“Well, for my part, I’m gonna say no to that.” Agravain shrugged. “I don’t really care for picking a fight with someone who’s just treated me to a meal”

“Aren’t you shameless?” Jophiel thrust a finger at him, clamoring, “Someone bribed you with a bit of food and you already lost your stomach for a fight?!”

“You’re one to talk. I don’t want to hear that from someone who just wolfed down free food on the same table as me..”

“Well, who cares! I surely don’t! She pissed me off!”

Hanael’s grin was growing wider. Whatever she was planning, clearly Jophiel’s attitude was within her expectations. “As I said, I won’t deny you a fight if that’s what you want. But Jophiel, are you sure that’s actually what you want? Think about it--I did come here prepared, you know. But knowing you, you must have only trained up some unintuitive skills for your long-term plan, maybe some training here and there, and so haven’t got any real tools for a real fight yet. It’s exactly because your builds are always needlessly complicated that they come online so late into the game. Why do you think I speedran for you but not the others? There’s simply no better time than now for me to put you out of the contest. “

“Well...!” But that was her last protest. Almost immediately, Jophiel sank back into her seat, looking deflated.

So it seemed she disliked losing a fight more than losing face.

“You say that,” Soraya pointed out as she faced Hanael, “but you also said you didn’t expect to run into us so soon. Maybe you are not that prepared? There’s no reason to allow us the choice if you can just finish us now.”

“Aha,” Hanael laughed. “Clever girl! True, I could have done with a bit more firepower and coordination between my girls, which actually has a lot to do with the reason we were headed to this very town instead of any other that is closer to the Tartary capital. But seeing you guys like this I’m sure you haven’t got your hand on that either.”

“What are you talking about now?” Jophiel grumbled. “It was pure luck you ran into us here, right?”

“Not pure luck, no. I was at least sixty percent sure you would come this way, Jophiel. Talk about predictable. It takes only a look at the class of your Player Character,” she nodded at the barbarian, “there’s no way you can pass up this one. Or rather,” she shrugged, “there’s one reason I could think of that would make you give up on it, but in the end I was on the money, eh?”

“What? No, what? You mean, wait, you mean it? Ugh!” the angel commenced a series of painful coughs, choking on the food, “I mean, of course, it could be, if you put it in a way, useful, but, but, but, but, it’s, well, it’s not like I absolutely want that thing either...”

And just then she threw a sullen glance at the barbarian, as though accusing him of something.

“What?” Hanael laughed loudly this time, “Don’t tell me you are still hung up on that! You never change, do you? Oh my, this is so funny I want to cry. But yup, if you are not going for it, I will, you know? You know well that I would rather get my hand on it than have to risk losing it by fighting you. So, if you want to stop me or to get it for yourself, you will have to fight my PC for it. Proper rulings, no friendly spar. To the death, or sundries. How about that?”

“Ugh, I mean...” and Jophiel went quiet. The quietest she had been in the few days the barbarian had known her.

For a while she seemed to engage in a fierce mental battle with herself, so the barbarian turned to Hanael instead. “What is this thing you guys have been talking about?”

“Nothing really,” Hanael answered nonchalantly, “just Jophiel’s laughable quirk, one among her many, sure, but the most ridiculous one yet. If you ever want to find out what it is you will have to fight me for it.”

“I don’t want to know that badly, to tell the truth.”

“Fine then!” suddenly Jophiel cried, “We go for it after all! Agravain, we fight them, whether you want to or not. This is your freaking job!”

Hanael nodded, “See? It’s too good to pass up after all, even for you. And she’s right, Agravain, you can pay me back for the meal later. In fact, letting Maria kick your ass could actually serve as a decent payment.”

The barbarian shook his head. “If I’m going to fight, I’m going to do it properly.”

“I wouldn’t have asked for any less. Well, I could do worse than fighting my rival at her worst, I suppose.” The angel rose from her seat. “But not now. We’re all tired after a long day, so let’s rest. I will pay for you guys’ lodging too so don’t concern yourself with it. But tomorrow, we will be enemies when we meet at the place--Jophiel should know where. Then we will have a fair battle.”

And so, with a few customary farewells from the polite young girls, the three left the table to return to their group.

It really was a marked difference seeing the commanding aura their angel exuded, compared to the sloppy thing that was slumping moodily in her seat next to Agravain.

“Hm,” the barbarian scratched his chin, addressing the maid, “What do you think about them, Rania? You have been quiet all this time.”

There were colors on the poor handmaid’s face now that she’d had something in her stomach, but with her glasses still sporting a broken lens, she was looking miserable still.

“I think,” she said measuredly, giving the table full of young girls a thoughtful look, “even counting all those girls together, even with that girl Maria being the most physically capable, I don’t think they would be able to stand a fight with you.”

“You don’t think? Well, I’m sure I won’t lose in a physical fight with anyone, priestess or not...”

“But it won’t be so,” Jophiel sullenly confirmed his suspicion, “It won’t be a purely physical fight as the ones you have fought in until now. Not this one. This one is an honest-to-goodness Player Character.”

She did say the other Player Characters all employed magic. Needless to say, magic was Agravain’s hardcoded weakness after all.

“Sounds like you’re already regretting it.”

“And you are full of loser speeches today, eh? What’s the problem? Isn’t it your job to punch anything coming your way? What, having an identity crisis? Developing a midlife slump, you big lump of meat?”

“Someone’s prickly,” Agravain shrugged. “Still, you’re surprisingly easy to rile up, or maybe that angel just knows you rather too well, eh?”

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“I don’t want to be told that by a barbarian with anger issues. Anyway,” she shot up, “I lost my appetite. Let’s sleep, and tomorrow whack that bitch.”

“You don’t get to say you lost your appetite after stuffing yourself full!”

But the angel already disappeared into thin air along with her codex, in a room full of people. Talk about irresponsible.

True to Hanael’s promises, lodging was paid for them, one for Soraya and her maid, another for Agravain. He doubted angels required sleep. But she still wandered to gods knew where. What she was up to all night, or not up to, he did not care to know.

The barbarian was out cold the moment he hit the hay. A day of hard work tends to reward you with a good night’s sleep. That and a mind free of cares.

Someone more optimistic, or trusting, would have hoped that angel was spending the night to devise a battle plan for tomorrow. The barbarian was simple too, but he had the benefit of having known the angel for a few days, and so easily guessed that her night was mostly likely spent fuming.

The next dawn brought about a clear and glorious day, with only terse traces of clouds across an otherwise spotless sky, promising the perfect weather without any element to impede a match. Stretching his body in the middle of the room, the barbarian felt himself in tip-top shape. Thanks to his new physicalities, even the exertion of the past few days couldn't keep him fatigued for long. And having not spent much of his rage bar the day before, he was positive it had been filled to the brim for his first serious challenge to come.

Satisfied with the little exercise, he thought to take a look if the others had got up, he left his room and chanced upon a Maria with a towel wrapped around her neck.

The girl greeted him with a slight smile, “Good morning! I see you're an early riser too.”

“I don’t really have a routine, I just wake up whenever I feel like. Is your summoner still sleeping?”

It was rather sporting, he thought. Like two athletes before a contest, not two rivals who would soon beat each other to death or close to it.

“She is.” Maria nodded. “I tip-toed out of the room so she wouldn’t wake up. Oh, and...” she raised her hand, as though to stop him from leaving, though he wasn’t. Her eyes darted nervously. “I didn’t get to talk much to you yesterday, but I’m really glad to meet someone from our world. The others are nice too, but it’s just not the same.” She smiled awkwardly.

“Oh yeah, it’s nice. Though I can’t say I’m overly attached to that place. Our old world, I mean. I kinda get you though. That summoner of yours is rather scary, isn’t she?” he put it bluntly.

“Ophelia?” the girl seemed surprised, “Oh no, not at all. I truly admire her way of thinking, and she’s really nice and kind deep down once you get to know her better. Her serious side is just more apparent. No, what I mean is, everything. I don’t know how to put it, but don’t you find everything about this world so...grandiose? Like everyone is on some important quest to resolve matters on such a large scale, or is it just my impression? I mean, I’m just a high school student in our world, and a plainly average one at that. It’s just hard to wrap my head around such a big scope as a world-altering adventure, you know. Like it doesn’t seem real.”

If all this sounded like a lame attempt at conjuring a conversational topic they both could share in, the girl’s face was expressing otherwise. She seemed particularly troubled, and maybe was venting more than sharing her view of things.

The barbarian scratched his chin, unsure of what to say. In truth, he hadn’t given it much thought at all. He had just been following along with the angel’s antics and whatever Soraya wanted. And this might just be owing to the angel’s lax attitude and Soraya’s humble desire to search for her sister, but he had never thought it to be anything grandiose at all. If anything, the whole thing was just a giant excuse for him to go around beating up people, or creatures.

But from her perspective, being associated with a woman who sought peace for an entire nation, he guessed it wouldn’t be strange if she felt some amount of pressure.

“Well I could kind of guess how you would feel like a fish out of water, or something,” he said after a while, trying to be considerate, “Not that I would know, even my life in our world was hardly something you can be called normal, so maybe I’m just more desensitized to it? You should just look at the positive sides of things. Like an upgrade, you know. You are allowed to do things you weren’t in our stuffy world now. Not many rules, and few who could oppose you.”

Not sure if speaking like a soon-to-be villain would do much to help the girl’s problem, but it was his honest opinion.

And to be fair, it most likely wasn’t such a blessing for a young girl like Maria. Not that he had much experience with school girls nowadays. His little sister was hardly a good point of reference. But at the very least he knew how attuned youngsters in his world were to technology. Even Estella, who had taken every opportunity to sneak out of the house despite the many security systems put in place just to prevent those excursions, had been attached to her electronic devices and the internet.

Not that Agravain himself, who Jophiel had accurately diagnosed as a no-fun-allowed guy, was clueless when it came to the benefits of technology and the various conveniences they provided. He was the kind who read electronic books on e-readers instead of obtusely clinging to the smell of physical paper and all that jazz. He also didn’t use social media much, but he also didn’t turn his nose up regarding them like some. They had their uses, he just didn’t care for those purposes himself.

Not to say that he claimed to understand youngsters, or had ever tried to. Nevertheless, he wondered if this very normal-looking girl was simply despairing at a lack of social media for three days straight.

But that didn’t seem to be the case.

Maria sighed. “I knew it. So even you’re someone special too. Just like all the girls who come with us--handpicked among the most exceptional priestesses and theologians in the country, they all are. Just nothing like what I’m used to.” She smiled bitterly.

“That doesn’t mean much when you think about it,” he pointed out, “We are both special: people summoned from another world--one hell of a status compared to just being wise and smart.”

“That isn’t the point.” She said this in her normal timid tone, without raising her voice, and yet her face clouded over, as though Agravain had just said something incredibly wrong and offensive. “I mean, of course you wouldn’t get it. Even you have this aura that just repels ordinary folk like me, see.” She sighed, and the shadow vanished. “Anyway, I shouldn’t keep you here with this depressing talk. Not that me being a garden-variety good-for-nothing could amount to a talking point.”

What the hell is wrong with you, was what crossed the barbarian’s mind.

“I will just prove the point when I lose to you,” she was still going on, all the while staring absently at the floor, “a stepping stone as intended, indeed. A side character whose entire job is to be defeated halfway through a stage, or for the protagonist to test a new move. Not even a boss, but more like a, err, like some unnamed mid-boss, something lame like that...”

Is this the younger generation’s twisted version of trash talk before a game or what? Arousing pity in your opponent’s heart? Demoralizing an enemy so they couldn’t fight properly?

Because this was going well beyond self-pity and straight into the zone of self-abuse.

Not that it was any effective on someone like Agravain, but still, it did make him uncomfortable.

If she had been one of his students, Agravain would have sent her to a counselor. Even in his teaching days, the barbarian was not the right person to vent your problems. Certainly not in any peaceful way.

One did not sense any peaceful intelligence in him.

“Ah,” suddenly Maria let out a sound. As though she had just woken from her stupor. A lapse of expression. “Wha! I’m really sorry about that! It just really came out, didn’t it? I was just talking out loud.”

That in and of itself was a problem.

The barbarian sighed. “You sure you’re in the right state of mind for a fight, girl? We can postpone this for a day or two if you would like.”

“No, no, of course not,” she stammered, “that would be too much of a hassle. Don’t mind me, I just get kinda like that all the time. So yup, I have been keeping you long enough. Let’s do our best and have a good match.” She bowed.

“Yeah, let’s have a good match,” the barbarian said, more than a bit dumbfounded.

For all that the girl had treated their coming fight like some end-of-the-world crisis, hearing her parting words you would think they were going into a sports meet or something.

Or not even a competitive event, more like a collaboration.

Let’s have a fight where I would definitely lose, she seemed as though to say at the end.

Somewhat foreboding, that. If she had come at him boasting about how she was going to give him a thrashing, it would have been motivating. But this? He would do well not to let his guard down, after all.