Homer didn’t miss his chance. His hammer drew an arc in the air, swinging down at the Kobold King’s grey hair. It was a full-strength blow to end things with a single crushing strike. He wasn’t thinking about defense; in their previous exchanges, Homer’s armor, helm, even his gauntlets had been able to block the blade of Gaius’s faussar completely. His own monstrous strength and the assistance of several sorcerers made this impregnable defense possible. He’d probably be able to deflect a magic bolt, too. Gaius had taken all this into consideration, of course.
Deftly dodging, Gaius slid his blade along the handle of the hammer, directing its course toward the ground. He then swiftly lifted his faussar, striking the hands with which Homer gripped his weapon. The strangely thick gauntlets, almost like hammers themselves, once again did not yield to Gaius’s blade. However, the shock of the blow was more than enough to weaken Homer’s grip. Not missing the opportunity, Gaius dropped his faussar and switched weapons to the hammer that had just escaped the Mad Bull’s hands.
“Ah—” That was all Homer had time to say as Gaius rotated once and swung the hammer into the side of his head. The weapon had been meant to strike through Gaius’s armor, but it was now turned against its wielder. Gaius’s mighty strength and the huge head of the hammer worked together to warp the shape of Homer’s steel helm beyond all recognition. Needless to say, its contents were similarly reshaped.
As Homer’s body thud-thudded to the ground, Gaius dropped the warhammer to switch back to his faussar. He stood after retrieving the weapon and saw Matthew charging at him, peeling Chas off of his face and tossing the man aside. With a low roar, Matthew swung his two-handed sword down from the roof stance. It was the same rage-filled strike he’d employed earlier. His technique was less like someone had taught him how to wield a sword and more like he was just angrily swinging his weapon about in a rage at the world.
...And in actuality, Matthew never had been taught swordplay. He only knew the roof stance and the rage swing; he was completely self-taught. But maybe that was only natural. After all, sword technique and training were meaningless to him. There had never been anyone who had been able to defend against Massacre Matthew’s powerful, lengthy blade. He’d never known anyone to surpass the speed of his arm, to escape his reach, or to possess the strength to block one of his blows.
...Not until now, that is. In a simple contest of strength, Gaius wouldn’t have been able to stop Matthew’s strike. But there was a massive disparity between the two, brought about by diligent training and long years of experience. There was a clang! of steel hitting steel as sparks flew.
“You stopped my sword?”
Gaius wasn’t content to stop there, however. He caught his opponent’s blade, diverted its direction, and deflected the strike. He then swung his blade up at the ogre’s throat.
Matthew dodged back, bringing his sword up to deflect Gaius’s faussar with reflexes that made it clear why ogres were known as a fighting race.
...This is where he should have realized that his opponent was pointing his sword the wrong way.
Gaius pulled his sword back as if he had been waiting for just this moment, and while Matthew’s right arm was still extended from his defensive move, he slashed to the side at it. Gaius’s blade tore through skin and flesh, ripping into the ogre’s arm. But it was shallow. The swing had only gone a short distance, so there wasn’t much power behind the blow. He hadn’t managed to cut through the ogre’s thick muscle.
Without a moment’s delay, Gaius slashed again, this time at the ogre’s left side. This was another shallow cut; the ogre’s muscles were like steel armor protecting him from the inside. The two fighters paused, Matthew bleeding from the cuts while Gaius still held his sword, the edge still embedded in the ogre’s torso.
“Urgh...”
“Groooh!”
The two glared at one another. Massacre Matthew lost none of his will to fight even with a blade in his side. He probably wouldn’t stop fighting until he’d been rendered unconscious. Sensing that, the Black Rose of Igris tensed his arms, straining to lift the red-skinned giant off the ground. The spectators, who had all been watching with bated breath, began to murmur at this.
“Beeeldaruuus!” Still, Matthew continued to howl, lifting his left hand to swing his sword down even in this position. At just that moment...
Gaius swung his entire body, bashing his faussar, with his opponent still attached, into a tree. Wham! The ground seemed to shake from the impact, and the blade was driven deeper into the ogre’s red flesh. A great cry went up from the watching adventurers.
Gaius repeated this attack, this time heaving his sword down instead of sideways. The young ogre’s body was like a heavy log, being lifted into the air on an axe blade to be smashed against the ground over and over.
The crowd went completely quiet, save for one one-eyed adventurer who muttered, “Ahh... Not again... I can’t watch Beldarus splitting wood again...”
＊
Chas waited for Gaius to finish off Matthew by cutting off the ogre’s head before addressing him. “You’re somethin’ else, Black Rose of Igris... I mean, Kobold King.” For a second, his eyes lit up with a strong will to fight, but...
“Bro!” A family member or friend called out to him from the crowd, and Chas regained his cool. He clucked his tongue loud enough for Gaius to hear and sent him one last glare before all the fire went out of his eyes. Then he thought for a moment, before exaggeratedly grasping his arm and exclaiming in a flat voice, “Aaargh! My aaarm! When he threw me earlieeer! I think I broke iiit! It hurts soooo baaaaad! I can’t fight like thiiis!” He retreated back into the crowd, still shouting emotionlessly. Soon he was out of Gaius’s sight. He must have decided it was time to call it quits.
Even coming at him with the other hundred adventurers nearby, it would be hard to put down the Kobold King...that’s what the swordsman had decided. A portion of the gathered forces clearly agreed with that observation. It was all the more obvious to those with skill and experience. They all unconsciously took one step back, then another. Everyone there had been completely shaken by Gaius’s melée with the six fighters.
“...I’ve earned quite a few nicknames for myself, haven’t I?” Gaius came out of his fighting stance, setting his faussar against his shoulder. No one dared attack him even then. His earlier display had robbed each and every one of them of the desire to cross swords with the Black Rose of Igris. “When I tried my best to avoid letting my enemies suffer, they called me ‘the Headhunter.’” He sighed, but to those around him, it was the warning huff of a beast before it charged. “I don’t know how considerate I’ll be able to be if I get too busy, though. If I don’t have time, well...” He took a step forward and the ring of people split. “It might...hurt.” The words he spoke with a twist of his lips crushed whatever will to fight remained in those encircling him.
...Gaius Beldarus had never celebrated his bravery. Instead, he was ashamed that it was the only area he really excelled in. But he was well aware of how to dominate a battlefield. And as he stepped forward, the crowd around him parted like the tide going out.
Gaius calmly walked forward. With each step he took, the adventurers took two steps back. One alone remained standing in place, stupefied: the knight who had ordered this move against Gaius, Seligman. A lack of experience and being on a different wavelength from those around him had separated him from the waves of adventurers around him.
The Kobold King stopped before him. From the look of him and his equipment, he could tell that the young man was a knight who worked for Wyatt, the one commanding the forces around him. So when Gaius’s faussar swung down, everyone there, Seligman included, thought that he’d become prey to the blade.
Their eyes met, but it was not an equal exchange. Their gazes were those of a lion meeting the eyes of a trembling rabbit.