Fwoosh!
A silver spear shot toward Zald like a meteor, cutting through the smoke and rubble.
"!?"
The attacker's eyes widened in shock.
At the last instant, Zald casually flicked his wrist. The spear met the armor of his left arm and deflected with a burst of sparks, its lethal trajectory diverted as though swatted aside like a child's toy.
Allen, the cat-man, had aimed for the seam at Zald's shoulder from behind, intending a fatal strike. Instead, his surprise attack had been brushed away like nothing.
"You're quick." Zald said flatly, his gaze shifting at last toward the young adventurer.
His voice was neither angry nor impressed, merely acknowledging. "Fast as the wind."
Allen landed lightly on the cracked stone, silver spear spinning in his grip. Yet when his eyes met the gray irises gleaming behind Zald's blindfold, his fur bristled. Every instinct screamed danger.
Zald raised his palm, his words heavy and merciless. "But your strength is no stronger than a breeze."
BOOM!
It happened in an instant. Zald barely moved. His hand trembled once and Allen was hurled backward as though struck by a divine hammer.
"Ghhhaaaahh!!"
The impact tore through Allen's body, overwhelming his senses. He roared instinctively, spear raised in desperate defense, but even that was flung from his grasp. His body skidded across the stone street, rolling violently until he slammed his spear into the ground to halt himself.
He finally stopped, more than ten meters away, panting, drenched in sweat.
"Wh-What… what the hell was that!?" Allen gasped, his heart pounding like a drum. "You didn't even move, how!?"
It was as if time itself had skipped a panel. One moment Zald stood still, the next, Allen was sent flying.
Zald did not move to pursue. He loomed like an immovable mountain, his voice calm and disdainful. "I told you. Just a light wave. Don't make a fuss."
His gray eyes narrowed. "If you call yourself an adventurer, then turn the 'unknown' into the 'known.'"
It was only then that Allen realized that Zald had spoken the truth. His blow had been nothing more than a horizontal swing of the massive black sword.
Zald's lips curled into a grin, cruel and mocking, "Otherwise, I'll lop off your head and devour it."
"!!!"
Allen, the feral warrior praised as the "Goddess' Chariot," had always been violent and untamed. Neither tame nor obedient, his wild nature was said to outstrip even beasts. The gods themselves had bestowed him with titles for his unmatched might. And yet, for the first time, fear gripped him. True fear.
For before him stood a being that was neither man nor adventurer, something unknown. Something monstrous.
"Who the hell are you!?" Allen demanded, his voice trembling.
But before Zald could respond, another voice cut through the air.
A third figure emerged from the battlefield. His massive frame was covered in blood, his greatsword dripping from the enemies he had slaughtered on his way here. His earthy red eyes, however, were filled not with triumph, but with shock.
"Ottar." Zald's grin widened.
"Oh? Finally, a familiar face." His voice deepened with recognition. "That cat… he's your comrade, isn't he?"
Ottar froze. His expression twisted, his forehead dripping sweat.
If any adventurer of Orario had seen this, they would have doubted their own eyes. The strongest warrior of the city was showing visible anxiety.
After a while, he uttered a heavy and painful instruction, the kind of voice that reminded one of the growl of a wounded, cornered beast.
"Allen, go back to Freya-sama and protect her."
"Ha!? What the hell are you saying?! I'll crush this stinking armored bastard myself! Don't mess with me!"
Allen, whose emotions were running high, roared back, his indignation so fierce it nearly smothered the fear inside him.
However—
"Obey!"
"!!?"
Ottar cut him off with a roar even more furious than Allen's.
Allen froze, shocked, this was the first time he had seen Ottar's face twisted in such raw anger. Normally calm and steadfast, Ottar now glared wide-eyed with fury.
But his voice, when it came again, was bitter and heavy. "If you still think of me as your captain in the slightest, then leave. Not for me but for Freya-sama. Swallow this rage."
It was the first time Allen had ever heard his captain plead. That alone was enough to snuff out his defiance. Ottar and Allen locked eyes for a moment.
"Tsk!"
After a pause, Allen spat in frustration and turned to retreat.
Placing his captain's desperate plea and Freya's safety on the scales, he forced down his fury and hypnotized himself into believing it was all for his goddess.
As Allen sprinted toward the city's center, Ottar exhaled slowly and turned his gaze back to the enemy.
"You still cling to your goddess-worship. Haven't you weaned yet, little brat?"
Zald's slow, deliberate steps carried a pressure that weighed down on the entire street.
Facing the armored figure who mocked him as if he were a child, Ottar could not conceal his unease.
He forced out the name with trembling lips. "Impossible... Why are you here!? Zald."
...
"Ahhh—!!"
Adventurers screamed.
At a woman's feet lay heaps of adventurers, their bodies broken and bloodied, piled up like discarded dolls.
"Why are you doing this to me? It's exhausting, you know."
The blood-crafted puppet of Akira sat upon Alfia's shoulder, poking at her cheek with tiny fingers.
Alfia turned her head slightly. "It wasn't I who struck first."
"Yeah, yeah. They asked if you were Evilus, and you just ignored them, hood pulled up, walking straight at them without a word. Of course they attacked. Honestly, you could've at least pretended to be merciful."
Little Akira crossed his arms, wearing an exaggeratedly helpless expression.
Alfia glanced at the miniature puppet still teasing her. "I didn't expect your magic could produce something like this."
Then, pinching the sides of the puppet's cheeks with delicate fingers, she carefully studied the sensation.
"It really does feel real."
"See? Isn't it great? I can even do this."
The puppet wriggled before melting into a blob of blood-slime.
Akira shaped it into writhing tentacles that coiled playfully through Alfia's long hair before fusing together. At last, the slime reformed into a hair ornament, blood-red diamonds glittering among her flowing locks.
Hmm... It gave her an alluring, almost mature charm.
"Wow, is this your taste in hairstyles?" Alfia toyed with the ornament, smiling faintly, teasing him about his odd preference.
Akira didn't answer, he only murmured softly, "Someone's coming."
A sharp crunch sounded, the rubble shifting under a firm step.
Alfia lifted her gaze to see emerald-green hair swaying in the wind. Riveria Ljos Alf of the elven royal family had arrived.
Still calm, Alfia replied evenly to her unspoken question, "I take delight in the noise that should disgust me. I listen to it."
Hey, are you talking about me? Akira grumbled internally, half-expecting an answer.
"What is that mass lying at your feet?" Riveria's voice trembled as she demanded an answer.
Not understanding, she looked down.
"A pile of corpses."
The response, devoid of even a hint of emotion, snapped the last thread of Riveria's composure.
"That's enough. Begone! Pay for your heinous crimes with your life!" Riveria raised her staff, chanting in fury.
A massive magic array flared to life, its dazzling light shaking the battlefield. The vast power contained within surged into the air.
The spell burst forth, a storm of ice and snow surging with annihilating force.
And yet, Alfia merely raised one hand and whispered, "Ataraxia."
The raging magic vanished, erased instantly, as though it had never been.
"!?"
Riveria's eyes widened beyond their limits.
The sound of her magic collapsing echoed like the ocean tide receding. Her bombardment had not been countered, resisted, or deflected. It had simply ceased to exist. The very concept of magic in that space was gone.
"That's... nullification!?"
Her cry was laced with shock and dread.