The priestess Charlotte was far stronger than Claire had anticipated. It was no wonder she had survived a confrontation with Zilbagias. She was protecting the shield wall with her blessings, dispensing minor healing to soften the damage to their ranks, and used any moments of reprieve she had to shoot arrows of light at the manticore’s eyes. Though just one of those arrows would be enough to roast Claire down to her soul, they were unfortunately merely an annoying sting to the manticore.
Unfortunately? That’s strange coming from an undead...
As Enma’s subordinate, she should have hoped they’d be wiped out. Claire smiled wryly. All the while, the back-and-forth between the fiend and the City Guard continued. Claire could see strain starting to take to Charlotte’s face. Should they press forward in an attempt to take down the manticore, or retreat and regroup? It was clear Charlotte didn’t know the answer.
If you let the manticore go, it’ll probably attack another village. But who knows what the demonic kingdom will do if you let it wipe you out? Even if you retreat, you don’t have any heroes or Weaponmasters. The best you can do is add more chaff to the mix. You’re really stuck between a rock and a hard place, huh?
Though Charlotte being a member of the Holy Church made her Claire’s natural enemy, she couldn’t help but feel for the priestess. To lack was to be weak. Whether one lacked power, wealth, or personnel, it was all the same.
As Claire looked to the edge of the shield wall, she saw Tafman raise his voice.
“Now! Attack!” he urged on the soldiers from the front rank. He was on the far right edge of the shield wall—the most dangerous position as that was where he would have no ally to guard his flank. It was a position of honor, reserved for those who had proven themselves to be exceptional. It was questionable whether it was wise to place the City Guard’s vice captain in such a spot...but perhaps the City Guard didn’t have enough quality men to make any other choice. Drenched in sweat, eyes burning with fighting spirit, he looked like an entirely different person from the guy she had shared drinks with.
Not my fault if you get yourself killed, Claire thought, unconsciously pressing a hand to her chest, as if to stave off a pain in her artificial heart.
And then, the battle shifted. The manticore roared as it jumped away from the searing pain of the City Guard’s holy magic. It was retreating. At least, anyone who saw it doing such would think so. In truth, that would have been the best possible outcome for both parties.
But that wasn’t the truth. The manticore was the ruler of the deep forest. It would never back down before a gaggle of measly creatures. Sitting among the rubble, the manticore crouched down low. Something bad was about to happen—everyone sensed that instinctively. And they were right to do so.
The manticore roared as it unleashed its built-up power, delivering a powerful sweep with its tail. Its target was not the shield wall...but rather the rubble. Chunks of wood and stone rained down on the shield wall, propelled by the manticore’s incredible strength.
“Shields up!” Tafman roared, prompting the soldiers to form up.
Loud bangs and thumps were interspersed among the screams of the soldiers. Stones the size of human heads slammed into shields, knocking their bearers unconscious and out of the formation. Others avoided fatal damage, but were still injured badly enough that they could no longer stand. The manticore began hurtling debris at them once more, seemingly entertained by the spectacle. Charlotte redoubled her defensive blessing, but exhaustion was written all over her face.
“Waaah!” As the manticore sent an entire barn flying, the scream of a young man shook the battlefield. Among the broken debris and straw was a blood-soaked young beastfolk, now sprawling through the air. Apparently he had survived the manticore’s initial attack and had hidden in the barn. Now the manticore’s new tactic had sent him—as well as the building where he had taken refuge—flying.
It was a miracle the youth had survived being struck by the manticore’s tail at all; he’d likely been saved by the large amount of straw cushioning the blow. But the young beastfolk’s luck had just run out. He had been thrown to a spot a few dozen meters from where Claire was hiding out, directly between the manticore and the shield wall. The fiend licked its lips, as if it had just turned up an unexpected snack.
Poor guy, Claire thought dismissively. He was surely a goner. The manticore lunged forward, opening its mouth wide. Though the youth struggled to run, he was far too injured to return to his feet.
“Kid!” a man roared, just as the manticore’s jaws closed...on empty air.
“Wha...?” Claire blurted out.
With unbelievable speed, Tafman had broken from the formation and tackled the boy out of harm’s way, saving him in just the nick of time. The two grunted painfully as they sprawled out over the ground. The manticore snarled, angry that its snack had been stolen right from under it.
“Tafman!”
“Sorry! It was a reflex!” Tafman shouted back to his allies as they cried out.
The manticore started to drool as it turned its attention to the vice captain. It seemed intent on making Tafman take the boy’s place for his audacity.
“Don’t worry about me! At least save the boy!” Tafman shouted to the scattered beastfolk, covering the youth.
And then, defying all expectations, he charged.
“Bring it on, you monster!” Even as the manticore seemed ready to lunge forward and devour him, Tafman threw away the shield in his left hand. “I’ll shred that mouth of yours to pieces! Try eating another bite after that!” Gripping his sword with both hands, his shouts shook the night air.
His expression was terrifying. Rage and hate blazed in his bloodshot eyes. His sword shone with silver fire. He was determined to deliver a painful blow to the fiend, even at the cost of his own life. As pathetic as the tiny human was before the mighty beast, the manticore hesitated before his display of courage. And then, as if enraged that it had been scared for even a moment, the manticore roared as it brought its claws to bear.
Tafman couldn’t possibly survive. In just another moment, he’d be reduced to mincemeat. That was obvious to everyone who watched on. This included Claire, who was thunderstruck as she stared at his back.
“Someone, please! At least save her!”
A memory sealed deep within her came rushing back—the voice of a screaming man. That day. That horrible day when the denizens of the dark had ravaged their village and burned it to the ground. The screams of a man as he fell to night elf arrows trying to protect her.
Dad...
And once more, when she looked at Tafman’s back, she saw her father instead.
The claws came down.
A gut-wrenching sound, like canvas being torn, filled the air.
Fresh blood sprayed everywhere.
The manticore roared, a mixture of pain and shock, as it held up its freshly sliced forelimb.
“What...?” Tafman stood stunned, sword still at the ready. There was someone in front of him. A cloak fluttered, its color so dark that it almost melted into the night. In the figure’s hands were a pair of wickedly curved blades. Were they sabers? No, they were shaped quite differently. And among the thick smells of blood and beast, Tafman got a slight whiff of citrus.
The manticore bellowed once more as it lashed out furiously with its claws. Faster than Tafman could follow, the figure in front of him was struck and sent flying...no. It was only their cloak that went flying. The figure themself had dodged the claws, delivering a biting slash to the manticore’s toes.
Moonlight flashed over the new arrival. They had beautiful doll-like features, silky smooth hair, and eyes like little glass marbles. It was now clear to Tafman they were not holding sabers. Enormous blades protruded directly from their skin, built into their arms like they were a giant praying mantis.
“Claire...?” Tafman muttered in disbelief.
There was no doubt that this was the same young woman he had seen earlier that night in the pub. But her arms were blades. Her legs were bending in the wrong spots, at the wrong angles, and she was a bit taller than usual.
Without thinking, he reached out to her.
“Don’t touch me!” she shouted, causing Tafman to freeze.
The flickering silver light covering Tafman sent off a couple sparks, landing on Claire with a sizzling, burning sound as smoke started to rise from her.
“Sorry for tricking you.” Claire smiled. The exact same smile she wore when they were at the pub. “I’m not really human.”
He couldn’t figure out what was going on. He couldn’t understand what she was saying. He couldn’t wrap his head around how things had ended up like this...
That’s a new face. Claire had always wondered how Tafman would react to learning that she was a monster. Now that the answer had unexpectedly presented herself right in front of her, she could barely contain her laughter.
Aw man. I really messed up, didn’t I?
It was a bizarrely refreshing feeling. One moment she had seen her own father while looking at Tafman’s back. The next thing she knew, she had discarded her disguise and dashed forward in full combat mode. There was no talking her way out of this one. He had seen her face clear as day.