Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon? On the Side: Sword Oratoria, Vol. 4
Page 15
Wait, could it be—?!
What if that boy’s goal he “needed to accomplish at all costs” included Bete somehow?
For some reason, the shock hit her with a slam! She found herself suddenly unable to support Tiona’s weight, staggering forward. Ignoring the other girl’s curious expression, Aiz attempted to keep her knees from collapsing.
I’ll have to ask him sometime…she thought even as her hair stood on end at the possibility she had stumbled upon. She lowered her gaze, memories of her past week with the boy trickling through her mind.
I wonder what he’s doing right now…
Perhaps he was still running the same as he always was.
Maybe fighting with the things she’d taught him in his thoughts.
His face flashed through her mind, just a little bit tougher than it had been before, when suddenly, her head shot up with a snap.
“…Seems like there’s four of them.”
“Huh? Is this what they mean when they say ‘speak of the devil’?”
Tiona, who was still glued to Aiz, and Bete both reacted.
Everyone’s eyes turned toward the right-hand side of the oncoming intersection, where four adventurers quickly drew near, looking decidedly worse for wear.
They were throwing furtive glances behind them, almost as if they were running away from something.
“Hmmmm? They look in a hurry. Think we should see what’s wrong?”
“No. Parties aren’t supposed to interfere with one another within the Dungeon.”
“Hey, guuuuys! What’s up?!” Tiona called out to the quartet, ignoring her sister’s restraint.
“…Idiot.”
Finally noticing Aiz and the others, the surprised adventurers came to a halt in front of them.
“Wh-who’re you? W-wait a minute! The Amazon?!”
“Is that Tiona Hyrute?!”
“Which can only mean…Loki Familia! I-it’s their expedition!”
Upon realizing their identity, the quartet immediately began shrinking back.
“Come ooon! Why is it always me…?” Tiona grumbled to herself at the use of her alias and the fear behind it. The speaker’s eyes were still fixated on her.
Bete, on the other hand, turned to the four to ask what they were doing.
They were briefly indignant at the werewolf’s scornful inquiry…but then they seemed to remember their situation, bodies giving a tremble.
“…There was a minotaur!”
“…Huh?”
“A minotaur, you fool! That great bull of a monster was prowling around the upper levels!”
Bete came to an immediate stop at the adventurer’s strangled, cracking voice.
The others, too, were overcome with a kind of shocked pallor. For a mid-level boss to be appearing on the upper levels was an irregularity, indeed.
Aiz felt her right arm begin to tremble at the mere mention of the word minotaur.
For some reason, the image of Bell’s face welled up inside her once more.
“…I apologize, but could you perhaps give us some more details? Please tell us exactly what you saw,” Finn said, speaking for the rest of the group.
“S-sure…” replied what seemed to be the leader of the quartet before beginning his story. “We were exploring the Dungeon, same as always, when we saw him—a minotaur! In one of the passageways between the rooms,” he continued, face pale. “He was…attacking some kid with white hair! We’d have done something, but one howl from that beast and we got the hell outta there!”
—BA-DUMP.
Aiz’s heart gave a jump inside her chest.
It felt like her entire body was suddenly soaked in sweat.
Forgetting to breathe, she desperately tried to comprehend the words she’d just heard.
A kid with white hair…a human?
The more they spoke, the fiercer, more painfully her heart pounded.
No longer able to keep herself out of the conversation, she pushed toward the adventurers.
“The minotaur! Where is it?”
At the sound of her voice, everyone stopped.
Tiona, Tione, the adventurers, and the entire expedition.
Time itself seemed to come to a halt before the swordswoman’s bloodcurdling gaze.
“Where did you see that adventurer being attacked? Tell me!”
“Th-the ninth floor…but you’ll have to hurry…”
She ran.
No sooner had the words reached her ears than she was off, racing at lightning speed down the passageway the adventurers had come from.
“Aiz?!”
“What the hell are you doing?!”
But Tiona and Bete were already far behind her.
Ignoring her comrades, forgetting the expedition entirely, she listened to only the accelerated pounding of her heart.
She was spurred on by emotion, by confusion, by a sense of impending danger.
That thing—it’s attacking him!
She didn’t have time to check if the information was true or not. All she could do was run, her feet slamming against the earth.
Bisecting any monsters unlucky enough to get in her way, she didn’t falter, didn’t lose steam. Straying from the standard route, she found herself on the aforementioned ninth floor in the blink of an eye.
The moment the Dungeon’s walls changed, an unnatural silence struck her ears.
Total quiet.
As though every monster had hidden itself away and stilled its breath in fear of some maverick beast.
No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than the roar of a crazed bull echoed through the far-off passageway, confirming her fears.
No!!
In the midst of the fading cry came the faint sound of a person’s scream. Aiz felt her blood begin to boil.
There was no doubt about it. That was Bell being attacked.
A Level 1 adventurer like him would be helpless against the minotaur. No matter how much he’d trained with Aiz, the levels of their abilities were worlds apart.
She was fighting against the clock now. Every second counted.
Still uncertain as to the boy’s exact location, she relied solely on sound as she sprinted through the maze—only to come face-to-face with a prum covered in blood.
“?!”
“P-please…H-help…!”
Blood poured from the gaping wound on her forehead. As she let out her desperate plea, she slumped to the ground at Aiz’s feet.
Tears clouding her unfocused chestnut eyes, she placed her hands on the ground and continued with a haggard bellow.
“P-please save him! Save Master Bell!”
“!!”
Grief flooding through her, Aiz knelt down to take the girl into her arms.
“Where is he?”
“On the…standard route…Room E-16…” She lifted a trembling hand to point in the direction behind her, relaying the area number designated by the Guild’s map data. And, indeed, droplets of blood speckled the ground, highlighting the path the prum had taken in her search for help.
Aiz took off with a grunt, carrying the girl in her arms.
She raced past room after room, the passageway’s phosphorescent glow lighting her path.
“Help…Please…” Continual, incoherent mumbles came from the prum in her arms. Aiz tightened her grip, fingers digging into the girl’s side and heart weeping as she followed the trail of blood.
Just when she’d plunged into the final room before her destination—
“—Stop.”
There came a single command.
“—”
At that one word, Aiz screeched to a halt.
She was in a large rectangular chamber devoid of monsters or her fellow adventurers. There was only him, standing in the middle of the room.
His mighty, armored frame like a megalith. His height spanning well over two meders.
His four brawny limbs rippling with muscles like steel.
A pair of boar-like ears, evidenc
e of his boaz heritage, underneath his cropped rust-colored hair.
And his eyes, the same color as his hair, directed straight at Aiz.
“…The Warlord.”
Aiz’s eyes flashed as she took in the sight before her.
As though in response to Aiz’s hoarse whisper, the man’s eyes narrowed.
The captain of Freya Familia—Ottar.
A first-tier adventurer and the mortal enemy of Loki Familia.
Why is he here—?
Aiz found herself at a loss, unable to comprehend the situation.
It didn’t make any sense. What was he doing here, and why would he be trying to impede her way?
As the weak breaths of the girl in her arms reached her ears, an uncharacteristic level of emotion permeated Aiz’s features.
The boaz warrior was simply standing authoritatively in the center of the room.
He was in front of the only road leading to her destination, his giant back blocking the entrance to the passageway. His armor was unbelievably thick, and an enormous knapsack was slung from his left shoulder.
As their gazes intertwined, he took a hold of the bag with his boulder-like fingers and tore it from his back.
Clang, clang, clang! From the torn cloth rained a multitude of weapons, falling to the ground with a ferocious series of clatters.
“I challenge you…Sword Princess.”
“?!”
Aiz’s bewilderment became all the more apparent.
Ottar, on the other hand, simply reached down to grab a giant sword from the pile and silently pulled it from its sheath.
“Why are you doing this?!”
“Does one need a reason to kill a longstanding enemy when coming face-to-face with her in the Dungeon?”
There wasn’t a hint of trepidation in his steely voice.
At a time like this?! Just as Aiz’s mind raced to figure out what the boaz could be thinking, a sudden thought flashed through her head—the attack from three days ago and its accompanying warning.
“You’d do well not to do anything rash from now on.”
“If you refuse to listen, we’ll be forced to take drastic measures.”
“Dig too deep and we can’t guarantee your life.”
“If you get in her way—we’ll kill you.”
Vana Freya, Bringar, and now the Warlord.
They all belonged to one familia and had given the same warning.
It can’t be, it can’t be, it can’t be.
Their objective was none other than—
“Drop the girl.” Ottar’s eyes pierced through the prum in Aiz’s arms as he readied his greatsword. “Or she’ll die.”
An intense intimidating aura swelled up around him. There would be no escaping a fight now.
From his stance alone, it was clear he wasn’t letting anyone through. Aiz curled her lips in resentment but did as she was told.
Placing the girl on the ground, she pulled Desperate from its scabbard.
She could no longer let her attention be divided. Carrying baggage into a battle would do nothing but ensure her defeat.
The soldier in front of her was stronger than Finn, Gareth, or Riveria—he was truly the strongest adventurer in all of Orario.
The reigning crown. The sole Level 7.
The Warlord—Ottar.
“Come, Sword Princess,” he beckoned, his voice backed by the roar of the ferocious bull in the passageway behind him.
Aiz’s golden eyes flashed as she sliced the air in front of her with her sword.
“Stand aside!”
The roars of the bull and the screams of the boy ringing in her ears, driving her forward, she charged.
It was the Sword Princess versus the Warlord.
The battle between the two strongest first-tier adventurers in Orario had begun.
She launched herself into it full force, unembellished.
A diagonal cut from the shoulder, so fast it was barely perceptible.
“—Tepid.”
“!!”
The boaz deflected her full-powered attack with his large sword as if Desperate were nothing more than a twig.
Her body off-balance from the ricochet, she suppressed her awe, allowing the momentum of her deflected sword to spin her around for another attack.
But once more, it was blocked.
Sparks flew. She gave up on finesse and simply went for speed.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrggggghhh—!!”
Her sword struck again and again in a merciless string of attacks.
The boy was in danger. Her mask had been discarded—she was the Sword Princess now, and the rousing flurry of sword slashes elicited a mighty yell from the depths of her throat.
Each and every one of her countless strikes was a killing blow as she bared her fangs at Ottar.
She was a Level 6 now, and she had the Status to prove it.
Pouring every ounce of her top-class strength and speed into her strikes, she showered the man in front of her with silver sparks.
“Those moves—ah, yes. You did recently reach a new level, didn’t you?”
“—”
But still, she was blocked.
Every single one of her attacks was turned aside.
His defense was impenetrable.
Against the onslaught of inescapable strikes, Ottar still shot her down.
Without even taking a step, he summoned pinpoint accuracy and mountain-like fortitude to render each of her attacks useless with naught but the sword in his right hand.
Desperate let out high-pitched screams as it got knocked about. She had to wonder how the soldier even knew about her level-up considering it had never been officially announced, but she quickly suppressed such thoughts.
With a slash that sliced through the very air itself, Ottar’s sword drove her away.
“~~~~~~~~~~~!”
She barely managed to slip Desperate between the other sword and her chest, but it still hurled her backward with the force of a rushing river.
Her feet dug into the ground. When she was finally able to bring herself to a stop, she found herself directly in front of the young prum girl she’d left on the ground. As she let her eyes follow the path she’d taken, her thoughts became a mix of astonishment and terror.
In that single defensive blow, he’d sent her back more than ten meders.
“—Ngh!”
But she didn’t allow herself to remain dazed for long. Taking up her sword once more, she began her attack anew.
There was no time to gawk. No time to delay.
Her enemy was blocking that passage of shadows, and she would give everything it took to reach it.
She attacked from the side, from below, trying every angle she could to get through that impenetrable defense.
“Just how strong will you become, Sword Princess?”
“…?!”
His sword met hers, bigger yet somehow faster than her Desperate. She tried moving, feinting, and attacking from every possible direction, but the impregnable fortress remained unscathed.
Aiz couldn’t contain a shudder at the contrast between his words and attacks.
His sword skills were terrifying enough as it was, but adding to them the pure power of his physical abilities made them all the more so. It was as though she’d changed places with Bell, no longer the teacher but the student.
He really was a megalith.
He didn’t so much as twitch at Aiz’s amped-up speed or the hurricane of sword strikes that came with it.
Like a mighty boulder amid the raging wind, he was calm and composed.
He was a wall, and the wall wouldn’t budge. Guarding the path behind him, he refused to take even a single step, repelling Aiz’s attacks time and time again but never instigating any of his own.
This…This is…!
A Level 7.
No—this is the Warlord.
It had nothing to do with levels, but the brute strength of one well-trained warrior. Aiz bit down on h
er lip.
“Nngh!”
With a loud noise, she was pushed backward, landing a ways away. Once again, the gap between them had widened.
This happened four times in the span of a single minute.
Her hand was already starting to tingle around the hilt of her sword. Gaze fixated on the expressionless boaz, her eyes flashed.
—I have to get through.
—I need to save him!
—I refuse to let him die!
Without revealing her connection with the boy, she used it as an impetus to kick off from the ground, becoming the wind.
She unleashed the magic she’d sworn to herself never to use against another person.
“Awaken, Tempest!!”
She was on fire.
She would do anything to reach the boy.
Wreathed in the blessing of the wind, halfway into her charge she disappeared into the gale.
The time for hesitation was gone. She lunged toward the soldier in front of her, holding nothing back.
“Nngh!!”
The gale strike screamed from her sword.
Ottar’s rust-colored eyes narrowed sharply, his hand turning into a blur.
The first strike was blocked.
Her eyes widened at the sight of his sword meeting Desperate, but she didn’t stop there.
The current still flowed through her, and her next strike came at him like a literal storm.
They clashed head-on.
“—”
Aiz could barely believe what happened next.
Her enemy followed her every move, her every raging wave, and deflected each and every gale-like strike.
His sword absorbed the shock of her violent tempest. Though his enormous frame trembled slightly at the fury of her raging winds, he refused to retreat or stand down. Even when it seemed he would give in or that she had the upper hand, his incredible maneuvers, gargantuan strength, and even the gauntlet on his left hand all worked in sync to create continuous blocks and attacks.
The extraordinary feat of technique and strategy shut out Aiz’s storm in its entirety.
Their levels of experience were simply too different.
Not even her Airiel, the magic that could put their abilities on the same playing field, the blessed winds that had helped her overcome countless battlefields before, could daunt him.
It was a cultivated mind and body that separated them.