It’s on the move?
The rain was coming down too hard to see through. Winds only the Behemoth’s bulk could withstand blew through the room. How was that undead moving in this? Even if it was flying, the wind would still buffet it.
Decem thought for one second—and then canceled Tempest.
The magic storm vanished as if it had never existed. Proof it had been real lay in the wet floor and his soaked clothes.
Decem swept his wet hair off his face, turning his eyes toward the wall between him and the undead’s location. It must have gone up even as his spell vanished.
“Will you stop that?!” Decem roared. “Come out and fight me! Sneaking around behind your flimsy walls like a lily-livered cur!”
“Not much of a fight without a strategy or two. Don’t make me state the obvious. That said, mind if I ask you a few questions?”
The undead’s voice carried over the wall.
Given the steady drain on his magic, he should ignore that—but he was curious. This undead’s words likely reflected the thoughts of these twins—and by extension, their parents. Worth learning.
“…………Go on?”
“Should you not face these humans? The battle outside has raged for quite some time. They may be slaughtering the elves down below.”
Not the question he’d expected but one easily answered.
Decem considered dismissing Behemoth’s combat form, but it would take time to bring it back. And this undead was crafty. It would likely attack at the slightest opening, even in the middle of a discussion. That attack would not be remotely fatal, but that was no reason to stand here and let it happen. He decided to keep the Behemoth active despite the magic drain.
“Perhaps there is an argument for saving them—my blood might awaken in future generations, after all. But there are elves elsewhere. And those who manage to escape from this crisis with their lives have potential. Essentially, I fail to see the benefit of saving anyone weak enough to be killed by mere humans.”
“Then my next question. I’ve heard there is an elf treasure.”
“A treasure? Meaning myself? Or perhaps this?”
“…By this, you mean that primal earth elemental?”
“Primal…?”
“That puzzles you? You have summoned a primal earth elemental, yes? Or is it a different race—or is there a separate elven name? Do you call it something else?”
This imbecile still believed this to be an ordinary elemental or variant thereof. Infuriating. He had to correct this at once, for the benefit of his grandchildren’s education.
“That is Behemoth. The earthen guardian elemental Behemoth.”
“So I didn’t mishear that. An earthen guardian elemental…and not a great beast that strides the land? Is it a raid boss? It looks nothing like the behemoth I know. Who first gave it that name? You?”
“No—”
“Then who?”
Very eager. Why insist upon that? What great beast? He vaguely remembered hearing the term raid boss before, but…did this undead, or rather his grandchildren, know something he didn’t? Perhaps best he offer no further answers.
“If you want to know, remove those walls. Show your face when you speak—basic manners.”
“Then I don’t need to know. I merely asked out of intellectual curiosity.”
Decem looked at the twins.
Was it the summoned undead that wanted this information or had his grandchildren learned something somewhere? They were soaking wet, but their faces were impassive—he could glean nothing from them.
“Not to change the subject—”
“Enough. There is no use speaking with you further.”
Feeling antsy, he glared at the twins. He couldn’t afford further magic loss. These questions had been nothing like what he’d expected and were not worth engaging with.
“Then enough talk.”
The walls vanished.
He’d been about to cast Green Chain on the twins, so this shook him. He wasn’t sure which way to aim.
“Good enough, I suppose. You’ve lost enough mana.”
“……What?”
The undead’s tone had grown awfully still.
Why did it suddenly seem so sure of itself?
This useless summon, capable only of biding time—
He ordered Behemoth to flatten it—
Then Decem’s eyes flitted to the stairs behind it. He’d wondered if the human forces were almost here, if the change in attitude was because its goal had been achieved. There was no one there. He listened close and heard no footsteps, let alone a human’s.
“I said you’d lost enough mana. That club—your Behemoth will likely not last much longer. I doubt you can maintain it more than a few more minutes.”
“Oh, I see. You believe you can beat me if I’m out of magic. True, I was unable to dodge your swing. But that was because you were summoned abruptly. If I’d known it was coming, I could have handled that easily.”
“I know.”
So quiet. Decem found himself swallowing.
Why was it acting like this?
It felt wrong.
Why was he unnerved by a mere undead?
He was the strongest of the elves, descended from the elf who’d conquered the very world.
Grinding his back teeth, he squished the shameful emotions.
“So?” he bellowed. “Your fist made me bleed, and in your arrogance, you believe you have a chance. Though that blow did but paltry damage.”
“I’m aware.”
The louder Decem got, the softer the undead’s voice grew. This was downright uncanny.
Was it—?
A moment of weakness, a possibility too remote.
But then…why?
Why fight like that?
Deception.
This confidence was all for show.
No other explanation existed.
“Behemoth!” Was this a roar or a shriek? Even he couldn’t tell. “Smash!!”
“Let’s begin.” An instant later, the meaning of these words grew clear. “Triplet Maximize Magic: Cacophonous Burst. Release.”
First, an explosion of sound. Then came an angel’s wings.
Behemoth was between Decem and the undead. A storm of sound waves struck it; then its bulk was buffeted by a rain of light every bit as powerful as Tempest. The earthen guardian elemental’s health visibly dropped. Unlike living organisms, it shed no blood and lost no pieces, but Decem controlled it—he knew it was barely alive.