Chapter 147 Knight’s Pride
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
Dahlia believing me had already lifted a great weight from my chest. With Ethelena and Yohira away today, I could sleep quietly in my room; the knowledge that more people understood me promised a deeper rest.
Thinking of Ichika’s request, I planned to head down again in tomorrow’s exploration. I was already past halfway to level 70, and if we were to attempt the Sublimation of Existence, Ichika and Dahlia’s strength ought to be enough to make us effective in battle. Ichika herself was level 70 and met the conditions for Sublimation. If I intended to grow strong to protect my child in the future, giving Ichika the Earth Mother Series and training together might be a good idea. Then again, whether we’d be able to find the same abundance of stat-up items as before was anyone’s guess.
”Tatara-dono. Do you have a moment?”
I was halfway to my room when the Acting Head of the Family called after me. I had heard Mother-in-law had returned to the Torakuma territory, yet the Acting Head remained. The voice pulled me back.
Honestly, after what happened with Yohira, I was afraid to meet her eyes. Still, I had a responsibility — I was the one who had made that boy cry.
”Understood.”
I answered with as much resolve as I could muster. The Acting Head’s face softened a little at my words.
We stood side by side on the garden path. He withdrew a sword from his inventory and raised it into a high guard. Of course — he had come to knock some sense into my stubbornness. It was unavoidable; he was not the kind of father who could stay silent when his daughter had been hurt.
”Draw.”
His command was quiet, hard, and short. What he produced was not a hammer but the Alcard. With that, he could not truly hurt me — there would be no risk of maiming him. That thought made the choice easy.
I leveled the Alcard toward the Acting Head. I could picture how to swing, but there was no single obvious place to strike like when we had shattered the Janus crystal. Even so, this was safe; nothing terrible could happen.
Tension stretched between us until I acted first. If he didn’t move, it meant he wanted me to strike first. I had no talent for one-on-one combat; from a master fighter’s point of view I must be full of openings. If he didn’t exploit them, then he wanted me to land the blow. With so brief an acquaintance, that’s about all I could read.
I swung in a diagonal, aiming for the left collarbone. The torso was exposed, but my posture naturally favored a carry-style cut; the chest was a harder target. That made the collarbone an easier place to aim.
He only watched the edge of my blade. He watched it — without blinking — holding his breath as he measured my point.
The fear came: what if I actually hit him? My hand faltered in that breath, the blade wobbling for a second though I had no wish to wound him.
The Acting Head’s sword met the Alcard and guided it aside. My balance collapsed. Before I could steady myself, a powerful blow struck my back and drove me into the ground.
Dust rose as I rolled. The strike to my spine stole my breath for a moment; then I coughed until my chest heaved. I would not die, but the pain was immense. My body wanted to stay still, but I forced myself to stand.
Immediately a blade slammed into my flank and sent me flying. The air I had just taken left my lungs in a rush; I was thrown again across the hard earth.
His speed was beyond my comprehension. There were no visible wounds, yet the shock should have been enough to spill the contents of my stomach — it was strange that it had not.
Still—
I drove the Alcard blade into the ground, using it as a brace and pushed myself upright.
I could not lie down. His anger was righteous.
I had to accept it; I had to atone for betraying the trust placed in me.
I set my stance, looked the Acting Head straight in the eye, and prepared my next move.
He countered; the impact struck me hard.
He spared my arms and hands. He knew that crippling them would darken the rest of my life. Above all, the margin by which he could hold back showed his mastery.
The pain pressed toward blackout. My brain wanted to shut down signals, but it mattered little: I had to keep rising.
This was a father’s justified fury. Even if the daughter’s tears had come because she herself had harmed another, a parent’s instinct to defend their child was not wrong.
I braced myself again. My body shook from pain, but I did not care.
A crushing blow landed on my chest; the pommel struck me so hard the beat of my heart faltered and my limbs went numb. He grabbed my collar and hurled me, slamming my back into the ground. Breath left me; consciousness wavered.
”…Why are you humoring this anger as if it were only a child’s fit?”
The Acting Head’s voice reached my fogged mind. There was no confusion in it — only a plain question.
Why? I had no real reason to offer.
”Because… I thought the anger was… justified.”
I forced out the words. The next instant his grip lifted me by the shirt collar and hoisted me up.
”Justified… justified!?”
For all his anger, why was he crying?
”Am I to feel ashamed of my own daughter!?”
Why would he say such things?
”Everyone loves their child, don’t they?”
”Yes, of course. My daughter is dearer to me than anyone… but when she acts against reason, that is our failure as parents!”
No — that wasn’t true. Their upbringing had not been wrong. Yohira had grown well.
”She confided in someone about private matters, and the other party turned them to harm. There is no justification for such acts. Yet he returned without so much as an apology even as he grew passive about living… where did we fail!?”
”You did not fail. You are fine parents.”
”What…!”
The Acting Head threw his sword aside and seized my collar with both hands. Bloodshot eyes filled my view; at the corners, tears from his anger glimmered.
”If I were your child, I would be grateful for parents who stood by me.”
”That is the child’s logic. Parents must scold a child who walks the wrong path!”
”Isn’t that what mother is already doing?”
My vision swam. Perhaps it was the damage to my core rather than his grip that blurred things.
”I am just a nobody — for him to turn his anger on me because I made his daughter cry is only natural…”
”Natural? Natural, is it!?”
He let go. I fell to my knees and could not even cough. Not that I had been choked; I simply had no breath to force out a cough.
”Closely knit or not, etiquette must be kept. So why… why has it been forgotten!?”
He had lost calm; his questions flew, not aimed at anyone in particular.
”Why would someone who cares for my daughter go along with parental venting… why—”
I had to speak to him, to stop him from blaming himself.
”Father, it’s all right…”
”…Tatara, my lord.”
”My anger is with Yohira and the others. It has nothing to do with you.”
Consciousness drifted. I cursed my lack of endurance.
”Yohira and the others have already entered into the company of adults. They must take responsibility for their actions.”
”But earlier—”
”It’s natural that a parent defends their child; even when the child is helpless, to a parent they are still beloved.”
My thoughts were failing; I could not string together what I needed to say.
”So please, father — stand with Yohira…”
”Tatara-dono, Tatara-dono!?”
Ah… hell. I felt my mind slipping away.
”…What are you doing to my master!?”
Dahlia’s voice — she sounded furious to a degree that cut through everything.
I wanted to answer, to tell her it’s fine — but I couldn’t. I had reached my limit.
Morning came, and sunlight across my face woke me. I was in the living room, half-naked, cooling sheets of medicine plastered across my bruised shoulders. The pain had faded; I could move again without trouble.
”…Awake, master?”
It was Dahlia’s voice. The last thing I remembered was that furious cry just before I’d lost consciousness—but now she sounded calm.
”Yeah. Morning, Dahlia.”
”Good morning, master.”
Her tone was the usual quiet one, though something under it felt sour. Maybe seeing me hurt had put her in a bad mood.
Looking around, I spotted the Acting Head of the Family lying on the floor. His face was swollen, his body wrapped tight in ropes. A diplomat from Hizuru, trussed up like that—this could turn into an international incident.
”Master, how is your body?”
”Fine. The pain’s gone; I can move.”
”That’s a relief. If there had been lasting injuries…”
Her expression darkened, shadow spreading across her calm face.
”Hey, don’t do anything rash—”
”I was only planning to hang him naked in the central square.”
”Stop. Seriously.”
This wasn’t “rash.” That was a diplomatic seppuku waiting to happen.
”But he hurt you, master.”
”He only wanted to make the man who hurt his child take responsibility. Yohira cried because of me.”
”And that crying was Yohira-sama’s own doing, was it not?”
”So it is-degozaru. Moreover, a parent joining a child’s quarrel is unseemly-degozaru.”
Another voice cut in. I turned and found Ichika, fully equipped and armored, standing nearby.
”Oh—morning, Ichika.”
”Morning-degozaru, master. So, why are you letting the parent of the one who hurt you scold you-degozaru?”
Then she kicked the Acting Head lightly in the side. “Hey, stop that,” I muttered.
”If I were a father with a daughter, I’d probably do the same,” I said. “If someone hurt my kid, I’d want payback too… maybe.”
”In your case, master, you’d probably skip the lecture and drop an Auto Eizul right away, yes?”
”What do you think I am?”
Hammering a child—come on. Even I had more softness than that.
”Besides, he held back. He made sure not to hit my arms or hands. Nothing that would leave permanent damage.”
”Had he done otherwise, Hizuru and the Empire would already be at war. I’d have led the assault myself and turned the Torakuma lands to ash.”
”Please don’t.”
Ichika muttered something under her breath—”Then I would have cursed the land so that a hundred people die each day-degozaru.”
I sighed. “You’re not Izanami herself, are you?”
”Master, it’s frightening to watch you accept others’ justifications like that. One day you’ll find righteousness in your own death and let someone kill you-degozaru.”
”If that ever happened,” Dahlia added softly, “I’m certain I’d reach the Demon Lord’s throne, not sainthood, master.”
”Don’t start saying ominous things so early in the morning.”
Did I really look that self-destructive?
”By the way, master,” Dahlia said, “why didn’t you use your hammer?”
”Right, you’ve no Sword Aptitude, so every sword fight turns into a test to see which weapon breaks first, degozaru.”
”Because… with a hammer, the risk of hurting him was higher.”
”And you think being crushed by him would have been acceptable?”
”No, ma’am…”
Ichika worried too much—it was her nature, but I couldn’t blame her. To her, this must have looked like a half-suicidal stunt. I’d only done it trusting that the Acting Head’s reason would stop him from killing me.
”Mmh… ngh…”
The Acting Head stirred.
”Ah, you’re awake,” I said.
”Ah… hmm, what—!?”
He replied hazily, then realized he was still bound tight and gave a strangled cry. He wriggled, but crimson threads slithered over the ropes and tightened them further.
”Ichika, wait—”
”Master is too gentle-degozaru. We are his allies. This Acting Head, friend to Yohira and enemy to us, should be grateful his head still rests on his shoulders-degozaru.”
”I appreciate the loyalty,” I said, “but rough treatment will only sour things. Their house is under Amaterasu’s blessing—a political powerhouse. Please, don’t start a war.”
”If they become our enemy, then I shall—”
”Listen… I like the Torakuma family. I really do. So please—don’t let the people I care about keep hurting each other.”
My words made Ichika and Dahlia glance away, awkward and flustered. Being called “important” to me must have hit something deep. They sighed together, then loosened the bindings.
”If he ever lays a hand on you again,” Ichika warned, “I’ll strip him bare and drag him through the streets-degozaru.”
Her voice was flat, deadly serious. I didn’t dare argue; refusing her would only trample her devotion.
”Tatara-dono,” the Acting Head said hoarsely, “how are you feeling?”
”Sore where you hit me, but I’ll live. Well enough to eat and go exploring afterward.”
”I see.”
He pondered, then slowly bowed his head.
”Forgive me. I let my love for my child blind me and hurt you.”
From his position, bowing was likely improper—yet he did it anyway. The words sounded stiff, but that was as humble as his station would allow.
”I accept your apology. And I—”
”No. My daughter’s troubles are of her own making. For a parent to meddle in a child’s quarrel is disgrace enough. I’ll hear no apology in return.”
His interruption silenced me. Ichika and Dahlia’s eyes urged me to stop. I realized continuing would only torment him further. Maybe endless apology battles belonged to my former world—but here, pressing one was an insult.
Still, I couldn’t shake the guilt of making Yohira cry.
”So then,” Ichika asked sharply, “was your little tantrum satisfying-degozaru?”
”Hey, Ichika.”
”Master.”
I tried to stop her, but Dahlia halted me. The Acting Head let out a bitter laugh that sounded dragged up from his gut.
”As I expected—this feels wretched.”
He’d known it would. And still he went through with it?
Why would anyone choose an act that only left him miserable?
”To look at a man I once considered a son-in-law, still unshaken in sincerity, accepting my anger as righteous and letting me strike him… how could that ever feel right?”
”If I’d had any sincerity left, I wouldn’t have made her cry in the first place.”
”And if my daughter had any sincerity, she would never have provoked such anger.”
We were at a standstill—each insisting the other bore the fault, neither willing to speak ill of the one they loved.
”Then tell me,” Dahlia said, “why did you stay behind at all?”
”Wasn’t it to make me atone?” I asked.
”Please, master,” Ichika sighed. “He’s not that idle-degozaru. You’ve only bought yourself ten more years of life. Wasting even a minute on this old man is extravagant-degozaru.”
”Old man…”
The Acting Head’s reputation with Ichika had clearly plummeted to its lowest point; when she insulted him, even I found myself echoing his sigh. To speak that way to a noble of her homeland—Ichika must have been truly furious. Only now did I understand how much.
”Partly, as Tatara-dono said, it was about closure… or perhaps simple venting.”
”Then you’re just an idle old man. Go home and govern your lands-degozaru.”
”Ichika.”
”Mmm… master.”
”I don’t like hearing you talk that way. Keep it up and I won’t lend you my lap for a while, you hear?”
”…Then I shall let it go-degozaru.”
She puffed her cheeks and sat curled up on the sofa, knees to chest, sulking. When she flopped onto her side, I reached out and stroked her head. She didn’t pull away, just let her tail swish—sign enough her mood had lifted.
The Acting Head watched her strange behavior with a hard-to-read expression, then continued.
”The other reason is… observation. To determine when Tatara-dono might safely meet Yohira again.”
At those words, murderous pressure rolled from Ichika and Dahlia both. It was like standing before drawn blades, but the Acting Head’s face didn’t change.
”Of course, I don’t mean now. My steward, Kasumi, will watch Yohira’s progress. When she judges their education complete, I’ll remain to gauge Tatara-dono’s state of mind.”
”…That makes sense.”
If I faced Ethelena and the others while still unstable, I’d probably recoil. I knew myself—I was troublesome that way. Accepting things halfheartedly would only make them explode later like a buried bomb.
The stress inside me ran deep; I needed to let the poison out before it festered again.
”I understand master needs to release his pent-up frustration,” Dahlia said. “But how exactly do we help him do that?”
”Indeed,” Ichika nodded. “Neither crafting nor your nightly services seem to cure it-degozaru. You need a fresh pursuit, something new-degozaru.”
I appreciated their concern, even if the examples made me cringe. Crafting and… night service? Sure, Ethelena’s mischiefs had been stressful—especially that age-reversal incident—but still.
”Then perhaps,” the Acting Head suggested, “you could take up a new hobby.”
Ichika and Dahlia frowned, skeptical. He gave a small nod and voiced his idea.
”For instance—fishing?”
”So the truth comes out,” Ichika muttered. “The sentimental old man just wants to play parent-and-child with his favorite son-in-law candidate-degozaru.”
”You should have more shame,” Dahlia murmured.
Despite their protests, soon enough we’d left the stronghold of Whirlwind for the mountain streams nearby. The waterways feeding Whirlwind weren’t just groundwater—they drew from the surrounding ranges, where fish swam in clean, cold rivers. It was a popular fishing spot among the locals. Of course, the risk of bandits, beasts, or monsters meant one needed a fair bit of self-defense.
”Honestly, he could at least think of how much trouble he’s putting us through,” I grumbled.
”Fishing as mental training,” Ichika added, unimpressed. “Well, it does build focus-degozaru, I suppose.”
The two idiots were complaining again. Mother-in-law wasn’t home, and I couldn’t exactly leave them unsupervised, so here we were—all together on this strange outing.
”There’s a rocky area near the best fishing spots,” I said. “We could use it to practice balance—staying steady on bad footing.”
”Hmm. Not bad. Could be useful,” Dahlia admitted.
”True,” Ichika agreed. “Those mossy rocks are treacherous-degozaru. Training there makes sense.”
They actually liked the idea. Hinagiku, meanwhile, had been excited about eating freshly caught fish until our talk of training wiped the smile right off her face.
After some walking, we reached our spot. The sun was soft, the wind light, and the water calm. The stream ran clear, alive with darting silver shapes.
I pulled out Mithril Ingots and fine Mithril Silver Thread, crafted a folding chair, and handed it to the Acting Head. Ichika was already setting up a fire pit for cooking; Dahlia had gone to drive off any wild beasts or stray monsters. The two troublemakers, along with Hinagiku, had headed toward the nearby waterfall to train.
Left alone with the Acting Head, I sat beside him and prepared my rod. His was the polished Mithril one I’d gifted him before, fitted with what looked like an expensive but ordinary reel. Mine was a prototype—Mithril rod with a high-power reel powered by a miniaturized motor from Dahlia’s chainsaw. Overkill for a mountain stream, but strong enough to handle a water dragon.
He handed me some bait from his inventory, sharing it wordlessly. Did he always keep fishing gear on hand?
I watched him cast, smooth and silent, and tried to mimic the motion. His line flew cleanly through the air; mine fluttered out and plopped weakly into the water.
”Tatara-dono, is this your first time fishing?”
”Yes. I never had anyone around who fished for fun.”
His bait slipped into the stream without a sound. Mine sank with an embarrassing splash.
”I thought a man who could craft such fine rods must be a seasoned angler.”
”When you make things, your own habits only get in the way,” I said. “Especially gifts—shaping them to your own quirks is pointless.”
”I see…”
What I’d aimed for in this Mithril rod was flexibility and strength—the resilience to bend without breaking, and the force to spring back. I imagined fishing as a tug-of-war, draining the fish’s strength little by little. The rod’s recoil and the reel’s pull would wear it down until victory.
Maybe that wasn’t technically right, but it wasn’t far off either. I just needed to ensure the line didn’t snap. With Mithril Silver Thread, I doubted it would.
I tightened the reel until the line just kissed the current, then waited—eyes closed, focusing on the subtle tremors through the rod. Without sight, every other sense sharpened.
Warm sunlight, a soft breeze over my skin, the rustle of leaves and whisper of water. The smell of the stream. Voices of distant anglers, Ichika moving behind me, the steady breath of the Acting Head beside me. Beneath the surface, fish darted through the water. One of them—mine—nudged the bait, once, twice, thrice… and then bit.
”…Fish on.”
”Hm?”
I jerked the rod back and started reeling. The hook caught in the corner of the fish’s mouth, the barb locking tight. The Acting Head glanced over, a hint of alarm in his tone.
”Don’t yank it up all at once. Tire it first. Watch its breathing—pull when it exhales.”
So it really was a tug-of-war. I followed his rhythm—letting the fish run, reeling when it paused. When the rod bent deep, I lowered it to absorb the strain, then pulled again. Ten minutes later, I drew it from the water: a shining silver fish, perhaps thirty centimeters long. A yamame trout, maybe—a fine first catch.
”Splendid work,” he said.
”Thank you.”
His praise warmed me more than the midday sun. Maybe I should make a fish print to commemorate the catch.
”You’re good for a first-timer,” the Acting Head said.
”I imagined the movement of the current through the feel of the rod,” I replied. “It helped me predict how the fish would move. I’m glad it worked.”
”I have no idea what that means, Tatara-dono.”
”Probably something similar to how my ‘Crafting’ skill analyzes structure and creates blueprints.”
”A born craftsman, through and through.”
I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment, but I decided to take it as one.
We kept fishing, and by noon, we’d filled quite a haul. I’d caught five fish between twenty and forty centimeters—an impressive record for a beginner. The Acting Head had pulled up fifteen, of all sizes.
We gutted the fish, rinsed away the blood, and sprinkled them with salt. I carved long skewers from nearby branches and stuck the fish through, planting them by Ichika’s campfire. It felt strange and new—my first true camp meal. Back in my past life, any “barbecue” had mostly been an excuse to overuse my Crafting skills.
When the training group returned for a break, Hinagiku’s eyes gleamed at the sight of roasting fish.
”Tatara-dono, can these river fish be eaten raw?”
”Not around here. Most carry parasites. Better to cook them well.”
Parasites weren’t something even ‘Curse Severance’ could fix—not that I ever wanted to find out. With the infection rates this high, even salt-curing was sometimes necessary. Damn you, Anisakis.
The fire popped and hissed as I watched the fish roast slowly. Hinagiku drooled openly until the idiot next to her dabbed her mouth with a handkerchief. Shouldn’t that scene be reversed?
”…I’d love to try grilling over charcoal someday,” I mused.
”Right? I love using a shichirin,” said the bastard cheerfully. “Especially for New Year mochi—so good.”
I had to admit, the man had taste. Mochi over coals—that was the right answer.
”I prefer dried fish on a shichirin,” the Acting Head said, “with a little shōchū to warm the spirit.”
”A drinker, then.”
”Just don’t go swinging that sword of yours after one too many, my lord,” I warned.
”Why is it that you two, who usually bicker, are suddenly in perfect sync?”
He shook his head while I and the bastard kept teasing him about his drinking habits. Somehow, the three of us had found an easy rhythm.
”So what do you grill, Tatara-dono?”
”Seafood, mostly. Shellfish especially—pour sake, soy sauce, and butter inside until it simmers. Meat’s good too, of course.”
”Shellfish, huh? Sounds nice.”
”Shell sake, then? Not bad at all.”
”You’d settle for fin sake, Father-in-law.”
We left Hinagiku and her caretaker to themselves and kept chatting nonsense. It was good—forgetting Ethelena and the others for a while, talking about food and fire. Sometimes men needed to be idiots together.
When the fish were ready, we divided them up. Salt and a squeeze of lemon brought out their flavor—fresh, tender, perfect. Maybe it was Ichika’s seasoning, maybe the mountain air, but it felt like the best thing I’d eaten in ages.
We fished a bit more after lunch, then started heading home before sunset. In the mountains, once darkness fell, the trails vanished completely. Leaving early was the smart choice.
”Feeling any better, Tatara-dono?” the Acting Head asked.
”Yeah. Letting my mind drift with the current wasn’t so bad.”
I meant it. Later, I heard Ichika mutter something like, “You call that not thinking?” but at the time my focus had been pure—on the rod, the line, the river. For the first time in a while, I felt lighter.
”There’s still anger in you,” he said quietly. “Don’t force yourself to face it yet. But when you wish to clear your mind again, tell me. I’ll go fishing with you anytime.”
”…You just want an excuse to fish with master again, don’t you?” Dahlia said flatly.
The Acting Head looked away, caught red-handed. I decided not to call him on it. My heart was calm enough to let it pass.
The idiot left first, escorting Hinagiku home. The bastard followed, heading toward his quarters at the Central Administration building.
That left the four of us walking back. Then Ichika and Dahlia suddenly stepped in front of me, their hostility sharp enough to sting the air. I blinked, confused—until I saw the figure waiting in the shadows near my gate.
”…Tatia.”
”Tatara-dono…”
She wore her knight’s uniform, but it was disheveled, her golden hair tangled, her usual poise gone. She hadn’t even had time to fix herself.
”What do you want? I’ve nothing to say to you.”
My voice came out stiff, the effort to keep it from trembling twisting it into something harsher than I intended.
To anyone else, it might have sounded angry—but fear, not fury, churned beneath my ribs. If I talked to her now, if she said the wrong thing, whatever image I still had of her might shatter completely.
And once it did, she’d be nothing but an enemy.
Fishing had eased my mind a little, but not enough.
”Please, Tatara-dono,” she said. “May I have a moment of your time?”
I hesitated. If her visit turned out to be some misguided apology, it would only make me feel guilty for not forgiving her—and bitter if I did. But refusing to listen felt small and cowardly.
Ichika and the Archangels had told me I didn’t have to forgive anyone. Still, hearing her out might be the only way to decide what I truly wanted.
”…Fine. Come in.”
I opened the gate. Ichika and Dahlia looked ready to protest but stayed silent, respecting my choice. Their trust hurt a little—I didn’t want to worry them more than I already had.
We sat facing each other in the living room. Under the lamplight, I saw the streaks of dried tears on Tatia’s cheeks. Her uniform was wrinkled and oddly misaligned, as if someone had tried to pull it off her.
”First, thank you,” she said softly. “For giving me your time, even after what I did.”
”It’s fine,” I said shortly. “Just a few minutes.”
Gratitude, not apology—probably the right move. A wrongheaded “I’m sorry” would’ve only made me angrier.
Still, a small part of me hoped she’d finally understood what had driven my fury toward Yohira. Slim chance, though.
”I’m not here to apologize,” she continued. “Please understand that first.”
Behind me, Dahlia’s killing intent thickened. If Tatia wasn’t here to apologize, then why was she?
”Then why come?”
”I need you to relay information to the City Mayor,” she said. “About the student movement. I can’t contact my father, nor any higher officials. You’re the only link I have.”
”…All right. Talk.”
It wasn’t what I expected—but it was important. Intelligence on a potential uprising couldn’t be ignored.
”There are roughly seven hundred students involved,” she explained. “Another three hundred—former Explorers and citizens disillusioned with the current regime—have been recruited.”
”So about a thousand total,” I murmured. “More than I’d imagined.”
Whirlwind had a population of around a hundred and ten thousand. A thousand rebels might not seem much, but fewer than five percent of the city’s people could even fight. There was no standing knight order—most worked in trade or industry.
”And the most critical part,” Tatia said grimly. “The Dicastes Kingdom plans to send five thousand soldiers into the city.”
”What!?”
The Dicastes Kingdom—Tatia’s mother Sieve’s homeland, and one we usually call an enemy state. Bringing in five thousand of their soldiers… that was outright treason. A hanging offense in any court.
”Of all things, they invited troops from an enemy nation? Whoever planned that must have lost their damn mind!”
”It seems there was some incident—something that pushed them past their limit. What began as threats with a show of arms turned into a plan to let the Dicastes army occupy the city itself.”
”Either way, we can’t let it happen.”
Worst case, Whirlwind could survive a siege for months. The city had spent the past century ensuring a high level of food self-sufficiency in case of emergencies.
But the terrorists would likely target the food reserves first. I’d need to coordinate with the City Mayor to fortify the storage depots—and if things turned bad, deploying my golems might be the only effective response.
”So we’ve got students and thugs rioting inside the city, and an enemy army marching from outside. Perfect. Just perfect.”
If this were a game scenario, it would fit: the thousand casualties, Calmys’s injuries, all of it. In fact, the real miracle was that Calmys had survived at all, given those odds.
As I frowned in thought, Tatia’s voice trembled.
”You… believe me?”
”Of course I do. You’re not the kind of person who’d lie about something like this. Unless… are you lying?”
”I am not! You’re the only one I could tell—because it’s you, I brought the truth!”
She leaned forward, pleading, fire in her eyes.
”I never thought you’d lie about something like this, Tatia. You don’t have it in you.”
”…Forgive me. I overreacted.”
”Can’t blame you. It hurts to be doubted, especially by someone you trust.”
Her face twisted in pain at that. Right—our roles had reversed since that day.
”So, if you came here to report all this,” I asked quietly, “does that mean you’re leaving the knight school dorms?”
It was a pointed question—if she was acting as a messenger, then her movements were surely being watched already.
”Ah, well… I was hoping you could let me stay for at least tonight.”
She said it hesitantly, as though ashamed to ask for such a favor.
”Just one night?”
I’d expected her to stay until the festival, at least. One night was… less than I’d imagined.
”Actually,” she admitted, “there’s another reason I left.”
”Another reason?”
The earlier she reported, the better—Tatia wasn’t one to sit on information. So what could’ve driven her out?
”…I was attacked by a male student in the dorms. I ran.”
”…I see.”
That explained the disheveled hair and clothes. Of course she’d fled.
I stood, spreading the black armor of Kokukō across my body. The little Tataras in the workshop got their orders through the link—to start mass-producing shells at maximum output.
Ichika’s voice reached me, wary.
”Um… master, where are you going-degozaru?”
”Just a quick errand.”
”At this hour, Tatara-dono?” the Acting Head added.
It was already dark, the shops of the commercial district long closed—but that wasn’t where I was headed.
<p class=”roar”>I’m going to burn down the knight school dormitory.</p>
”Wait—WHAT!?”
Notes:
• Dahlia – The automaton.
• Yohira – Torakuma’s first name. Oni warrior.
• Ichika – The fox girl. Kunoichi. Virgincest⚠️, becomes pregnant immediately.
• Hinagiku – A tengu woman as Ranka’s potential companion. She stays with Tatara’s group after travels. Joins household scenes only. Linked to Ranka by shared gluttony jokes. No direct tie to Tatara beyond cohabitation. Cheerful eater.
• Calmys – War God’s knight, Mayor’s guard chief, whip-master hiding as a swordswoman; sharp tongue, big-sister vibe to Tatara, grants him and Ethelena church protection.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
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