Towards a Glory Not Worth Taking

by Ao Jyumonji

  It all resonated.

  In so many ways.

  Merry’s words in particular.

  That’s what it’s like, huh?

  It wasn’t quite the right way to put it, but he felt like something precious had been snatched away from him.

  If only he had realized sooner. That he truly loved Merry.

  Still, even if he had realized it, this was Haruhiro. Surely he couldn’t have done anything. In other words, it would have been the same.

  Yes. The same. Things had turned out this way because they needed to.

  “Heh.” Ranta snorted derisively. “You guys are so cheesy. Did you want to trigger your death flags that badly? You’re morons. Seriously, seriously.”

  It was actually reassuring. If Ranta didn’t act like Ranta, it would have thrown Haruhiro off-balance.

  Haruhiro spun his shoulders around. Worked out the tension. What good was being on edge going to do him? That wasn’t the sort of situation this was.

  “They won’t die, man.” Haruhiro’s eyes probably looked sleepy right now. Of course, he wasn’t tired. “I won’t let anyone else die.”

  The moment he said it, he started to think things like, Well, that’s the hope, I’ll work myself practically to death to keep everyone alive, that’s what I’m saying, it’s an expression of intent, I don’t know if it’s possible or not, but—

  This was Haruhiro. He couldn’t suddenly change who he was. However, pretending to have changed—that, to some degree, he could do.

  “Ducky, we’re going!” “One-on-One” Max led Iron Knuckle into action. It looked like they’d be heading for the initial hill.

  “Do what you want! The Berserkers are staying on standby!” “Red Devil” Ducky shouted back. It looked like the Berserkers planned to stay in the settlement.

  Max and Ducky had different builds, but they were the same type. Because they were the leaders, or bosses, rather, Iron Knuckle and the Berserkers gave off a similar aura. They were aggressive and showy.

  Iron Knuckle used blue and black, while the Berserkers used red as their signifying colors, and each of the members had those colors displayed on their equipment. It looked like they had clan symbols, too. Iron Knuckle’s was a clenched fist, while the Berserkers used a skull with a cross sword and ax. However, though they were similar, Iron Knuckle were cheerful and mischievous, giving off what could be taken as a more youthful vibe. The Berserkers had what could charitably have been called a sense of dignity, or less charitably called cunning.

  Iron Knuckle were going offensive, the Berserkers were defensive. Shinohara and Kimura were still talking it over. What would the Tokkis do? Haruhiro looked to Tokimune to gauge his reaction.

  Huh? Is something weird? he thought suddenly. By weird, I mean—this is...

  This sound.

  Haruhiro looked to the east. Then, to the south.

  It’s coming. Getting closer. A white giant. Footsteps, huh. That’s right. This rumbling... It’s white giant footsteps. No, but this... But wait, huh? These white giants, the number of them...

  It’s not just one or two, is it? About how many? I don’t know. Maybe they’re still far off?

  They’re coming from over there, and over there, too?

  I can’t quite count. It’s too many to. I don’t have time to sit here and count.

  “Th-There’s a swarm of white giants!” Haruhiro’s voice sounded like it might crack.

  “Whoa...” Even Tokimune was shocked. “They’re coming from all over, huh.”

  Tada laughed, spinning his warhammer around. “That’s how I like it.”

  “Heh...” Inui spread his arms wide. “Wind of ruin, blow with wild abandon!”

  “You no say bad omen things, yeah?!” Anna-san punched Inui.

  “I’ll ard-gu Anna-san with my fe-li!” Kikkawa pointed to himself with his thumb.

  “Ard-gu and fe-li...” Haruhiro muttered despite himself. They were probably some of Kikkawa’s signature scrambled words, but he couldn’t even figure out what they meant anymore.

  “Kwahh,” Mimorin let out a strange sound as she drew her sword.

  “Looks like we’ve gotta fight, damn it.” Ranta lowered the visor on his helmet.

  “But even if we’re gonna fight...” Kuzaku adjusted his helmet and readied his shield. “...can we, really?”

  Yume, Shihoru, and Merry were all silent. Their expressions were stiff and grim. Even Yume was grimacing.

  Haruhiro honestly wanted to flee. But the question was, where to? Yeah, it didn’t look like there was anywhere. Because the giant god was at the initial hill.

  Could the giant god have made that incredible sound? That was the kind of thing he was thinking. Then it turned out like this? They say let sleeping gods lie, but maybe we volunteer soldiers angered the gods of this Dusk Realm?

  It didn’t matter. At the very least, it wasn’t anything to think about now.

  “Hey, Shinohara!” Ducky shouted, waving to them. “Help us out here for now! Splitting up isn’t a smart plan!”

  “Let’s call back Iron Knuckle, too.” Shinohara nodded. “This is a time when we need to pull together, clan differences aside! Orion will do as it always does!”

  “Listen, don’t you dare get scared and turn your backs on the enemy!” Ducky roared. “If you turn tail, expect to get killed! Face forward until you die!”

  “What’s that red-haired guy stating the obvious for?” Tada laughed mockingly.

  Was that guy not afraid?

  Haruhiro was afraid. He could feel his knees and the bottom of his stomach quivering.

  Iron Knuckle turned around and came back, led by Max.

  “They’re here, they’re here, they’re here!” Tokimune banged on his shield with his sword.

  Oh, I don’t want to look— But Haruhiro had to look. The white giants. They’re still a ways off to the south. The white giants to the east are pretty close. From what I can see, there are around ten, maybe? There could be more behind them.

  While there were differences between individual white giants, they could be categorized into roughly three size categories. The four-meter class, the six-meter class, and the eight-meter class. Those in the eight-meter class were rare, and Haruhiro had never seen one before.

  There were two of what looked to be those eight-meter class white giants. One was six-meter class, and the rest were four-meter class.

  Haruhiro wasn’t brave and decisive, or stout-hearted, or clear-thinking, or calm. The best he could manage was to act out the role of the dauntless leader. He needed to play that role somehow.

  Shihoru. Yume. Ranta. Merry. Kuzaku. He looked to each of their faces. I have comrades, and I don’t want any of them to die. That’s why we need to overcome this together.

  “If you’re sleepy, just go to sleep, leader,” Ranta laughed.

  “How many times do I have to tell you? I was born with these eyes.” Haruhiro thumped one fist against his chest. “—Okay. Let’s get this job done. Sleep can wait until after that.”

  8. Cross the Boundary

  I know, Haruhiro thought. I ought to make a more powerful speech, one filled with energy.

  Haruhiro would have loved to do that, of course, but nothing came to mind, so there wasn’t much he could do about it. Besides, this time, there was no need.

  “O, o, o, o, o, o, o, o, o, o, o, o, o, o, o, o, o, o, o...!”

  “What are you doing?!” Haruhiro grabbed Ranta, who was just standing there, by the arm and took off running. As he ran, he shouted, “Get out of the way for now! Don’t stand straight in front of the dogs, get out of the way!”

  Even without Haruhiro’s encouragement, Kuzaku, Yume, Shihoru and Merry all ran away. It wasn’t just Haruhiro and his party, either. The volunteer soldiers took off to the left, right, and backwards, scattering in all directions.

  Ducky had said not to turn their backs, but that wasn’t an option. There were white giants that were over four meters tall charging straight at them. If th
ey got hit properly by that, they’d be run over for sure. Either trampled or knocked flying. If they tried to take them head-on, like Ranta had been about to, that would actually be worse. While they were trying to work themselves up, the white giants would close in, and while they were still going, Oh, crap, oh, crap, what do I do? and panicking, they’d get trampled to death.

  But even if they ran—

  “Ha-Ha-Haruhiroooo!” Ranta hollered. “I-I-Incomiiiing! One of them’s coming this way!”

  “Yeah, I already know!”

  One of the white giants was chasing after Haruhiro and Ranta. Haruhiro let go of Ranta’s arm and pumped his legs harder. But up ahead there was yet another white giant. Where were the others? He didn’t have time to look.

  One white giant behind me. Another in front. Do I go right? Or left?

  No good. Can’t go right or left. That’s just my intuition, though—no, don’t doubt it.

  “Charge in and slip past it!” he called.

  “Huh?! Seriously?!” Ranta hollered.

  “Seriously!” Haruhiro charged towards the white giant in front of him.

  Hands. The hands will come first. Both hands. Trying to grab me. They’re not that fast—They shouldn’t be, right? Head for the right side. Slip past the white giant’s left hand on the outside. Go. I’ve gotta go. Go. I can do it. Dodge!

  “—Yuh...!”

  Turning his body sideways, he narrowly avoided the white giant’s left hand. But what the hell was “Yuh” supposed to be? Haruhiro didn’t know that himself.

  “Ranta?!” he screamed.

  “Yeah!”

  Ranta had gotten by the white giant’s right hand somehow, and seemed to have succeeded in getting behind it. It wasn’t something they’d set up intentionally, but they heard the two white giants slam into one another behind them.

  “Ha! Serves you right!” Ranta howled.

  Haruhiro couldn’t be as jubilant about it as the cheering Ranta. If anything, Haruhiro wanted to take his frustrations out on him.

  “Aw, damn it! Them, too?!” Haruhiro cried.

  Of course, the ones he had seen at the beginning weren’t all of them. There were still more of the white giants coming. It wasn’t just giants, either. Something else was mixed in with the white giants—or rather, it might have been more accurate to say the white giants were mixed in with them. There were clearly more of them, after all.

  No, if he didn’t say there were far more of them, it would be a straight-up lie. My, my, were these not the one-eyed, white poncho-wearing cultists, rushing towards them en masse?

  Haruhiro wanted to regroup with his comrades. But first, he wanted to check if they were okay. He checked, and—

  How? he wanted to scream.

  “Don’t get separated, Ranta!”

  “Hey, heyyyyyyyy?!” Ranta yelled back. “This is ridiculous, you know?!”

  He wasn’t even listening. Ranta’s attention was entirely focused on the cultists. Well, maybe it was hard to blame him for that. After all, the ordinary cultists are rushing us with their spears down.

  What do we do? Haruhiro thought frantically.

  There was no time to think. Time was very, very limited. If they stopped, it would all be over. They had to press forward. Which way? Where would they go?

  He heard voices. People’s voices. Sounds. Presences. Breathing. His own breath.

  In front of them, there were ten ordinary cultists, Pansukes, or somewhere around that number. There were also two elite cultists, Tori-sans, wielding Thunder Sword Dolphins and Mirror Shields, maybe three? There were more cultists than just that, but these were the only ones Haruhiro had to immediately concern himself with. Also, a white giant, one of the four-meter class.

  Behind them were the rest of the white giants. The two that had collided earlier were getting back up. There were a number of giants that had stopped—been forced to stop? Were they in combat? Were there volunteer soldiers fighting with the white giants?

  Yes. There were. Over there.

  “Come along, Ranta!” Haruhiro shouted.

  “Nwahh?!”

  Even as he ran, Haruhiro never stopped looking. Ranta was keeping up.

  Those are the Berserkers, huh, he thought. Unbelievable. Even in this situation, they already have one of the white giants down. No, not just one. Two, huh.

  Ducky and the Berserkers were going to work on their third white giant. They were using tools to do it. Ropes. With weights on the ends, probably.

  They threw those, wrapping them around the giant’s neck. Then, they pulled on them as a group. Bringing it to the ground. It was easy to describe, but it would be difficult to throw the ropes and have them go the way you wanted. It took a lot of strength to pull one down. Their timing had to be in sync, too.

  Despite their clan name, which would make you expect the Berserkers to charge in with no fear of any counterattacks, they actually fought with finesse and technique.

  Next to the Berserkers with their three parties, seventeen people, moving practically as one group, he spotted Yume. Either she was watching the Berserkers in awe, or she was staring off into space, because she was just standing there.

  Even as he ran towards Yume, Haruhiro kept looking. It wasn’t only the Berserkers who were fighting back. There were volunteer soldiers swarming an eight-meter class white giant a little farther away. There was a fearless and reckless one who scaled the giant, climbing onto its shoulders and striking it in the face.

  Max. That was “One-on-One” Max.

  Max was short, but he carried a thick sword in each hand, and slashed, or rather slugged, the white giant with them. He showered a flurry of blows on it.

  Iron Knuckle were clobbering the eight-meter class.

  He saw the white capes of Orion, too. They had spread out into individual parties. It didn’t look like they were actively pressing the attack. But they weren’t fleeing in confusion, either.

  The Tokkis.

  Tokimune stood right in front of a white giant, with Tada attacking it from the side. Kikkawa and Mimorin were there, too. Inui. And Anna-san.

  That’s Merry next to Anna-san, huh, Haruhiro thought. Kuzaku’s there, too.

  Deal with Yume first.

  “That girl!” Ranta screamed. It looked like Ranta had spotted Yume. “Hey, Yume! Don’t just stand there!”

  Yume turned in their direction. “...Wha?”

  “Come here!” Haruhiro called her over.

  She gave a big nod and took off towards them at a run. The cultists would arrive soon, and this area would probably descend into utter chaos.

  “Merry! Kuzaku!” Haruhiro shouted.

  He turned back and looked as he ran towards the Tokkis. The cultists had arrived. Kuzaku and Merry noticed Haruhiro and the others.

  “Where’s Shihoru?!” he shouted.

  “I’m sorry!” Merry frowned as she shook her head.

  “We don’t have time!” Ranta hollered.

  “She’s our top priority!” Haruhiro shouted back.

  While thinking about it, he looked. He surveyed the area as he made his judgment call. As he looked around, Haruhiro came up with his basic strategy.

  Well, we’ll be parasites, so to speak. I feel bad about it, but we’re going to act like parasites on the stronger fighters while we search for Shihoru. I’m strangely calm, huh? Maybe I just don’t have room to panic?

  “Shihoru’s missing!” he called. “Anna-san, be careful!”

  Once he had called out to them, Haruhiro changed course and headed in the direction of Iron Knuckle. His comrades were behind him. Ranta, Yume, and Merry, with Kuzaku bringing up the rear.

  Shihoru, he thought. Where is she? Shihoru. Where are you?

  For a moment, he feared the worst. He quickly dismissed the idea. The cultists had joined the battle between the volunteer soldiers and the white giants. That was going to make it all the harder to figure anything out.

  Even if I can’t figure it out, I’ll look. I’ll look.
Look. Look for her. Search. For Shihoru.

  “Why, you...! I’m going, too!” Ranta went to attack a nearby Pansuke.

  “That’s no good!” Haruhiro stopped Ranta, but didn’t stop moving himself.

  “I can handle this one myself!” Max shouted as he clung to the eight-meter class’s face, driving his sword into its eye. “Massacre the cultists, my bros!”

  He can handle it himself? What is he talking about? But the guys in Iron Knuckle are doing what he says. Seriously?

  All of the members of Iron Knuckle except for Max moved away from the eight-meter class white giant and attacked the cultists.

  There was one man who stood out. He was lightly equipped, with no helmet, and had a short goatee. It was Max’s right-hand man, Aidan. He wielded a spear, uncommon for a volunteer soldier. He was knocking down a cultist with the shaft, then impaling them through their one eye with the tip. On top of that, he used a variety of kicks to mow down the cultists. He was less a warrior and more a martial artist. His lack of armor might have been a sign of his confidence. It didn’t seem to be misplaced. Even a Tori-san, with his sword and shield at the ready, went down to a surprise jump-kick and a stab from Aidan’s spear. He was incredible.

  The other bros went around crushing cultists. Iron Knuckle had destroyed two cult bases. They knew their opponents. It seemed like they thought mere cultists couldn’t possibly take them down. They didn’t look like they were going to lose.

  Haruhiro acted like a total parasite. He joined in with Iron Knuckle, looking around, while being careful not to get in their way. He searched for Shihoru.

  “Shihoruuuu!” Yume wailed.

  The cultists and white giants kept pouring in. Were they gathering from all over the Dusk Realm?

  Wasn’t staying here and fighting a mistake? They were managing for now, but eventually the volunteer soldiers would run out of steam. When that happened, it would be checkmate. The end.

  But the giant god was at the initial hill. Could they get past the giant god and flee back to the Ri-komo—no, the Gremlin Flats?

  Shihoru. Before that, he had to think about Shihoru.

  Shihoru.

  “She can’t not be here!” Merry shouted.