Pursuers
With Mishuel taking the lead, Lammis follows a short distance behind with me in tow. Mikenne is with us, too. We asked the rest of the Band of Gluttons and Hulemy to keep watch over the buar cart.
Mishuel didn’t tell us what kind of adversary awaited us, but even an idiot could tell from his concerned expression that it was no half-baked opponent.
“Boxxo, if it comes down to it, I’ll be counting on you.”
“Welcome.”
To be honest, I would have preferred Lammis to wait behind as well, but Mishuel would never be able to carry me. Now that it’s come to this, all I have to do is protect her with all my strength. Still, I wonder what sort of foe is lying in wait for us.
“Lammis. There are five men in total. They seem to be after Mishuel, like he said,” asserted Mikenne, his nose and ears twitching. I guess he can figure all that out with just his sense of smell if we’re close enough. I’ve started to see them faintly in the direction of our travel, but it would be tough to pick out exactly how many of them there are.
“The three in front seem quite skilled. The other two are magic users, or possibly Blessing users of one of the four elements or something similar.”
Mishuel’s expression and tone are now exuding hot-guy energy. It looks like he’s still in the zone.
“You can sense presences, Mishuel?”
“Yes, to an extent.”
It must be convenient to be able to mentally sense that people are around. I don’t think a vending machine like me would ever be able to acquire that ability, but it would be funny if presence sensing was in the Blessings or features list. I’ll look for one later.
Here’s where the problems start. We’ve told Mikenne about my Blessing already, so I don’t think he’ll leave our side. If things come to that, then I’m sure he’ll make it out with how quickly he can run away.
Still, Mishuel probably won’t let me protect him. He seems to have some kind of major secret—maybe that will come to light during this incident.
As our party advances with a confident stride, the five men come into view.
One has a scar on his cheek, apparently from being cut by some blade; he wears it like a battle-hardened warrior. Looks like he’s the leader. Three are in heavy gear, with full steel-colored armor, shields, and maces.
The other two hold two-handed staves with giant crystal-like stones attached to the tip, and they wear hoods low over their eyes, looking like perfect magic casters.
The three in their front line are wearing gear that you don’t see very often in the Clearflow Lake stratum. That’s partly because the stratum is very humid, making metal armor a poor choice. In addition, though, not many hunters opt for blunt weapons, so seeing all three of their frontline members wielding maces is unusual.
“Lord Mishuel, correct? We have come for your life.”
“I thought as much. Who sent you?”
“I am sure you know without me having to say.”
“You’re not wrong.”
I know this is indiscreet of me to say, but there’s a certain atmosphere about their exchange. I’ve seen this kind of thing in period films before. I’d still prefer that he clearly explain what’s going on instead of leaving us to draw our own conclusions.
“By the way, the beast person there and…the girl—are they allies of yours?” The scarred warrior’s gaze freezes just for a moment when it comes to me. He seems to immediately decide it’s not something he can understand and stops thinking about it.
“Not allies. We just accepted the same quest. Feel free to come after me, but I won’t let you lay a hand on those three.”
He counts me as one of them?
Lammis’s cheeks loosen at Mishuel’s remarks. She must be happy that he included a vending machine like me.
“I see. If you will do us the favor of offering us your head, we will promise not to lay a hand on them.”
Now, there’s a sketchy remark. I’ve never heard anyone say they wouldn’t lay a hand on someone else, then actually didn’t. It’s a staple among staples that once they killed Mishuel, they’d kill the eyewitnesses for fear of word spreading.
“You think I’ll believe you?”
“You are free to make that decision however you wish. Now, what will you do, Lord Mishuel?”
“My answer is obvious. I’ll defeat the lot of you and keep you from hurting them!”
He’s the ideal image of a hero. A commanding presence with the looks to back it up. If a vending machine said that, they’d snort, and that would be the end of it.
Anyway, I’ll stop enjoying myself as an innocent bystander now. I have to focus so I can activate Force Field at any time.
“How noble of you. We shall scatter you and the lofty feelings in your breast across these wastes.”
The enemy group readies for battle. I’ve experienced Mishuel’s strength firsthand, but high attack power doesn’t necessarily translate into skill in a fight against another person.
Lammis can overpower Captain Kerioyl with her destructive force, but when they sparred, he very easily shut her out. I remember the captain saying, “Power is only useful in combat when paired with skill,” or something along those lines.
They’ll be a pain to deal with, but the biggest problems are those two in the back line who look like magic users. It’s common video-game knowledge that warriors don’t do well against magic. I wonder if that’s true in other worlds as well.
Either way, we’re not obliged to wait around for them like this.
I change form into a pressure washer. Lammis seems to get the right idea immediately upon seeing my shape; she pulls the nozzle out with me still on her back and readies it.
She knows how to use this from practicing against the flame scolls, so she’ll be able to without a problem. She positions the nozzle at her hip and puts a finger on the lever.
“Mishuel, leave the back to us!”
Without waiting for a response, Lammis plunges in. Mikenne, flustered, follows suit. I’m afraid of surprise attacks, so I’ll expand a Force Field ahead of time.
“What’s that blue thing? Take that one out first.”
The two mage-looking people point their staves at us. I just thought of something… This can block magic, too, right? It’s blocked flames and heat in addition to physical attacks before, so I think it will be fine… Uh, it will, right?!
Paying no mind to my inner thoughts, balls of fire and small rocks shoot from their staff tips, turning into a sideways-sweeping hail of attacks.
Lammis, who trusts me completely, rushes headlong into the torrent of flame and stone. They collide with the Force Field’s translucent walls, but they all bounce off, and it doesn’t allow even one shot inside.
G-great. I guess it can block magic stuff, too. L-look, it’s all right. Lammis, you can rampage to your heart’s content now.
With the metal box on her back, Lammis dives straight for the enemies, unafraid of their magic. And now, they’re scared. They get cold feet and start to withdraw.
“Time to spray!”
After closing to not even ten feet in distance, she pulls the lever, and highly pressurized water begins to spurt from the nozzle tip.
“What?! A Blessing that can control water?!”
Even if it hits, it doesn’t have enough force to do much more than sting a little, but it’s more than enough to obstruct their view. Then, I switch the water to the shampoo mode from car washes. Instead of water, bubbles erupt out, covering their bodies.
“Blurgh! Wh-what?! I can’t see! My eyes!”
Yeah, it does hurt when the soap gets in your eyes, doesn’t it? They flail around covered in bubbles. It was already hard for them to move in their drenched, clinging robes, but now they’re slipping on the detergent and making a big show of falling over.
“Oh, this is kind of fun!”
I mean, this looks just like a one-sided water-gun fight—obviously, it’s fun. Mikenne is watching us enviously. This isn’t a game!
Our opponents try to stage a counterattack, but I block everything with my Force Field, leading to a one-sided trampling—actually, this seems like bullying.
“What the hell are you two doing?!”
The scarred man who seems to be the leader yells at them. They’re in a three-on-one battle, but Mishuel is holding his own. Even to the untrained eye, the attackers’ movements are crisp, and they’re clearly skilled with their weapons.
But all that isn’t enough to overwhelm him. They seem impatient, but when they learn the back line is blocked off, their impatience turns to panic, and their movements lose their composure.
We’re washing off the bubbles in rinse mode now, but the water mixes with the sand in the ground and covers them in mud. They were never hit by a direct attack, but their breathing is still ragged.
Mikenne charges toward them, rope in hand, and deftly ties them up. Not only that, but he covers their eyes and wraps their mouths.
“If they can’t see, they can’t activate any magic or Blessings in the places they want. Some Blessings are word activated, too, so I figured I’d prevent them from contacting their friends.”
Mikenne seems accustomed to dealing with these kinds of opponents; he disables both of them with tact.
“Mishuel! We’re done over here!”
When Lammis shouts, it cuts off the enemies’ focus, and their movements clearly start to dull. Mishuel doesn’t let that opening go to waste—with three swings of his greatsword, the enemies slump to their knees and fall face-first onto the ground.
“Thank you,” says Mishuel. “If you hadn’t helped me, things could have gotten dicey. I’m grateful for your help.”
As Mishuel bows deeply, Lammis replies with a simple “No problem.” Mikenne walks over to the three felled opponents, ropes in hand. He checks their pulse and their pupils, then shakes his head.
He killed them? They came to kill him, so it makes sense: It was legitimate self-defense. I understand it mentally, but my heart stirs just a little, proof that I was raised in Japan, where peace was guaranteed.
“You’ve disabled the other two, I see. We can question them… Thank you for that.”
No passion can be felt from his eyes; they contain a cold light.
I thought nothing of it when Lammis killed monsters, and yet, I feel a little bit of fear toward him. It’s so selfish of me. This is another world—if this is enough to rattle me, I won’t last.
My life in the Clearflow Lake stratum was too placid and comfortable, and that might have made my perceptions naive. Maybe I should once again brace myself for what’s to come.
