18 14

Surrender...is not an option,” the iron king said. “I cannot possibly bend the knee to the forces of evil who so mercilessly slaughtered my people just to save my own life.”
The dwarven queen stood proud with her head held high. Her tone of voice had an incredible purity to it—resolute, without so much as a shred of doubt.
Oh, screw you.
Haruhiro was pissed. He got so mad he thought he was going to lose it.
At the same time, he could understand. Initially, the Ironblood Kingdom had kept their enemies away with guns. Now the guns had been stolen, and not only had the tables turned, they were on the verge of annihilation. The only options left to them were to fight to the death in the name of pride, or for the surviving dwarves to gather around the iron king and eke out what meager existence they could.
It had been a hard choice for the iron king to flee the Ironblood Kingdom. However, if she had rejected Minister Axbeld’s plan, it would have meant the dwarves would be exterminated to the very last person. She likely hadn’t made her escape for fear of her own life. It might even have been easier for her to take up the sword herself and fall beside the rest of her kind. She’d decided to head for Mount Spear for the sake of her race, for the sake of dwarvenkind. If Haruhiro were in her position, could he have done the same? He might have given in to desperation and chosen to share the same fate as his fellows. To fight bravely, then die. If the kingdom was to fall, and the entire race to die out, then it wasn’t so scary as long as they were all together.
It was harder to be a survivor, and yet the iron king had chosen that.
Obviously, she hadn’t taken this course just to surrender now. There was no guarantee the enemy would let them live. She might face unbearable humiliation. But more than that, the shame of being taken alive by the enemy was too much for the iron king to bear. Even if some dwarves had made it out of the Ironblood Kingdom alive, they would learn what had happened to her later. That their queen had abandoned her people, then surrendered to the enemy.
Surrender wasn’t an option. Haruhiro got that. But he also knew what would happen if the iron king said those words right now.
“I see.” Jumbo nodded.
The great black eagle took off from his shoulder.
Old Utefan immediately raised his hammer-like staff. Maybe he was trying to give an order to the dwarves of the House of Bratsod. Fight, shoot Jumbo. A number of them did turn their guns on the orc. But they never managed to fire.
Jumbo dashed. The first step was relaxed, but every step after that was like a sudden gust of wind. Dwarves were sent flying through the air, including the iron king’s retinue. One after another, or rather all at once, they each slammed into the ground with a heavy thud.
What had Jumbo done? That wasn’t clear. He hadn’t drawn his katana. Was he barehanded? Did he punch them? Or did he throw his opponents? Or was it his legs? Did he kick them? Not even that much was clear. Jumbo did something. That was all they could tell.
“Elder!” Eltalihi, head of the House of Mercurian, tried to draw his sword to defend Elder Harumerial of the elves. He failed. He was sent flying before he could, with his head turned all the way around. His neck must have been broken.
Jumbo seized the iron king’s throat with his right hand, Harumerial’s with his left, and lifted them up high.
The dwarves who had been launched into the air fell around him like so many insignificant raindrops.
“Perhaps...”
What was that emotion seeping into the depths of Jumbo’s deep voice? Pity?
Despite his actions being as merciless and unrelenting as the judgment of heaven?
“That may be the wiser choice. If you had surrendered to us, we’d have had no choice but to turn you over to High King Dif Gogun. It is certain you would meet a fate worse than death at his hands. I will shoulder the sin of killing you myself, then. Farewell.”
Who did that orc think he was? There was no malice in him. Not a shred of hostility to be felt. He transcended logic, common sense, emotion, all of those things, seeming to exist in some place beyond them. In which case, there was no point asking how he could do this. Haruhiro could get fired up, make a lengthy speech criticizing him, and the orc wouldn’t feel a thing.
Jumbo easily crushed the iron king and Elder Harumerial’s throats.
He didn’t release them when he was done. He held them in the air a while, probably long enough for them to die.
Then he bent his knees, crouched down, and softly laid their remains on the ground.
“Wh-What are you...doing?”
Kuzaku was trembling. Haruhiro couldn’t understand why, but for some reason, the paladin was enraged.
What’s there to get so angry about? Haruhiro wondered. What good is getting mad at a guy like Jumbo going to do? He’s not like us. Nothing like us. Let’s say there’s an omnipotent, omniscient god out there somewhere. If he’s all-knowing, and he’s able to do anything, then why doesn’t he help us?
Haruhiro could complain all he wanted, but God probably didn’t care what some powerless human thought. He wouldn’t even bother to respond. As if to say, Not helping you is the entire point. It’s better this way. Not that you’d understand that, you little fool.
Haruhiro had Takasagi’s foot on his throat and a katana thrust through his right wrist. Takasagi would notice immediately if he went for the flame dagger with his left hand. That said, Takasagi wasn’t even glancing at Haruhiro. He just lazily pulled the blade out of Haruhiro’s right wrist, then thrust it through his left.
“Gaaagh!”
Haruhiro hated Takasagi far more than Jumbo. He could see what went on inside the guy’s head. Or he felt like he could. The man was the same type as Haruhiro. Observing. Considering. Researching. Studying. Refining. With hard work and repetition, he’d ascended to the realm of the masters. But he could go no further than that. He’d bashed his head against a wall, and Jumbo the orc was beyond that wall, in the place he couldn’t get to. He’d submitted to him, charmed by that transcendent prowess, and now worshiped the orc almost like a god.
Takasagi was fairly advanced, at least compared to Haruhiro and the party. But there was something decidedly normal about him still, hiding not quite out of view. Takasagi made good use of that inescapable mediocrity as he worked for Jumbo. Most people—no, almost all people—were mediocre, so in a group like Forgan there were going to be problems a superior man like Jumbo couldn’t resolve. Takasagi was doing more than enough to help the orc. It probably satisfied him. And you know what? Living that way is perfectly valid. Maybe it’s the only way that mediocre people can live.
Haruhiro understood that, which made him hate Takasagi all the more. Give him another decade, no, just five years, three even, and he’d be able to go beyond Takasagi. He could kill the man with his own two hands. Now, he wasn’t completely confident of that. But he also wasn’t convinced he couldn’t. That was what made it so frustrating. Being unable to do anything like this. Haruhiro resented his own weakness.
“Whoa, you moron—” Ranta shouted at Kuzaku. Haruhiro probably wasn’t one to talk, considering he was on the ground with a boot on his neck, but Ranta was sounding pretty weak.
“Damn you!” Kuzaku flung himself at Jumbo. Setora and Merry tried to stop him. But Kuzaku was too fast.
He was a good man. Better than anyone, that’s what Kuzaku was. Just a really swell guy. He was a normal dude, with his heart in the right place. It made him lovable. He was the adorable youngest member of the party, and a trusted comrade, one they could truly rely on. It wasn’t just that he was tall, he also had a high overall level of athletic ability. Haruhiro just wished he were a bit more clever. That is to say, underhanded and calculating. If he could move that big body around with more cunning, he’d become something really incredible. But even without that, Kuzaku had incredible bursts of power. If he gave his all, there wasn’t much that could stop him.
“Zwaaah!”
Kuzaku’s large katana swung too fast for Haruhiro’s eyes to follow. He could have cleaved through rock with that swing. It sliced its way into the thief’s heart as the most impressive Haruhiro had ever seen. A swing Kuzaku couldn’t have achieved without absolutely everything coming together perfectly. It was truly a once-in-alifetime slash.
Maybe it was even good enough to surprise Jumbo. That was the last thing they needed now. Why’d he have to show off such an amazing swing? Obviously Kuzaku was seriously pissed. He wouldn’t back down, even in the face of Jumbo’s transcendent nature. The orc was beyond them, in a place they could never reach, so anything he tried was going to be in vain. But Kuzaku hadn’t thought about that. He’d gotten emotional, as he was wont to do. He couldn’t let Jumbo get away with this. That’s all he was thinking. A very normal, very human reaction.
Jumbo drew his katana.
Swinging as he drew, the orc didn’t just deflect Kuzaku’s blade, he broke it in half. If he could have gotten out of the way without breaking it, he would have. This was Jumbo, after all.
Then, on the return, he swung his katana down diagonally.
He cut Kuzaku in a straight line from his left shoulder to his right hip.
Kuzaku.
Ohhh, Kuzaku.
You’re slipping.
Slipping along the line where he cut you.
You’re going to fall apart.
He cut you in two, Kuzaku.
“You bastard!” Setora flew into a rage. Calm, collected Setora. She really did care about Kuzaku, huh? Though she always acted like he was a pain, she still adored him. But was that all there was to it? This was Setora, after all. Maybe she was drawing attention so Haruhiro could do something? But what? What should he do? What could he do? Maybe Setora had just snapped and lost it after all.
Setora charged at Jumbo, throwing her spear. The orc batted it away with his left hand. By that point, Setora had drawn her sword and closed in on him.
“Ngh! Ah!”
Sharp as her swings were, they couldn’t even graze Jumbo. He danced around her with easy steps.
“This’s tough to watch,” Takasagi said with a laugh.
Why do I have to let this guy laugh at us? Haruhiro thought. The instant he did, Takasagi put his weight down on the thief’s throat. He wasn’t even free to breathe in his current state. Takasagi was reminding him of that.
“Damn it!” Ranta picked up his katana and was about to go help.
Takasagi wouldn’t allow that. He jumped, sinking his foot hard into Haruhiro’s throat as he did, and swung at Ranta.
Haruhiro was nearly knocked unconscious, so he didn’t see what happened at that exact moment, but Ranta’s face seemed to have a fresh wound on it.
“Ngah! Guh!”
What were Itsukushima and Yume doing? Was Haruhiro counting on them to do something? If so, he was probably barking up the wrong tree. Did Haruhiro even have the right to expect things from others when he’d been unable to do anything himself?
“Damn you!” Setora must have realized that she could swing that sword forever and it would do her no good. Wise as she was, there was no way she hadn’t figured it out. And yet, she couldn’t stop now. What else would she be able to do if she cast the sword aside? She couldn’t stop until she’d burned herself out completely. Oh, now he saw it. Someone needed to force her to stop.
“Ahhh!” Merry fell to the ground, gazing up to the sky. “Help... Help... Help...!”
“Enough,” Jumbo said, taking away Setora’s sword. He almost made it look like she’d given it to him.
“Kh!”
It didn’t stop Setora from continuing to attack. She grappled him from behind, wrapping both her arms around the orc’s neck as she tried to choke him out. She even attempted to bite Jumbo’s right ear. Where was this tenacity coming from? Why was Haruhiro giving up when Setora was still going that far?
“Stop.” Jumbo tossed aside the sword he’d taken from Setora, and reached back to put his left hand over her face in order to hold her back. Then, a moment later, he threw her.
“Agh! Kuh!”
As Setora immediately bounced back to her feet, the great black eagle descended on her.
The bird seized Setora’s head with its talons, flapping its wings to lift her off the ground a little. It then let go and immediately pinned her, pecking viciously.
“Uaghhhhhhhhhh!”
“Forgo!” Jumbo scolded the great black eagle, and it soon stopped feeding on Setora. Lifting off, it settled on Jumbo’s shoulder again.
Yume nocked an arrow, training it on Jumbo’s eagle. But her bow was shaking, no, swaying. She couldn’t shoot properly like that.
“She accepted me,” someone said.
Yume lowered her bow and looked off to the side.
At Merry.
Merry had been sitting. Not anymore. She was on her feet.
“It might not necessarily have been of her own free will, but since she was seeking aid, I had no choice but to answer her. I am here, but not by any design of my own.” It...wasn’t Merry.
The way she spoke, the way she stood, everything about her was not Merry.
“Who...are you?” Haruhiro sat up. “What...are you?”
“I have no name. Only things people call me.”
The thing that looked like Merry, but was not, turned her head and looked around. She raised her chin, looking at things with downturned eyes. He knew that was a habit of the thing that wasn’t Merry.
“Boss...” Takasagi bent his knees slightly, bracing himself. He seemed to sense something ominous.
“Mm.” What about Jumbo? He was as calm and self-possessed as ever. Or he looked that way, at least.
The thing that wasn’t Merry raised her right hand, and looked down at Merry’s palm.
“I simply became life at the end of a long process of trial and error.” She slowly clenched her hand into a fist.
“I was not alive. I was something else, and yet I happened to take on the form of life, and to become life. That is what I am. I have a wish. For us to live together, forever. It was all I wished for, and yet I was hated. Or perhaps feared. The people called me...” The No-Life King.
The name came to Haruhiro’s mind before the thing that wasn’t Merry could say it.
 
 

He’d suspected all along. That this was who it might have been. Okay, no, he hadn’t. But it was all too strange. Merry had died. Dead people don’t come back to life. And yet, she had. No, perhaps she hadn’t, not strictly speaking. Whatever this thing that people called the No-Life King was, it entered Merry’s body after her vital functions had ceased. Then it remade her dead cells. It was borrowing her body, so her memories and personality remained. But it might be that Merry was gone, and only the No-Life King remained.
No. It’s Merry.
Merry.
She came back to life.
Merry’s still alive.
The No-Life King had said, She accepted me.
That he had responded to her cries for help.
True, Merry had been saying, Help, over and over. Haruhiro hadn’t been able to do anything about it. At that point, Merry hadn’t even been looking at him. She’d turned to the No-Life King inside her for salvation. And the No-Life King had responded. That was why he was here.
So, what about Merry?
Where did she go?
Did Merry hand her body over to the No-Life King?
If she did, then where is she?
“Even though I am life itself...”
The No-Life King hung his head as he spoke. He wasn’t just looking down. His shoulders fell too. As if he were lamenting some great hurt and sadness.
“Humans said my existence was no life at all.”
“They called me a monster.”
“The humans were afraid. They didn’t try to accept me.”
“I wasn’t the one who sought conflict. The humans tried to destroy me.”
“If I have one fault, it is that I took Enad George as my vessel. The man who was king of the human nation of Arabakia. A fallen sovereign, betrayed by his friends and associates. That man found me when I had finally become life.”
“He was on the verge of death then. I tried to save him. He, too, accepted me.”
“I didn’t want to simply exist as life.”
“Enad did not want to die and have his memories and will vanish.”
“Our interests were aligned.”
“I became Enad, in a sense, and Enad became me in some ways too.”
“Enad resented the people who had rebelled against him, trying to slay him through subterfuge. He didn’t mean to kill them all, though. Enad was a king. He felt he should be welcomed as such in the nation he’d founded. Having learned the niceties of the human heart from Enad, I felt as though that might be expecting a little too much, but...”
What’s it talking about?
It wasn’t that Haruhiro didn’t understand what the No-Life King was saying. He remembered hearing the legend of the founding of the Kingdom of Arabakia, or something resembling its history, from Hiyomu.
Humans had once believed in a paradise called Arabakia. One man called Theodore George set out and settled in a bountiful land where he founded a country. His descendant, Enad, was the first king of Arabakia. However, King Enad fled after being betrayed by his close associate, Ishidua Zaemoon. No one knew where he’d gone.
Enad then became the No-Life King. Was that what had happened? Or perhaps Enad was the first living being, the first human, that the entity they would later come to call the No-Life King infested. The No-Life King had just referred to the man as a vessel. Perhaps by using the toppled king as a vessel, it had assumed the form and shape of the No-Life King, or something like that.
Why was the No-Life King talking about all this now?
Why were they all listening to the No-Life King tell his story?
Because it was a story worth hearing? Haruhiro couldn’t help but be interested. This was the No-Life King. His history was being revealed to them. And from his own mouth, at that. The mouth that belonged to Merry. On the outside, at least, he was Merry.
There was a strange tension in the air, an atmosphere that made it difficult to move.
No, this wasn’t a matter of the air. It was the sound. There was no sound. No chirping of birds, buzzing of insects, or rustling of leaves. This silence was abnormal. Was that why the air felt so tense?
“I wasn’t an enemy of humanity. Humanity decided I was their enemy.”
“Enad wanted to be the king of humanity.”
“I did not.”
“You humans have a word that felt more appropriate to me...”
Haruhiro had thought the No-Life King was just eloquently telling his story.
When did that change?
Haruhiro only noticed it now.
The No-Life King had bent his right elbow, turning the back of his hand downward. And his right hand was lightly balled into a fist.
Was it flowing out of his right wrist?
That thin, threadlike strand falling from Merry’s—the No-Life King’s right wrist, was it a liquid?
Was it blood?
“I wanted to be their friend.”
Suddenly, on Jumbo’s shoulder, Forgo spread his wings. The great black eagle started letting out shrill, discordant shrieks.
The No-Life King’s blood, the fluid that circulated inside Merry’s body, wasn’t what people would generally call blood at all. The blood-like substance that had come out of Jessie and entered Merry’s lifeless remains was something far more dreadful. It might even have been the No-Life King himself.
That was what the No-Life King was allowing to drip out of his body, albeit in small quantities.
What for?
What was the No-Life King trying to do?
“Gwah!”
Haruhiro hadn’t expected to hear Kuzaku’s voice. But it was Kuzaku.
Even though it couldn’t be.
Kuzaku had been cut down by Jumbo. Bisected. He was dead. Haruhiro didn’t want to accept it, so he’d tried to avert his eyes from the fact, but Kuzaku had died. Haruhiro had lost another comrade. One of his precious companions, someone who had been more to him than just a brother-in-arms.
“Gagh! Mwargh! Oaugh! Hah! Wahhhhh!”
Now Kuzaku was writhing in agony. How? Why? He shouldn’t have been able to move. There was no way he could have. But the fact was, Kuzaku was groaning and moving. His head jerked up and down, and his right arm flailed. No, it wasn’t just his head and right arm. His left arm and his legs too.
“No...way!” Had Ranta’s legs given out? Haruhiro was shocked too.
“The No-Life King...” Takasagi murmured.
The No-Life King was the king of the undying, but so what? What did that matter? This was crazy, wasn’t it? Kuzaku had been cut from his left shoulder to his right hip. Haruhiro couldn’t be completely sure, but didn’t that path slice through his heart? He must have died instantly. Cut in two. That’s what Kuzaku’s remains had been. He’d been split into two—the upper half, which included his right arm, and the lower half, which had his left. That was what should have happened. So why?
Why were they stuck back together?
“Warghhhh! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”
Kuzaku finally got up. He bent his knees, raising them off the ground, then, without putting his hands on the ground, he rose as if lifted by some unseen force.
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh! Huh?”
Kuzaku inspected his wound with both hands. It had left massive bloodstains, of course, and not only had the wound Jumbo’d given him not vanished, it was still totally distinct. It was reddish black and writhing, bubbling, as the two sides connected.
“Ha ha!” Kuzaku started laughing. He shook his head, punched himself in the forehead, and tore at his own hair. He wrenched his neck back and forth, shoulders heaving.
“Ha ha hah! Wuh ha! Wa ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Gyah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Uh-hyuh! Fwoh ha ha ha ha! Dobyah ha ha! Bwah ha! Gwah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!”
It was like something had broken inside him. What kind of laugh was that? He was howling like an idiot.
“Kuzakkun!” Yume shouted.
“Aha aha aha aha! Weh heh aha oho! Bwaha! Doh ha ha ha ha! Gweeheh hoh oho ho!”
Kuzaku wasn’t listening. Couldn’t he hear her? He covered his face with both hands, throwing his head backward as he kept on cackling. What was so funny? Had he gone funny in the head? If so, how could he laugh about it? Haruhiro was completely distracted by Kuzaku.
At some point Setora had risen to her feet as well. More than that, she was walking around.
“S-Setora?” Haruhiro’s voice trembled, cracking.
“Gee-hee! Eh hyah ha ha ha ha! Do-hee! Oo-hee ha ha ha! Goh ha! Zwee ah ha fwee hee hee!” Kuzaku was still laughing.
Setora was acting weird too. She was walking. Round and round and round, in an incredibly tight circle, maybe forty to fifty centimeters across, rapidly mumbling something under her breath as she went.
Forgo the great black eagle had made a meal of Setora’s face. He was a large bird. It looked like in the area from her right eye to her nose and upper lip, her skin, muscle, bone, and eyeball had taken extreme damage. It was a horrible thing to admit, but up until this point, Haruhiro hadn’t been able to tell how badly she’d been wounded, or if she was even alive. It was possible that Forgo had dealt Setora a lethal blow. Maybe she’d died, just like Kuzaku.
Her face was a horrible mess, but the damaged parts were covered in a reddish black substance. Haruhiro could only assume it was the exact same stuff that had stuck Kuzaku’s wounds back together, and was closing them up now.
“Noooo...” Yume collapsed. Itsukushima tried to support her, but they both ended up falling together.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve done this,” the No-Life King said, holding his right wrist with his left hand. “It will take time for them to adapt. I hope she will consider her wish granted with this. Unfortunately, it’s the only means available to me.”
“You...” Jumbo had his eagle Forgo take off, leveling his katana at the No-Life King. “What did you do?”
“I shared my blood with them.” The No-Life King lowered his eyes.
“Ohah! Oh ho fwoh ha ha! Go-hee! Gwee hee hee fwee! Ga hee ga hee ga hee! Gwoh ha ha ha!”
Kuzaku was laughing. Setora was walking around in circles.
“Unlike Enad, I hold no resentment toward humans. I had no intention of ruling over them. I wanted to be their friend. But they feared and hated me. Out of hostility, they tried to destroy me. I was forced to fight.” The No-Life King raised his face, or rather his chin, turning that usual downward gaze on Jumbo, on Takasagi, and on Haruhiro, Ranta, and Yume and Itsukushima in turn.
It wasn’t Merry. But it was. It wasn’t as if her voice had started echoing directly inside their heads, or her eyes were shining, or anything like that. It was still Merry, yet not. That’s why, even at this late stage, Haruhiro was still thinking, Is it really not Merry? Am I sure there hasn’t been some mistake?

Chapter end