IN THE LAND OF DESTINY

“They’re pointing their greatest force toward our main army?! What are the lookouts doing?!”

“Allow me to interrupt, sir! We can’t make contact with our lookouts. Someone has killed them all!”

“What?!”

The enemy was moving so fast, they were completely behind on dealing with them. By the time Yamza noticed that, they were already lethally late. The realization made the blood drain from his head. There would be no regrouping now—even escape would be fiendishly difficult.

No. No, no, no, no, no!! I may not even be able to escape here with my life!

Yamza began to panic. If this was one-on-one, he might be able to deal with that, but he wasn’t self-absorbed enough to think he stood a chance against a squadron like this.

“Buy me some time! I will return to our homeland and bring Adalmann back here. He can summon the dead to restore our forces!”

It was just a pretext. He already knew all was lost, and he had decided to run away, as fast as possible. Luckily, he had only volunteered his fealty to Clayman, so his behavior was not restricted the way it was with the other four fingers. Following him any farther would be suicide, and that made it easy for Yamza to sever all ties.

“Yes sir!”

“We can give you three hours, sir!”

His men each gave him stern, resolved looks that did nothing to move his heart. All he could think about was how stupid they were. The next moment, he chanted a teleportation spell. But something was off.

“It’s…not working? Is this a…Spatial Blockade?!”

Yes. He was already too late. The moment Yamza and his men saw Alvis, Alvis’s gaze landed on them as well, thanks to the power of her skill Snake Eyes. It was an extra skill, one that applied a large variety of ailments—paralysis, poison, insanity, and so forth—and worked on anyone caught in her line of vision. A tremendously useful skill, the only way to escape it was by either successfully resisting it or simply weathering it out.

And Alvis had another card up her sleeve—the unique skill Oppressor. This spatial skill gave her the effects of Mind Accelerate, Spatial Control, and Spatial Motion, letting her impede enemy movement and give her allies superior positioning.

A single motion from her was enough to neutralize all the masses surrounding Yamza. The more weakhearted of them were instantly driven mad; the stronger ones were still paralyzed long enough for the poison to kill them off. Some had even been turned to stone. Less than a hundred managed to emerge unscathed. Before they could put up any resistance, the unworthy had been denied even the right to stand before Alvis.

Her Spatial Control had snuffed out Yamza’s magic, having the power to both obstruct spells and fix their spatial coordinates in place to prevent them from affecting the air around the caster at all. No magical escape from this area was possible now—“this area” being the range of Alvis’s vision. The entire battlefield was now in her total control. Such was the power of the Golden Snakehorn.

Realizing escape was impossible, Yamza gritted his teeth.

He still had a last resort. But it was a forbidden one, one that he’d prefer not to use. Beyond that, the only path to survival involved winning this.

“…So be it. Let’s show them what we’ve got.”

“Ah, Sir Yamza!”

“Sir Yamza at his finest could overwhelm even the Three Lycanthropeers!”

“Let me join you, sir! Our fighting will surely please Sir Clayman!”

His men were elated for the fight. Yamza found it boundlessly foolish. The demon lord Clayman sought only two things: victory and profit. He would never accept this performance—wasteful attrition, followed up by total defeat.

The only thing he believes in is pure, unadulterated power…

No matter how faithful Yamza was to him, Clayman never saw him as one of his own. He was just a useful pawn, a talented minion; that was as far as the lord’s affection went. The Ice Blade had been a gift, yes, but it was simply provided in an effort to strengthen him. It was all for Clayman’s sake.

Still, Yamza provided him with respect and reverence, and the gifts he received in return helped. They both had a common interest. But Yamza had no intention of offering his life to Clayman.

…About time to head out. I have to survive this and bounce back!

This failure would force him to go into hiding for a while. But a Special-A talent like him, a giant among high-level magic-born, would no doubt be picked up by another demon lord before long, he thought.

(I like this,) he Thought Communicated to Alvis. (One of the greatest magic-born under the Beast Master’s command, part of the valorous Three Lycanthropeers. Are you willing to duel with me?)

It was a risky bet. He wanted to defeat Alvis, the strongest figure in the group, and crush the enemy’s will to fight. Perhaps that would be enough to change the script—and even if it didn’t end well, he thought it could give him a chance to escape.

(Very well, Sir Yamza—head of the five fingers beneath the demon lord Clayman. I will show you how far out of your element you are!)

This, Alvis thought, would prove once and for all where Clayman and Lord Carillon stood with each other. She promptly transported herself before him with Spatial Motion, and in an instant, Clayman’s surviving servants swarmed over her.

It was not what one would normally call a strategy. Beastmen are mostly simple folk, easily provoked, and this cowardly approach took full advantage of that. If they can exhaust Alvis, even a little bit, that’ll make it easier for Yamza to win—such was the reasoning behind this kamikaze strike.

“You think those tricks will work?!” Alvis shouted as she turned up the intensity on her Snake Eyes. To Yamza, though, they had already done more than enough. That single instant, when Alvis used her power, was the exact thing Yamza needed for his assured victory.

“…Got you!!”

In a flash, he was upon her, slashing his sword at her exposed back. And just before the tip of his blade reached her body—

“Nuh-uh! Backstabbing someone like that’s not manly at all!”

Someone had leaped straight out from Alvis’s shadow, babbling to himself as he deflected Yamza’s sword.

“Dehh! Who’re you?!”

“I’m Gobta! We were hiding out just in case this happened!”

As he explained that, more and more figures popped out from the shadow. They were, of course, the Unified, four-legged goblin riders, tapping their physical agility to attack the magic-born that were still moving.

“And you didn’t tell me?” Alvis said. “I was wondering why something didn’t feel quite right.”

She had actually noticed them all along. That was why she was unafraid to go plunging in like this.

“Heh-heh! Benimaru ordered us to,” Gobta casually replied as he fired off a Case Cannon bolt at Yamza. He could tell the moment he crossed blades with him that this wasn’t a battle for him to win. So while the commander was distracted by his short sword, he thought now would be his best chance. Gobta’s definition of fair and square differed a bit from the norm—it was something he asked of his foes but never followed himself.

Still, Yamza managed to deflect the blast with his sword.

“Out of my way, weakling!”

He pointed the tip of his blade at Gobta and cast a spell, sending an Icicle Lance hurtling his way. Gobta simply used his dagger to fire an Icicle Lance of his own—not to fire back, but because he had planned for this follow-up strike from the start. It wound up saving Gobta’s life, as the two magic bolts met in the air and dissipated.

“That… That had as much force as this magic sword?! And without casting? Cheeky little weakling, are we…?”

Now Yamza recognized Gobta as his foe—but Gobta had already pretty well exhausted his arsenal. Uh-oh. I couldn’t follow that counter of his at all. That ice just happened to save me, but if he stabs me with that thing, I’m a goner. Probably oughtta start runnin’, huh?

Fortunately, the goblin riders had already made their contribution to this fight. No one would complain if they retreated now. Gobta made up his mind.

“All right, let’s pull—”

But just as he began to make the order, Yamza’s sword sailed right past his nose.

“Pyah?!”

In another stroke of luck, he had taken a timid step back just in the nick of time. It made Yamza almost lose his nerve. This little sneak made it past my attack three times? Three in a row couldn’t be any coincidence, as he saw it—that supersonic swipe he just made proved that the hobgoblin before him was no also-ran.

“Heh-heh-heh… Oh, how the Lycanthropeers have fallen! Sneaking their minions into a one-on-one duel!”

The boast, made with wide-open, bloodshot eyes, was part of Yamza’s strategy. By his estimation, dealing with both a Lycanthropeer and this mystery intruder at once was dangerous.

Gobta seized the opportunity. Woo-hoo! That means I don’t have to fight this crazy-dangerous magic-born, right?

He suppressed his joy just long enough to declare “All right, I’ll serve as an observer for this duel, then!” Yep. Definitely an observer. With all his tactics exhausted, that beat just standing there and getting in the way. Rimuru could accept defeat, but he could never accept his people getting killed in action. Gobta wasn’t stupid enough to volunteer to be war casualty number one for Tempest.

“Oh, you can have him if you want,” Alvis playfully said.

“If I take your prey,” Gobta wittily replied, “wouldn’t that hurt your honor as a beastman, ma’am? I don’t need it that bad, so go ahead and fight all you want! Sorry I got in the way!”

Alvis accepted the inane excuse without a word. If anything, it was the luckiest thing to happen to Gobta all day. He had dodged a bullet with this total unknown before him. Alvis had no intention of letting anyone else score this kill anyway, and he had wriggled out of a battle against a foe that completely outclassed him.

Whew. That’s the end of my work!

At the very far end of the rear guard, the group of priests led by Middray was clashing with Gabil’s Team Hiryu.

Of course, only a few were standing by now. Nearly two hundred fighters on both sides were lying on the ground. But Middray was unhurt, his white robes free of dirt and grime, and it was clear he was still going strong.

“Waaah-ha-ha-ha! Not too shabby, you guys. I see you are the descendants of dragons!”

Middray flashed a contented smile, surveying the fallen and pretending the panting and exhausted Sufia in front of him didn’t exist.

“Don’t you ignore me!”

Sufia, half Transformed into her beast form, had used her vastly strengthened physical skills to attack Middray. But the head priest, perhaps sensing this, had simply leaned over to one side, preventing her from landing a lethal blow. The effort had left her wide open.

“Hyah!”

Taking the clawed arm extended out to him, he tripped up Sufia’s legs, picked up her body, and sharply slammed her against the ground. The judo-like throw was unique to the Dragon Faithful.

“I wasn’t ignoring you at all,” Middray happily explained. “I don’t have much opportunity to use this against monsters, so this is rather fun for me. It’s been ages since I had a foe so worthy of that throw.”

This was more than Sufia was willing to bear.

“D-dammit! You, you made me…”

She was being treated like a plaything, her face red with humiliation. But she had to admit it. Middray, this man standing before her, was more powerful than she ever imagined. Now he was surveying the landscape once again, waiting for her to stand up and ignoring her until that happened.

Curse him, he’s treating me like a second-class fighter! And how could my Self-Regeneration fail me like this…?

It was true. Sufia’s skill was not healing any damage, because her physical body hadn’t sustained any wounds. She was exhausted simply because her stamina was tapping out on her, and the force of each slam added to the burden. He was wounding her internally, where the damage wouldn’t be visible.

But Sufia stood up anyway. As the Snowy Tigerclaw, she could not let this affront continue to stand.

“Imagine, a bastard like you serving Clayman. I thought Yamza was the best around here, but I suppose my instincts were correct all along.”

“Yamza? Ah yes, sir. Yamza. He is rather capable, I’ll admit, but not enough to serve as a playmate for me. I may not look it, but I’ve sparred with Lady Milim on regular occasions, you see.”

“Milim… The demon lord Milim?! So you’re the Dragon Faithful?!”

No wonder, Sufia thought. They seemed so different in disposition from the rest of Clayman’s troops. They seemed to enjoy fighting for the sake of fighting, not at all concerned with actually killing their enemies. And compared to the other magic-born, they were all overwhelmingly strong—and enjoying every minute of it.

“Ooh? Say, that dragonewt just felled Hermes! Wah-ha-ha-ha-ha, that was quite a performance!”

Hermes was tangling with Gabil, and Gabil had just knocked him down with his spear.

“F-Father, stop laughing and help me, please!”

“You lost, fool! Just sit there and think about what you could’ve done better!”

He laughed at his associate, lying there on his back and pleading for assistance. He could tell that Hermes wasn’t as bad off as he claimed and that Gabil had no intention of taking his life.

“All right. Counting me, that leaves three remaining. You command a truly wonderful set of fighters, given how evenly we are matched. It proves you’ve honed your bodies and your minds, instead of relying on skills.”

“I suppose I should appreciate the compliment. My name is Gabil. And you are with Lady Milim…?”

“Indeed! I am Middray of the Dragon Faithful.”

“And I am Sufia. Sufia of the Three Lycanthropeers! I have no ear to lend to the servants of Clayman, but if you worship Lady Milim, that is another story.”

“Mm. Lady Sufia, is it? I will make sure to remember that. So what’ll it be now? I could take on the both of you at once, if you like?”

Middray calmly folded his arms, implying that he liked his chances.

“Can I ask you a question before that?”

“Mm? What is it?”

“I… I just mean, how can a mere human be so strong? Or are the Dragon Faithful human at all? Something seems strange about you.”

Middray nodded at this, his curiosity piqued. “What do you mean by human?” he asked. “That’s the crux of it. If you are inquiring about our species, however, the answer is simple. We are dragonewts, like Sir Gabil over there.”

“What?! The same as us?”

“Yes, precisely. The difference is that instead of evolving from lizardmen, we are the descendants of dragons that ‘humanized’ themselves and mated with the human race. But in essence,” he closed with a smile, “we are the same.”

“Ah… And come to think of it, my sister Soka turned wholly human in appearance.”

“Yes. But almost none of us can bring ourselves back to our original shape. The priests you see strewn around us don’t have any skills like Dragon Change or Dragon Body. There is hardly any difference between them and human beings.”

Middray turned his eyes toward Sufia.

“But that power is still handed down. Our worship of the dragon does not allow us to forget the blood within us. Any more questions, Lady Sufia?”

“No. Human, monster, it doesn’t matter. I just wanted to know if your skills were the result of a weak human building himself up to perfection. You say you are little different from humans, and if so, I must pay respect to your efforts.”

“Wah-ha-ha-ha-ha! You think the same way I do. One may be born with strength, or one may acquire it. Magic-born are so weak because they rely too much on the strength they’ve always had. That’s why they compare their strengths based on magicule capacity and so on. True strength can’t be seen with the eye. The level of your skills is the only solid, trustworthy index there is.”

Sufia was born strong. She had more fighting skill than most monsters, through no special effort of her own. Her massive well of energy, and the surging aura it created, made even magic-born go out of their way to avoid her. Her battle senses made full use of this, and her instincts alone had brought her to where she was. Now, Middray’s words made her realize how little time she had spent polishing her Arts, her learned skills.

“So you mean I can become stronger?”

“Wah-ha-ha-ha-ha! Precisely. There is no such thing as an experience that can win over being in actual battle. Here, come at me! I’d be happy to spar with you.”

He remained where he stood, arms crossed and standing high.

“Lady Sufia and me at the same time?” a dubious Gabil asked. “Are you sure you aren’t being a little too conceited?”

Middray just grinned at him. “Hmph! I could take you on without even using my arms, little man!”

Gabil wasn’t about to take that sitting down.

“Lady Sufia…”

“We’ll tackle him together. We have to admit it. He’s a strong one!”

The battle between Alvis and Yamza was about to reach its raging climax.

The two were evenly matched, but Yamza had finally used his ace in the hole.

“Ha-ha-ha! Well performed, Lycanthropeer! Your ability to keep up with me is astounding. But now, my victory is assured!!”

“What?”

“Pfft! Did you think this magic sword was my only secret weapon? Yes, you may be strong—strong enough to hold me back. I will freely admit that. However! What if there were two of me?”

With that shouted question, he unleashed the magic inside the bracelet on his left wrist. This was a Doppelganger Bracelet, an incredibly valuable Artifact capable of producing a perfect copy of the wearer, right down to their clothing and equipment. Now Alvis had to fend off two Yamzas at the same time—and if one was an even fight for her, she would have to be at a severe disadvantage.

“Well? If you capitulate to me now, I could be convinced to spare you—”

“So what?”

“…What did you say?”

“You think that parlor trick will outclass me? You really are nothing more than a lackey of Clayman’s. Quite the would-be finisher, there.”

Alvis didn’t give an inch, openly ridiculing her foe.

“Then die!”

And even before Yamza could scream that at her, Alvis played her own final card.

Now the top half of her body was a beautiful woman, the bottom half that of a large, black snake. This was Alvis’s true, Animalized form, and now she was ready to use its full force.

Unlike Phobio and Sufia with their focus on close-quarters fighting, Alvis was usually thought to be a long-range specialist, lobbing her magic attacks from afar. In truth, however, she was a dyed-in-the-wool fighter, masterful at short range in the way anyone serving the Beast Master needed to be.

Her fighting style, however, ventured from the beaten path. Alvis brought her staff up to her forehead—and in the next instant, it disappeared, as she grew a golden horn from above her eyes. Finally free, her aura surged outward from her, greatly amplifying her power. This was her second Transformation and her most secret of abilities.

She stood there, her entire body protected by dragon scales. The whole space around them belonged to her, her aura producing streaks of lightning in the air.

“Wha?!” Gobta spat out, sensing danger. There was no way Alvis could remain coolheaded enough to tell friend from foe like that.

“You said your name was Gobta? You have my permission to move out immediately.”

“Ohhh, you don’t need to tell me twice, ma’am! Riders, retreat!”

One shout from him was all it took to make the goblin riders flee the scene. The surviving magic-born took the opportunity to quickly surround Alvis.

“You fool! You intend to take us on alone?”

It was nothing for her to worry about.

“Is that how little you think of me? Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Die, you mob of idiots!!”

By the time Yamza saw it unfolding, it was already too late. One magic-born before him fell to the ground, spewing blood. One turned to stone and shattered against the earth. One had his body literally rot away on the spot, until nothing but a pile of dust remained. His army was being killed, struck by ailments by one degree or another, and Yamza had no way to stop it.

“Yoouuuuuu!!”

Alvis was, in the end, best suited for close-quarters combat. The Golden Snakehorn’s lone horn on her forehead became a symbol of the death that permeated the atmosphere—and then Yamza realized that his defeat was total.

“Surrender, and I will take you prisoner and guarantee you your life.”

Her offer was the only method of survival he had. A quick stare with her Snake Eyes had completely shattered his Doppelganger’s body. It even had the power to destroy equipment, apparently, leaving Yamza’s partner to fade away before battle even began.

…My limbs are starting to go numb. I won’t be able to defend myself before long… What kind of sheer strength do these Lycanthropeers enjoy?!

It was bad luck that Yamza had to be paired with the strongest of that trio. He chose the wrong woman to pick a fight with, and he had no idea. Alvis rarely had the chance to fully exercise her power, since she was often picked to serve a commanding role. As a result, she was seen as the de facto manager of the Lycanthropeers, not as a formidable warrior in her own right.

That was Yamza’s appraisal as well, and he had totally underrated her.

The war was won. But it was not over. Clayman was a sly demon lord, one who would never forgive betrayal among his own armies. And just when Yamza prepared to nod his agreement to Alvis’s offer:

(—You know I would never permit that, yes?)

It was Clayman’s voice, booming within Yamza’s mind. “Uh?” he instinctively grunted. Then his body began moving, beyond his own control.

“S-stop! Stop that! Please, Sir Clayman, stop this at once!”

A hand took a bluish-purple orb out from his pocket, then brought it to his mouth.

“Mmghh!!”

He locked his jaw as tightly as he could, trying to scramble away from it. It was a pointless act of resistance, and it didn’t last long. Struck by Clayman’s Marionette takeover, Yamza’s body was no longer his own to control.

“…What are you doing?” a suspicious Alvis asked. But by the time she did, Yamza was busy swallowing the orb in his hand—a section from Charybdis’s body.

“Hah? Harbhh, nnhhh… Graghaghaaaahhh!!”

“What on—?!”

Alvis tensed up, confused—as long, thin tendrils shot out from his body toward the dead lying around him, taking in the corpses. He ballooned in size, turning into a vast, grotesque ball of flesh. Uncontrollable magical energy flowed within the Alvis-dominated air, forming a hurricane-class blizzard.

The creature before her consumed, expanded, and burst. Having no monster core of its own, it was a self-destructing being, rampaging across the land before meeting its demise. But its temporary power was every bit as strong as Yamza’s—and the nature of it was deadly. Its insatiable desire to eat everything in its path was just the same as well.

This was the “forbidden” tactic Yamza was reluctant to use, the intricate trap Clayman had laid. Charybdis had now appeared once more.

Alvis’s face tightened as she threw her full force into an attack. It didn’t work. No regular strike would ever pierce this constantly expanding Charybdis. Its Ultraspeed Regeneration took in the corpses around it, rapidly reforming it into a temporary body for itself.

“Ngh! This monster…!”

All Alvis could do was gnash her teeth, her Snake Eyes and lightning having no effect. This monster was disaster-class, on a level far, far above her. Even the strongest of the Three Lycanthropeers could do little about it by herself. The only saving grace was that this was a distance away from the main battlefield; there was time before this could start to affect her allies but only until Charybdis could finish creating its body.

Desperation flew in like a violent storm. The worst part was how this monster wasn’t satisfied enough using Yamza as its substitute core—it had taken in his Ice Blade as well, sucking up all the heat around it and making the local temperature plummet. The monster was destroying all in its path, turning its aura into an Ice Blizzard, pummeling the area with icy snow and intense wind. That was scary enough, but what Alvis feared even more was the moment when it released all the heat energy it had taken in.

Those who can teleport out might be fine, but everyone else…

…would die.

“I hate this! May all the gods curse that bastard Clayman!!”

Letting her true nature take hold, Alvis screamed as she continually attacked—again and again, no time in between to breathe. It was all in vain. Even if she scarred Charybdis’s exterior, any damage to the monster itself was light. It just healed itself too quickly.

“Dammit! I’ve just got to get everyone out that I can—”

Even through the desperation, Alvis tried to take the best measures she could. To her, this meant trying to relay a plea to Benimaru to retreat everyone from the battlefield.

In the end, however, this never happened. It didn’t need to.

“You’re ignoring orders, Alvis. I told you to get out if you faced a battle you cannot win.”

There, with no previous warning, Benimaru himself appeared.

“…Sir Benimaru?!”

“Oh, Charybdis, eh? My offense did little against it last time, but how about now?”

He gave her a defiant smile.

“Sir Benimaru, this monster is just too—”

“I know. It’s perfect for testing my current powers.”

Benimaru raised his right hand and grasped it—both Charybdis and his own strength. The fight was over in an instant. His feet planted on the ground, his sword, covered in jet-black flames, slashed the monster’s flesh, although it did not fully slice through its freshly constructed body. But something was different from before. Unlike with Alvis’s efforts, the Self-Regeneration never started. Dark flames were dancing across the gash, rapidly engulfing its entire body.

“Tch. Not quite there yet. We have no time to play with here, so I’ll sadly have to end this.”

He turned back toward Alvis, leaning his sword against his shoulder, seemingly unconcerned with Charybdis.

“My apologies. I was hoping we could spar once it had achieved its complete form, but…”

The gigantic beast had not taken to the air yet, but its body was already nearly the length of half a football field. Now, however, it had been fully encased in a black dome.

“Away with you,” he whispered, and then a percussive boom! shook the land.

It was Hellflare, his wide-range razing attack, this time far more powerful than ever before.

Benimaru’s Dominate Flame gave him a full grasp of the flow of magical energy, stabbing right through Charybdis’s Magic Interference and rendering its body into ash. It proved to the world that Benimaru’s control over magicules completely overpowered this monster’s.

“You’re kidding me!”

Alvis’s surprise was understandable. If his attacks worked on Charybdis, it meant Benimaru’s magic force surpassed the monster’s. This meant that Benimaru himself was disaster class, on the same level as Alvis’s master, the demon lord Carillon.

“I have some business to take care of, Alvis. Effective immediately, I hereby appoint you as my aide to command our entire force.”

“…Yes, Sir Benimaru.”

She undid her Transformation to kneel down and take the post. She had more than a few questions for Benimaru, but now was not the time for them. Calming her frenzied mind, she meekly accepted her orders.

Charybdis was an unprecedented, unexpected threat, but when faced with that irresistible force, it fell without a moment’s delay.

Siti Dara

Hi. I’m Designer of Blog Magic. I’m CEO/Founder of ThemeXpose. I’m Creative Art Director, Web Designer, UI/UX Designer, Interaction Designer, Industrial Designer, Web Developer, Business Enthusiast, StartUp Enthusiast, Speaker, Writer and Photographer. Inspired to make things looks better.