The Dark Warrior (17 page)

Clementine had returned to Khajit’s hideout, the shrine beneath E-Rantel’s graveyard, and her irritation was practically spewing forth as flames. Her gait was erratic, her brow knit. And her mouth was twisted into a frown that warped her shapely face so much she looked ugly.

Of course, her true nature was far uglier.

Khajit whispered in his head and sent the latest zombie off to the undead holding pen.

“Ohhh? A new zombie? We already have more than a hundred and fifty—the Jewel of Death’s power sure is amazing!”

The number of undead a caster could create and control with the tier-three spell Create Undead depended on the caster’s ability. Making more powerful undead meant being able to control fewer, but if they were bottom-of-the-barrel zombies, someone like Khajit, who specialized in controlling undead, could handle far more than normal—more than a hundred. And the reason Khajit was able to rule even more than
that
was the power of an item he possessed, the Jewel of Death.

“It’s because you’ve been playing around.”

“Sorryyy!” She gave a quick bow without seeming the least bit apologetic. “But why’d ya make all these guys who die so easily? You coulda tried a little harder…”

“Maybe if
you
hit them they die easily…”

“Adventurers won’t go down without a fight, y’know.”

“I’m not worried about adventurers. Regular people will die just fine… Is it a hobby of yours to go on and on about trivial things you already know?”

“Okay, okay, okayyyy. I’m sorry! I won’t say any more, so please forgive me!”

Khajit clicked his tongue. “I can’t trust you, but for now, don’t kidnap any more humans—I mean it.”

“Okayyy!”

Khajit wrinkled his brow at her lighthearted reply. He gave up on saying anything else because he knew it was futile, but he frowned as furiously as he could to convey his feelings. Of course, it went ignored.

“But I’m just so
bored
, ya know? I mean, where’d he go, anyway?”

“He hasn’t returned yet?”

“Nope! Man! Maybe I should just kidnap the old lady after all?”

“Don’t. That old lady may not look it, but she can use tier-three magic, not to mention that she has a prominent reputation in the city. There could be trouble if we meddle with her.”

“Huh? But—”

Khajit thrust a hand into his robe and clutched a black stone. “Clementine…I’ve spent years preparing to turn this town into a city of death. I will not have your stupid games ruining my plan! If you make any more trouble for me…I’ll kill you!”

“Spiral of Death, was it?”

“Yes. Our leader performed it.”

There was a trend for stronger undead to be created in a place where there were many undead gathered. And when stronger undead were gathered, it was possible to create even stronger ones. Spiral of Death was a ritual that took advantage of that principle to build a series of stronger and stronger undead, and it was powerful enough to destroy a whole city.

It was a sinister ritual that had once turned a city into a place where the undead went unchecked. Khajit’s objective was to turn E-Rantel into a second city of death and, by harnessing all the power of death concentrated there, turn himself immortal. And he’d been preparing for a long time. He wasn’t about to have it all go up in smoke because of a girl who’d only showed up a few days earlier.

“Are we clear?”

Khajit caught the streak of brutality that flashed across her cute, puffy-cheeked, pouting face. A split second later she’d become a murderous storm wind and was charging toward him.

There had been plenty of distance between them, but she closed it in the space of one breath and her arm stretched out so fast it blurred. Held in the hand like an extension of that arm was a sharp blade, the gleam of which went straight for Khajit’s throat—

The weapon she thrust at him was a sword made for stabbing called a stiletto. As a stabbing weapon, it didn’t have very many attack patterns, which made it rather hard to use. But Clementine, who loved the stiletto above all else, had trained her muscles, selected her gear, and acquired arts all so she would be able to deal a single critical hit where it counted.

Before she knew it, having used the power she’d amassed to survive battles against both humans and monsters alike, Clementine reached a level of skill where normal people could no longer block her attacks. For someone who had enough inherent ability to deviate from the realm of normal humans in the first place, and then spent her entire life honing her skills, that was surely a matter of course.

But the man on the receiving end wasn’t in the realm of normal humans, either. Khajit, one of the twelve leading disciples of Zurrernorn, would not be killed so easily.

—Something like a white wall came bursting out of the ground to receive the unblockable blade. It was a giant hand made of countless human bones, though it was also reminiscent of a reptilian claw. The claw wriggled, and the earth around it started to split. The huge thing was obeying Khajit’s will, trying to jump out of the ground.

Satisfied by the powerful undead presence he could feel under his feet, he glared at Clementine. “Don’t be stupid. Thanks to you, my control over the other undead weakened for a moment.”

“Oops! Sorryyy. But I didn’t mean it, I promise! I was gonna stop right before I stabbed ya!”

“Don’t lie to me, Clementine. That’s not the kind of person you are.”

“Ooh! Busted, huh? Yeah, if ya hadn’t blocked it, I probably woulda stabbed right through your shoulder. But I wasn’t gonna kill ya—promise!”

Khajit twisted his face into an angry frown—because he saw an unpleasant smile spread across the face of the woman in front of him.

“But I can beat that thing, y’know. A caster might not have a chance, but I’m a warrior, so it shouldn’t be too hard. I’m not so great at using battering weapons, but…”

“You’re strong against living things with your deadly strikes, but I wonder how you’d do against the undead—none of their physiological systems are working in the first place. Besides, do you really think this is the final ace up my sleeve?”

“Hmm… Well…” Clementine eyed one of the passages, probably sensing the presence of the undead under Khajit’s control that were lurking there. “I think I could win…although if it turned into an endurance contest, I’d lose, ugh. Heh-heh! Sorry, Khaj!” Clementine pulled the hand with the sword back under her cape. At the same time, the ground stopped shaking. “Ahh, I guess you didn’t specialize in controlling undead for nothing, huh? Very nice!” Saying only that, she turned her back and started walking.

“Oh yeah, I won’t lay a hand on that old lady till the very end, and I won’t kidnap anybody else. That’s fine, then, right?”

“…Yes…” He didn’t unclench his hand until she left, not until she disappeared into the depths of the underground shrine.

“Psychopath!” he spat.
I have my issues, too, but not like Clementine.
“She’s so skilled, you’d think— No, perhaps it’s
because
she’s so skilled that her personality is so warped.”

Clementine was strong. Even among the twelve leaders in the secret society, there were only three who could defeat her. Unfortunately, Khajit was not among them. Even if he used the power of the item he had clutched, he only had about a 30 percent chance.

“So this is the former ninth seat of the Black Scripture… Socially dysfunctional people with hero-level power are quite bothersome…”

“Wow, that sounds awful…” Nfirea sighed heavily. He had known Enri’s parents well. They were such wonderful parents that he was jealous of their two well-loved daughters. Nfirea had only hazy memories of the parents he’d lost when he was small, so whenever he pictured great parents, Enri’s were the first to come to mind. He was full of rage for the “bunch of guys dressed like imperial knights” who killed them, and all he could think when he heard that those knights were mercilessly slaughtered was
That’s what you get!
He was also upset at the higher-ups in E-Rantel who hadn’t deployed any soldiers.

But he felt it would be wrong to express those feelings instead of paying attention to Enri, who had the most right to be angry and sad.

As he was trying to decide whether he should go over and comfort her or not, she wiped the tears out of her eyes and smiled. “But I have my sister! I can’t stay sad forever!”

Nfirea had just started to get up but sat back down. He loathed himself for thinking even for a second that missing the chance to comfort her was unfortunate, but the feeling that he wanted to protect her remained. He wavered but then made up his mind.
I don’t want anyone at Enri’s side but me, even if the other guy is strong enough to protect her.

He was scared, but the feeling that he didn’t want to lose her overpowered his anxiety, so he decided to tell her what he’d been feeling since the first time he came to the village as a child. “So…” His speech clogged up as if it had gotten stuck in his throat.
Say it! Just say it!
he thought frantically, but his throat seemed to have a death grip on the words.

Enri and Nfirea were both at an age where it wouldn’t be strange to get married. And with the money Nfirea made as an apothecary, he would be able to provide for Enri’s sister as well.
Even if we had a baby…
He imagined the household he would create but shook his head to clear the fantasy before it got too out of control.

She was right there giving him a puzzled look, and that only made him more anxious. He opened his mouth—and closed it.

I like you.

I love you.

But he couldn’t say either of those things—because he didn’t want to hear her say,
Sorry, but…

Then, how about something else that would close the space between them?
Wanna come live with me? It’s safe in the city. I’ll take care of your little sister, too. If you want to work, you can work at Grandma’s shop. If you’re nervous in the city, I’ll be there to help you.

That’s all he had to say. She was less likely to reject that than a declaration of love.

“Enri!”

“Wh-what, Nfirea?” She jumped at the sudden loudness of his voice.

Nfirea continued, “I-i-if you ever need anything, let me know. I’ll help out as much as I can!”

“Thanks! …You’re a much better friend than I deserve.”

“Ah, uh, okay—I mean, it’s okay. We’ve been friends forever ’n all…”

He couldn’t say anything in response to the smile that spread across Enri’s face and cursed himself for being so pathetic. At the same time, he admired how cute she was as he listened to her reminiscence about when they were kids.

When the topic seemed exhausted for the time being, he asked her a question. “What are all these goblins?”

The goblins that called Enri “our lady” were vastly different from the ones they had met on the road; they had the air of veteran fighters. He had been even more surprised to find one inside the village who could use magic. What connection these goblins had to this mere village girl and how it happened, Nfirea couldn’t fathom.

Enri gave a simple answer. “Ainz Ooal Gown, the man who saved the village, gave me an item, and when I used it, they came out. They listen to what I say and do all sorts of things for me!”

“Huh…” He acknowledged what she’d said, but her starry-eyed look left him feeling bitter.

Ainz Ooal Gown.
The name had come up several times during her story. He was a mysterious caster who just happened to be passing by, and with his immense power, he saved Carne from the group dressed as imperial knights. He was a hero who had saved Enri, and Nfirea should have been grateful to him. But that was hard to do—because of the look on Enri’s face when she spoke about him.

He knew it was natural for someone who had been saved to react that way, but jealousy welled up in his heart. He didn’t want to lose, as a man, and he resented the fact that Enri didn’t get that look on her face for him. All those sentiments mixed into an ugly cocktail of emotions.

He felt pathetic but tried to clear that away by considering the item Enri had told him about. It summoned goblins and was called a
Goblin something-or-other Horn
. Enri’s rescuer had told her the full name, but after all the confusion, she couldn’t remember it.