ACT 2
Fwooosh... Crash...
The waves repeatedly crashed against the rocks on the shore.
“Gaaaah! What’s taking Big Sis Al so long?!”
Hildegard chewed on her thumb, making her impatience clear.
She was perhaps fifteen years of age, with almond-shaped eyes that gave her a faintly arrogant air, as well as braided hair. While she looked much too slender to swing a sword, she was an Einherjar with the rune of Úlfhéðinn, the Wolfskin, and was a fully-fledged member of the Steel Clan’s elite Múspell Unit.
Indeed, she was an up-and-coming heroine. She had thoroughly shown her mettle in the year since she first joined the unit, and as a result, she had been promoted to become one of its commanders with a hundred soldiers under her wing.
“Don’t be so impatient. You have children of your own. Calm yourself.”
The woman who dryly cautioned her was a slim beauty who was just as slender and delicate as Hildegard. Her shimmering silver hair and captivating features made her look almost like a creature from myth. Her name was Sigrún. She was Hildegard’s sworn older sister and the bloodcurdling harsh taskmistress in command of the Múspell Unit.
“Well, um... Okay.”
Hildegard slumped her shoulders and sighed. Sigrún had repeatedly drilled into Hildegard that a warrior needed to be calm and collected at all times. Hildegard herself agreed with that sentiment, but she couldn’t help but voice her concern.
“Y-You say that, but surely she’s taking too long! She was supposed to be here yesterday, wasn’t she?”
Hildegard, Sigrún, and the rest of the Múspell Unit had abandoned the city of Blíkjanda-Böl they had been occupying and had sheltered in the mountains close to the shore, waiting for the ships that would take them home. No matter how strong the elite members of the Múspell Unit might have been, there was no way they could hold the Flame Clan capital with only a thousand or so troops. The plan had always been to take what they could and escape before the main body of the Flame Clan Army returned.
“That’s just a rough timeline. Several days is well within the expected margin of error,” Sigrún answered coolly.
The Galleon-class sailing ship developed by the Steel Clan, the Noah, could certainly sail closer to the wind than any traditional ship on Yggdrasil, but she was still at the mercy of bad winds and tides. As one would expect, she sailed much faster with the wind than she did into it. It was a relatively long voyage, so it was easily within the realm of possibility that the prevailing winds could delay the Noah for a few days.
Still...
“How can you be so calm?! If the Flame Clan Army finds us before Big Sis Al gets here, we’re finished!” Hildegard fretted with the faintest touch of panic present in her voice.
Only the gods themselves knew which way the wind would blow. Hildegard couldn’t change anything by complaining. Worrying about the issue only served to stress her more than necessary, which would leave her emotionally exhausted. The problem was, however, that Hildegard was too young to be able to completely detach herself from the situation, emotionally speaking, and further, given her tendency to wet herself, she had a certain skittishness to her.
“Sniff... If I’d known this’d happen, I would’ve forced my way on board the last ship...”
Hildegard cradled her head and sank into a gloom. The very fact that she’d say such a thing in front of her direct superior showed just how cornered she felt.
“Don’t be ridiculous. No one would accept you receiving special treatment like that.”
Even Sigrún couldn’t help but let out a note of exasperation.
With the upcoming emigration to the new continent currently the main focus, the Steel Clan needed all the extra food that it could get its hands on. So for that reason, they had loaded the Noah twice with nothing but foodstuffs and had left their troops ashore in the meanwhile.
“I understand, but... but...”
“Gods. You need to build up some mental fortitude first. If you can’t keep your wits about you when it matters, then your talents will go to waste.”
“You say that, but...”
As she continued to listen to Hildegard’s wallowing, even Sigrún’s patience had finally reached its end. Her brow twitched.
“For the love of... You’re getting on my nerves. Come, I’ll give you a lesson! You’re dwelling on this because you’re bored!”
With that, Sigrún grabbed Hildegard by the scruff of the neck and dragged her off. They ended up spending a great deal of time training.
“Tch. We’re late!”
Although he had retaken the clan capital of Blíkjanda-Böl, Shiba’s expression was tense.
Given that he had hurried back intending to punish the presumptuous wastrels that had attacked their clan capital, the all-important Steel Clan forces were nowhere to be found, and the city was devoid of any signs of an enemy whatsoever.
If that had been the end of it, he could have accepted it. He could have merely laughed it off as cowardice in the face of his pursuit. However, Shiba was utterly outraged when he learned they had pillaged the city’s stores for much of the freshly harvested winter wheat crop and had burned whatever remained that they couldn’t take with them.
“Gah! After them! We can’t let them get away with this!” Shiba howled, his face twisted in rage. His expression made even the most elite Flame Clan soldiers cower.
“Hold up, Big Bro.”
Shiba’s adjutant Masa hurriedly tried to stop him.
“What?!” Shiba said in a low tone, barely holding back his anger and glaring at his adjutant.
Meanwhile, the rank-and-file men of the Flame Clan Army whispered amongst themselves about how Shiba’s glare of rage was enough to frighten off even fearsome creatures like tigers and wolves...
“The soldiers are tired from the forced march. It’s long past time you let them rest,” Masa counseled, not showing even the faintest trace of hesitation.
It was said that, other than the patriarch, Nobunaga, the only one who could admonish Shiba was his childhood friend, Masa.
“Mm, you have a point.”
It took about a month to get from Mímir to Blíkjanda-Böl on foot. The Second Division under Shiba’s command had marched that distance in just ten days. An army’s pace was set by the slowest unit in its ranks. That much was widely understood and accepted in war.
For that reason, Shiba had intentionally left the army’s supply units behind—the units responsible for carrying supplies like foodstuffs—and had executed an unusual forced march with a group consisting solely of mounted cavalry. He was able to resupply by using the cities under the Flame Clan’s control as resting stops, but even when taking that into account, a ten-day march had certainly pushed his men to their limits. The Flame Clan Army may have been professional—made up entirely of well-trained soldiers—but even they were still completely worn out after such a feat.
“Then...”
“We have no time to waste, though. If we let them escape, we’ll find ourselves left in famine.”
“Mm, that’s...”
This time it was Masa who was caught without a response.
Of course, it had only been Blíkjanda-Böl that had suffered the looting, so if they gathered supplies from the rest of the clan’s territories, the Flame Clan as a whole should be able to pull through the winter. However, the area around Blíkjanda-Böl was such an immensely productive agricultural center that it was known as the Flame Clan’s breadbasket.
If nothing changed, they wouldn’t have enough grain to keep everyone fed and would need to commandeer additional supplies. If that were to happen, there would be a large number of people who would starve to death. Just thinking about it sent a shiver down Masa’s spine.
“At the very least, we shall take back the grain they took! They supposedly left two days ago. Depending on the wind, we may very well be able to catch them!”
As though declaring the discussion over, Shiba leaped atop his favored mount and galloped out the city gate.
Sigrún and Hildegard were sparring with wooden swords like they had been the previous day. With nothing else to do until the ship returned, it was natural they’d settle on this choice. Since it was an exchange between Einherjar, the fighting itself—though merely practice—was fierce. It was enough to make the other members of the Múspell Unit stare in awe, forgetting their own training in the process. The sparring lasted for an exchange of fifty blows before finally—
“Yah!”
“Not good enough!”
As Hildegard let loose with a powerful slash, Sigrún avoided taking the blow head-on and instead parried the blow just enough to allow it to slide harmlessly off to the side. It was the Willow Technique that Skáviðr, the previous Mánagarmr and Sigrún’s mentor, had wielded so skillfully.
“Whoa—?!”
As though dragged over by her own strength, Hildegard lost her footing, and she came tumbling forward. What had just unfolded was a show of the true power of the Willow Technique. It was best described as such: the use of the least possible movement to undermine an enemy’s footing to delay their next attack.
“This isn’t over!”
“Ah?!”
Sigrún’s eyes went wide with surprise at Hildegard’s unexpected counter. Usually, a person would reflexively try to retain their footing when their momentum carried them forward. In this situation, however, Hildegard chose to roll in with her momentum and sink to the ground. That snap decision quickly bore fruit. Sigrún’s wooden blade cut through the air just a hair’s breadth away from Hildegard, and it was now her turn to be dragged forward by her own momentum.
“Yaah!”
“Oof!”
Sigrún somehow managed to block the attack, but Hildegard had combined her already high physical abilities with her own momentum. Unable to hold her guard, Sigrún’s blade was deflected upward.
“Got you!”
“Tch!”
Hildegard followed up with a sideways slash at Sigrún’s flank. In response, Sigrún forced her deflected arms back into position and aimed her own slash at Hildegard’s neck. As the troopers looked on with tense expressions of anticipation, Hildegard’s blade stopped right before it impacted against Sigrún’s body. Sigrún’s blade, too, had stopped just before it hit Hildegard’s neck.
“Ah!”
The two of them immediately turned their attention to Thír, the Maiden of the Wave member who had ended up serving as the judge.
“Draw!”
Thír swept both hands out horizontally from her body.
The cheers of the troopers flooded the surroundings as though a dam that had been holding their voices back had burst.
It was understandable. Sigrún, the woman who had defeated countless heroes from various clans and was the Steel Clan’s greatest warrior in both truth and name, held the coveted title of Mánagarmr. Until this point, no one in the Múspell Unit had been able to “kill” her. Even if it had been a draw, Hildegard was the first person to accomplish this feat.
“Damn! You finally broke down the Boss Lady’s defenses!”
“Well done, Hilda!”
“Wow, I wasn’t even involved and I got goosebumps! You’re damned impressive! Eh, hey, what’s up with that face?”
The troopers piled praises onto Hildegard in the wake of her immense feat, but Hildegard herself puffed out her cheeks in a pout.
“Wh-What do you mean it’s a draw?! I was definitely faster! Are you blind?!” Hildegard protested aggressively to Thír, practically grabbing the woman to press home her point.
She certainly had guts to be able to voice complaints to the feared drill instructor that even the Maidens of the Waves feared. That wasn’t quite it, though. She was simply so angry that she didn’t understand what she was doing.
“You’re certainly right. You were faster by an eyeblink.”
Thír had a forced smile as she accepted Hildegard’s point.
“See?! In which case I...”
“But in combat, you would have both died.”
Hildegard pouted in displeasure. She had been faster. It seemed she couldn’t accept the ruling. At the same time, she was a seasoned warrior in her own way. She also understood that Thír made a valid point. No doubt everyone else would have made the same judgment as Thír.
“It’s fine. You can call it a win.”
The one who spoke up in support of Hildegard was, surprisingly, Sigrún herself.
Sigrún’s face still held no expression, and it was impossible to read just what she was feeling, but then...
“Well done, Hilda.”
Sigrún ruffled Hildegard’s hair. Hildegard felt emotions flood into her, and her eyes began to sting. She couldn’t hold back the flow of tears, and she soon began to weep.
“Mm? What’s wrong?”
“N-Nothing! Nothing at all!”
Hildegard brusquely brushed off Sigrún’s words of concern and wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. She had been caught totally off guard. Hildegard couldn’t have imagined that the usually harsh Sigrún would offer her words of praise. It had come completely out of nowhere. But that was also why she found the words so intensely gratifying.
“Heh. I’m going to become even stronger. Your age is over, Mother Rún! It’s my time now!”
Of course, Hildegard wasn’t the sort to honestly state her feelings. In response, Sigrún simply nodded intently.
“Indeed. Your physical abilities are already superior to mine. If you keep working on your technique, that day might come sooner than we think.”
“Not might. It’s almost here!” Hildegard boasted as she proudly puffed out her chest. She had a bad habit of letting even the smallest amount of success go to her head.
Sigrún would ordinarily have admonished her, but instead, she simply went along with it.
“I’m looking forward to that.”
Sigrún once again agreed with her. Hildegard suspected it was all a trick to get her to let down her guard, but she felt there was something more to it. Perhaps Sigrún really had accepted her growth as a warrior.
The hellish training that she’d been through over the last year replayed in Hildegard’s mind. It was the hardest, most intense year of her life, but at that moment, she believed that it had all been worth it. Hildegard felt tears pooling in her eyes as the flood of emotion hit her. She looked over to the person she regarded as a mentor.
“I’ve finally got an opponent I can give my all.”
“Huh?”
Hildegard could merely let out a squeak at Sigrún’s words. She thought for a moment that she’d misheard her.
“Hah, wait... You’re almost making it sound like you were holding back up until now. C’mon, Mother Rún, don’t go making excuses for losing, it’s not very cool!” Hildegard said as she put on a forced smile, hoping against hope that her words were true.
She thought she’d finally caught up to Sigrún; she didn’t want to imagine the possibility that there were further heights to climb. But deep down, she knew. She knew that her boss would never joke about such matters.
“You’ll understand once you’ve faced me.”
Sigrún once again took up a combat stance with her wooden sword, and Hildegard immediately noticed something was off. There was a quietness to Sigrún. Her bone-chilling killer intent was gone, as was her heart-crushing intimidation. If anything, it felt like Sigrún had gotten weaker.
“Ready your sword.”
“Y-Yes, ma’am.”
Though Hildegard had honestly been caught by surprise at the lack of tension, she hurriedly took up a stance of her own.
“Let’s begin.”
“Come at meep—?!”
An odd sound spilled from Hildegard’s lips. It was understandable—Sigrún had suddenly closed the distance.
The blow that she unleashed a moment after had been an ordinary downswing from the start, but Sigrún had clearly caught Hildegard unaware. She was still able to block the blow by taking advantage of the immense physical strength she possessed, but that was all she could manage.
However, she couldn’t even respond to the second blow that had been unleashed without her knowledge, and by the time she realized what had happened, Sigrún’s wooden sword was resting against her neck.
“Wait... What...?”
The fight had been over before it had really started, leaving Hildegard only able to let out a groan of protest. This exchange had made things very clear to her, though. Not only that, she had now been made painfully aware of a very important fact. Sigrún had been holding back against her up until now.
By putting her aggression behind each blow, Sigrún had made it easier for Hildegard to follow her attacks. Without Sigrún’s usual killing intent present to choreograph her incoming attacks, Hildegard had been a heartbeat slower in responding, and that split-second difference had made all the difference to the outcome.
“There’s still a whole lot to learn.”
“Yeah, definitely. I have lots to learn... Hrmph!”
“Oh, no, I was talking about myself.”
“Are you mocking me for not being able to do anything against you?”
“No, Brother Ská does a better job of erasing his presence,” said Sigrún, who was evidently displeased with her own technique and had started taking practice swings.
“Damned monsters.” Hildegard couldn’t help but quip under her breath.
During this campaign, Hildegard had sparred with the Maidens of the Waves, considered the most elite of the elite—she held a winning record against several of them, in fact—and had even been able to do pretty well against its top three members.
For someone as tough as Hildegard to have been so thoroughly infantilized, the strength of the Mánagarmr must have surely been utterly ridiculous.
“I’m offended. The only monster around is Brother Ská,” Sigrún said with a dry laugh.
“What are you talking about? You have the title of Mánagarmr because you’re stronger than the monster that is Lord Skáviðr, right?”
“...True.”
It took a moment for Sigrún to answer because she felt a momentary surge of guilt at the remark. It wasn’t as though she had won the title Mánagarmr by defeating Skáviðr in battle, after all. He had abdicated it to her because he had decided that with her beauty and strength, Sigrún would be better able to inspire the troops.
Sigrún herself hadn’t been particularly satisfied with the proposal, but because of the harsh situation that the Wolf Clan had found itself in, and also because of Yuuto’s encouragement, Sigrún had been forced to accept the title.
Of course, Sigrún had no intention of simply being a symbolic Mánagarmr and had done her best to fill his shoes. She trained to actually become the strongest. She was also confident that she was much stronger than she had been when she first took the title, but the truth was that she could only defeat Skáviðr once out of every five times in sparring matches.
“Brother Ská is frightening for reasons other than sheer strength.” Since it was a rather troublesome topic, Sigrún decided to change the subject.
“I’ve heard he’s also a great general.”
“Yes, he’s a highly skilled general. His greatest strengths lie in his abilities as an instructor, though. Brother Ská developed almost all of the battle techniques that I’ve taught you, and alone, at that.”
“Whaaat?! Really?!”
Hildegard stared in amazement.
Battle techniques in this case didn’t mean tactics used on the battlefield, but rather referred to actual fighting techniques. Hildegard had been thoroughly impressed by the quality of the battle techniques Sigrún had taught her. The movements were fluid and efficient, smoothly flowing from one form to another, and the techniques as a whole were rational and practical. They were so effective that a new Einherjar like her had learned to fight skilled veteran Einherjar in a little under a year.
“Hrm. Once we get home, I might ask him for instruction.”
“A good idea. He can be difficult to approach, but you’ll learn much from him.”
“Well, I’m used to dealing with people like that,” Hildegard said as she stared intently at Sigrún. As far as hard to approach went, well... Her mentor was much the same in that regard too.
“Hrmph. Well stated, I suppose. Fine. I’ll introduce you to Brother Ská when we get back.”
“That’s a promise!”
Hildegard made sure to drive home the point.
Her current goal was to beat Sigrún. If achieving that was still far out of her reach and there was such a wonderful instructor around, then she definitely wanted to be taught by him.
Of course, by this point, Skáviðr had already died at the Battle of Glaðsheimr, and since they were deep behind enemy lines, they had no way of knowing that this promise could never be fulfilled.
“...Huh?”
Suddenly hearing a very familiar sound, Hildegard turned to look behind her in surprise. It was one of the last sounds she wanted to hear.
“Mm? What is it?” Sigrún asked with concern.
It seemed that no one else, Sigrún included, could hear the sound. Because of her rune, Úlfhéðinn, Hildegard’s ears were particularly sensitive. The sound was still quite far away but was getting nearer by the moment.
It was the heavy footfall of a large force approaching at great speed!
“Tch. Much faster than I expected.” Sigrún clicked her tongue bitterly.
Hildegard may have had all sorts of flaws—such as her penchant for overconfidence, her lack of respect for elders, and her tendency to wet herself—but Sigrún truly trusted in Hildegard’s sense of smell and hearing.
She had chosen Hildegard to serve as one of her commanders in part due to her immense capability to detect incoming enemies. The faster a force can notice an impending emergency, the fewer losses they will sustain as a result of it. The ability to do that was far more important in battle than simply having brute strength, something that could do nothing besides kill an enemy. Of course, it seemed like Hildegard herself had no understanding of that fact.
“My apologies, it seems I’ve misread the enemy,” Bömburr spat out regretfully as he bowed his head to her.
He was a short and faintly rotund man, and he looked substantially different from the other members of the Múspell Unit. Just as his appearance indicated, he wasn’t a particularly mighty warrior.
However, the true reason he served as the Múspell Unit’s Second was because he was an extremely capable administrative officer—one which nobody in the Unit could find themselves able to fault. He had handled the planning and scheduling for this operation’s transport and return dates, and it was clear he felt a great measure of responsibility for their predicament.
“No, it’s not only your fault. We also voiced no objection,” Thír, the leader of the Maidens of the Waves, said with a pained expression.
As she noted, Bömburr’s decision-making had been extremely rational. If anything, there were a few among them who had stated it had been too conservative, that it had placed too much emphasis on safety.
It had been exactly a month-and-a-half earlier that the Múspell Unit had assembled aboard the ships and set sail from the Steel Clan port. During that time, the main body of the Flame Clan Army was still laying siege to the Holy Capital of Glaðsheimr.
In terms of geographic distance, even if the Flame Clan Army had immediately set off to take back their clan capital, it would only have left them with just enough time for them to arrive before the Múspell Unit left.
Of course, given that the conquest of the Holy Capital was a long-held desire of the Flame Clan patriarch, Oda Nobunaga, as well as the fact that he had gone to the trouble of building numerous siege castles to further improve his odds of success, it was unlikely he had pulled back his entire army.
Thinking about it rationally, the Flame Clan Army had only set out back to Blíkjanda-Böl after learning of the capital’s fall, and it should have taken them at least another ten days to arrive.
“Based on the sounds, there’s a few thousand of them. And it seems almost all of them are mounted.”
“Ah! Damnation! Stirrups!”
As she quickly parsed what Hildegard had told her, Sigrún clicked her tongue in realization.
Unlike the Panther Clan, the Flame Clan was an agricultural clan, so she had casually determined that their forces would consist primarily of infantry. The fact that the battles with the Lightning Clan had indeed been heavy on infantry had only served to harden that assumption. However, the patriarch of the Flame Clan came from the same land as Yuuto. It was only natural that he would know about stirrups.
“Several thousand cavalry, you say?”
Even the normally unflappable Sigrún couldn’t help but furrow her brow under the circumstances.
Though the Múspell Unit was the strongest force the Steel Clan Army had under its command, as well as having a large number of powerful Einherjar accompanying them in the form of the Maidens of the Waves, there was a large problem: They were all on foot. It would be very difficult for them to defeat an enemy several times their number, particularly when their forces were all on horseback.
“Spread out! Comb the grass if you must! Find them!”
Upon receiving Shiba’s orders, the cavalry scattered in every direction.
It wasn’t a particularly difficult matter to pursue a group of a thousand people. There had been plenty of witnesses who had spotted them, and even in places without any human presence, they would leave a mass of footprints and crushed flora in their wake. Shiba’s forces had used that information in their pursuit.
“They should be in this area,” Shiba said, half-trying to convince himself.
According to the people who inhabited the fishing villages nearby, enormous ships that were veritable floating fortresses had sailed by several times. It had been around ten days since the fishermen had seen the ships, while the Steel Clan Army had abandoned Blíkjanda-Böl a mere three days ago. It was reasonable to surmise that they should still be ashore.
“Father! We’ve found them! They’re on the peninsula ahead!”
After waiting an hour with arms crossed, fingers digging into his biceps, Shiba had finally received the information he’d been waiting for, courtesy of his sworn children.
“That way, eh? Heh. An ideal spot indeed.”
Shiba bared his canines in a feral grin and immediately moved his forces to the entrance of the peninsula. It was a small peninsula that barely jutted out to the sea.
Surrounded by sea on three sides, it was trivial for Shiba to seal off any escape routes. The enemy was now the proverbial fish in a barrel.
“The enemy numbered perhaps a thousand, yes? Very well then. We shall split our forces in three. I’ll circle in from the right, and my Second’s force will attack from the left. Masa, you’re to wait here.”
Shiba efficiently issued orders to his subordinates.
The center of the peninsula was covered by a thick forest and would be difficult to enter on horseback, which was why Shiba first intended to approach from either shoreline and block the enemy in.
If they then decided to flee to the edge of the peninsula, he could catch them in a pincer movement, while if they tried to escape by cutting through the woods, Masa’s waiting forces could hold them in place to allow the other two units to complete the encirclement.
“Let’s move, men! Show them what awaits those that resist the Flame Clan!”
Shiba held his spear high up to the sky as he made his declaration, prompting a roaring cheer from the Flame Clan elites under his command. The thunderous cheer was enough to startle the seabirds, sending them scattering into the sky.
The Flame Clan men were all driven by a deep hatred for the enemy that had taken their clan capital and looted it of its foodstuffs. Their anger was at such a pitch that they wouldn’t be satisfied even if they rent their enemy limb from limb a hundred times over.
The Flame Clan forces marched stridently along the shoreline. However...
“Mmph?!”
They had been forced to suddenly stop dead in their tracks. The countless wooden barriers buried into the sand cut off their advance. They were simple barriers constructed out of branches and twine that only stood at about waist height. The rough-hewn and shoddily constructed fencing was low enough that they could simply be stepped over with their mounts.
“Urgh. What is it, Gunlocke?”
However, faced with the fences, his beloved horse refused to move. Spurring the horse, whipping the horse, none of it could make the horse do anything but shy away from the fencing.
Then, at that very moment, came a hail of arrows.
“Tch.”
While Shiba reflexively drew his sword to cut down the arrows in mid-flight, not all of his troopers were able to react in time.
“Guh!”
“Ah!”
Several of them couldn’t block the arrows and let out grunts of pain.
“Damn you!” Shiba spat bitterly as he glared angrily beyond the fencing.
The enemy forces were wielding bows, which wasn’t a problem in itself. The problem was the range from which they were firing.
“Those blasted bows. They were a thorn in our side at Glaðsheimr, and now they’re going to cause us trouble here too!”
While the Flame Clan’s bows had been improved by Nobunaga to the point that they vastly outperformed the bows of the other clans, the Steel Clan bows further outclassed their own. It was hugely frustrating to be getting hit from afar by the enemy without being able to respond. The wooden barriers the Múspell Unit had erected had completely blocked the Flame Clan force’s advance.
“Quite the enemy. I suppose this won’t be easy.”
Shiba immediately changed his appraisal of the enemy and steeled himself.
He had heard that the Steel Clan’s reginarch came from the same country as his own clan’s patriarch, Nobunaga. Shiba knew from personal experience just how overwhelming the various technologies that Nobunaga had brought about could be.
If he allowed his advantage in numbers to cloud his judgment, he could very well suffer a sucker punch. While Shiba’s reputation as an aggressive general emphasized his attacking ability, he wasn’t a bear of a man who only understood how to charge forward in battle. The true reason he was known as a great general was his quick and accurate decision-making in the midst of battle.
“I came up with that on the spot, but it seems it worked.”
Sigrún let out a deep sigh of relief. She had led a cavalry unit for over three years. She knew the habits of horses better than anyone. Horses were animals that were best suited to running along level ground, but they tended to want to avoid jumping over obstacles. Even for fences that they could easily clear with a leap, without training, they’d shy away from trying.
Their legs were everything to the horses. If they weren’t able to run properly, then they’d become easy prey for predators. If a horse were to injure their legs by leaping over an obstacle, the only thing that awaited them was death. It was understandable that they would avoid doing anything to harm their legs.
“Your reputation is well-earned, Mánagarmr. Such a brilliant innovation.”
“Not at all. This was merely a copy of one of Father’s tactics. Besides, it was something we were able to do thanks to your presence.”
At Thír’s praise, Sigrún replied with modesty and a compliment in turn.
Fortunately, the beach was narrow, and there was plenty of material to use in the woods nearby. It didn’t take much time to seal off the beaches when a thousand people worked efficiently and in unison. Even with that in mind, though, they had barely been able to get the fencing done in time, and the only reason they were able to do so was because they also had a large number of Einherjar with powerful physical abilities.
“In particular, we would have been in trouble without Lady Hrönn.”
While she was the youngest and smallest member of the Maidens of the Waves, the ásmegin from Hrönn’s rune was all focused on enhancing her physical strength, making her one of the strongest of those present.
It was truly overwhelming to watch her use a war ax taller than her own body to bring down trees in the woods, and those watching shivered, wondering if she surpassed even Steinþórr, the Dólgþrasir. It was a terrifying show of strength.
“But, I don’t know how long it’ll last.”
When it came to it, they were little more than a hurriedly put-together set of obstacles. They weren’t tough enough to stand up to any concerted efforts to remove them. A strong group of men wouldn’t have much trouble destroying them.
They were currently using volleys of arrows to keep the Flame Clan soldiers from approaching the fences, but their supply of arrows was finite.
“It would be best if the ships would arrive while they’re dawdling by the fences, but...”
“...It doesn’t look like that’ll work.”
“So it would seem.”
Sigrún agreed with Thír’s observation and let out a sigh. It was hard not to. After all, the enemy had started climbing over the wooden fences and was pushing forward.
“Tch. They were quick to abandon their horses.”
Sigrún couldn’t help but click her tongue in annoyance.
The wooden fences were only tall enough to reach a man’s waist. To phrase it differently, they were low enough for grown men to easily climb over them. All they needed to do was dismount and close the remaining distance by foot.
“It’s the right answer, but I wish they’d have taken more time to reach it.”
Sigrún had wanted to make the fences a little taller, but the height was something they had to compromise on to get them completed on time.
Once the enemy realized that they could simply climb over the fences and close the ground between the two forces on foot, it was a simple enough call, but had she been in the same position, Sigrún would probably have struggled with the decision.
To a cavalry trooper, their mount was a beloved companion. They understood that their strength came from their ability to ride. They had also undergone the harsh training necessary to ride in battle. Above all, they had their pride as cavalry troopers.
To take the step of abandoning their horses, under those circumstances, wasn’t a simple matter. It was natural for any cavalry trooper to try to figure out how to get across with their mounts.
Sigrún’s true goal had been to buy time for the ships to arrive as the cavalry troopers struggled with that decision, but it seemed things wouldn’t go that conveniently for her.
“Quite the enemy. I suppose this won’t be easy.”
Sigrún steeled herself with the realization that she was facing a powerful enemy. The words she murmured were, coincidentally, the same as those uttered by her opponent Shiba.
“Advance! Advance! Advaaaaaance!” Shiba roared as he dashed through the hail of arrows that rained down upon him. He occasionally lost his footing in the sand, but he forged ahead. He had found the hated enemy that he’d been seeking. He was getting closer, step by step.
“Fire, fire, fire!”
A beautiful silver-haired woman who appeared to have stepped right out of myth stood shouting orders. Shiba blinked at the sight of the woman, who seemed completely out of place on the battlefield. He had heard the rumors, but he hadn’t imagined she’d be this beautiful.
“So that’s the Mánagarmr!”
In sharp contrast to her slender, delicate form, she was a powerful fighter who had defeated all manner of great warriors—Yngvi of the Hoof Clan, Váli of the Panther Clan, and Sígismund of the Fang Clan. Her calm demeanor under pressure, a loud, confident voice, and the lack of any openings to exploit even from this distance—all of these things spoke to how skilled she was.
Shiba was a man who had dedicated his life to battle. He had longed for an opportunity to face her.
“No shortage of worthy opponents! To arms!”
Shiba pointed his trusty spear at the enemy formation as he yelled, prompting his soldiers to charge toward the enemy. The two forces clashed, prompting cheers and screams from the horde of men, and the air rang with the sound of metal and wooden hafts colliding.
The Steel Clan managed to win the initial exchange and secured an advantage.
“Gah! Long pikes, eh?!”
Shiba spat out the words with a sour look.
The “long pikes” he referred to were the incredibly long spears—usually over four times the height of the average man—that the Flame Clan had adopted for its armies, courtesy of Nobunaga. While they were too large and unwieldy to be useful in single combat, they made for a very dangerous weapon that allowed a unit to attack their enemies from a long distance with a veritable wall of spear-points. It was the primary weapon of the Flame Clan’s infantry, and Shiba himself knew just how effective they were.
“Quite a pain to be on the receiving end of them.”
The fact that he had chosen to march here with a force made up only of cavalry in an effort to arrive as quickly as possible had come back to haunt him. Pikes were far too long and heavy to use on horseback, after all. Though the Steel Clan’s Múspell Unit was also normally a mounted force, they must have decided to leave their horses behind and instead come equipped with pikes as this recent mission had been an amphibious assault. Because of that, the enemy remained out of reach even as their spears found their mark. If things continued this way, it would be a one-sided slaughter.
“Curse them! Where’s the Second?!”
He referred to the other force he had sent along the left-hand shore. Pike units were extremely vulnerable to attacks against their flanks and rear. Shiba was well aware of that fact thanks to his experience leading pikemen. If the Second’s unit could attack from the rear, it would mean that the enemy line would fall into confusion and quickly collapse.
He waited and waited, but there was no sign of them whatsoever.
“Tch. It seems safest to assume they’ve also been delayed.”
With a click of his tongue, Shiba began to plot his next move. While his forces were holding steady for the moment thanks to having a sizable numerical advantage—twice the men, to be exact—combined with high morale and their impressive discipline as professional soldiers, it was easy enough to see that if he continued to dally, the enemy would eventually force his lines. He needed to take appropriate measures as quickly as possible.
“Ah, right. We have those.”
Shiba recalled something he’d brought with him and smiled. It was a weapon that, if used correctly, could turn the tide of this battle in his favor. However, it was rather impractical to use on the battlefield for various reasons and was only really useful as a long-range intimidation tool.
“Mother Rún! The enemy’s pulling back!”
“So it seems.”
Sigrún’s expression lacked any of Hildegard’s giddiness, instead she let out a sigh of relief.
They were hemmed in by the sea in three directions and had nowhere to go. Further, their current location was the boarding point for their ship ride home, so leaving the peninsula wasn’t an option. If they couldn’t repel the enemy force here, the only thing that awaited them was destruction.
“Don’t get complacent. Tighten your helm straps when you’re winning.”
Many people tended to let their guard down when they were sure of their victory. The admonishment Sigrún had just given Hildegard was advice that she had herself received from Yuuto long ago. It was a quote that came from the land beyond the heavens, and he had shared it with her to prevent her from making a fatal mistake in the future. She had first-hand experience with the lessons it was meant to teach. After all, she had lost to Yuuto, a total amateur, in a sparring match back when he’d first arrived in Yggdrasil. Ever since then, she’d constantly kept it in mind and repeated the words to herself.
“Right then, men! Drive them back with everything you have!”
She immediately rededicated herself to the task at hand and issued an enthusiastic order to her troops. The members of the Múspell Unit let out a spirited roar and began charging forward. They quickly pushed the enemy forces back to the wooden fences. However, their enemy was still a tough opponent. An ordinary unit may have had soldiers that would trip on the fences as they were pushed back to them, causing confusion, but the Flame Clan men calmly stepped over them and retreated without delay.
“About as expected. Men, halt! Don’t pursue them. Driving them off is all we need to accomplish.”
At Sigrún’s order, the Múspell Unit immediately stopped in place. It was quite a task to stop an aggressively pursuing army, but this was, after all, the most elite unit in the Steel Clan Army.
“Whaaat?! Shouldn’t we just thoroughly beat them down here? I bet they’ll come back again!”
It went almost without saying that the only one who complained was Hildegard.
“That’s fine. The danger is in moving into open ground,” Sigrún replied calmly, casually dismissing Hildegard’s objection. Sigrún showed no signs of elation at their recent victory. She displayed a firm grasp of the situation that was unfolding before her.
The reason they were able to win was solely due to the terrain. The peninsula was almost entirely covered with woodlands, and the only real paths into it were the narrow strips of beach along the shoreline. That made it the perfect location to use the wooden fences to block cavalry from approaching, as well as for pike square tactics.
But, if they let the victory go to their heads and pursued the enemy into open territory, the enemy would use that opportunity to take advantage of the greater numbers and mobility offered by their horses.
If that happened, then the Múspell Unit stood no chance of winning. The smart choice here was to stop the pursuit at the appropriate juncture.
“Right. Send men to reinforce Bömburr... What?!”
As she was about to order her forces to turn around, Sigrún furrowed her brow. The Flame Clan Army that had supposedly broken into a retreat was returning for another attempt and was using a new formation, no less.
“The Arrowhead Formation! They’re trying to use brute force to break through.”
It was an extremely attack-focused formation that the late Steinþórr had used to frightening effectiveness. Yuuto had described the formation as such, so she had remembered the name.
At the time, Yuuto had countered it with the Yoke Formation, but it didn’t seem like she’d have the time to reorganize her forces. Sigrún had judged that this wasn’t a major issue, though. After all, Steinþórr was the only one who had ever broken a Steel Clan pike phalanx by attacking it from the front. That wasn’t so much because of the capabilities of the Arrowhead Formation in particular. Rather, it was due in large part to the monstrous physical abilities that Steinþórr possessed thanks to his twin runes.
It was also worth remembering that the Flame Clan was also a great clan. No doubt they had a large number of Einherjar in their ranks, though surely they didn’t have any monsters equal to the Dólgþrasir hiding among them. In that case, she figured her force should manage to stand its ground.
“All troops, on your guard! We’ll...”
CRACK!
A sharp, concussive blast rang out like thunder, drowning out Sigrún’s orders.
“Gah!”
One of the Múspell Unit troopers fell with an agonizing cry. Even Sigrún couldn’t grasp what had happened at that moment. They were still a good distance away from the enemy, which meant that it had to have been a projectile weapon of some sort. Additionally, taking into account the fact that an elite trooper of the Múspell Unit went down without being able to do anything about it meant that the attack had come from something extremely fast and nearly impossible to dodge.
“Ah. So that is an arquebus,” Sigrún murmured with a shudder.
She had spied one of the soldiers at the front line of the Flame Clan forces holding a long, black, tube-like object. She had heard the details of the weapon from Yuuto previously, but after seeing it in action, she realized it was a much more dangerous weapon than she had first imagined. Sigrún finally understood how the Flame Clan had slain Steinþórr, the Dólgþrasir.
“But one isn’t enough to turn the tide of battle—”
Before she could finish her sentence, Sigrún’s eyes went wide with shock. The soldier at the front received another gun from behind and took aim again. It was the same tactic that Yuuto had used to allow for the rapid firing of his crossbows.
CRACK!
“Guh!”
With a second thunderclap, another of her soldiers clutched at his right shoulder and fell to his knees. Since the bullet hadn’t struck anything vital, the man’s life was not in danger, but in his pain, he dropped his weapon.
CRACK!
“Grmph!”
A third shot came, and another soldier was hit in the leg and collapsed. Then came the fourth and fifth shots...
“Guh!”
“Ahh!”
With each shot that rang out, an elite trooper of the Múspell Unit went down.
Phalanxes usually operated under the assumption that when a soldier fell, the one behind him would step up to fill that gap. But the rapid-fire attack that was being focused on a single point in the phalanx guaranteed that the ranks couldn’t keep up with the losses. The gunfire had opened a hole in the ordinarily unbreachable shield of the phalanx.
“Raaaaaaaah!”
Into that hole leaped a giant of a man who then swung his spear in a large sweeping motion. Caught by the haft of his spear, several members of the Múspell front line were effortlessly knocked back. The man followed up with another swing. Again, more soldiers were swept aside.
As mentioned, pikes were vulnerable to attacks coming from directions other than the front. The sheer length made it impossible to maneuver the weapon effectively. Now that the enemy was too close for effective combat, the pikemen were essentially being flanked from within their own phalanx. Still, even setting that aside, the fact that a single man was sending groups of men to the ground at a time was definitely worthy of note.
“An Einherjar! A powerful one at that!”
As the worst-case scenario played out in front of her, even Sigrún’s brow beaded with sweat. The small gap in the phalanx that had been opened up by the gunfire was being yanked wider and wider by the attacking spearman. As more Flame Clan soldiers followed in his wake, the opening grew ever larger.
“All troopers, discard spears and draw swords!”
As it stood, their pikes were nothing more than a hindrance.
Amid such a dire situation, Sigrún made a display of her gravitas—something unusual for someone of such a young age. She needed to show that she could make a calm and collected decision using the skills she had honed through countless hard experiences and against grim odds. However, even she couldn’t deny that she was simply responding to the events as they were unfolding—the enemy had now seized the initiative. The battle quickly devolved into a chaotic melee as the two front lines melded together. The Steel Clan was now being pushed back.
The greatest reason for this...
“Hah! How utterly underwhelming! This is almost like a stroll in the woods!”
...was the Flame Clan Einherjar who was leading the charge.
She had viewed him as an extremely skilled warrior when she got her first glance at him, but Sigrún now had to upwardly revise her estimation of his abilities. He showed no sign of struggling against the grizzled veterans of the Múspell Unit. The presence of that single Einherjar was breaking down the Steel Clan’s front line.
“Pull back, all of you! I’ll deal with him!”
Sigrún drew her katana from her hip and strode in front of the man. She had done so after determining that the Steel Clan couldn’t win this battle if she didn’t take him down immediately.
“Well, well... There you are, O mighty Mánagarmr! Heh. Men, stay back! I’ll take her,” the man declared to his soldiers, his lips twisted into a ferocious grin. He must have been extremely confident in his own skill. That confidence wasn’t mere vanity either.
“Your fighting ability... Surely you’re a man of repute. Name yourself.”
“Very well. I am Shiba, Second Division Commander of the Flame Clan!”
“Ah, so you’re Shiba the Berserker General.”
Sigrún gazed intently at her opponent. Yuuto had considered the Flame Clan the greatest threat to his plans and had assigned Kristina with the task of tirelessly gathering intelligence on them.
Shiba the Berserker General... Sigrún had been briefed about him. He had been described as one of the most dangerous generals in Nobunaga’s ranks. He was the greatest warrior of the Flame Clan—a man who had defeated countless Einherjar he had faced off against.
“Perfect. With your defeat, this battle will be ours, then.”
Sigrún’s gaze hardened. The perfect target had waltzed right into her lap. This would also serve as a golden opportunity to turn the tide of this battle.
“That’s my line. Now, let us fight!”
The man drew back his spear and swung it downward at Sigrún. His arms were strong enough to knock away several large men at once. The strength and speed behind his swing were extraordinary, but—
“Yah!”
“Mmph?!”
The slash Sigrún unleashed with all her strength and skill sliced right through Shiba’s spear, severing the tip from the shaft. It happened in the blink of an eye.
Sigrún’s beloved sword was one of a handful of masterpieces crafted by Ingrid, the famed master blacksmith of the Steel Clan—an artisan reputed to be one of the greatest in all of Yggdrasil. The combination of the blade’s keen edge and Sigrún’s skill made the feat look easy.
“Hmph!”
Sigrún turned the blade of her sword with a twist of her wrists and slashed diagonally down at Shiba’s neck.
Even that one spear blow had served as a demonstration of Shiba’s sheer skill as a warrior, and there was a part of Sigrún that wanted to fight him on equal terms, but this was a battlefield, and Sigrún was responsible for the lives of her thousand children. There was no room for sentiment or chivalry. Based upon the damage this man had wreaked against her men and the impact it would have on morale, she needed to kill him as quickly as possible.
Clang!
“Wha?!”
Having had her killing blow easily deflected, Sigrún’s eyes went wide in shock. What truly shocked Sigrún, however, wasn’t the fact that Shiba had blocked her blow, but rather, it was the weapon he held in his hand. It was a single-edged blade that was rarely seen in Yggdrasil. The blade itself had a distinct wave pattern she’d only ever seen on a single type of weapon.
“A nihontou...”
“That it is! Gifted to me from the Great Lord himself!”
Shiba grinned confidently as he took up his combat stance, katana in hand.
Yes, the blade he wielded was the very same gift that Yuuto had given to the Flame Clan when he proposed an alliance to contain the Lightning Clan, and like Sigrún’s blade, was one of the masterpieces crafted by Ingrid.
Sigrún and Shiba’s battle had escalated into an intense duel. They had exchanged over fifty blows, and neither showed a trace of fatigue. If anything, the speed and strength of their blows had intensified with each passing moment. Both had told their children to stay out of the fighting, but even if they hadn’t, no one could have interrupted the lethal dance of blades. That was just how much more powerful the two were compared to the others present. It was a display worthy of the mightiest warriors of the great Flame and Steel Clans. However, it wasn’t an even match. If anything, it was a one-sided affair.
“Guh!”
Sigrún’s expression was tense. She found herself at a disadvantage. Shiba had a slight but noticeable advantage over Sigrún in both strength and speed. At their level, even the slightest difference in ability made a substantial impact on the outcome. Of course, were that the only gap, Sigrún would have had ways to overcome it. Sigrún was used to fighting opponents with superior physical abilities, after all.
In terms of straightforward physical ability, Shiba was perhaps equal to Hildegard, Sigrún’s daily sparring partner. Compared to the monster that had been Steinþórr, however, Shiba was a fair bit weaker.
There was an issue, though...
“Yah!”
“Tch!”
As their tense battle continued, Sigrún found that the strength she had put behind her counterattacks was being swept aside with ease by Shiba. This was the Willow Technique—a fighting technique that Sigrún knew as well as her own reflection.
She made an effort to shift her center of mass to avoid losing her footing, but Shiba simply followed up with a series of attacks of his own, and Sigrún was forced back on the defensive. In contrast to the brute force appearance of his blows, the attacks were efficient and calculated, flowing from one attack to the next without hesitation. That wasn’t all, though. It appeared he had thoroughly practiced his forms. It was difficult to read where his attacks started.
This technique—The Shrinking Land—was also something Sigrún had seen before. Both it and the Willow were techniques that Sigrún’s master Skáviðr had developed. Of course, there was no connection between the two men. No, Shiba had developed the techniques all on his own.
Someone who combines both Hildegard’s physical abilities and the battle techniques of Brother Ská... I can’t believe that such a man exists in Yggdrasil...
Internally, Sigrún was shocked to the core. To borrow her Father’s—Yuuto’s—words, he had cheat abilities.
I can’t beat him... Gah!
Even Sigrún had to accept the sheer difference in skill. However, she wasn’t one to simply accept defeat. Sigrún still had an ace up her sleeve. Something she hadn’t been taught by Skáviðr, but rather, a technique that she had developed on her own.
“Hrmph!”
“Oof!”
Unable to withstand the heavy blow loosed by Shiba, Sigrún briefly lost her footing. He wasn’t going to miss that opportunity, nor would he pull back to set up for an excessively strong blow to hurry and finish her. Instead, another blow, like the ones before them, devoid of any waste or inefficiency, struck out at Sigrún.
“Ah!”
The moment she came face to face with her death, the color drained from her vision. Shiba’s quick blow immediately started to slow to a crawl. Of course, it wasn’t that Shiba’s movements had slowed. Rather, Sigrún’s subjective sense of time had accelerated. Shiba, the soldiers around them, and even her own body had all but frozen in place. It was close to the experience those facing death had of their lives flashing before them. Sigrún called this state the Realm of Godspeed.
It wasn’t something she could use at will, but it was a forbidden realm that she could step foot into when she was staring death square in the face and her concentration was at its extreme limit.
The air around her was heavy, and she felt as though she were wading through water. Sigrún stepped half a step back and drew her body back in turn. A sharp silver flash immediately passed by her eyes, and she felt a faint sting of pain against her neck. It was just a flesh wound. Nothing to worry about. In fact, she had actually let him nick her after reading his attack. It was to minimize her own movements and quickly move to her next attack.
“Hyah!”
She slashed her beloved blade downward in a diagonal motion as she stepped in. To Sigrún, it happened so slowly that she felt a certain impatience watching her attack unfold, but it was a strike that was, in fact, much faster than anything she had unleashed up until that point.
“Mmmph?!”
Shiba’s eyes focused on her as he blocked the blow. His reaction was understandable. Given that this recent blow was several levels faster and heavier than anything that had come before it, he was well within his rights to be puzzled.
These were the effects of being in the Realm of Godspeed—an adrenaline-fueled strength that came from being in an utterly dire situation.
“Yaaaaaaaah!”
Sigrún stacked follow-up blow after follow-up blow to take advantage of her opening.
“Nrrrrmph!”
It was now Shiba’s turn to be forced entirely on the defensive. There was simply far too great a difference in speed. The fact that he was able to respond to the rapid change in speed and weight of Sigrún’s blows spoke to his immense skill as a warrior. Even then, each blow brought him closer and closer to defeat.
However, Sigrún had a very small margin for error even with the advantage the Realm of Godspeed gave her—it was far too draining. She couldn’t sustain it for long. If anything, she needed to finish the fight right here, or she’d tire herself out completely.
“Yah!”
After ten or so blows, Sigrún’s powerful blow deflected Shiba’s blade upward and opened him up to an attack.
“Got you!”
Aiming at his heart, she loosed a sideways killing blow at his torso. Even in Sigrún’s long history of battle, it was one of the three greatest strikes she had ever executed. Blood sprayed from Shiba’s chest, but Sigrún knew at that moment that she’d missed, as her hands had felt no sensation of cleaving through flesh.
“Hrmph!”
“Wha?!”
Despite taking a light wound to his chest, Shiba stepped forward and loosed his blade in a downward slash. This attack wasn’t one born of desperation, either. In fact, the blow was substantially stronger and swifter than any he had unleashed before. Even Sigrún, within the Realm of Godspeed, could only consider it dumb luck that she was able to avoid it.
“N-No, it can’t be...!”
Sigrún imagined the worst. She couldn’t believe it. She didn’t want to believe it.
The reality was that the atmosphere of their duel had completely changed. It was far sharper—far tenser. Sigrún felt her blood run cold, while Shiba straightened and chuckled with amusement.
“Heh, such fun. Such fun, isn’t it, Mánagarmr?! I was starting to believe that no one in this land could step into my realm!” He remarked, before continuing. “Hah! Good, good! This excitement! This tension! It’s been so long, I’d almost forgotten what it felt like!”
Shiba’s lips quickly shifted into a joyous smile as he struck out with his blade. His strikes were so fast and precise that his previous attacks seemed more akin to the work of a novice swordsman.
This kind of assault was something Sigrún herself understood very well. When she was in the Realm of Godspeed, she could make minute corrections to her actions and improve the precision of her technique. The initiative flipped once again, and Sigrún found herself entirely on the defensive.
Ridiculous! I can’t believe this! This man... He’s Steinþórr’s equal!
Sigrún couldn’t hide her shock in the face of the storm of relentless, fast, precise, and skilled blows that Shiba rained down upon her. Shiba’s physical abilities mirrored those of Hildegard when she had unleashed her Beast, while his mastery of numerous battle techniques was so overwhelming that it left even Skáviðr’s skills in the dust.
Of course, Shiba had also tapped into his last reserves of stamina and was forcing his body past its natural limits, so it wouldn’t last long. It was the complete opposite of Steinþórr’s strength, which had come from his inborn talent and almost feral instinct for fighting. Shiba’s strength was something he had gained by developing and improving his technique to the very limits of what practice could achieve.
Clang!
“Guh!”
Unable to fully block his attacks, Sigrún was forced back several steps. Her legs were beginning to give out on her, and her head had begun to ache.
“Huff... Huff... Huff... Ugh, at this rate...”
Sigrún’s breath came in labored gasps as panic welled up within her. She knew that she was reaching her limit in the Realm of Godspeed.
“Mm? What’s wrong? Finished already?”
Meanwhile, Shiba still seemed to have plenty left in reserve.
It seemed that, unlike Sigrún, Shiba was able to enter and exit the Realm of Godspeed at will. That allowed him to reduce the amount of physical strain on his body while also changing up the rhythm of his attacks. Sigrún couldn’t help but recognize that the technique she’d considered her ultimate ace up her sleeve was merely the foundations of a skill that could be developed so much further. Shiba had clearly developed and elevated his techniques beyond where she presently was.
“Huff, gasp, huff... Mm? That’s... I see. Then this is the only thing left for me to do.”
Sigrún caught something on the edge of her vision and nodded, sliding her sword back into her scabbard.
“Mm? Have you given up? How sporting. Very well. I myself wouldn’t want to kill a warrior of your skill.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions. I have no intention of abandoning this fight.”
Sigrún lightly placed her hand against the hilt of her sword and faintly twisted her hip, shifting herself into a very particular stance. It was an Iai stance. This was the very same technique that she’d used to defeat the legendary beast of the Himinbjörg Mountains, the garmr that was the mother of her beloved wolf Hildólfr.
Sigrún’s strength was nearly tapped. She was prepared to gamble everything on this blow.
“Heh, fascinating. Then let us do this!”
Shiba readied his sword in a high stance in response. As the powerful clashes of swords echoed around them, it seemed as though time had stopped for the pair. Contrary to appearances, though, they weren’t completely still. Shiba inched forward, shuffling his feet against the sand. If Sigrún let her guard down for even an instant, there was no doubt that he would take that opening to cut her down with a lightning-fast blow. The air around them may have been quiet, but with both fighters watching every move their opponent made, there was a palpable tension that steadily depleted the mental reserves of each duelist.
“Here, now.”
Shiba’s brow was beaded with sweat from the tension as his face broke into a grin. Sigrún needed no explanation to understand his words. The big toe of Shiba’s right foot was just within range of a lunging slash from Sigrún. This left Shiba just barely out of range for Sigrún’s attack to reach him.
“Your reputation is well-earned, Mánagarmr. It was a fun fight. Thinking about how it will end now fills me with a tinge of regret.”
They were both words of praise and words of parting. Having read the range of her strike, no doubt he knew that he had won. However, that was true of Sigrún too.
“I feel the same. I will admit, you’re stronger than I am. But I’m the one who has won.”
“What?”
It happened in the instant that Shiba furrowed his brow in suspicion. With a loud bass that echoed through to the very soul, an immense impact shook the ground.
“Mmph?!”
Even Shiba was distracted by the sudden event. It was a moment no longer than the blink of an eye, but Sigrún wasn’t one to miss such an opening.
“Yaaah!”
“Damm...it?!”
Sigrún’s sword flew out of the scabbard like a flash of lightning and—
Shiba hurriedly leaped backward. The Flame Clan emblem that had been sliced off fluttered to the ground. It was the emblem that had adorned Shiba’s torso.
“You actually avoided that... Damned monster.”
With her sword held in her follow-through, Sigrún let out an exasperated sigh. She had achieved her desired goal, though. All she needed to do was force her opponent to back away a good distance.
“Múspells! We are withdrawing! All of you, make a run for the loading dock!”
With that shout, Sigrún turned on her heel and began to run. As though in parallel to her sprint, the sails of the three giant ships that Sigrún and the Múspells had waited for with such longing glittered imposingly in the distance. She had resorted to using an iai strike because she had noticed those reinforcements.
“Iai means not cutting down others and not being cut down by others;
Know that not having to act is victory.
Iai means not cutting down others and not being cut down by others;
Victory by killing another means you have lost.”
As the teachings on Iai indicated, Iai itself was a defensive technique that considered winning without fighting to be the greatest accomplishment. It was a tactic that allowed Sigrún to kill two birds with one stone, forcing her opponent to retreat with a powerful and potentially lethal blow while leaving enough energy for her to make a run for the ships. Still, it was also true that the fact she had to resort to such trickery because she stood no chance against Shiba otherwise was the greatest humiliation that the Mánagarmr could face.
“Once I get home, I need to restart my training from square one.”
With a determination to win next time burning in her breast, Sigrún kept running at full speed toward the ships.
“Blast it! Chase them! Chaaase them!”
Shiba exhorted his soldiers with a tone of irritation.
He had been so close to victory. He wouldn’t be able to face Nobunaga if he let them slip through his grasp. Even if it was unavoidable that he’d let some of them slip through, he still intended to do as much damage as he could.
But—
A sharp whistle cut through the air before...
BOOOOOOOM!
A giant boulder hurled from the deck of one of the ships landed on the beach, kicking up a sandstorm.
“Ugh. They’re launching those things from that far away?!”
It seemed an impossible feat for mere humans, and even Shiba had to suck in a breath at the sheer size of the boulders hurtling toward him. He wasn’t aware of it, but it was a bombardment using trebuchets. Even the Flame Clan Army had to flee in the face of such firepower. As a result, their formation fell into disarray to avoid the rain of boulders, and their pursuit lagged behind.
And at that very moment...
“Gah!”
“Oomph!”
A staccato of explosions rang out from the ships, and blood spurted from the backs of the pursuing Flame Clan soldiers, dropping them in mid-stride.
“Tanegashimas?! Tch. I suppose, given that Suoh-Yuuto hails from the same country as the Great Lord, that it’s not particularly surprising they’d have them,” Shiba spat out bitterly.
Even in his Godspeed state, Shiba wasn’t certain he could avoid bullets from the arquebuses. Of course, he was operating under a misunderstanding. All of the firearms fired from the deck of the ships were arquebuses manufactured by the Flame Clan. When Sigrún and the Múspells had taken Blíkjanda-Böl, they had looted all of the arquebuses from the city and kidnapped all of the gunsmiths. It was an important mission that Yuuto had prioritized even over the capture of the city’s grain stores.
As the Flame Clan forces were caught flat-footed by the covering fire from the ships, the gap between them and the Steel Clan forces widened.
“Grr... Stay strong! Advance!”
Still, Shiba urged on his men and continued his pursuit. Even if there was some distance between the two forces, there were still a thousand fleeing Múspells. It would take a great deal of time for them to board the ships, or so he had thought, but—
“Wh-What a beast of a boat...”
Once he closed the distance, he blinked at the sheer size of the ship before him. It was practically a floating fortress.
“Tch, what are we meant to do against that?!” Shiba angrily retorted.
To take down a fortress with brute force usually required five to ten times the enemy’s forces. However, because they had rushed back to Blíkjanda-Böl with the weapons they had on hand, Shiba’s forces had no siege weapons to speak of. Further, because the ships were floating on the water, the only feasible option to attack the Steel Clan was the jetty they were using to board the ship. The problem, however, was that the path to that jetty was narrow, and the gunfire from the ships made it impossible to approach.
During lulls in the gunfire, the Steel Clan soldiers who had already boarded the ships began to join in with arrow fire. They were probably the forces that had been fighting the Second’s unit. It would seem that the Second had let them slip completely from his grasp.
“As much as I want to dismiss his efforts as pathetic... I’m in no position to criticize anyone else.”
Shiba let out a long sigh. Even he was at a loss as to how to proceed. A reckless attack would simply mean more losses for his troops, and it was too much to ask for a surprise tactic that could figuratively reverse the tide. As he sat there idle, the Steel Clan had finished boarding the ships and had set off from the jetty. He had no way to follow them. Even though the enemy was so close, all he could do was watch them leave. There was no experience that could be more frustrating.
“Damn it all!”
He slammed his fist angrily into the sand. With a look of sheer rage, Shiba glared at the ships as they disappeared into the horizon.
“I’ll remember this, Mánagarmr! I’ll repay you for this humiliation!”
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