, they died already."

Yeah. The whole affair felt incredibly pointless. Now, if it were the Centaur Tribes or the nations at the center of the continent… that would be a worthwhile fight.

Sure, the Council blabbed on and on about acquiring 'resources', but wasn't it better and more fun to pillage from powerful foes than weaklings?

Pallavi disinterestedly watched as a family that had waited too long to evacuate was brutally cut down. Hell, now even she felt a little bad. This felt like beating up a kid to steal their lunch, though in this case, the kid was also the lunch.

She turned around as the sound of rumbling footsteps arose from behind her. If she recalled correctly, the old fogies had saddled some Direwolf clan on her for some reason or the other. There were other clans and unaffiliated soldiers—she was never one to discriminate when it came to a good fight—but the Direwolf clan stood out the most.

"Vadh," a cold voice addressed her. A tall Direwolf Orthrous wearing a wyvern's skull and bedecked in all sorts of weird vegetation approached her. Tsk, another weirdo. "We were not… aware you had prepared teleportation rituals."

"Don't blame me 'cause you guys didn't ask," Pallavi waved him off. "If you don't like the way I do things, you could always ask for a mautkshan."

The Wyvern-skull Guy snarled. Ooooh, how scary~ Maybe she'd get in a good fight today after all.

"Very well, Vadh. Do what you will, but do not expect me and my own to take part in your foolishness."

Pallavi shrugged and walked away. "Suit yourself."

'Fighting him probably wouldn't have been that fun anyways…'

No, she was not moping. A Sword Saint did not 'mope'.

She nonchalantly dodged a speeding arrow that would have pierced her head. Or maybe it wouldn't have considering all the magic items she had on her at the moment. Maybe she should try fighting without them sometime.

Pallavi deflected yet another arrow, sending it clattering against the ground. "You."

"What?" the Direwolf Orthrous asked warily. Wary was good. Maybe this punk wasn't as bad as she thought he was.

"Since you wanted something to do, go deal with that archer."

"I never said—! Never mind."

Why was he sighing? Wasn't he just complaining about not being able to teleport in and start fighting earlier?

'By Dyurga's name, there's no satisfying some people,' Pallavi shook her head and watched with amusement as the Orthrous begrudgingly picked out some rangers, druids, and fighters.

"Oops," she casually knocked away an arrow that would have hit the distracted Orthrous. Normally, she would have just let the arrow hit them, but the punk's enthusiasm was sort of endearing. "You should really be more careful on the battlefield, kid."

"Do not patronize me, Vadh," he grumbled before setting off with his detachment to subjugate whatever pocket of resistance that was still taking potshots at them.

"Alright, the rest of you get to work!" she yelled at the warriors awaiting her command. "Sooner we get this done, the sooner I can go do something more interesting!"

The beastmen eagerly roared and raced towards the center of the city where the defenses were concentrated. It was nice to see that at least some people were having fun on the expedition.

Well! She ought to go too then; it wouldn't do for a commander to separate from their warriors. Or she would've gone if one of the Wyvern-skull Guy's Kshatra didn't run up to her with panic in their gait.

"Commander Vadh! Rajan Veejanu has been ambushed by those despicable humans!"

She stared at the Direwolf demihuman. He stared back at her, growing more nervous by the second.

"How's that my problem?"

"H-Huh?" the brat didn't seem to understand what she was saying. "But—"

"If he got ambushed, then he's just gotta deal with it," Pallavi shrugged. "If he dies, then he was just too weak."

"You…?!" the Orthrous gaped in shock, completely at a loss for words.

"Dyurga, if you're so worried, go back and help him!" Pallavi growled at him, her patience wearing thin. She shook her head with a sigh as the brat scurried back off to his clan leader.

Explosions gradually began to fill the air as smoke drifted up high in the distance. Looks like the humans were bringing out their mages now.

Pallavi hummed. Maybe she shouldn't have sent away the Wyvern-skull Guy to chase down some archers. He obviously wasn't doing a good job, and he looked like someone who could deal with a few subpar mages.

Ah, well. It wasn't anything beyond her capabilities though she had to admit that was mostly thanks to her equipment. Though she did have some techniques…

She absentmindedly activated a Martial Art and redirected a 『Scorching Ray』with the tip of her blade.

"『Ability Boost』,『Pace of the Wind』."

Pallavi crashed into the group of enemy warriors and casters directly in front of her, sending their heads and limbs flying with a few flicks of her sword.

Yeah, this was depressing. They didn't even have Fourth-Tier spellcasters!

Pallavi's eyes were full of pity as she continued cutting down the enemy—if they could even be called that—in droves. It was a wonder that these lands had remained unconquered for as long as they had.

"Why?!" a man missing both his arms gritted his teeth with hate in his eyes. "Why do—"

Pallavi rolled her eyes and swept a sword through his neck. Frankly, she already had her fill of stupid questions for the day.

"Argh! Where are your champions?! Your heroes?! Is this really the best you idiots can do?" she roared, challenging someone—anyone—to show her more than the pathetic displays she had to stomach the entire expedition.

In response, a few unnerved archers released a few stray arrows at her, a good number of them not even coming close to her as they embedded themselves into the ground. The rest she knocked away, though her equipment was more than enough to ensure she would be unscathed. That being said, getting hit on purpose still irked her sense of pride.

"Tsk."

She bolted forward in a gray streak and was promptly forced to snap her head to the side as an arrow exuding a cold mist brushed past her cheek.

Pallavi's smile showed entirely too much teeth.

'Finally.'

Three more arrows were fired simultaneously—a halfway competent archer, thank Dyurga—and hit the unfortunate Kshatra behind her as she leapt over the projectiles in an aerial walkover. A portion of her own warriors split off to follow her in suppressing the archer while she continued her single-minded assault against the enemy's defensive lines.

"Not bad!" she laughed uproariously as she cut her way to where the archer was firing from. "But you'll need a little more than that!"

Suddenly, the point of a spear filled her vision. Pallavi twisted out of the way, a shallow cut opening up on her cheek, and used a quick『Instant Reflex』to regain her balance.

It was just as well since that first blow was followed by a storm of strikes, the spear appearing to multiply as it drastically increased in speed.

Pallavi grinned and with almost insulting ease, parried or dodged each hit. "Haha! Now this is what I came here for!"

The gruff bearded man wearing the pelt of some kind of demihuman or whatever remained silent, a stony glare on his face.

"Hm, so you're one of those types, huh?" Pallavi happily hummed while weaving in and out of the human lord's attacks. "Well, beggars can't be choosers!"

Her form blurred in a burst of speed, and she swung her sword once, twice, thrice. The grumpy guy surprisingly managed to block two of the strikes and managed to avoid the third one enough for it to leave only a gash in his vambrace.

He dashed backwards, right as a 『Fireball』slammed into the ground right in front of Pallavi. The surrounding soldiers felt a surge of morale as they pressed back against the demihuman warriors, hoping beyond hope that it was enough to put down the Bafolk Lord.

"Third-Tier! Pretty good, pretty good," the smoke cleared revealing a relatively unharmed Pallavi save for patches of singed fur here and there. "『Fleeting Chakora』!"

Grumpy guy clenched his teeth as he blocked the bird of razor sharp air flying towards the mage. Pallavi clicked her tongue. She really needed to work on her ranged skills, huh?

Some of the fodder soldiers gathered up their courage—sheesh, annoying—and attempted to charge her as they boisterously shouted to hide the fear she could see oh-so-very clearly in their eyes.

"Wait—!" the gruff man yelled in warning as he tried to stop them. Alas, it was too late, for Pallavi had cut them all down with a speed that defied comprehension.

"Idiots!" she rolled her eyes as she charged deeper into the enemy lines, intent on continuing her duel with the grumpy guy. He wasn't anything special compared to the better fighters in the Republic, but it was enough to make her pay some attention.

"Damn bitch! 『Dragon's Nest』!" the grumpy guy shouted in fury, launching that same multi-spear attack from earlier.

Pallavi frowned. It obviously didn't work the first time, so he was using it because… right, a distraction. She smoothly ducked out of the way a moment before an arrow sped past where her head just was.

"『Blade Flow』," Pallavi's sword blurred and turned into a beam of light, becoming one long continuous slash that bit into every exposed part of the grumpy guy. It was a bit of a shame to end things here, but she was kind of getting bored.

She watched dispassionately as the man nearly crumpled to the ground, his spear the only thing preventing him from kneeling. The last attack of hers had certainly put the gasping man on the brink of death. Rather, it was somewhat surprising he was on the brink of death and not just dead.

Pallavi sighed. Right, it would be rude of her to not put him out of his misery.

She raised her sword and prepared to sever his head from his body in a clean cut until her instincts screamed at her to back off.

Pallavi snapped her head to the sky and saw flights of angels the likes she had never seen or even heard described before. One in particular stood out, its blonde hair shining in the sun as it carried a human with long black hair in its arms.

Her instincts screamed louder and louder as the very same angel flew closer and closer to her. Although now that she got a closer look, the face of the black haired human looked awfully red.

Pallavi smiled eagerly despite every fiber of her being shouting at her to run away. Here was a foe that stood at the apex of strength. How could she possibly run away?

"Back away fr-from him!" the angel's attempt to sound authoritative was ruined by its—or her, it sounded like a girl—unfortunate stutter. The Bafolk Lord swore that the human's face had managed to turn even redder if that were possible.

Pallavi gave the odd pair a toothy grin.

"Make me."