The Men of the Kingdom Part I

by Kugane Maruyama

  Once in range, he brought down his sword, but Succuronte unsurprisingly deflected it easily. Climb braced through the shock and struck again. He wasn’t swinging from overhead, so there wasn’t a ton of power behind it, but it was still enough.

  Succuronte’s blade deflected his again, and Climb took some distance with a satisfied nod. “It’s an illusion, not a martial art!”

  He’d felt something off the moment his sword was deflected. It felt like the block occurred a little bit in front of the blade he could see.

  “Your whole right arm is an illusion. The real arm and sword are invisible!”

  In other words, the sword he’d blocked had been an illusion, and the real one had cut into his flesh.

  Any hint of emotion disappeared from Succuronte’s face, and he began to speak in a flat voice. “…That’s right. It’s nothing more than the combination of a spell that can make parts of things invisible and a spell that causes hallucinations. I’m an illusionist and a fencer. It’s a lame trick once you know the secret, right? You can laugh.”

  There was no way he could laugh. Sure, putting it into words made it sound so simple he wondered why he hadn’t thought of it, but there was nothing scarier than an invisible sword in combat where one hit could mean death. And being able to only half see through it was as confusing as it sounded.

  “Since I diversified my abilities, I might be less of a warrior than you, but…” Succuronte flourished his sword. But was that even really his arm? It was entirely possible that this was an illusion and his real arm had a dagger out and was waiting for the right time to throw.

  The dread of illusion set in, and Climb broke out in a cold sweat.

  “Illusionists can only use spells that belong to the illusion tree of arcane magic. In the upper tiers, some illusion attacks fool the brain to death…but I haven’t gotten there yet.”

  “That seems fishy. What proof do I have that’s true?”

  “Right.” Succuronte laughed. “Well, you don’t need to believe me. Anyhow, what was I trying to say? Oh yeah. Because of that, I can’t cast strengthening spells on myself and I can’t cast weakening spells on you. But can you tell the difference between illusion and reality?”

  As he finished speaking, Succuronte split into multiple Succurontes. “Multiple Vision!”

  One would think the real one was in the center, but there was no guarantee of that.

  Why did I give time to a caster?! It was Climb’s goal to buy time, but giving a caster leeway to cast support spells was too dangerous.

  Climb screamed a battle cry, used an art to boost his abilities and perception, and closed the gap between him and Succuronte all at once.

  “Scintillating Scotoma!”

  “Ugh!”

  It was like a part of his field of vision had gone missing; however, the effect disappeared immediately. Apparently, he had successfully resisted the spell.

  Charging forward, he swung his sword to mow down all the Succurontes at once, but only one of them was in range. To get them all, he’d have to be fighting at extremely close quarters. Climb wouldn’t be able to get enough momentum behind the blade at that distance.

  The unlucky Succuronte fell to the side in halves, but no blood spurted out, and the sword moved smoothly through him.

  “Better luck next time!”

  A chill slithered up from Climb’s bowels. He was suddenly hot near his throat. He brought his left hand up to protect the hot area.

  A sharp pain coursed through his hand, and he felt the awful sensation of fresh blood soaking his clothes. If he hadn’t sensed the killing urge, if he had hesitated to sacrifice his hand, his throat would have been slashed. Relieved to be alive, he gritted his teeth against the pain and swept his blade sideways.

  Again, it met no resistance and slashed only air.

  It can’t go on like this. Realizing that, Climb switched arts and used Evasion as he backed away. His field of vision contained the two remaining Succurontes raising their swords at the same time. Knowing that both blades were illusions, he focused all his attention in his ears.

  The mail shirt he was wearing and the beating of his heart made a racket. Right now the only things he wanted to hear were the sounds of the man in front of him.

  No… No… There!

  It was definitely not the sound of a sword being brought down. The faint sound of something slicing through wind was approaching his face from an empty space in front of him.

  He rushed to turn his head, and along with the searing sensation that streaked across his cheek, he felt his flesh being painfully torn off. A hot liquid flowed down his cheek and ran down his neck.

  “There’s a fifty percent chance!”

  Spitting the blood that had welled up in his mouth, Climb bet all he had on a single attack.

  Because he’d used it as a shield earlier, his left arm was pure agony from the wrist down. It was possible the nerves had been severed, so he wasn’t even sure his fingers would work right. Still, if he could line them up, he could grip the hilt of his sword.

  An explosion of pain coursed through him, and he grit his teeth. But his left hand moved and gripped the hilt. The limb probably felt swollen only because of the excruciating injury.

  He grasped his sword tightly with both hands, mustered all the strength he could find, and brought the blade down from overhead.

  Blood spurted. He felt the blade cut into something hard, and the sticky red sprayed up like a fountain. It seemed he’d nailed the real one this time.

  Apparently, he’d hit a vital point, and Succuronte thudded to the floor. Climb couldn’t believe he’d won against someone said to be adamantite equivalent, but it was definitely true that the man was lying on the floor. He suppressed the joy welling up inside him and returned Coccodor’s stare.

  It didn’t seem like he had the will to run away.

  Perhaps because Climb had relaxed a bit, the pain in his cheek and left hand was enough to make him feel sick. “I can’t…quite call this victory.”

  Taking Succuronte prisoner would have been best, but it had been impossible for him. Still, if he could capture a man escaping with the protection and assistance of the Six Arms, they should be able to get plenty of intelligence.

  As he stepped forward to capture him, Climb felt something was off in the man’s expression. He seemed too composed.

  Why?

  At that moment, a searing sensation ripped through his abdomen.

  The tension drained from his body all at once, leaving him limp as a puppet. His vision went black for a moment, and when he came to, he was on the floor. He couldn’t understand what had happened. A pain filled his abdomen, like a burning iron rod had been shoved into his stomach, and he exhaled roughly. All he could see was the floor, but then a pair of legs entered his field of vision.

  “Unfortunately for you, I can’t let you win.”

  Climb strained to look up, and what he saw was a nearly unscathed Succuronte.

  “Fox Sleep. It’s an illusion for after you get injured. That hurt! You probably thought you’d finished me off, right?” His finger traced a straight line across his chest. It was the path Climb’s sword had followed.

  Climb’s breath was coming short and rough. He could feel the blood flowing from his abdomen, soaking into his mail shirt and clothes.

  I’m going to die.

  Pain was tearing at his consciousness, but he frantically held on before he lost it.

  If I black out, I’ll die for sure.

  But even if he stayed conscious, it was only a matter of time, and the probability Succuronte would finish him off was extremely high.

  He’d done battle with a man on par with an adamantite-rank adventurer. He’d probably even put up a good fight. There was nothing left to do now but give up. It meant the gap in their strength was indisputable.

  But he couldn’t give up.

  There was no way he could give up.

  Climb clenched his teeth so hard it seemed like th
ey would break.

  He couldn’t stand to allow someone to die, or die himself, without Renner’s permission.

  “Kugh! Gngh…gyngh…g…g…” Groaning and grinding his teeth, he steeled himself, although he’d almost lost to the intense pain.

  I can’t die yet. There’s no way I can die yet.

  He desperately remembered Renner. He wanted to go home to her today like always…

  “We don’t have time for this, so I’m gonna go ahead and finish you off. Later.” Succuronte turned his sword on the groaning boy.

  His prey was fatally wounded and death was only a matter of time, but Succuronte had the feeling it would be better to finish him off here once and for all.

  “…Hey, why don’t we take him with us?”

  “Please, Coccodor, no. There’s a good chance this brat has friends on the other side of that door. And even if we take him with us, he’ll die before we get to a safe place. Please give it up.”

  “Then let’s at least bring his head. We can arrange it with some flowers and send it to that female brat.”

  “Okay, okay. I guess that’s fi— Uh, whoa!” Succuronte leaped aside.

  The boy had flashed his sword.

  For a boy on the edge of death, it was a sharp, steady swing.

  Succuronte had been gazing at his pitiful prey and its frantic resistance with contempt, but now his eyes widened.

  The boy leaned on his sword and stood up.

  That should have been impossible.

  Succuronte had killed more people than he could count on his fingers, and in his estimation, that blow should have been fatal. The boy should not have been able to stand.

  But the scene before his eyes betrayed the knowledge born of his experience oh so easily.

  “H-how can you stand?”

  He felt sick to his stomach. The boy was practically an undead.

  Before his pale face and the long string of drool hanging down from it, Succuronte could only think he had ceased to be human.

  “I ca…di…ye… I…nee…retur…avor…to…cess…R…ner…”

  Faced with those strangely twinkling eyes, Succuronte caught his breath for a moment. He was afraid. He was frightened of this boy who had done the impossible.

  The boy staggered, and Succuronte returned to himself. What washed over him at that moment was shame.

  He couldn’t believe he, one of the Six Arms, had been afraid of a lesser opponent.

  “You half-dead trash! Die already!” Succuronte charged. He was sure the boy would die if he stabbed him.

  But he was taking him too lightly.

  Certainly, the total gap between them was overwhelmingly obvious. However, Succuronte was an illusionist and a fencer, while Climb was a warrior. In terms of pure combat ability, Climb was no weaker than Succuronte—more than a match for him, in fact. It was only because of magic that Climb was at a disadvantage. Without magic protection, Succuronte was the weaker of the two.

  His blade descended with a roar, followed by a shrill clang.

  The reason it had been possible to block the boy’s overhead swing was because his movements on the brink of death were sluggish.

  A cold sweat ran down Succuronte’s face.

  His opponent was nearly dead. That thought had distracted him, clouded his vision, but now his eyes popped open. As a fencer, he’d trained to evade his opponents’ attacks; the reason he blocked the boy’s strike with his sword was because it was that extraordinary.

  That was not the attack of a person on the verge of death. Those words flitted across Succuronte’s mind in his panic. No, his sword is actually moving faster than when he wasn’t hurt!

  “What the heck? What’s with this kid?”

  He was standing in another realm of combat. It wasn’t impossible, but Succuronte had never seen someone like that in real life.

  It felt more like something had come undone.

  “What’s going on? Are you using a magic item? A martial art?” His voice was distraught. He was cornered, unsure who was superior anymore.

  What had happened to Climb? It’s simple.

  Thanks to Sebas’s training, his sense of self-preservation was confused. His determination to live overlapped with the death he’d seen before him in Sebas’s training, and his brain’s limiter had come off in the same way as then to unleash hysterical strength.

  The training had consisted of being shown only one move, but without it, he would have died here and now, helpless.

  A hard blow sent Succuronte flying.

  The shock of slamming into the floor traveled through his back and rocked his stomach. His orichalcum mail shirt absorbed some of the impact, but even so, the wind was knocked from his lungs and he couldn’t breathe for a moment.

  What happened? As the one who’d received the blow, Succuronte couldn’t understand, but to Coccodor, who was standing to the side, it was obvious.

  He’d been kicked.

  The moment his overhead swing had been blocked, the boy had unleashed a kick at Succuronte.

  Still not sure what had happened, Succuronte hurried to his feet. For fencers, who pride themselves on their agility, lying on the ground was the same as being in the jaws of death.

  “Shit! This kid uses his feet! That’s not very soldierly! If he would fight by the rules…!” Succuronte whined with a click of his tongue as he rolled and rushed to steady himself.

  This wasn’t the fighting cultivated by soldier training; that dirty style made this feel like a battle with an adventurer. So he couldn’t underestimate him.

  Succuronte began to feel anxious.

  He thought at first that it’d be an easy win, that he’d be able to kill this little brat no problem. But now he felt that confidence ebbing.

  Now on his feet, he saw the dangerous-seeming boy slowly crumple to the ground and held his breath.

  From the boy’s complexion, it looked like the previous exchange had expended the rest of his life. No, that was exactly what had happened. He’d exhibited the power of a candle flaring the moment before it goes out.

  But now so much as a light push would probably kill him.

  Succuronte felt slightly relieved to see that, but confusion and rage soon overtook him at the fact that he, one of the Six Arms, the strongest members of the Eight Fingers, could feel this cornered by a single soldier. At the fact that he’d worried at all. But now the fight was decided. All that was left was to kill him and escape.

  But—

  “I’ll have you stop right there.”

  It seemed like he’d made it just in time.

  Climb lay on the floor, his face clammy with sweat and paler than white. Nevertheless, he was still alive. But the wound in his abdomen was fatal, so he’d die if there was any delay in getting him treatment.

  With no sense of relief, Brain charged into the room.

  There were two men there. One seemed entirely incapable of fighting.

  “Don’t worry about that shady guy. Just kill the kid!”

  “He’ll charge and kill me instantly if I do that. He isn’t like that brat. I can’t win against him unless I focus and fight with all my might. If I let my guard down for an instant or get even a little distracted, it’ll be over.”

  Brain understood that the one who’d replied was Succuronte. He did fit the description he’d heard. The warrior could have deduced the man’s identity from his double and blood-splattered sword alone, but now he knew for sure.

  Brain walked briskly forward without a word, drawing his katana and striking in one fluid motion, but Succuronte had already jumped away. The sword sliced through nothing but air. Brain had swung it only to get him away from Climb anyway. He stepped over the fallen boy and took up a position protecting him.

  “Climb, are you okay? Do you have any healing items?” he asked quickly, with no time to lose. If he didn’t have something, they’d need to come up with another plan as soon as possible.

  “Agh,” he panted. “Y…ye…s.”


  Brain glanced down and saw that Climb’s hand had let go of his sword and was moving. “Okay,” he answered, feeling deeply relieved. Then he turned a severe stare on Succuronte. “Starting now, I’m your opponent. I’ll be taking revenge for him.”

  “Given the katana, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you’d be so confident. Those rarely find their way this far north… I’ve never even heard of one in the kingdom. Can I ask your name?”

  Brain didn’t feel like answering.

  He and Climb had the same objective—they were comrades. With Climb half-dead, how could he answer a question like that as if nothing had happened…? Brain suddenly wondered to himself, Was I always like this?

  Hadn’t he abandoned everything besides growing stronger with a sword? He cocked his head slightly and laughed to himself. Ohhh, I see.

  His heart, his dreams, his goals, his livelihood, his very way of life—it had all been broken by the monster Shalltear Bloodfallen. The boy called Climb must have wedged himself into those cracks the moment he’d earned Brain’s admiration for being able to withstand the mysterious Sebas’s brutal intent to kill when Brain himself couldn’t, despite being weaker. He’d seen the brilliance of this young soldier who had something he did not.

  He stood in front of Climb and exchanged glares with Succuronte. Can I get Climb to see the same thing in me as I saw in him that time?

  His old self would have burst out laughing, saying, You’ve gone soft.

  He used to think that bearing the burden of another made a warrior weak. He’d thought warriors needed to be sharp.

  But now he understood.

  “This is another way to live… I get it, Gazef…but I may never make it to where you are.”

  “Did you not hear me? How about I ask you again? What’s your name?”

  “Sorry. I don’t think it’ll matter if I tell you, but sure, I’ll answer… I’m Brain Unglaus.”

  Succuronte’s eyes opened wide. “What?! The Brain Unglaus?”