The voices of your friends, the sounds of battle: all seem somehow far away now. What a tremendous screwup! The thought passes lazily through your mind as you fight to open your eyes, try to see what’s happening on the battlefield. Your vision is lopsided; Female Warrior moves to rush over to you, her lovely face pale. That isn’t good… “Don’t break formation, they’ll get through!!” Myrmidon Monk shouts before you manage to make a sound. “…!” “Take this!!” Female Warrior is biting her lip. A blow was coming to finish you for good, but a dagger deflects it in the nick of time. It’s Half-Elf Scout. He’s flung his knife to protect you from the ninja’s attack. He’s up against the proverbial wall, though, too. It was all he could do to fling the dagger and parry the blow. His isn’t a combat class to begin with. It’s laudable that he was even able to block the ninja. “Stay calm! The cap’s still kickin’, but it’s close!!” He looks absolutely desperate as he continues to defend, never taking his eyes off his own opponent. “Do we keep fightin’, or do we fall back?!” “I don’t care either way!!” Your body seems to float; it must be Myrmidon Monk picking you up in his arms. He pulls you to the back row, where you see your cousin, brought back to herself by the shouts, clutching her short staff. “…! I’ll take over command!” she says, with a quick glance at your wounds that seems to assure her you aren’t going to die immediately. There’s no time. That’s exactly why your cousin is working so hard to understand exactly what she has to do. When her lips form the words, “I’m sorry,” you nod ever so slightly. “I have to prioritize controlling this situation over healing you right now!” Your cousin’s judgment is quick and perceptive. “I’m going to use Dance and then Fireball! Coordinate with me, use Silence! We’ll keep them from attacking!” “R-right!” “How about me—want me to move up? I don’t mind!” Myrmidon Monk offers. Female Warrior nods, her face grave, and Myrmidon Monk starts in, his mandibles clacking. His scimitar is already out, and he’s trying to put himself in position to move anywhere at any time. “Go for it!” your cousin calls. “Mm!” There is no hesitation in the exchange. Myrmidon Monk cinches a cloth around your wounded neck, then runs forward. You try hard to press on the cloth, watching it turn redder every moment, hoping to stop the blood flow. Female Warrior, working her spear tirelessly, calls with a note of concern, “Hey! Does that mean you’re leaving him alone?!” “No time for questions; let’s just do it…!” Female Bishop replies, clearly struggling to stay calm. Female Warrior looks about to object to being ordered around by a younger woman, but then she closes her mouth and clucks her tongue. “…Right, sure!” “You heard the lady. Let’s get ready, here…!” Obviously, the party hasn’t been stopping for a quick rest while they have this conversation. Each of them has been trying to play their role as best they can in a rapidly changing situation. From what you can see, your collective destiny in this battle will be determined by simple combat strength. “You son of a…!” The people with the tiger-like masks might be adventurers, enchanted by the miasma of the dungeon, or perhaps they’re simply monsters who happen to look like men. Whichever it is, they’re fearsome opponents. With you down for the count, there’s only one dedicated fighter on your party’s front row. Female Warrior is working her spear as hard as she can to keep the enemies at bay, but it costs her physical stamina, and her concentration is fading. Still, she strives to face down two of the ninjas by herself, her breath coming hard, sweat forming on her brow and running through her hair. If her footing starts to grow unreliable, then this fight is over. “Whoo, these guys’re stern stuff…!” “Less talking, more fighting!” If Female Warrior goes down, Half-Elf Scout and Myrmidon Monk alone will have no chance of defending the party from the four enemies. Your front row will collapse, they’ll easily get to your back row, and then your cousin and Female Bishop will meet a grisly demise. Even if they avoid that fate, with enough time, the enemy magicians are sure to finish their spells and unleash their magic. Perhaps your party has no chance after all… “Musica concilio terpsichore! Music united with dance!” This, though, is when the fight really begins. Your cousin intones words of true power in a clear voice. “…?!” “…?!?!” She’s just one move ahead of your opponents, but the ninjas’ feet come up off the ground. They start trembling, like they’re dancing, in time with the melodic incantation, their hands slicing through the air. Even without her eyesight, Female Bishop doesn’t miss this opportunity. “Let the light of quietude be upon you…!!” She strikes forth with the sword and scales, appealing directly to the gods. A curtain of silence descends with her sacred invocation. This noiselessness, brought about by the Supreme God with his respect for Order, envelops the wizards weaving their spells on the back row. They may wave their staves, but no words come forth from their mouths. There’s still a hint of youth in Female Bishop’s face, but a smile, somehow cold, comes upon it. “There, now they’re deprived of their spells…!” “You’re mine!” “…?!” Female Warrior’s voice rings out. She takes the feet out from under one of the ninjas with a sweep of her spear. He floats back through the air, and the spear follows him in a great arc, the tip plunging into his belly before he hits the ground. He folds like a chrysanthemum blossom, but when he hits the ground, it’s like a cat landing from a great height. “Tough bastard…!” That must have damaged him. If he’s alive, he can be killed. But with his face hidden, it’s hard to tell. The two ninjas try to surround Female Warrior, their movements not quite human and not quite bestial. You knew it was going to be all about simple fighting strength. Your cousin, who until this point has been maintaining the Dance spell, waves her staff in the direction of the enemy group. Your party has prevented the enemy from attacking as best it can. Now you have to go on the offensive yourselves. A simple, immovable fact. “Carbunculus—!” your cousin exclaims, and in the blink of an eye the laws of the world are overwritten. You can smell the air boiling as heat focuses at the end of your cousin’s staff, and a conflagration ensues. Sure, it’s easy to tell when the spell is incoming, but it’s also easy to aim. “I’ll coordinate with you!” Female Bishop calls, raising the sword and scales. “Crescunt—!” The holy sigil shines with the light of the Supreme God, glowing with magical fire. These words of true power, capable of overwriting the very laws of the world, are acknowledged by the deity who rules over Law. Together, the two young women call out the last of the words that will reshape the world around them. ““Iacta!!”” A ball of fire launches forth from each of the girls’ implements. With a whoosh, they fly past your front row, exploding smack in the middle of the enemy formation. An explosion, heat, a burning wind against your skin: You reflexively squint your blurring eyes. “Hoo! You girls know how to put on a show…,” Half-Elf Scout remarks, rolling away from the choking black smoke that begins filling the room. “Don’t let up. We have to make sure we really got them…!” Female Warrior says, coughing gently but keeping her spear ever at the ready. There’s no breeze in this confined space, yet the smoke vanishes in short order. All you smell now is the reek of charred flesh and bones. There is no sound from beyond the screen of smoke—it parts to reveal only corpses. Corpses with singed robes and staves in their hands. Nothing more. “Well, now…” Myrmidon Monk clacks his mandibles and waves his antennae. Half-Elf Scout takes a quick glance in every direction. Female Bishop continues to hold her sword and scales at the ready while your cousin adjusts her grip on her staff. Perhaps her hands are slick with sweat. Five seconds pass, then ten—and nothing happens. The miraculous silence finally dissipates, leaving the gentle crackling of burning meat. “Arrgh…!” Female Warrior loudly slams the butt of her spear against the stone floor in frustration at your escaped enemies. “How is he…?” Female Warrior asks, her voice trembling as she trots over to you. The moment the battle was over, your friends rushed together around you, each of them breathing hard. You somehow manage to move your mouth, but no words come out; instead, Female Bishop’s slim hand reaches toward your neck. She adjusts the cloth that you and Myrmidon Monk tied in such a hurry, delicately but carefully making sure it’s in place, and then she gives a quick nod. “The bleeding’s stopped,” she says. “It’s a deep wound, but…well, this is a start.” “All right. Thank goodness…” Your cousin’s grim look gives way to a breath of relief as she wipes some sweat from her brow. She’s a very effusive person, but you rarely see her look quite so panicked. You struggle to tell them to prioritize getting home, and your cousin says, “I know,” and starts to smile. “Let’s go back up. We’ll save our spells as best we can…” “…Why aren’t you healing him?” The question is abrupt. Female Warrior stands with her hands together in front of her chest, a cold, clear smirk on her face. Tension comes into the air. From where you’re lying, you can clearly see your cousin swallow heavily. “Uh, well… That is…” “You didn’t do it earlier, either. Why not?” Your cousin, feeling cornered by Female Warrior’s pressing of the point, doesn’t seem to know quite what to say. Likewise, Female Bishop, her hand still at your throat, appears unsure where to put her sightless eyes and says nothing. Rescue, instead, comes from a completely unexpected quarter. “…Ain’t got a real choice. Didn’t know what would happen then, don’t know what’s gonna happen now.” “Hmm,” Female Warrior says, her smile never slipping at Half-Elf Scout’s interjection. “Your point being?” “We were outnumbered in that fight.” The scout’s accustomed easy attitude likewise never slips. His arms are crossed, and his tone is serious, but even that seems exaggerated, like he’s putting on a show. “With the cap out, we were down one. Someone to take care of him, that’d be two. The poor get poorer, y’know? …And this is the third floor.” “…” “Say we use up our miracles healing the captain right here. Then the next big, bad thing comes around the corner, and that’s it for us.” “Oh…” You can almost see the blood drain from Female Warrior’s face. It’s not regret or fear so much as it is the realization of how agitated she had become—the adrenaline ebbing away. The third floor—yes, that’s where you are. Not the first floor, which you walk almost with impunity now, nor the second, where you know how things work. You have no idea what other powerful, unknown beasts might wander these halls. “…Yeah. Yeah, sure… Of course…” Female Warrior nods as obligingly as a little girl. It seems to bring your cousin back to herself as well. She shakes her head, rippling her hair, then bows politely. “Look, I’m sorry. I should have just explained. Please…” “No, don’t worry about it… There wasn’t time. Hey… I’m sorry, okay?” “It’s all right…” The two of them look at each other uncertainly but fall silent. Now that you think about it, you realize that since its formation, your party has been through a lot—but never something like this. The two girls aren’t used to having such a sharp difference of opinion that it brings them to argue with each other. Their stumbling apologies are interrupted by the clacking of mandibles. “Break up the party and go our separate ways, apologize and make up—doesn’t matter to me either way,” Myrmidon Monk says. He’s standing directly beside you with his arms crossed and his antennae waving in a distinctly annoyed manner. “But whichever it is, let’s do it after we get this half-dead heap of human to the temple, shall we?”
Chapter 12
11 min read