“Don’t mess with me!” The dwarf had to understand the fundamental difference in their skill levels, but it was like he was trying to make up for it through sheer force of will. Wyatt felt slight admiration for the boy, along with annoyance. He knew why he felt that way, and he hated it.
“What an irritating boy.”
“Yer the irritating one, ye dumbass! Go home!” He kept blocking Wyatt’s attacks, metal clanging against metal each time. He shifted to counterattack, and Wyatt easily dodged.
“You’re going to die if we keep this up. There’s no need to tie your fate to these dogs. I hear the dwarf population is already low...”
“Ye idiot! My brother is here! I’m not just gonna abandon ’im! Now die! Shit yerself and die! Actually, I think I’m about to shit meself!”
“Brother? ...You don’t mean a dog?”
“What else would I mean, ye numbskull?!”
“...Now I understand what kind of race could create that book. Dwarves are all beyond help.” Wyatt swung his sword calmly. Unlike his previous attacks, it was a cut with little power and low speed.
Emon fell for it, and blocked the blade with all his strength. In that instant, there was a crack! as the boy’s sword broke into pieces, shattering from the base of the blade. It was like the sword had suddenly been transformed into porcelain. Strangely, the guard broke, too.
“Whaaaaaat th’?!” Emon let out a shrill cry and Wyatt’s sword struck his helm. The metal didn’t allow the blade to pierce it, but the shock was almost like being struck with a blunt weapon. Emon gave a short piglike squeal and collapsed to the ground, rolling face-up.
“Ugh, it’s like sparring with armor on. It’s been a while since I’ve fought like that.” Wyatt held Emon down with a practiced hand and climbed on top of him, drawing a dagger from its sheath on his belt. It was a weapon called a kidney dagger, with a thin, straight blade that easily pierced the gaps and joints of armor. Since it was used to finish off armored foes, it had a reputation as a fatal, merciful blade.
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“Damn yeh! Lemme go! Get offa me! Only sexy ladies can sit on mgwaaah!”
Wyatt skillfully restrained the struggling dwarf under him and stabbed into the chainmail at the joint of the boy’s right elbow. The chain links, weak to this piercing attack, couldn’t defend against the specialized weapon and let the blade through.
“Yowch! That hurts! I’m gonna kill yeh, ye bastaaard!” Emon tried with all his might to shake Wyatt off, but all his efforts elicited was a slight knitting of the red-armored knight’s brow. He could use his legs and hips to neutralize all of Emon’s resistance. There was just too much of a difference between their experience and abilities.
“Of course it hurts. I’m doing this to hurt you.” He stabbed the boy’s left arm next.
“Gwaaaaah!”
“Aaaaaah!” All the kobold women screamed when Emon did.
“It’s because you would intrude on a battle like this...” The blade gouged his armpit.
“...when your mind is as immature as your swordplay...” He stabbed Emon’s leg.
“...that you’re punished like this!” Then the other leg. Each time, the boy and the kobolds screamed in unison.
“Now think about just how weak and foolhardy you are...” Wyatt got a better grip on his kidney dagger as he held the boy down.
“...and sleep!” He thrust the dagger into the boy’s armpit, aiming for his heart. This time, he wasn’t just torturing the dwarf; he was using the dagger for its intended purpose.
“So much for the great warriors, dwarves... You’re pathetic, whelp...” Wyatt muttered to himself as he stood up from the twitching dwarf and sheathed his dagger, taking up his Sword Eater once again. He turned to face the Command Center and said, “You’re next, girl.” However, Sashalia didn’t even look his way.
Wyatt stepped forward...or, he had planned to. There was a hand on his knee and arms wrapped around his legs, holding him back.
“Bfhh... I...know that...already, okay?” The boy squeezed out the words. Bloody foam leaked out from under his helm.
“You...?!” Wyatt hurriedly turned and tried to shake the boy off, but his arms were like shackles, clinging tight and unyielding. The dwarf was clinging so tightly that Wyatt was unable to bring his Sword Eater to bear on the boy’s helmet again, and his armor was too thick to damage with the sword.
Wyatt drew the kidney dagger again with his free hand and thrust it into a gap in the boy’s armor. Plunge. “Aaaaah!” The arms still clung tight. In fact, they only clung harder, the boy’s grip strengthening to the point that Wyatt feared that his legs might be broken if this continued.
“But, ye know...the old man said...he trusted me t’ defend ’em..”
“Boy...” The dagger swung down.
“An’ I told ’im...I wouldn’t let ye...lay a finger on ’em.”
“...let go...” Steel tore at flesh.
“I told Fluff, too...promised...that ’is big bro would protect ’im.”
“...of me...” The blade gouged in.
“...’n dwarves...”
“Let go!” Blood splattered.
“...they never...”
“I told you to let go of me!” The blade reached bone.
“...never...”
“Damn you!” He twisted it inside the boy.
“...LIE!”
“Don’t you say those words to me!” Wyatt’s emotions boiled over. In a rage, he plunged his dagger into Emon’s arms over and over again, but the boy still wouldn’t let go.
“Monster! You damn monster! Fine! You leave me no choice!” Wyatt tossed his dagger aside and lifted the visor to Emon’s helm. He hooked his fingers inside and ripped the bascinet off of him, exposing the boy’s bloodied face. “Let’s see if you can keep that up after I cut your head off! Show me how stubborn a dwarf can be after that!” He put the blade of Sword Eater to Emon’s neck like a saw against wood, and as a red line appeared on the dwarf’s skin—
“That’s enough! It’s enough, Emon!” The voice belonged to the redheaded half-elf who, until now, hadn’t spared a single glance at their battle, merely glaring fiercely at the map in front of her. Wyatt, who was more than a little surprised, and Emon, whose eyes had been gradually growing duller, both turned their heads to her.
“You fought well, Emon, but you’ve done enough.” Sashalia’s words were gentle as she shook her head at the young dwarf. Emon listened silently, no longer even having the strength to open his mouth.
Meanwhile, Wyatt, still shackled in the boy’s grasp, burst out laughing as if finally comprehending what was happening. “Ha...hahahaha! I see! So that’s it!”
“Yes. That’s right, Emon.”
“Is this what it took to finally convince you to give in, girl?! I don’t blame you!”
“You’ve fulfilled your mission. It’s all right now. It’s okay.”
“You did put up a good fight, boy! Right up until your ally lost heart! Hahahaha!”
Sashalia ignored the triumphant laughter from the knight in the red armor. She took a deep breath and took her glasses off, then wiped the sweat from her brow and gathered up her disheveled hair, even while she smiled at the boy who’d fulfilled his duty. There was relief in her face as she said, simply, “...We’ve won.”
Right as she finished speaking, one of the flaming houses collapsed. It hadn’t finally burned down; rather, it had been smashed by a figure that barreled through it towards them as if it couldn’t even consider taking a detour around the burning building to reach them. It groaned and huffed like a beast, covered in blood, and fearsome power swelled all through its body. There was only one person this figure could be—none other than their king, Gaius Beldarus.