Chapter 144.5: Volume 16: Chapter 5: Kill Steal (5)

The frontline's unified command center had always been noisy, but it was even more so with the war situation finally changing. It would probably continue to be bustling even after they'd won this war, at least until the civil officials arrived to oversee the occupation.

Right now, the strategists were compiling the information carried by messengers from different places, going over each piece and taking great pains to consolidate them into a comprehensive battle map. They still had the calculations for the casualties to do as well as the management of the prisoners of war. Other miscellaneous tasks like dealing with the dead bodies were postponed for later as they were in the middle of fighting right now.

Anyhow, only accurate information—without any falsehood—reached General Valerian Ein Obinie.

That's why he felt relief from the bottom of his heart when he received the news that he was waiting for.

"Your Excellency. We finally broke through those Elven defensive lines. With this, the enemy's counterattacks were reduced by 70%...we feel like they were weakened by too much but that can be attributed to the absence of strong people in the enemy forces. Still, the remaining enemies have escaped into the city, waiting to lay ambushes in different places. How should we proceed?"

"Avoid unnecessary casualties. The guerillas who barricaded themselves in weren't too much of a threat, but those who are roaming around the city going on a rampage are to be feared. Expand the area under our control, suppress them and force those Elves outside—into the waiting hands of our encircling siege. Avoid fighting indoors. Don't forget to include strong individuals in the squads deployed to fight inside the city."

"Understood. I will relay the instructions immediately."

"The Elves fighting against the siege will probably fight as fierce as cornered, dying animals. Make sure to warn everyone again to be on their guard."

"Understood."

"—It looks like our path lies open, but have we received any counterattack from the castle?"

"Nothing. It continues to stay silent."

That would have usually made Valerian's expression far grimmer.

He doubted the castle was empty. It was highly likely that it was being protected by the Elven elites. Also, there was no doubt that the desperate Elven soldiers were escaping to the castle and most of all, there was still the existence of the Elf King.

The death of the Holocaust Scripture's vice leader at the hands of the elemental commanded by the Elf King was still fresh in their minds. He might not have reached the realm of heroes, but was still strong enough to have stood on its cusp, yet he was killed just like that.

According to the records in the Theocracy, even a Holocaust Scripture—made up of hero class members—a hundred years ago was nearly eliminated by the Elf King's strength. He didn't know what that operation was about, but seeing that it had succeeded, that at least meant that the Elf King was not infallible. Still, dealing with him would have been too heavy a burden for Valerian's troops and would be the greatest mountain they have to cross yet in this war.

But—they have a trump card here now.

"Just to make sure, are you certain that we can advance there directly?"

"Yes. It's possible."

Hearing the confidence in the strategist's answer, Valerian stood from his chair.

"In that case...we can probably consider our preliminary goal completed...Everyone, we've weathered through some tough times. Tell everyone to halt after we've surrounded the royal castle and continue observing it from afar. Ask them to put their efforts in other areas. I will go over to that person to pass on the information personally."

Valerian exited his tent alone and headed to a different tent. This tent's owner didn't like others' company much. It would be bad if this person was displeased.

He called from outside the tent.

"Excuse me, is it alright for me to come in?"

"Please."

He received an immediate reply.

Valerian took a single deep breath before he entered.

She was certainly not a dangerous person. He had exchanged light greetings with her on her arrival and felt that she was a rational person. However, when faced with a person from the Black Scripture, someone who stood in the realm of heroes—or someone who exceeded the realm of humans—even Valerian needed a certain amount of resolve. Even though he knew that they wouldn't attack him, he required the kind of mental state that was necessary if one were to face a giant carnivore before them.

And there was one more thing.

Even among the heroes, the one inside this tent was kind of special for the Theocracy.

Different humanoid races could produce children between them but that kind of thought was taboo in the Theocracy.

For the Theocracy, which thought that only humans should flourish, every other race was an enemy even if they were humanoids.

That said, that policy was comparatively new and had only been practiced for a century plus a few decades. Before that, the Theocracy also took the other humanoid races into consideration, the policy being that they should join hands together and fight against the other races.

The person inside this tent was considered one of the reasons for that change.

She was considered the Theocracy's strongest, and her lifespan was extremely long. She was also supposedly the apprentice of the rumored person known as the guardian deity of their nation. That was all Valerian knew.

Among such vague information, there were also a few things that he knew to be true.

One was that she was not someone even a general like him could be rude to. Of course, he had never even thought of looking down at the apex of the natural order.

He rolled the cloth covering the entrance aside and entered, whereupon he saw a simple chair, a bed, and a table with a helmet on top of it. The tent was not too different from the others around it, but the furniture inside was comparatively well made. These were brought over from the Theocracy using [Teleportation], even his—a general's—tent didn't have such nice things.

He found her jumping in the middle of the decor, wearing dazzling armor.

"Did something happen?"

Perhaps she was doing something Valerian wasn't knowledgeable on. For example, a special type of ritual.

"Nn? No, it was nothing special. I just don't feel calm unless I move my body around"

"Undoubtedly so."

She continued to jump for a few more seconds and finally stopped.

"You don't need to be so polite. You are my superior in a sense after all."

Though she said that, it didn't feel like she intended to change her own tone or the air of superiority that hung around her.

"No, I certainly cannot acquiesce to such a request, not to the Theocracy's strongest force and the guardian deity's apprentice."

"Too stiff...Well, I won't stop you if you want to be like that. That aside, seeing that you are here, can I assume it's about that?"

"Yes. Only the castle's left now, but we think the remaining forces are concentrating in the castle at the present, so..."

"I will deal with them too, but I am only aiming for one person so don't expect me to be thorough in wiping them out."

"Understood. Please leave them to us."

The woman called Zesshi Zetsumei slowly changed her expression.

Valerian, who saw the smile on her face, cast his eyes down.

It's not like she was pointing killing intent at him. He understood that. Even so, he couldn't help but feel afraid.

"Ah, sorry about that...well, can you hear me out a bit?"

"Yes. If you are fine with me."

"Un. Honestly speaking, you could say that I don't really hate him, because he never harmed me directly. You could also say that he didn't do anything fatherly, but from his point of view that's unreasonable to ask of him. It's entirely possible that he didn't even know about my existence after all...It was my mother who had a grudge against him. So, you could say that my feelings in this matter are just what my mother instilled into me."

How should he answer her? Should he agree or deny? First of all, did she really say that she was the Elf King's daughter? Then, who in the world was her mother? Question after question flitted across his mind.

She ignored Valerian, who couldn't answer from confusion, and continued with her speech.

He understood it now.

This was just her talking to herself. She didn't expect an answer.

"Then I should be directing my hatred at my mother, right? To the one who gave me such troublesome emotions, but she is already dead so I can't take it out on her. Maybe that's why I am directing this hatred at my father as a replacement. If I really want to clear my hatred...I should be directing it at the things my mother loved, right?"

The mood of the conversation changed.

Valerian tried to read her expression.

She was still smiling. Nothing's changed.

But—was that smile real?

He gulped unconsciously.

He was afraid that his answer could become the trigger that would cause the Theocracy's destruction.

She probably felt his tension, as her smile turned bitter.

"...ah, I did it again. Sorry. Did I scare you? I was not saying that I would make the Theocracy the target of my hatred, because...all things considered I do love the Theocracy."

"I-is that so? That's great."

He couldn't give her a good reply, but relief spread inside Valerian.

"But...I don't know why. I just wonder if I can really feel free after I clear this hatred that my mother burned into me. I feel a little shy talking about things like this. This is probably what they call a moody phase."

"I see."

"If it were one of my acquaintances, they would be joking about my age right about now."

"Sorry for not being attentive enough."

She continued, unbothered by Valerian's bow.

"I wonder what my mother felt."

"Eh?"

"...The weak can only be trampled upon, so become strong. The sentiment certainly isn't wrong. I doubt if there was any need to train a child so strictly, but then again, it's likely that I wasn't the only one who was trained to near death during their childhood. There could be someone who is receiving stricter training than me to become stronger. With that in mind, I am just being a spoiled child, am I not?"

"About that...It's hard to say for sure, I think, but how should I put it..."

Agreement or denial. Valerian, who was focused on thinking about which answer would be less likely to displease her, ended up giving her a nonsensical response.

Probably realizing what Valerian was going through, she laughed again—though it was an honest laugh this time.

"Maybe I should go through the old records after everything's done. There might be things the past me didn't notice. Maybe there are some things that couldn't be understood except from a third party's perspective. Anyhow...she should have probably left something behind. What did she really feel about me? ...Well then, shall we go?"

♦ ♦ ♦

"Huff. Huff. Huff—"

Considering Decem's physical capabilities, sprinting such a short distance at his full speed shouldn't have him wheezing. Yet, he was completely out of breath. It must be the fear. The fear that was welling up from inside him was so strong it was physically affecting his body.

He tried to listen to his rear, to see if anyone was chasing him.

Nothing.

No one was coming after him.

Did he manage to escape?

No—Decem shook his head silently.

He couldn't be careless.

He should not cling to his pride as the strongest Elf anymore. He should run away.

Defeat isn't the end of everything. It's not like there were no Elves left outside this forest. He could just travel to a place far away and rebuild his kingdom. He was confident enough in his own strength that he would be able to do that—probably.

{I won't make the same mistake next time.}

Be it grandchildren or great-grandchildren—he now had the proof that even later generations could awaken their blood. He would just have to proceed wisely from now.

{Yeah, that's right. This is neither a mistake nor a defeat. Just something that can be a good experience for me. I won't waste the experience that I have gained. I am not such an idiot. Only idiots repeat their mistakes!}

That's right.

First, he would make his children have progeny with the Dark Elves...or should he do it with the Dark Elves himself?

{Anyhow, there's no time. Should I just escape as quickly as possible? Or...maybe I should carry some food with me.}

Decem continued to think while running.

His teleportation was limited to teleporting to the elemental he was linked with. As he couldn't use it anymore with Behemoth dead, he could only rely on his own legs to run away from this place. Still, he could fly, so maybe he didn't need to rely solely on his legs.

That's right, Decem had the power of magic.

Frankly speaking, even if he didn't take anything along, he should be able to manage somehow with just the gear he had on him. Plus, if he passed by a civilized area, he could just pillage what he wanted from them. These things were possible for someone as strong as Decem.

Certainly, he had just been defeated—it was vexing but he had acknowledged it—but those grandchildren's strength was an exception. They were only that strong because they had Decem's blood flowing through them, so it's unlikely there were people of similar strength at the place he would be escaping to. Still, a display of his strength could draw too much attention. That undead commanded by the grandchildren might come chasing after him if news of his whereabouts were spread.

{That aside, what were those two aiming for in the first place? Were they on that floor because the treasury was there? In that case, maybe they are no longer interested in taking my life...}

Perhaps he was being too optimistic. It was hard for him to believe the grandchildren's words—or to be more accurate, what they made the undead say.

"Maybe...they really are after me"

He should expect the worst-case scenario. His life depended on it after all.

{In that case, I should try my best to lie low until I am as far away as possible from this area...I should also avoid using magic. I will have to carry some food with me then.}

There was a druid spell that could make fruits. There was also a staff inside his treasury that could do it six times every four hours, but Decem himself didn't learn that spell. He wasn't used to living in the forest either. Decem was confident in his ability to deal with any beasts that could attack him but he was not at all confident in his ability to collect food from the forest—including properly field dressing the slain beasts.

{There is some fruit and wine inside my room. I should leave this forest with them as fast as possible, without using magic. After that, I will kill everyone I meet to stop information about me from reaching those children's ears. I can also snatch their goods at the same time. While doing that, I will run to a place as far away as possible. Oh, right. Maybe I should also carry some valuables. I remember hearing that jewels and gold coins are useful.}

Decem finally reached his room, wheezing his lungs out.

There should be some women inside, but it would draw attention if he took any with him. They would also be a burden so they should probably be left behind here.

Or maybe he should take one or two along.

It was an unpleasant thing for a king like him to carry them, but they shouldn't be a burden if he did that.

{—I don't mind taking along a woman who can cook. And it's unknown when I can meet an Elf again after leaving this forest. In that case, I should really take some along to make children.}

Decem adjusted his breathing and wiped off the sweat induced by pain. He wanted to avoid looking unkingly before the women.

While splitting some of his attention towards the way he came from, scared that the undead would suddenly appear, Decem opened the door to his room.

"Welcome back."

A female's nonchalant voice called out to him.

Decem immediately felt angry.

To think a woman who probably scraped their heads along the ground for him until now dared to be so nonchalant! He felt like he was being mocked for suffering defeat at the hands of his grandchildren. However, that anger soon subsided the instant he saw the room's situation.

It was red.

His room was painted completely red.

It's blood.

The scent of blood was so thick that he couldn't even begin to describe it. He probably failed to notice it outside the room because his nose had been distracted by the scent of his own blood.

The remains of the women who were supposed to be here were scattered around the room and a single chair was placed in the middle of them—likely intentional—with a woman sitting on it.

He didn't know her. She wore a splendid-looking full set of armor, carried a helmet in one hand, and held a mysterious-looking staff with three curved blades drenched in blood at the end of it in the other. He couldn't understand what method of use the creator of this weapon had in mind when they made it.

The woman didn't look like an Elf to him, but at the same time, her face had hints of Elven characteristics.

So was she an Elf? And most of all, those eyes—

"Yo—pleased to meet you, father."

The woman grinned with clear scorn.

He finally arrived at the only possible conclusion.

"I see. So that's how it is...so you are those kids' mother..."

The woman's expression went stiff for a moment before returning it to a smile immediately.

"Yes, you are right. Those kids'...mother. Those wounds—so you were defeated by them—are they so strong? Which ability of theirs made you lose? Tell me, father"

He started to open his mouth but stopped it. He didn't have time to play along with her as she was clearly stalling for time.

He immediately turned his heels, trying to get away from the room—

"—not going to let you."

"Guh!"

Pain ran through his legs, making him tumble on the floor.

Looking down, he saw that the blade that extended from the strange weapon caught his legs. It tripped him and he was being dragged back into the room by his legs.

New wounds opened on his legs and he started to bleed again, but those were trivial compared to the chest wound from that undead or the damage his legs received when he ran from them.

But—he couldn't understand.

There had been some distance between the two of them. Despite that, she immediately caught up with him and attacked his legs. It's like this woman—his own child—was far faster than he could ever be.

He felt a strong pressure bearing down on his back.

The woman was pressing him down with her feet.

"Guhh!"

Decem couldn't stand up.

Did this mean that she was far stronger than him? Or was it some kind of special skill?

"Was your chest wound caused by a blade? What about those on your legs? I've heard that you use an earth elemental, so where is that?"

She fired out questions in rapid succession. He could not feel a hint of tension in her voice.

It was true that Decem was deeply wounded. It was also true that he lost Behemoth, but that didn't mean he was weak. He still had his physical strength, which could easily kill any living being around here in a single hit. This Decem, who had lost Behemoth and who only had his physical strength to rely on, tried to run with his full power. Even though he was dulled by the pain, there was no way that woman could catch him.

But he had to acknowledge reality.

This woman surpassed him in brute strength.

But there was still a doubt left.

He didn't remember having a child with such high abilities. He moved his head to see the woman who was pushing down on him.

Just as he thought, he really did not know her, and her face felt a little bit off for an Elf.

"...Wh-what do you want? Why are you doing this to me?"

That was a genuine doubt from the bottom of his heart. The woman laughed out loud with scorn.

"The strong can do whatever they want to the weak. Am I wrong?"

"Guh...mm"

She was right.

That was the principle Decem had lived by till now.

"That is the morality of wild animals...but it's a suitable ideology for savages who live in the forest without proper civilization."

"D-did the women who had been here say that?"

"...fuhh"

The woman let out a large sigh like she was trying to expel the heat that accumulated inside her.

And in that instant, the force pressing down on him became stronger.

"Guhh, ggahaa..."

He couldn't breathe from the pressure.

"Why don't you answer my previous question first?—wait, did you forget it? Are you turning senile?"

"Gogggah..."

The pressure on him gradually increased to the point where Decem could no longer bear it. He could hear the innards of his body creaking around. His mouth, opened to take in a breath, could do nothing but expel air.

"Tch," the pressure was slightly lessened after she clicked her tongue, but not enough for him to be able to escape. Decem still had to put in all of his efforts just to take a fresh breath.

"What attack wounded you like that?"

{Why, is this happening to me...From the moment I met those kids...it's the worst...but why is this woman interested in the wounds? Doesn't she know what her children did? They are necromancers who command various undead...no, maybe...it's different?}

To think three people, his children and grandchildren, who rivaled him—no, who surpassed him—appeared at the same time? No, maybe there's a different reason behind it.

"I see! I thought they were my grandchildren—descendents, but if they are blood relatives, there's another possibility! Perhaps they are my father's...! Impossible! These are my half-siblings!?"

Wasn't that the most logical answer to all of this?

His father was an Elven hero who was the strongest fencer.

(T/N: 軽(light)戦士(warrior) => light(weight)warrior => fencer. The light ( 軽) here is the light in "lightly armored," not light as in luminescence. )

They were called Eight Greed Kings not in praise, but in scorn, because they were stronger than anyone else. The weaklings tried to paint over their great deeds and destroy their glory through such petty acts.

Decem didn't manage to inherit the fencing talent from that great bloodline but perhaps this woman here did.

"So? Talk soon or I will kill you, okay?"

"Aaah...ah...khah!"

{Talk, I will talk, so please ease off the pressure.} He wanted to shout, but he couldn't vocalize. He heard something break inside his body as a sharp pain spread through his chest. His body stiffened from the pain that felt like his innards were being gouged out as he unconsciously drew nails on the floor.

"...I never felt a single ounce of pity for my mother since then but...to think she conceived me after being raped by such a mook...yeah, I do pity her a little."

When he thought he heard her talking to herself, the pressure on the leg crushing him increased further. He could hear things inside him breaking one after another, revitalizing the pain he felt previously with every instance.

He could taste the blood welling up from his throat, but even if he wanted to let it out, he could at most make a trickle down his mouth.

It was stifling.

Stifling and painful.

Why did he have to go through this?

Even though he did nothing wrong at all.

Decem struggled with his full might. Just a single breath would be nice, but he wasn't able to free himself. His struggles were meaningless in the face of an overwhelming gap in the level of their strength.

Die.

He would die.

Not much time had passed since he has had similar thoughts, but it was stronger this time.

Scared.

He was scared.

Stifling.

It was stifli—

Why, he—

"...This is really irritating, because of this mook, I...my mother..."

Dark—

Why—

Tears welled up.

Why was she doing such cruel things to him?

"Really, really!"

He couldn't breathe.

He didn't want to die—

Someone—

Help—

—

—suddenly, his consciousness came back, but that didn't mean the pain disappeared or that he could breathe.

What.

Something happened.

"...your body swelled up? Really, how stubborn!!"

—crackcrackcrackcrackcrackcrack

The sound of all of his bones breaking at once.

Pain—

Something—

Happen—

The world darkened for Decem once again.

♦ ♦ ♦

"Just like your ideology, right? You reap what you sow. Ah, but it's a bit unfortunate. I wanted to torment you more before killing you..."

Not a twitch could be seen from her blood-related father anymore. Zesshi moved her gaze to the Elf corpses around her.

Now that she thought about it, she really didn't need to go this far. It would be a lie to say that her hatred towards her mother wasn't a factor in her killing them all. However, most of all, she didn't wish for the country she loved to do the same things this bastard—whose very existence in the same world as her made her nauseous—had done. She thought that they would be better off dead, so she sank these female elves into a sea of blood.

Those people, who optimistically thought that these elves could have achieved happiness elsewhere, probably wouldn't understand Zesshi's actions. In a similar vein, Zesshi couldn't understand those kinds of people either.

Zesshi suddenly looked at the entrance.

A dark elf girl could be seen in the gap of the still open door.

There was no doubt that she was one of "those kids" that drove the Elf King into a corner.

Upon seeing the mark of royalty in those eyes—each of a different color—Zesshi let out a small sigh.

Decem mistook Zesshi, who he had never met, for their mother. Then, this should be his grandchild—Zesshi's niece.

A little surprised at her own unexpected reluctance to kill this child, Zesshi kicked the Elf King, already dead from getting his chest caved in, towards the child with her full strength.

Ordinary people, no, not even outliers should have been able to avoid it; yet, the girl did, by just jumping aside primly.

The corpse hit the opposite wall and bloomed into a bloody flower with a loud sound.

{To think that she avoided it...her physical ability should be comparatively high. That guy's wound looked like it was from a blade though...}

The girl—her niece was holding a black staff, a weapon to bonk with. A glance at that guy's wound was enough to know that it was from a different weapon. He actually did say "those kids," so there should be one more at the very least. However, there were also magic items that could create blades of magic or could change themselves into blades.

She couldn't disregard the possibility that this girl was the one who wounded the Elf King.

{Or maybe the other child caused the chest wound while this one smashed his legs? With her staff...or magic?}

But why did this dark elf girl wound the Elf King?

No, there were many things to hate him for. Perhaps she was the same as Zesshi, inheriting her mother's hatred for the Elf King. This could be the case, especially since she looked too young to have her own reason to hate the Elf King enough to wound him so grievously.

It was also possible that she just wounded him while frolicking around, but the circumstances just now denied that possibility. Even though he was already dead, the girl avoided the body she kicked instead of trying to retrieve it.

"E-excuse me, y-you see. Where are you from onee-san?"

Very shy—a cute girl who was male fantasy made manifest. She was from a different world compared to Zesshi, such a girl asked her a question.

But a single glance was enough for her to see that the girl was different inside. The girl didn't look like she was scared by the Elf King's corpse behind her or the massacre done by Zesshi in this room.

{She can still behave like that after avoiding my attack? Uwaah. It's highly likely her shyness is just an act, that just makes me more cautious...well then, what should I do?}

How should she answer the opponent's question? If possible, she wanted to avoid a battle and feed her false information while taking her time to gain as much information as possible from the other side.

But that was impossible.

The Elf King's words implied there were multiple enemies. In case this was the one who wounded the Elf King, the fact that there wasn't a single drop of blood on her—there should have been some even if she was healed—meant that there was an overwhelming gap between the strength of the Elf King and this girl.

Even if this girl wasn't the one who did it, considering that she was chosen to be the one to give chase, she and her comrades shouldn't be taken lightly. She didn't know how strong they were, but even Zesshi would be in danger if she let them regroup.

This was her chance to deal with the girl alone, before her comrades arrived. Instead of gathering intel, she should seize the initiative and defeat her here in a short and quick battle.

{The idea that your enemy's enemy is your friend is just optimism. You'd more likely be correct to treat them as a new enemy instead.}

She thought for a moment and then, with a smile to ease up her opponent's caution, Zesshi finally answered.

"—Good morning. I am...someone from the Sorcerer Kingdom, but what about you? Are you alone?"

The girl's face twitched a little. Her shy attitude didn't change, but it slightly felt like she was thinking about something.

{I can't read her. I've made a mistake. I should have asked a leading question...With this reaction, I can't read if she doesn't know about the Sorcerer Kingdom, if she's from there, or if she sees it as an enemy. Considering that she didn't immediately attack me, the possibility of her being hostile to the Sorcerer Kingdom went down a little, but maybe she is just stalling like me to gather more information...aah, maybe I would have gotten a different reaction if I had mentioned the Council State instead.}

She mentioned the Sorcerer Kingdom because there was intel that the Sorcerer King had a Dark Elf as one of his retainers.

They didn't get this information by sending spies into the Sorcerer Kingdom's internal organization.

It was because the Thousand-League Astrologer had confirmed the presence of a dark elf girl beside the Sorcerer King in the battle against the Kingdom on the Katze Plains.

They made a detailed report on the Sorcerer King and his forces after using illusions to recreate the scene the Thousand-League Astrologer saw. They also saw the dark elf who was the only one attending him through the illusions, but they weren't able to see her face clearly due to the blurriness.

That was something that couldn't be helped. The Thousand-League Astrologer couldn't divert her energy to remember a single person as she had to observe the entire battlefield. Plus, what happened after made such a strong impression on her that a lot of other information had flown straight out of her mind.

Remembering that vague picture, it felt like this girl wasn't the same one as the dark elf that followed the Sorcerer King back then. They both held a black staff but the armor they wore was completely different. Well, there was also the fact that she didn't remember anything except for the gear because the illusion was of very low quality.

If this girl really was from the Sorcerer Kingdom, what would she have chosen to wear when she planned to come here? The answer: she would have been completely geared up just like Zesshi was. This was a battlefield. Anything could happen here so it was impossible that someone would appear in their usual attire. Even the defensive gear Kaire and the Thousand-League Astrologer wore were chosen only for their ability, disregarding the fact of whether they suited them or not.

That said, the Katze Plains had been a battlefield as well. Truly strong people didn't use multiple sets of serious battle gear generally.

That was because excellent gear was a necessity to ascend to higher tiers of strength, and they would need to polish their skill with a single piece of equipment for that. For example, there was someone skilled with a club who was given an axe after they were recruited into Black Scripture, they had to spend years to get proficient at using it.

Going by this logic, the girl from the Sorcerer Kingdom and the one before her should be different people, but there were too many things in common between them for her to come to that conclusion.

That's why Zesshi asked a suggestive question to reap some information from her reaction but got nothing in return.

{I am better at reaping with this scythe though,} Zesshi thought and slightly strengthened her grip on the great scythe.

(T/N: the original is a wordplay on 'asking a suggestive question' (鎌をかける) from the sentence before, which literally translates to "grabbing by a sickle/scythe." Zesshi jokes that she is better at using the scythe in her hands instead.)

And there was also the fact that the girl was not human.

Zesshi could mostly differentiate between the faces of fellow humanoids, but she was not perfect at it. There were some things that one wouldn't be able to perceive if they were not of the same race, so the other races tended to look all the same to her.

"Ah, eh, Y-yes. I am alone..."

"I see. Then everyone's probably worried for you."

{Haa. She lies so easily with such a cute face...absolutely different from how she looks. In that case, any information I can get from her is highly likely to be false. There's no use in continuing this conversation when I already know that she has other allies here. First, I should incapacitate her with force and move to a different place. It's better to draw the truth out of her at a later time, either through magical means or through physical pain...}

The girl shyly raised her hand which was not holding the staff to touch the necklace hanging from her neck.

A behavior like that was nothing out of place. It looked like her hand was just searching for something to grip to soothe her unease. One could call it a shy and girly action but Zesshi, who sensed the disconnect between the girl's appearance and her true self, didn't think so.

"Tch!"

Zesshi reduced the distance between them in a single motion, faster than her tongue click could dissipate in the air. While putting on her helmet, she swung the weapon she was holding—Charon's Guidance—to graze the ground at the girl's legs.

If she could, she would cut her legs.

A no-holds-barred attack with her full strength behind it—an attack even the man who was the strongest of her comrades would find difficult to avoid.

That attack—

Was deflected back by the girl planting down the staff by her feet.

The weapon that could easily cut through even steel was deflected, but Zesshi wasn't surprised. She expected this possibility, but the fact that Zesshi's full-powered attack couldn't even make the girl's hand flinch was beyond her expectations. Then—

{So she's a martial-type.}

She has now got a clue on the classes held by the dark elf girl.

{...Wait a minute? A lightly equipped warrior? No way...though it's not confirmed that the Elf King was his only child...her appearance...}

Both Dark Elves and the Elves had the same lifespan, so the speed of their growth should also be the same.

"W-what are you doing su-suddenly..."

{Is it possible that she was from a different bloodline? ...Am I thinking too deeply into it?}

It looked like the dark elf girl was muttering about something, but Zesshi continued to swing her scythe, trying to think. She had already decided to fight her. From now, there was no need to talk anymore except if she wanted to stall for time or if she had won.

Zesshi burst into the corridor, chasing after the girl who jumped back.

Rotating the great scythe in a wide arc to accumulate a lot of inertia behind it, Zesshi swung at the girl's ankles.

Swinging such a large scythe meant that she naturally hit the floor and the walls along the way, but that was not an issue. The weapon once held by the savior God of the Theocracy—no, of humanity—Surshana, could easily part the walls and the floor in its path. There was a slight resistance but it barely slowed down the great scythe.

But it was deflected.

Again.

And again.