Wortenia Senki (LN) - Volume 2 - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Proof of Strength 

The sun hung at its zenith. A single woman raised her voice amidst the tumult of men drinking in the noon of day. 

“Over here, Gran!” 

They were in the castle town of Pireas, Rhoadseria’s capital. In a slum sitting at one end of the town was a small corner pub, where Lione tilted her glass of wine towards a man looking into the store from its entrance. 

Gran was a man in his mid thirties to early forties, who towered at over 190 cm and had an overall well-built, firm physique. The sleeveless vest he wore showed off his hulking upper arms, which were as thick as logs. 

He turned his face in Lione’s direction and gave a small nod. His sunburnt, brown hair was cut short, and a thick beard plastered his face, giving the impression of a man who wasn’t quite a respectable member of society. The leather armor he wore was reinforced with metal in spots, and he had a massive war axe at his back; either item could only give him the appearance of a brigand or bandit. 

But truth be told, his attire wasn’t the issue here. His body simply teemed with the vigor of a man who had lived through countless battles. A man who made his living through fighting. Any common man who fixed his eyes on Gran would awkwardly look away and scamper off. 

That said, any person in this pub would simply turn their gaze in Gran’s direction one moment and lose their interest in the next, going back to their business. Because they all knew Gran was in the same line of business as them. The name of this shop was the Verde Forest Parlor, one of the pubs beloved and frequented by the mercenaries of Pireas. 

“One ale for that table over yonder, lass.” 

Leaving his order with a passing waitress, Gran headed in Lione’s direction to take the seat opposite hers. 

“Been a while. How’s life been treating you?” 

“Yer mug’s filthy as ever. And none of the barmaids are gonna want to touch ya with a stick, what with that shabby outfit of yours.” 

“I see you’ve not changed a bit either. Eh, Crimson Lion?” 

Smiling wryly at her loose-lipped attitude and the startling amount of empty alcohol bottles littering her table, Gran took a seat in front of her. 

The Crimson Lion was not just the name of the group Lione led, but also her own nickname. The sight of her rushing through the battlefield with ruffled, crimson hair truly invoked the image of a lioness. All the mercenaries who knew of her were bewitched by that sight. 

“But you, calling me to come over? Tonight must be a blue moon.” 

Taking a sip from the bottle of ale that was brought to the table, Gran sent a probing glance in Lione’s direction. 

Gran was the head of the Northern Wind Brigade, a group of mercenaries on par with the Crimson Lion Group. They’d met plenty of times on the battlefield over the years, but he’d never been invited like this before. 

“Well see, I kinda ended up sticking my neck into some nasty business, and I’m trying to gather some trustworthy, skilled mercs to help me out. And since you happened to be free, I figured it was a perfect time ta ask.” 

“Nasty business?” Gran cocked his head at Lione’s bitter smirk. 

A mercenary’s idea of “nasty business” would usually be betraying a request they’d been given, but anyone in the business who was worth anything knew to stick to the contract and mind their relationships. He had his doubts that this red-headed woman, whom he acknowledged was his superior in this line of work, would do such a thing. 

“Didja betray your client?” 

“Yeah, somethin’ like that.” Lione downed the lukewarm wine in her glass and slammed it on the table. 

“Then go talk it over with the guild, not me. I don’t think I can help you with that.” 

A guild. In modern terms, it might be equivalent to a worker’s union. There were, in fact, many kinds of guilds in this world, including the merchant’s guild and the industrial guild, but when one said that word on this Earth, they usually meant the guild for adventurers and mercenaries. It was the association which sent those in that business into work involving combat and assorted danger zones. 

The guild’s role was to handle smooth distribution of requests, and to act as mediator in case a disagreement broke out with the client. Gran’s suggestion was that if Lione had a falling out with her client, the first place she should go to for help was the guild. 

“Well, the shit’s kinda hit the fan with this one. Can’t really rely on the guild here.” 

“If I know you, you’re more cautious than that.” Gran’s expression contorted at her words. “Don’t tell me you took that job directly from the client without going through the guild?” 

All the requests done via the guild were processed after confirming the client’s financial status and the content of the request, and in exchange, the guild took an intermediation fee for all the requests it handled. 

Of course, that was a necessary expense, the guild being the massive organization that it was, but those working with their lives on the line were far from pleased to see a cut of their reward taken away. Were you supposed to prioritize your own safety, or how much you were paid? Some preferred the latter route and chose to take requests without going through the guild. 

However, those kinds of requests had their share of pitfalls. Being able to haggle over the reward was all fine and dandy, but there were cases where the client would refuse to pay, and some truly vicious people would try to eliminate the people they hired to avoid future trouble. So, unless there was a great deal of trust between them and the client, no mercenary with their wits about them would easily accept a mission without going through the guild. 

Thanks to the massive organization known as the guild, which spanned the western continent, the mercenaries could risk their lives on the battlefield without fearing being treated as disposable pawns... 

“Nah, it’s nothin’ like that. The request itself was legit, and we took it through the guild.” 

Sensing something in her words, Gran furrowed his brows. 

“Alright, I understand. Sounds like this is a little more complicated than I thought... Tell you what. How ’bout I get another drink in me, and then I’ll hear you out.” 

Sensing a long conversation ahead, Gran held up his empty mug to call for a waitress.

Having heard Lione’s story, Gran folded his arms and stared at the ceiling, his face expressionless. 

“So, that’s the deal, Gran. I want you and yer Northern Wind Brigade to lend us your strength.” 

With Lione having said her piece, silence fell between them for a long moment, which was eventually broken by Gran heaving a deep sigh. 

“Crimson Lion. Assuming everything you just told me is true... The guildmaster affair is nasty enough, and on top of that, you want to stick your neck into Rhoadseria’s civil war... This isn’t just like any other battlefield we’d be working on. Even for you, with your name and reputation, this goes a lot deeper than any one mercenary can handle. If I were you, I’d get my ass out of the western continent before the guild sends someone to finish you off.” 

Though Lione was an old friend, her story was too problematic. The guild always presented itself as neutral, but so long as it was run by people, connections and favors still understandably existed. A truly neutral organization couldn’t and didn’t exist. An ignorant child may not be able to comprehend that, but Gran knew it well enough. That was simply how the world worked. 

Gran himself used connections with a guildmaster he was friendly with to land himself some good jobs or reject jobs he didn’t think were worth it. But on the other hand, he’d never heard of a guildmaster setting someone up for a fall in such a blatant manner. 

If Lione’s claims were true, Pherzaad’s guildmaster planned to use Lione and her group as disposable pawns. It was on an entirely different level from getting slightly smaller restitution for a mission than what was promised. It cast the guild’s fundamental principles into question. 

Of course, Gran didn’t trust the guild blindly enough to assume that was entirely impossible, but he couldn’t swallow Lione’s story that easily either. And the biggest reason he was so non-committal was, even if he gained a name for himself, the matter seemed much too big for a mere mercenary with no influence or power over society to stick his neck into. He may have had personal fame and confidence in his abilities, but they wouldn’t help him much in this situation. 

Lione and Gran were A-rank mercenaries, and their rank within the guild was quite high as well. They’d earned nicknames for themselves, were acknowledged by their fellow mercenaries, and the groups they led were gatherings of experienced veterans. If some country were to recruit them into a knights’ order, they had the skills to soon be made squad or company commanders. 

But all things considered, Gran still felt Lione’s offer was far too dangerous. Particularly when it came to the idea of opposing a large organization like the guild... 

“Yer not wrong. I wouldn’t normally agree to something this mental, no matter the price. It’s annoying having the guild ragging my ass, and like ya said, fleeing to another continent’s an option. But this time the story’s a little different.” 

Picking up on what Lione was implying, Gran furrowed his brow. 

“Don’t tell me that kid convinced you to get on board?” 

He did sound clever enough from what Lione had told him, and Gran figured there was truth to his abilities. But even with Lione to vouch for him, from Gran’s perspective he was some suspicious kid who came out of nowhere, and his guild level being E didn’t help. He couldn’t trust some upstart with little combat experience. 

“We’ll pay you good.” Lione smirked at Gran with only one eye open. 

“Don’t be stupid... Money’s not the issue here.” 

“What’s this? A merc’s tellin’ me he doesn’t give a shit about money?” 

Gran shook his head. The sum on offer was certainly enticing, but that didn’t mean he was willing to dive into the flames for it. 

“What matters for a mercenary is whether they can trust their client, and whether their client can win the war... Compared to that, our payment hardly matters. I shouldn’t need to tell you that, right?” 

Mercenaries risked their lives for money, and it was for this reason that they placed importance on their client being reliable and capable of winning. An ordinary, rank-and-file soldier may have cared for just how much they were paid, but things were different for Gran, who led a group of mercenaries that functioned like a knights’ order. He had responsibility over his subordinates’ lives. It didn’t matter how high the reward may be, it would be reduced to nothing at all if they couldn’t win. 

In most cases, when a side lost in war, the employer alone had his head cut off, and the mercenaries were left with only the meager deposits they’d been given ahead of time, and at worst they might find themselves hunted down as remnants of the defeated army. Being baited in by the promise of a fat reward held that risk. 

So it made sense Gran would hesitate. But from Lione’s perspective, as the one who brought the offer up, it only seemed like Gran thought her judgment wasn’t trustworthy. 

“What, are ya saying ya don’t trust my judgment here?” Lione’s gaze sharpened. 

“That’s not what I’m saying, but... That boy’s rank is low, and he can’t even use thaumaturgy, right?” Gran desperately argued back, overwhelmed by Lione’s glaring gaze. “He hasn’t set foot on the battlefield once. Telling me to risk my ass for an amateur is crazy. They’re not doing anything publicly at the moment, but you could end up making the whole guild your enemy.” 

“I’ll admit the boy’s a novice when it comes to being an adventurer and a mercenary.” 

“And you’re telling me to fight under him...? Or are you the one pulling the strings behind the scenes? It’d make things different if you were...” 

War meant work for a mercenary, hence why they were cautious when it comes to these decisions. 

“Do you think we have no chance of winning?” 

“Sorry, Crimson Lion.” Gran folded his arms and nodded deeply at her question. “Request from an old friend or not, I can’t agree to help you with this one.” 

This wasn’t just about Gran’s own life. It would influence the lives and deaths of his brigade members. He couldn’t change his mind, not even for an old friend. 

But having heard Gran’s reply, Lione simply smiled. 

“Well, ain’t that a pity. I didn’t even think you’d decide right here and now, anyway.” 

Even after Gran’s heartless refusal, she didn’t seem to hold it against him. But the next moment, Lione’s expression took on a hitherto unseen sharpness. 

“But y’know, Gran... Ya got two big debts that ya owe me right now. Those couldn’t’ve slipped yer mind, could they?” 

Gran grimaced at those words. Mercenaries fighting out on the battlefield made these kinds of debts in life on an almost daily basis. And there was no shirking repayment of that kind of debt. If one forgot another mercenary’s favor in the past, no one would reach out to help them the next time they’d be in need. And once that trust was lost, one would never stand on the battlefield again. No matter how strong one may be, without the aid of their comrades, they wouldn’t survive in battle, and at worst they might even get stabbed in the back if they weren’t careful. 

“Are you trying to get us killed?” Gran’s body seethed with murderous intent. 

From his perspective, whether he went forward or tried to turn back, the only path laid out to him was a one-way road to hell. Between sticking his neck into the inner turmoil of a kingdom and defying a guildmaster, cutting Lione’s throat while she was right there in front of him seemed like a much easier alternative. 

As if ignoring the feverish tumult of the pub, the air around those two froze like ice. Gran’s hand reached for the handle of the war axe on his back. 

“Heh, I wouldn’t do that. Ya know my skill well enough, don’t ya? ’Sides, try working that pea brain of yours a bit and imagine what would happen if ya start wavin’ your axe around in here.” 

At some point Lione’s hand had gripped the handle of the dagger strapped to her waist. The axe certainly boasted impressive power, but it was too long and heavy. In a situation where they were both in range of each other, its long reach would put him at a disadvantage. 

The moment he reached for his axe without considering where he was and Lione reached for her dagger, Gran lost. As used as he was to this weapon, his actions were too rash. He could only bitterly curse his own decision. 

With Lione’s gaze stabbing at him, Gran bitterly took his hand off the handle of the axe. But this wasn’t to say he had accepted things. He regarded Lione with a look of spite as she pleasantly downed another glass. 

Heh... Looks like that really pissed him off. Guess I’ll throw him a bone. 

The way Gran eyed her as if she’d gutted his parents was all part of the plan Lione had concocted with Ryoma earlier. 

“Ah well, I’m not out for yer blood or anything. I’m another leader of a mercenary brigade, same as you. I’m not gonna use that debt to force ya into my war.” 

Lione’s seductive words made Gran tilt his head in confusion. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Given the flow of the conversation, it only felt natural based on how the conversation had gone so far to assume she’d brought up the debt for that reason. And indeed, it was because Gran assumed so that he was willing to take her life. 

“All I want is for ya to hear my boy out. Ya can decide if you’ll help us after you meet him... Whaddaya say? That’ll write off one of yer debts.” 

Gran gravely considered her proposal, as it practically begged him for an answer. It truly was a tempting offer. 

“All I need to do is meet him? That’s it?” 

“Yeah... Meet the boy, and if ya still think we don’t stand a chance and refuse, I’ll give up quietly.” 

The offer didn’t seem to have any downsides for Gran. Having one of his debts wiped clean just over meeting someone was an easy enough offer. 

“Fine. I’ll meet him and hear what he has to say.” 

In the end, Gran had no choice but to accept her proposal. With their talk finished, Gran headed for the pub’s exit, and Lione watched his back as he left. 

Sorry, Gran... I didn’t want to have to do this. But we don’t have the leisure to choose our means right now. Well, I’ll wipe that other debt ya owe me for this, so just make do with that. 

Just how many times had these words crossed Lione’s mind over the last few days? From the moment Lione called Gran here to this pub, he didn’t have a choice in the matter, and nor did any of the other mercenaries she called for. 

Given the circumstances Lione and her group were in, it was obvious even fellow mercenaries and friends would hesitate to help them out. So they had only one means available to them— forcing them into voluntarily joining the fighting. 

Lione held this clandestine meeting with Gran in this pub. Normally, a secret meeting would be held in a more fitting place, but Lione deliberately picked the Verdant Forest Parlor, where the eyes of their fellow mercenaries were gathered, so it would reach the ears of Pherzaad’s guildmaster. Or rather, whether that information reached Wallace in Pherzaad wasn’t the main issue here. People meant to tail Ryoma and Lione’s movements may have been dispatched from Pherzaad, but what mattered most was that Gran felt pressured by the fact Wallace might be after them. 

Now that he’d heard the truth of the matter from Lione, there was no way Wallace would spare Gran. And once Gran and his men would be made to feel that way, they’d be pressured to side with Lione. They couldn’t ignore the fact that their lives were in danger, and Gran alone lacked the power to face this threat. 

The issue was how to curb their anger once they realized they’d been set up. 

Can’t be too cautious around you, eh, boy. So far, everything’s gone the way you said it would... But it’s up to you to convince Gran. 

Lione didn’t doubt Ryoma when it came to resourcefulness. But mercenaries were big-headed and wouldn’t trust a commander who wouldn’t stand in the frontlines and wield a blade. No amount of money and scheming can earn true loyalty. And if he couldn’t quell Gran’s anger once he realized they’d been had, they would never take to the battlefield. 

I’ve set everything up just the way you told me to. Now show me what you can do, boy... 

With a nasty smirk on her face, Lione downed another drink.

“Arand! So the Crimson Lion convinced you into coming over too, did she?” Catching sight of an old friend in such an unexpected place, Gran raised his voice in a shout. 

“Ooh, Gran... Heh, that Crimson Lion... So she lured you here, too.” The forty-year-old Arand slapped his cleanly shaved head and contorted his flushed, intoxicated face. “I heard she’s been hitting up all her old friends. I guess she’s hellbent on sticking her neck into this civil war...” 

Those words made Gran guess at Arand’s feelings on the matter. 

“Only natural, given their position...” 

The two looked around. This was a maneuvering ground set up on the outskirts of Pireas. Knights in brilliant armor would normally be using this place to practice, but it was currently occupied by filthy people who looked more like ruffians and brigands, roughly four hundred in number. 

Their armaments were, to put it kindly, distinctive. The uniform length of their swords and spears were one thing, but some of them carried sledgehammers, war axes, double-headed swords or metal canes. The same held for their choices of armor; leather and metal. Some of them wore a single-layer kimono made up of scales fixed together with chains. 

Their gear had a great deal of variety, making it clear that there was no uniformity to speak of in this group. And the scars and nicks etched into their weapons spoke to the depth of their experience. They were a group of distinctive, unique people, unlike any ordinary soldiers. 

“You really gotta hand it to the Crimson Lion.” 

Not just in terms of her connections, but also her skills. 

“Well, half of it was her making use of Boltz’s connections...” Gran grumbled in agreement. “Still, it’s impressive how she gathered this number of mercenaries so quickly without going through the guild. And she didn’t call in just anyone. They’ve all got the reputations to back them up, and there’s a lot of people still on the fence... I guess they don’t call Lione the Crimson Lion for nothing.” 

Arand scanned the place, shrugging in what looked like exasperation. 

“Yeah... You hit the nail on the head, Gran.” He nodded deeply, confirming his friend’s assertion. 

Gran was the same guild rank as Lione, but he wouldn’t have managed to call in this many troops, even if he did have the money to pay them better than market price. That woman, ten years younger than Gran though she was, possessed something that drew people to her side. 

“You met the kid, right? What’s your take on him, Gran?” 

Many a rough man looked up to Lione as a sisterly figure because of that quality she had, and Lione had acknowledged that young man: Ryoma Mikoshiba. The biggest reason for them gathering here was out of their great expectations toward this young, mature-looking lad they’d met just a few days prior. 

“He’s sharp, just like the Crimson Lion says. To be honest, I thought about crushing his skull the first time we talked, but I won’t deny he has a way of drawing you in. Kid ain’t got a shred of charm to him, but he’s sharp. Besides, if we leave that bastard Wallace be, the sparks might end up flying our way too one of these days.” 

The face of the boy he’d met a few days ago surfaced in Gran’s mind. He had plain, sociable features, but that was just on the surface. Ryoma Mikoshiba possessed a shrewdness one would never assume from his appearance. Gran knew this well enough from how he’d been tricked during his conversation with Lione. He fell for it hook, line, and sinker. 

When Ryoma exposed the reason Lione called him out to the pub that day, Gran was just about ready to murder him on the spot, but complaining about it now wouldn’t change the past. The moment Lione called him over and he walked up to her, everything was already set in stone. Pretend as he might to be a seasoned veteran, no single mercenary could escape having an official of the guild that had its fingers nestled in every corner of the continent keeping their eye on them. 

After meeting Lione, Gran used his own connections as a seasoned mercenary to gather information as well as he could. What he learned was that there was no record of Lione’s group failing a request. 

On the contrary— not only did they not fail any requests, there was no record of them taking on such a request from Pherzaad to begin with. He’d confirmed that from a person working in Pireas’s guild who owed him a hefty amount of money. The other mercenaries here probably managed to come up with the same information, albeit through different channels. 

“So you ended up coming to the same conclusion, eh, Gran?” 

“Yeah. So long as Lione didn’t make up the whole thing about the request.” 

“Which means...” 

Arand cast a meaningful gaze at him, to which Gran nodded. 

“Yeah. Sooner or later, that son of a bitch Wallace is gonna move to silence anyone who knows about this incident... Otherwise, news of Lione’s group being traitors would be going through every branch.” 

“The fact he hasn’t done that means he’s still looking things over?” 

“That’s probably about right, yeah.” Gran spat out his reply bitterly. 

All requests accepted through the guild were usually recorded in detail, down to who accepted which request from whom, for how much, and where it happened. That was crucial information necessary for dividing adventurers and mercenaries into ranks. And while Gran couldn’t normally look into other people’s records, he was still able to, thanks to the clerk he had leverage over. 

If he could find no such record, it would mean one of two things. Either Lione’s group fooled everyone by claiming to take a request that didn’t exist, or someone with enough power to bend the guild’s rules struck the request out of its records. 

But Lione had no reason to fool Gran and the other mercenaries, and even if she did, she’d come up with a more believable alibi. Which left only one answer to the question. And there weren’t many people capable of hiding the existence of a request taken through the guild. 

There wasn’t a trace of proof for that, but the most likely candidate was the guildmaster of Pherzaad’s guild, Wallace Heinkel. 

“So everything’s going just how that kid predicted, eh?” 

“Yeah. He’s a cheeky snot, but I can see what the Crimson Lion saw in him.” 

“Guess the rest depends on whether the kid can take out Branzo... Did you tell the Crimson Lion about him, Gran?” 

Arand’s gaze fixed on the back of a man standing in the center of a group of people forming a circle. He was a large man, clad in leather armor that was reinforced in a few spots with metal plates. A black tattoo of a spider was etched into his exposed, log-like upper arm. 

Lione, who was standing nearby, was fairly large for a woman, but in comparison to her, the difference was all too obvious. 

“Yeah, I mentioned it while she was gathering information.” 

“The Black Spider... I don’t know who hired him, but a bastard like him definitely makes for a good assassin. Think it was Wallace?” 

Arand must have hated Branzo a great deal, because he spat at the ground while glaring at the ominous black tattoo on his arm. 

Branzo the Black Spider. A man infamous among mercenaries as a man who would take on any job so long as it would pay him well. 

“No, it definitely wasn’t Wallace. Pherzaad’s a long way off, so even a guildmaster would have trouble handling things directly... But he’ll probably make his move sooner or later.” 

“So it was someone in Rhoadseria...” 

“Yeah, probably.” Gran answered, nodding as he twirled his beard. “The most suspicious bunch are the nobles’ faction mooks opposing the princess.” 

“I guess it’s better than not knowing when they might get attacked, but facing an assassin head-on isn’t what I’d call normal either. And I don’t see some amateur kid with no experience on the battlefield beating Branzo... He might be a disgusting piece of shit, but the Black Spider has enough skill to back up that name... Why did you suggest this, Gran?” 

“You’re asking me that now?” Gran shook his head at Arand’s accusing tone. 

“I don’t mean that. Yeah, if he defeats Branzo, he’ll be turning everyone’s heads. No one would be calling him a greenhorned brat anymore if he proved his strength like that. But...” 

Arand trailed off. 

“Right... He knew that from the get-go, and the fact he went with my idea is proof he thinks he has a chance.” 

“You think he can win?” 

“Who knows? Can’t tell without seeing the fight play out.” Gran shrugged, showing an amused smile.

Ryoma Mikoshiba was in his tent, lying over a woolen blanket, quietly reading a book. The book was brown, discolored from exposure to sunlight, and had the moldy smell distinctive of old books, which made the lengthy history the book had survived clear to the eye. 

“Master Ryoma... It’s almost time.” 

Laura’s sweet whisper tickled his ear, pulling Ryoma out of his reading and back to reality. 

“Ah, so it is...” 

Ryoma raised his body from Laura’s thighs, which served as his pillow, and gave a long stretch. The sound of his bones creaking filled the room. 

The book in Ryoma’s hands wasn’t one produced through the usual methods by this time, but a much older sort of book, made by having the pages sewn together with string. Perhaps calling it a tome rather than a book would be more apt. It wasn’t written with normal ink, but rather with black octopus ink, and was certainly not something made in this Earth. 

The Questions and Replies between Emperor Taizong of Tang and Li Weigong 

It was counted as one of the Seven Military Classics of China, alongside the Wuzi. This book, penned during the Tang Dynasty, described the interactive dialogue between a tactician and general who were among the greatest in Chinese history. This particular book was one of the easier reads among the seven classics. 

That said, even back in Ryoma’s world, there weren’t many who could read this tome. It may have been block printed, but it wasn’t written in standard characters. Plus, it was in Chinese. Anyone who didn’t major in Classical Chinese Lit in their higher learning wouldn’t be able to read it. 

And this was another Earth at that— it wasn’t even Ryoma’s world. Naturally enough, it simply sat gathering dust for years in the store of a merchant who handled old books until Ryoma found it. 

“Sorry about using you as a pillow.” Ryoma rose to his feet, putting a bookmark in the point where he’d stopped. 

“It’s fine. If my lap suits you, you may use it whenever you wish.” 

Ryoma brushed his fingers gently through Laura’s silver locks in gratitude. 

“You were quite absorbed in your reading... But are you sure you shouldn’t have moved your body a bit more?” Sara, who also stood nearby, asked with concern, as she handed him a glass of water. 

Ryoma had read many books translated into Japanese, but reading a book in Chinese was a first for him. He owed it to this world. 

I guess it’s the same logic as me being able to read this world’s language... I could probably do some pretty interesting stuff if I make use of this... But I guess I should finish this little job first. 

Some special measure regarding language had likely been applied to him when he was summoned to this world. And while it was certainly an interesting matter to think about, Ryoma chose to focus on the battle ahead. 

“Yeah, no problem.” 

Ryoma gulped down the water which Sara had chilled with thaumaturgy. With his head having been filled with the text he’d been reading, the cool water served as a refreshing reprieve. Handing the empty glass back to Sara, Ryoma closed his eyes and rotated his shoulders. 

Nothing felt out of the ordinary. Ryoma’s grandfather had beat into him the importance of always conducting himself like he was on the battlefield, and so Ryoma had no need to choose the place and time of a battle. Not being able to block surprise attacks and foul play was a much worse fate. Ryoma had been educated this way from a young age, and it was a way of thinking that sports would never cultivate. 

Since he was always ready for true combat, not being able to defend himself without warming up first simply wasn’t an option. An enemy that ambushed you wouldn’t simply stand by and give you a minute to do a few squats, after all... 

“The preparations should be ready by now, thanks to Lione. All that’s left is to show off to all those people...” 

Fundamentally speaking, people were no different from animals; the weak bowed before the strong. But Ryoma knew perfectly well from past experience that when it came to humans, showing off your strength in a bad way could invoke the opposite effect. 

The important part was the question of how the people around him perceived the target he was fighting. So long as he minded that, Ryoma would achieve the result he wanted. 

It doesn’t matter if this is another world, or if I’m up against a human. It’s nothing I haven’t been through before. 

Ryoma had gained information on Branzo through Lione. From his personality to his way of thinking, his perception of good and evil, and even his fighting style... The winner was already decided. And few things were as satisfying as beating down the arrogant. 

Ryoma’s lips curled up as a childhood memory surfaced in his thoughts. Unlike in Japan, he would have no need to hold back this time. 

I’m getting chills... Is this fear? Or am I actually starting to enjoy killing...? 

Rather than a shudder of excitement, what filled Ryoma’s heart was a satisfying, sweet delight. Before he even knew it, Ryoma had grown accustomed to life on this Earth. He just hadn’t become aware of it yet. 

“But...” 

“I’ll be fine.” Ryoma placed a hand on Sara’s shoulder, as she stood beside him with an anxious expression. “I’ll get it done quickly. Honestly, I could really use the exercise right now, so it couldn’t have come at a better time. Oh, but hold on to this for me, okay?” 

Ryoma handed her the book in his hands, not a trace of anxiety or wavering in his eyes. Only an iron will could be seen in him. 

““Good luck.”” 

The beautiful twins bowed their heads at Ryoma’s words, spoken in the same tone as ever, following his large, reliable back as he left.

“Well, you took your time showing up.” Branzo spat out ominously as Ryoma stood up in front of him with a calm smile. “Showing up with two women serving you, eh? Someone’s got ’er made.” 

Indeed, after waiting under the blazing sun, Branzo would want to make a sarcastic remark or two. Lione, who stood nearby, shook her head with a wry smile. He’d apparently been taking out his anger on her until Ryoma showed up. 

“We still have some time left... Don’t we?” But Ryoma faced Branzo’s angry gaze calmly, turning to look at Laura, who stood behind him. 

“Yes. We’ve agreed to meet at midday, and there’s still some time.” 

As if to confirm her words, the bell signaling noon rang from behind the walls. 

“Right, bang on noon-time. Let’s get started, shall we? I’m sure we both have places to be and our own matters to attend to.” Ryoma took off his overcoat and handed it over to Laura, who waited on him. 

Sure enough, Ryoma wasn’t late to arrive, so he had no need to apologize, but Branzo could only see him as a brat who didn’t know his place. He looked harmless enough and spoke politely, but everything about the way he acted irritated Branzo. 

“I see what everyone meant now.” Branzo whispered as he looked at Ryoma’s toned form. “You’re pretty well built for a brat, and you got the balls to back it up. I can see why you’d overestimate your own strength.” 

Ryoma’s well-defined abs would probably be as hard as a metal plate if he were to flex them. His chest was wide, and his hands were as thick as logs, with fat coating his steel-like muscles. Truly, the body of a warrior. Enough to elicit sighs of admiration from the surrounding mercenaries. 

But Branzo, on the other hand, was sure of his superiority. From every perspective, be it height, weight or physique, Ryoma wasn’t his equal. One’s power was the sum of their muscle strength, and one’s physique dictated the upper limit of that power. And in all those regards, Ryoma was lacking compared to Branzo. 

“Well, physique and muscles aren’t everything.” Ryoma sneered meaningfully. 

Ryoma insinuated that Branzo was an idiot who was only good for his muscular prowess, and the mocking light in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t afraid of his opponent in the slightest. 

Ryoma’s indomitable attitude further sharpened the glare of Branzo’s emotionless, reptile-like eyes. His towering height of two hundred and twenty-five centimeters, along with his muscles, gave off the menacing aura an armored giant might produce. 

His glare alone could reduce women and children to tears. But Ryoma simply gave a slight bow of his head and turned his back to him without a word. 

“You’ve definitely got balls, I’ll give you that. You don’t seem like a greenhorn, at the very least... Fine. I figured I’d grant you a painless death, out of respect for a fellow mercenary... But fuck that. With that kind of attitude, I’ll snap your limbs off like a bug.” 

Whispering those words huskily, Branzo cast a murderous look at Lione. 

“Crimson Lion... You know the deal. No interference.” 

“Bit late in the game to bring that up, slick. It’s you we’re talkin’ about. And it’s not like ya haven’t taken your own measures, aye?” 

He replied to her question with a smirk that made it clear she was right. 

“Of course not. I’m not dumb enough to take someone at their word without any guarantee.” 

“That’s pretty cold of ya.” Lione said, seemingly offended. “If ya don’t trust me that much, why’d ya even show up for this?” 

“Heh, even I can’t lay my hands on someone hiding in the castle. And I’m busy enough. My job’s just to kill one greenhorn kid, and I don’t want to waste any more time.” 

It seemed Lione believed his words. Branzo’s skill wasn’t bad at all, but he had a massive body that wasn’t suited for sneaking into a castle and assassinating a target. That meant he’d have to wait for his prey to scamper out of its hole eventually, but that would take time. She didn’t know how much this job would fetch him, but it made sense; given his personality, he’d go along with this offer if it ended things quickly. 

“I getcha... Gran’s idea musta been a godsend for ya, eh...” 

“More or less... But shit, what a dumb kid. To think he’d come over to me just to get himself killed.” 

Lione eyed Branzo coldly as he grinned indomitably. 

“Are you both ready?” 

Ryoma and Branzo both nodded silently at Lione’s question. 

The distance between the two warriors eyeing each other down was roughly ten meters. 

I’ll teach this little sod to run his mouth at me... 

Branzo lowered his waist and glared at Ryoma. The fact he didn’t even ask him to remove the leather armor he wore over his massive body just annoyed him further. 

That didn’t mean he intended to take off his own armor, though. It annoyed him to no end, but he wouldn’t cast aside an advantage. 

Look at this joker. He intends to fight me while standing still...? What an inexperienced amateur. Poor idiot doesn’t even know how to fight, and he still challenged me. 

Branzo mocked Ryoma, who stood still with his arms dangling down. He could only see Ryoma as a pitiable lamb. In this world where there were few restrictions on carrying weapons, people hardly ever fought bare-handed. There was little policing, and even within towns the public order was low. On top of that, there were the powerful life forms called monsters roaming about. In this world, conflict was an everyday occurrence, and even the commoners carried a dagger for self-defense. 

In other words, there were few opportunities to fight bare-handed. There was no legislation or regulation when it came to carrying weapons, so that was probably obvious. And within this world, the battlefield was where one fought empty-handed the most. 

Of course, no fool would head into the battlefield unarmed, but apart from a very small percentage, any weapon would eventually be worn out, no matter how expensive and well-made it was. Bladed weapons get nicked and chipped as they cut through their foe, and the blood spilled gradually dulls the blade. 

And furthermore, in the midst of melee combat, it wasn’t uncommon for one’s weapons to get deflected and knocked out of their hands. At times like this, one’s last resort was one’s trained body. Branzo himself snuffed out quite a few lives on the battlefield with his own bare hands. 

“All right, then. Begin!” Lione’s voice echoed through the maneuvering grounds. 

At that moment, Branzo sprinted forward as if sliding across the earth, covering the distance between the two in a moment. 

Wail like the cretin you are. This is for slighting me. 

With a cruel smile on his lips, his body of nearly two-hundred kilograms traveled with the speed of a lightweight boxer. This phenomenon was physically impossible. He’d clearly reinforced his body with martial thaumaturgy. 

But Ryoma didn’t so much as furrow a brow. His heart remained frozen solid with unwavering determination. 

“Die, you shitty little brat!” 

Shouting with murder and hatred in his voice, Branzo swung his right fist, intending to smash it into Ryoma’s face with a punch that could pulverize solid rock. 

The surrounding mercenaries held their breaths. If the punch were to land, Ryoma’s face would be crushed like a pomegranate. 

But what happened next exceeded their expectations. 

Ryoma perfectly perceived the fist’s trajectory. True, martial thaumaturgy reinforced one to go beyond their normal limits, but it did nothing to change the fundamental structure of the human body. The enemy’s joints couldn’t move any further than they usually could, and the natural weak points of one’s body didn’t disappear. 

Thaumaturgy could act to reinforce one’s physical abilities, but so long as the opponent had the timing down, it was perfectly possible to avoid the blow. 

Moving in accordance to the movement of Branzo’s shoulder, Ryoma moved his left leg forward, maneuvering his body to his opponent’s flank. Wind pressure equivalent to that of a 1-ton truck passing him by whipped around him as he moved. 

The strength of that punch was overwhelming, indeed. But just like a speeding car couldn’t brake at a moment’s notice, the stronger his brandished fist was, the harder it would be for Branzo to maintain his posture if his attack was avoided. 

Now! 

Ryoma grabbed Branzo’s right wrist as he staggered from the miss, pulling it toward his chest, and then moved his own body right, locking the joints of the wrist while pulling his body down backwards. 

It was the same timing he had knocked his grandfather down countless times with— a timing his grandfather had beat into him repeatedly. It was a technique he’d only ever used in his daily training sessions, but it worked perfectly on an opponent like Branzo. 

From Ryoma’s perspective, he was just an amateur who constantly boasted of his strength. True, he was a veteran mercenary with the experience of killing many a foe with his bare hands and the skill to achieve it. 

But this wasn’t the battlefield. It was a one-on-one match where you wouldn’t need to mind your surroundings the same way you would in the chaotic field of battle, so the fighting style in this situation by either side would naturally differ. 

“What?!” 

“Impossible, he’s so huge...!” 

It was a maneuver similar to a sumiotoshi in judo, though no one present here could know that. From their perspective, what Ryoma had just pulled off was effectively magic. 

And it made even more sense that Ryoma chose to employ a throwing technique over a blow. 

The mercenaries watching over the battle raised their voices in shock. Branzo’s massive form rotated through the air, and the back of his head crashed against the ground as he was slammed down. Normally, during training Ryoma would simply pull by the arm and lift the opponent over his head, but real combat called for a different measure. 

The blow to his head from the merciless throw against the ground left Branzo’s consciousness foggy, with his eyes lightless and unfocused. His trained body and weight of nearly 200 kilograms kept his neck bones from snapping, but no amount of training would protect the brain from such a blow. Branzo lay sprawled on the ground. 

It’s over. 

Ryoma walked over without a word, swooping down on Branzo’s neck mercilessly to deliver the finishing blow. Ryoma felt an odd sensation under his foot. It didn’t matter how powerful Branzo’s body was; Ryoma’s low kick, supported by a weight of over one hundred kilograms, pressed down on his neck, one of the human body’s weak points. 

With not just his windpipe but his cervical vertebrae stomped out, his body spasmed once before sinking into eternal stillness. 

Silence fell over the maneuvering grounds. No one spoke a word. The exchange took a mere moment. Barely ten or so seconds had passed since Lione gave them the signal to start. 

Eventually, after confirming that Branzo was dead, Ryoma quietly raised his right hand skyward. 

““““Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooh!”””” 

Having seen Ryoma’s victory, the mercenaries raised their voices in a cheer that sounded more like a battle cry. 

I guess everything went according to yer script... Lione smiled bitterly, watching Ryoma respond to the mercenaries’ cheering with a smile. 

He’d stomped out a presence they universally feared and loathed right in front of everyone’s eyes. It was a cunning ploy, employed across all places and time periods, but few methods were as effective at buying other people’s trust. And on top of that, the prey sacrificed here was someone sent to claim his life. Gran’s suggestion was the epitome of killing two birds with one stone. 

The only doubt was whether Ryoma could win, but that fear was deftly proven to be unfounded. 

Yer one scary kid. Didn’t think ya were hiding fangs this sharp... 

She’d been briefed on what would happen, but Lione never imagined such an overwhelming victory. And it was only natural she wouldn’t. Ryoma would lose to Branzo had they met on a battlefield, as a matter of fact. Only Ryoma could accept this turn of events as if it was the obvious conclusion. 

“They ain’t doing anything for the time being... But I guess after seeing that, they’d have no choice but to turn around real quiet and run away with their tails between their legs...” 

Lione whispered, looking around anxiously at the cheering crowd. 

Even Lione, popular as she was among the mercenaries, didn’t believe a promise without any guarantees. Even if Ryoma and Lione had no intention of foul play, Branzo could have well tried to pull something. He may have been confident he would win against Ryoma, but any imbecile who didn’t account for such risks couldn’t make it as a mercenary. 

In all likelihood, some of the mercenaries present were connected to Branzo, and the ringleader who hired him to kill Ryoma... 

“Now no one will see him as a greenhorn amateur. All according to the plan.” 

Lione’s lips contorted silently at the words spoken behind her back. 

She sensitively picked up on the meaning behind Gran’s words. But she simply answered without turning around. 

“I s’ppose. All that’s left is to hear yer guys’ answer.” 

“An answer, eh... Ain’t that just a formality at this point?” Gran shrugged in jest, and everyone around him laughed out loud. 

None of the people here would be capable of single-handedly besting Branzo the Black Spider in battle. Ryoma Mikoshiba’s abilities were evident to all. 

But Lione’s lips took on a nasty smirk. 

“Still, I’m gonna need t’hear ya say it loud and clear.” 

It seemed she still held a grudge over him doubting her judgment back at the pub. 

“Fine, fine.” Gran shook his head and said with a sigh. “We were wrong. Your judgment was sound...” 

That was the final proof Ryoma had successfully won over Gran and the other mercenaries. 

“So? What do we do now?” 

Lione, who had appeared next to Ryoma at some point, whispered those words into his ear. 

“We win the war, of course. And make Lupis the ruler of this country. I’ll have to work everyone here in all sorts of ways to get that done.” 

Ryoma’s answer put a sharp glimmer into Lione’s eyes. She’d picked up on the meaning behind his words. 

“All sorts of ways... I see. So that’s what you collected this many people for.” 

“Something like that, yeah. There are still a few points where I’m not quite sure how to make use of everyone, but I don’t intend to make anyone come out of this with a loss. No matter which way the chips fall... You get me?” 

As Ryoma met the mercenaries’ excited cheering, a cold smile played over his lips.