The Dark Warrior

by Kugane Maruyama

  “Are we clear?”

  Khajit caught the streak of brutality that flashed across her cute, puffy-cheeked, pouting face. A split second later she’d become a murderous storm wind and was charging toward him.

  There had been plenty of distance between them, but she closed it in the space of one breath and her arm stretched out so fast it blurred. Held in the hand like an extension of that arm was a sharp blade, the gleam of which went straight for Khajit’s throat—

  The weapon she thrust at him was a sword made for stabbing called a stiletto. As a stabbing weapon, it didn’t have very many attack patterns, which made it rather hard to use. But Clementine, who loved the stiletto above all else, had trained her muscles, selected her gear, and acquired arts all so she would be able to deal a single critical hit where it counted.

  Before she knew it, having used the power she’d amassed to survive battles against both humans and monsters alike, Clementine reached a level of skill where normal people could no longer block her attacks. For someone who had enough inherent ability to deviate from the realm of normal humans in the first place, and then spent her entire life honing her skills, that was surely a matter of course.

  But the man on the receiving end wasn’t in the realm of normal humans, either. Khajit, one of the twelve leading disciples of Zurrernorn, would not be killed so easily.

  —Something like a white wall came bursting out of the ground to receive the unblockable blade. It was a giant hand made of countless human bones, though it was also reminiscent of a reptilian claw. The claw wriggled, and the earth around it started to split. The huge thing was obeying Khajit’s will, trying to jump out of the ground.

  Satisfied by the powerful undead presence he could feel under his feet, he glared at Clementine. “Don’t be stupid. Thanks to you, my control over the other undead weakened for a moment.”

  “Oops! Sorryyy. But I didn’t mean it, I promise! I was gonna stop right before I stabbed ya!”

  “Don’t lie to me, Clementine. That’s not the kind of person you are.”

  “Ooh! Busted, huh? Yeah, if ya hadn’t blocked it, I probably woulda stabbed right through your shoulder. But I wasn’t gonna kill ya—promise!”

  Khajit twisted his face into an angry frown—because he saw an unpleasant smile spread across the face of the woman in front of him.

  “But I can beat that thing, y’know. A caster might not have a chance, but I’m a warrior, so it shouldn’t be too hard. I’m not so great at using battering weapons, but…”

  “You’re strong against living things with your deadly strikes, but I wonder how you’d do against the undead—none of their physiological systems are working in the first place. Besides, do you really think this is the final ace up my sleeve?”

  “Hmm… Well…” Clementine eyed one of the passages, probably sensing the presence of the undead under Khajit’s control that were lurking there. “I think I could win…although if it turned into an endurance contest, I’d lose, ugh. Heh-heh! Sorry, Khaj!” Clementine pulled the hand with the sword back under her cape. At the same time, the ground stopped shaking. “Ahh, I guess you didn’t specialize in controlling undead for nothing, huh? Very nice!” Saying only that, she turned her back and started walking.

  “Oh yeah, I won’t lay a hand on that old lady till the very end, and I won’t kidnap anybody else. That’s fine, then, right?”

  “…Yes…” He didn’t unclench his hand until she left, not until she disappeared into the depths of the underground shrine.

  “Psychopath!” he spat. I have my issues, too, but not like Clementine. “She’s so skilled, you’d think— No, perhaps it’s because she’s so skilled that her personality is so warped.”

  Clementine was strong. Even among the twelve leaders in the secret society, there were only three who could defeat her. Unfortunately, Khajit was not among them. Even if he used the power of the item he had clutched, he only had about a 30 percent chance.

  “So this is the former ninth seat of the Black Scripture… Socially dysfunctional people with hero-level power are quite bothersome…”

  “Wow, that sounds awful…” Nfirea sighed heavily. He had known Enri’s parents well. They were such wonderful parents that he was jealous of their two well-loved daughters. Nfirea had only hazy memories of the parents he’d lost when he was small, so whenever he pictured great parents, Enri’s were the first to come to mind. He was full of rage for the “bunch of guys dressed like imperial knights” who killed them, and all he could think when he heard that those knights were mercilessly slaughtered was That’s what you get! He was also upset at the higher-ups in E-Rantel who hadn’t deployed any soldiers.

  But he felt it would be wrong to express those feelings instead of paying attention to Enri, who had the most right to be angry and sad.

  As he was trying to decide whether he should go over and comfort her or not, she wiped the tears out of her eyes and smiled. “But I have my sister! I can’t stay sad forever!”

  Nfirea had just started to get up but sat back down. He loathed himself for thinking even for a second that missing the chance to comfort her was unfortunate, but the feeling that he wanted to protect her remained. He wavered but then made up his mind. I don’t want anyone at Enri’s side but me, even if the other guy is strong enough to protect her.

  He was scared, but the feeling that he didn’t want to lose her overpowered his anxiety, so he decided to tell her what he’d been feeling since the first time he came to the village as a child. “So…” His speech clogged up as if it had gotten stuck in his throat. Say it! Just say it! he thought frantically, but his throat seemed to have a death grip on the words.

  Enri and Nfirea were both at an age where it wouldn’t be strange to get married. And with the money Nfirea made as an apothecary, he would be able to provide for Enri’s sister as well. Even if we had a baby… He imagined the household he would create but shook his head to clear the fantasy before it got too out of control.

  She was right there giving him a puzzled look, and that only made him more anxious. He opened his mouth—and closed it.

  I like you.

  I love you.

  But he couldn’t say either of those things—because he didn’t want to hear her say, Sorry, but…

  Then, how about something else that would close the space between them? Wanna come live with me? It’s safe in the city. I’ll take care of your little sister, too. If you want to work, you can work at Grandma’s shop. If you’re nervous in the city, I’ll be there to help you.

  That’s all he had to say. She was less likely to reject that than a declaration of love.

  “Enri!”

  “Wh-what, Nfirea?” She jumped at the sudden loudness of his voice.

  Nfirea continued, “I-i-if you ever need anything, let me know. I’ll help out as much as I can!”

  “Thanks! …You’re a much better friend than I deserve.”

  “Ah, uh, okay—I mean, it’s okay. We’ve been friends forever ’n all…”

  He couldn’t say anything in response to the smile that spread across Enri’s face and cursed himself for being so pathetic. At the same time, he admired how cute she was as he listened to her reminiscence about when they were kids.

  When the topic seemed exhausted for the time being, he asked her a question. “What are all these goblins?”

  The goblins that called Enri “our lady” were vastly different from the ones they had met on the road; they had the air of veteran fighters. He had been even more surprised to find one inside the village who could use magic. What connection these goblins had to this mere village girl and how it happened, Nfirea couldn’t fathom.

  Enri gave a simple answer. “Ainz Ooal Gown, the man who saved the village, gave me an item, and when I used it, they came out. They listen to what I say and do all sorts of things for me!”

  “Huh…” He acknowledged what she’d said, but her starry-eyed look left him feeling bitter.

  Ainz Ooal Gown. The na
me had come up several times during her story. He was a mysterious caster who just happened to be passing by, and with his immense power, he saved Carne from the group dressed as imperial knights. He was a hero who had saved Enri, and Nfirea should have been grateful to him. But that was hard to do—because of the look on Enri’s face when she spoke about him.

  He knew it was natural for someone who had been saved to react that way, but jealousy welled up in his heart. He didn’t want to lose, as a man, and he resented the fact that Enri didn’t get that look on her face for him. All those sentiments mixed into an ugly cocktail of emotions.

  He felt pathetic but tried to clear that away by considering the item Enri had told him about. It summoned goblins and was called a Goblin something-or-other Horn. Enri’s rescuer had told her the full name, but after all the confusion, she couldn’t remember it.

  Nfirea had a strange feeling. He’d never heard of such an item before. And he couldn’t imagine forgetting the name. This item was too special—anyone would remember the name after hearing it just once.

  There were several types of summoning items and there was a tree of summoning magic, but the monsters that were summoned in those ways disappeared without a trace after a set amount of time. They certainly didn’t stick around long enough to do odd jobs. If that were possible, it would rewrite magic history.

  And then, how much would such an item be worth? Enri didn’t seem to have realized its monetary value, but if she had sold it, it would probably have fetched enough to allow her to live the rest of her days in leisure. The reason she had used this rare item was to stop any more blood from being shed in the village.

  The goblins summoned by Enri’s wish (a wish that Nfirea approved of as befitting her) protected the village; they also looked up to Enri as their master and followed her orders—they’d even started tending the fields. Apparently they were even teaching the villagers how to defend themselves with bows and arrows, and so on. Given all that, they were now accepted as a strange sort of new villager.

  Perhaps the fact that they had been attacked by fellow humans was behind their welcoming the goblins. A slight distrust of humans might have made it easier to embrace the goblins who had helped them out in a pinch. And it probably also helped that the one who had granted them the items was their savior, the mysterious caster.

  “So this Ainz Ooal Gown—that was his name, right?—what kind of person is he? If I can meet him, I’d like to thank him personally.”

  Nfirea had never heard of anyone called Ainz Ooal Gown. Well, Enri hadn’t seen under his mask, so even if it were someone he was familiar with, he wouldn’t have a way of knowing. But this was the kind of guy who could give away an extraordinarily valuable item without another thought—if Nfirea had met him, he wouldn’t be likely to forget.

  When he told her that honestly, Enri was visibly disappointed. “Oh. I thought maybe you would’ve known him…”

  Her reaction caused Nfirea’s heart to leap into his throat for a moment, and his back oozed an unpleasant sweat. Looks don’t matter so much when you’re that strong. He’s probably got any number of women coming after him. Those remarks from the previous night crossed his mind, and his breath grew ragged without him realizing it.

  Desperately fighting back his terror, he asked her, “E-Enri, what’s this about? You want to meet this Gown guy a-and then what?”

  “Huh? I mean, I’d like to say a proper thank-you. There’s talk of building a little bronze statue so we never forget our debt to him, but I should probably thank him personally, too…”

  Sensing none of the emotion he had feared in her reply, Nfirea heaved a sigh and his shoulders relaxed. “Oh. Oh! Okay…phew. Yeah, of course you would want to thank him. If you can think of anything that would distinguish him from other people, maybe I can remember someone…and it would help narrow it down… Oh, hey, do you know what kind of magic he used?”

  “Oh, magic. I-it was amazing! This bolt of electricity went zap! and the knight was killed in one hit.”

  “Electrici… He didn’t happen to say, ‘Lightning,’ did he?”

  Enri looked into space for a few moments and then nodded emphatically. “Yeah! …I’m pretty sure he did say something like that.” She added that she thought it was something longer, so Nfirea figured he must have said something before casting.

  “I see… So he used a tier-three spell, then.”

  “Is ‘tier three’…that amazing?”

  “Well, if I had to pick between ‘amazing’ and ‘not,’ I’d have to say it’s pretty amazing! I can only use up to tier two. Tier three is the highest level attainable by normal human beings. Anything higher than that is the realm of people with inborn ability, et cetera.”

  “I knew it! Mr. Gown is amazing!” Enri nodded, impressed, but Nfirea had the feeling this caster was capable of more than tier three. And he could give away that magic item like it was nothing! He might even be able to use heroic fifth-tier spells.

  What was a guy like that doing in a village like this?

  As he puzzled over that, Enri dropped a bomb that blew all of his questions away. “And that’s not all! He gave me this bright red potion—” Nfirea was so startled he practically forgot everything else they had talked about. He recalled a conversation…

  “I’ll pay, so will you get me some details about the guy who gave you this potion?”

  Lizzy’s question had caused the warrior Brita to furrow her brow. “So you get some details and then what?”

  “Get connected, of course. If we get to know each other, maybe he’ll tell me where he got that potion! Who knows? He might even just mention it in the course of a conversation. If he’s an adventurer, I’d like to make a request. What do you think, Nfirea?”

  That was how Nfirea ended up requesting Momon by name. He was supposed to make friends with him and get him to talk about the potion and/or see if he let any information slip while they were out gathering herbs.

  Maintaining a level tone of voice so as not to let his inner agitation show, Nfirea asked her, “Uh, what kind of potion was it?”

  “Huh?”

  “Oh, you know, I work with potions, so…”

  Enri told him everything about the potion she was given, mentioning several times along the way how amazing Ainz Ooal Gown was. A minute ago this would have made those ugly emotions come back, but now Nfirea’s mind was full of other things.

  Countless facts were suddenly tied up with a bow; it was as if a whole pile of veils had been removed at once to reveal what was beneath.

  There was a very good chance that the potion in E-Rantel and the potion Enri drank were the same kind. And in both cases, a pair of travelers—a caster and a person in black full plate armor—was involved.

  There’s only one conclusion, but there are two people who could be Ainz Ooal Gown. He figured from the way Enri was talking that Ainz was a man, but he asked just to be sure. “Are you sure this Ainz Ooal Gown…person…wasn’t a woman…?”

  “Huh? Yeah! I mean, I didn’t see his face, but the voice was a man’s.”

  That still wasn’t absolute proof. There were spells and even magic items that could change a person’s voice. But Narberal as Ainz Ooal Gown seemed awfully unlikely. Her cruelty and slight airheadedness made her too different from the calm, intelligent hero Enri spoke of. The one who seemed more like Ainz was—

  “Did he happen to mention that the name of the person in black armor was Albedo?”

  “Y-yeah…”

  Nfirea had heard that name before. There was his answer.

  Momon was Ainz Ooal Gown.

  If that was true, it was a shocking revelation—the caster who saved this village was also an incredibly strong warrior. There were warriors who trained in magic, but it wasn’t possible to have the cake and eat it, too. If a magical magic-type caster wore heavy armor, they generally couldn’t cast much of anything.

  This guy could cast tier-three spells and knew his way around a sword well enough to b
e an adamantite adventurer. It sounded like a joke. If it were true, he was a hero among heroes.

  But then why had he been asking so many questions as they traveled? The answer that made the most sense was that he had learned the magic of some far-off country and didn’t know about the way things were here. If that were the case, it would explain why he had a potion made in some unheard-of way.

  Nfirea couldn’t keep his breath steady in light of how valuable all this information was, even though he knew Enri was staring at him.

  He also had mixed emotions. When he thought of the man who had saved Enri by giving her a potion, he hated himself, who was trying to learn bit by bit how to make them. He felt like dirt. Enri would probably fall for the other guy. Thinking that made him want to throw up.

  “A-are you okay? You’re really pale all of a sudden.”

  “Y-yeah, I’m fine. Just…”

  If he could save countless lives by learning how to make that potion, it might erase his guilt. But the probability of that happening was low, and he was armed with only his desire as an apothecary to find out. The one he was up against was a powerful warrior and superior caster accompanied by a gorgeous woman and in possession of unfamiliar potions—a chivalrous soul who saved damsels in distress. Nfirea despaired at the gap between himself and Momon—no, Ainz Ooal Gown.

  “What’s wrong? You’re acting kind of weird.”

  “Ahh, nah. It’s nothing.” He smiled, fighting the nausea, but he wasn’t sure if it was convincing, and from the look on Enri’s face, it was not. “…What should I do? You don’t like guys who do bad things in secret, right?”

  “I believe there are some things that should stay with a person until they’re called to be with the gods—especially if it’s something that could hurt someone else. But it’s different if you hide something and someone else gets hurt. Nfirea, I won’t hate you, so if you committed a crime you should turn yourself in!”