Chapter 23

King of Honor

Some time ago

The valiant warrior stopped at the palace gates. The two nevayuu on guard unsheathed their spears, thinking he was an intruder, except to quickly retract them when they realized who he was.

"The Warrior King has returned!" They said in unison, as they made room for him to pass. "Go ahead. The Negus is waiting for you."

Quaabiil hesitated for a moment before deciding to cross the threshold of the immense gateway. As he entered the turmoil of the hall ceased. All the officials began to lavish him with honors and deference, giving rise to an infuriating hovel.

"He is the Warrior King. The Warrior King is back!"

"The hero of the Battle of the Screaming Ditches is here. Let us welcome him with the courtesy befitting a person of his rank!"

Shouts and cheers of felicitation began to accompany his every move. Quaabiil, from the height of his six feet -impressive number even for a nevayuu like him-, was definitely uncomfortable with all those compliments. After all, no good news was bought that day.

"I must see the Negus as soon as possible," the utmost good manners he could convey with his voice as powerful as thunder interrupted the other people in the room. "No need to waste time on silly pleasantries!"

Taking the utmost care, he shook off the crowd that had thronged in his vicinity. The cloak that gently descended from his shoulders was in the way, and he would much rather have taken it off. But to remain alone in battle armor would have been unseemly in such a place. Etiquette, what a hassle.

'Some delegates from the Trotalaibr Oligarchy? I don't recognize many of the faces here. Damn, I should have been more careful to memorize the various emissaries of the tribes before my expedition.'

Quaabiil had been missing from the capital for months now, and it was not inconceivable that some new faces had come to the palace. Worrying perhaps was a sign of his growing paranoia, but he could not help it.

Trying not to let those bad thoughts dominate him, undertaking more impervious of many of the battles that were fought in his life, he finally arrived at the throne room.

It was ... different from how the Warrior King remembered it. Before, there was only a wooden throne and some decorations of very poor taste. Now, however, tapestries of the best workmanship and precious furnishings gave the surroundings a more luxurious appearance.

Fortunately, the one he had to meet didn't change at all.

"Brother," an epithet he had not heard in so long greeted him with a familiar warmth. "How nice to see you! Let me hug you!"

In response, Quaabiil knelt down, "My king! It is not worthy of a person of your rank to lose himself in foolish displays of affection with a subordinate!" Those words were the complete opposite of what his soul screamed at him to say. But any moment of weakness could have been exploited to undermine his brother's authority. Even the walls have ears, after all.

"Nonsense," was the reply. His heart lost a beat from happiness. "The day I cannot show how I feel to my brother will be the day I no longer deserve to be Negus!"

"Thank you, Haabiil!" Resistance was futile. Their bodies drew closer, finding strength in a common gesture they had always shared in the hardest moments, ever since they were children.

His brother equaled him in height. Compared to Quaabiil, though, he had a slimmer body and wore finer robes decorated with ornaments shining like a spring rainbow. His mane, whose immaculate white they shared, was less thick and sparser.

The major difference between the two, however, was in their faces. Haabiil's was always calm, kind, and expressed the sanctity of a holy man.

Quaabiil's, instead, was always corrugated in a frown upside down, hostile as a wild beast.

"And now," the Negus began, after they had separated. "I want to know everything! How did things go in the human kingdom? I heard about the... defeat!"

Quaabiil could not hold back his shame. Knowing that he had let down the one person whose esteem he yearned for was more painful than any injury the Warrior King had ever suffered.

"...Yes. The siege we led now seemed a certain victory for us," that battle was still vivid in his mind. The taste of victory already moistened his lips. Yet now he stood there, reporting failure. "We had taken the fortress, when a horde of undead and angels came out into the open."

"The work of that special unit that had caused some trouble in the last raids?" His brother asked, concern could not be hidden.

"That's what my strategists and I think. At least the angels they conjured up match the ones they used in precedent skirmishes, while the undead seem to have been reported by some of your lieutenants at the beginning of our invasion. Only..."

There was no doubt that the rest of the news had to be reported. But what he had seen was so unbelievable, that it was in retrospect still absurd that it had been reality.

"What's troubling you, Quaabiil? Do you want to take a break? I can have a warm bath prepared or some of the finest courtesans, if you prefer to rest."

He swallowed. It was the older brother's job to protect the younger. But Quaabiil was the one who was always protected. Since their childhood, nothing had changed.

"Our enemies conjured up more than just a simple angel. That thing… It was ... immense. A heavenly light shone before us. I looked into the sun's eyes that day." At the mere thought, a shiver of fear passed through his fur. His eyes closed, as if they were still contemplating that sparkle. "But not only was its appearance impressive. Magical abilities also out of the norm have fallen upon us. Most of the army was annihilated by that single summoning. We attempted to escape, to no avail. In the end, I killed it thanks to the sacred sword I had with me. But the King of Pride died in the clash, and the Queen of Plots was seriously injured."

"Did Kibir die?" His brother's question concealed the concern that was beginning to grip him. Without one of the kings who had voted for his ascension as Negus, his authority would surely have been weakened. "Were you able to recover his body? We can ask the Oligarchy to resurrect him. It will cost us a lot, but at least we will be able to swab the wounds."

"Yes. We have preserved the body..." Quaabiil noticed that Haabiil's arm was beginning to shake. He did not point it out to his brother. "Are you sure you want to trust those sly foxes? The only reason they decided to sign the alliance treaty and withdraw the invasion is because we were able to repel the forces of the Qualasandir kingdom." He gritted his teeth, barely managing to contain his fury. "As soon as they notice our moment of weakness, they will have no problem resuming their experiments on our people!"

The Negus opened his eyes wide, carefully measuring the words to say. "Archnoble Calamandrei is in the capital. I know you don't like that woman, but we need her help. Don't think I take pleasure in resorting to such...ambiguous people. But for the moment we are allies, and I don't intend to be the only one to be used. Besides," a quiet expression, typical of when his intellect was beginning to formulate a definite plan, appeared on his face. "We can ask the members of the Oligarchy about that strange angel. They are great experts in summoning magic, after all."

It was true. The differences in the knowledge on the subject of magic with the Oligarchy were vast, and only in recent years, under the leadership of the new Negus, had their people begun to bridge that gap.

"If that is what you wish, I will not oppose. Only, how do you plan to pay?"

Haabiil spread his arms wide, as if to enclose within them all the treasures of the room. "As you see, we have enough here to be able to satisfy our allies' thirst for money."

"Are you sure? These are the fruits of our conquests. We still have occupied territories in the Draconic Kingdom under our control. The human flesh we produce could be sold as a gastronomic delicacy in one of the neighboring kingdoms."

The farms that had been built on the borders were now producing more than enough products to meet the needs of the merchant class. Human meat was incredibly expensive, and a small quantity was enough to make someone rich.

"It is not enough," his brother explained, resting a hand on his left shoulder. It was so small compared to his own. "Even if we sold human flesh, it would still take time for our merchants to reach a suitable market where they could sell the fruits of our labor. Don't worry. The Negus have never lived in wealth, and to tell you the truth all this glitz makes me feel uncomfortable."

As always, Haabiil showed himself to be the clever one of the two. There was a reason that before becoming Negus he was known by the appellation Wise King.

"Now, come. You must be tired from the long journey. Tonight, you will eat like a God. I will have a banquet prepared to celebrate your return!"

"I thank you," was a sincere sentiment. "But I must return to the front at once. Many of our soldiers are still there, including the Brave King and the Mighty King. I want to reorganize our troops as soon as possible."

His brother's expression darkened. If Haabiil felt concerned at seeing him return to the battlefield, at least he avoided putting it into words.

"I understand. Stop for lunch with me at least. Listen to this selfish request of mine."

"That I can do."

"Splendid. He'll be happy to meet you again, too."

The Negus had his attendants prepare a private room. where a table was quickly set with the nation's best food.

When everything was ready, in addition to the two brothers, a third diner showed up.

"Uncle!"

Another nevayuu joined them. He was significantly smaller, barely reaching Haabiil's chest, and his lean physique showed that he was still in the developmental stage.

"Yiidilo!" At the sight of his favorite nephew, the Warrior King could not help but express happiness with a mighty roar. "How you have grown! Watch you, ready to become a warrior now!"

"I still have a long way to go, Uncle. But, please, tell me about your latest adventures. I'm curious to hear what humans are like." The white, round eyes like a sphere shone with ardent curiosity.

"Calm down," Haabiil brought them back to order. "There will be time. Now let's sit down so we can eat as a family."

The courses the servants had prepared were served quickly, and the three did not take long to voraciously devour the food they were served.

Quaabiil had to admit that it had been a long time since he had enjoyed such a delicious meal. Now the prospect of returning to the front was not so enticing.

"How is your training going? Are you ready to become the next nevayuu king?"

"He still has a long way to go," Haabiil quickly replied, without giving his son time to utter a word. "His physical abilities are still lacking and his studies only beginning."

Yiidilo blushed with shame, bowing his head as an apology.

"I am doing my best. I will prove to you that one day I will be worthy of becoming a Negus. Just like you, Father!"

"Think about becoming an excellent king first," Quaabiil encouraged him, as he bit into a chicken leg. "Even your father became a Negus only after spending years as leader of our tribe. It takes a lot of experience just to be considered by the other kings. And then you should think about forming proper connections if you want to be elected."

"I will, Uncle! I will not let the work you and my father have built over the years go to waste. I will ensure that Bahal Geesi achieves even greater splendor than it has known under your leadership!"

"Perfect. Then I will make your preceptors double the workload. We cannot afford for the next Negus to be unprepared for the challenges he will face!"

The two brothers laughed, while an expression formed on the younger one's face that wanted to ask 'Why me?'

"Uncle," Yiidilo resumed, with newfound vigor. "Tell me about the humans. Are they really as small and weak as they say? My fencing master told me that even a simple weaver would be able to defeat experienced soldiers."

"It is partly true," the Warrior King began to explain, as he stared fixedly into his nephew's eyes. "But precisely because they are weak, they have developed a way of fighting that allows them to fight stronger opponents. They are cunning and clever, and they have no problem locking themselves up in palaces to escape assaults and hiding to take their opponents by surprise!"

"What dishonorable behavior!" Outrageously exclaimed the son of the Negus. Quaabiil could feel his grandson's blood boiling even from afar. "Is it not cowardly to wage war in this way? It is only through head-on confrontation that one can truly grow."

"So you, who have never been to war, would still be a child?"

"Are these not the teachings of the Goddess Korinthus, father? Only through the way of the sword can a man or woman reach enlightenment."

"What about your mother? Or any other civilian who has never gone to war? Can they never attain enlightenment?"

Yiidilo said nothing. He stared at the empty plate in front of him, without finding an argument with which to counter.

"Don't be hard on him, brother. We too, at his age, felt the same way."

Haabiil rolled his eyes in defeat.

"You are right Quaabiil. I just want him to learn to think for himself, and not listen to others' teachings slavishly, without question."

"I understand how you feel. If I were to have children someday, I would probably have the same apprehensions as you. In fact, I'm sure of it."

"By the way. You still haven't made up your mind to find a suitable mate?" The question came as fast as a bolt. "The Queen of Thorns is still unmarried and has shown an interest in you. Having her on our side would be a great help to our cause."

Quaabiil was long past the age of youth, but the idea of settling down permanently still did not tickle him. Besides, the Queen of Thorns was not a nevayuu.

"We are not sure whether an heir can be born from our union. I might find myself without an offspring."

"This is not a problem," clarified his brother, pouring him a glass of stout. The sweet taste refreshed the Warrior King. "There is always adoption. There are countless capable orphans who would be happy to join your clan."

"And a non-blood son would have less legitimacy to claim the tribe's throne in the future."

"Uncle!"

"Don't get involved, son!" His brother stopped Yiidilo with a stern look before he could say anything else. "You are right, Quaabiil. I'll be frank. In all, I have three children, two boys, and a girl. Any one of them could one day be a capable king or queen. With the current situation, we cannot afford for our tribe to lose power and influence because of internal conflict."

"Is the situation that tragic?" The Warrior King asked, worried. Of course, after the defeat in the Draconic Kingdom, his brother's opponents would begin to raise their voices, but he did not think it would be more than a few annoyances.

"For now, no. But you know that not all kings are on our side. To depose the Negus, you need at least 2/3rds of the votes, so eight kings in total. In my estimation, four are against us and three are neutral. If we can get the latter on our side, we should fear nothing."

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"Fools!" Quaabiil exclaimed, pounding his fist on the table, which vibrated from the impact. "Don't they understand that we need stability? The kingdom of Qualasandir has certainly not ended its aims toward us. And the Trotalaibr Oligarchy is our ally in name only. If we get caught up in infighting, we will lose this hard-won calm! Can't they see it?"

"Sadly, our defeat in the Draconic Kingdom has allowed old grudges to resurface," the Warrior King felt himself flaring up. The defeat had been his fault; his brother had only erred in entrusting him with the invasion. "You know that our people value strength above all else. Despite my -our- efforts, this mentality has not yet been completely eradicated."

"I understand," calm began to return to Quaabiil's spirit. Another glass of stout managed to dispel the rest of his upset. "If you need my help, I will agree to meet with the Queen of Thorns when the war with the humans is over."

"Thank you," the Negus rubbed his mane, running the thick white fur through his fingers. "Until we have realized the capabilities of the humans, limit yourself to protect the territories we have already conquered."

Exercising caution for the time being was the prudent move. On this, the two agreed.

"What are your plans for the humans?"

"The ones we had even before, brother." An unusual chill seeped from Haabiil's words, cold as a winter night. "Reduce all humans to slavery and use their wealth, knowledge, and bodies to make Bahal Geesi as great as it ever was! And after that, the title of Negus will also change."

"You don't mean that..."

"Yes, brother. We will establish our dynasty and put an end to the elective system!"

Upper Water Month, 22nd day, 22.00

He was a shadow. Not a sound. Invisible. An afterthought. Darkness was his world.

He lowered himself from the ceiling of that old house. Two armat were sitting on what was once a warm, familiar hangout. Disgusting.

His needles penetrated between the neck muscles of his victims, ending their lives in a split second. When the man ascertained that they were dead, the mission could resume.

He climbed onto the roof. A starless night like that was ideal for camouflage.

With a leap, he landed on the balcony of a nearby house. The captain's words echoed in his mind.

'Giunio, infiltrate the city. Eliminate the guards and open the gate doors. At your signal, we will enter and liberate it.'

Giunio wasted no time in inspecting the place where he had entered. There was no need.

Heaven and Earth.

The assassin.

After his passage, even the dust remained in place.

He reached a street halfway from his target. The sound of footsteps. Shadows welcomed him back.

A nevayuu. A dangerous opponent. And a lantern was in his arm. What a bother.

'[Shadow sneak] [Death strike]'

Giunio moved among the walls. His arms tightened around the demi-humans' necks. Clack. Broken.

'Did I underestimate him?'

Or perhaps it was his talent that made everything easier?

He resumed his path. The hourglass continued to run its grains. The man stopped in a bottleneck a few meters away from his target.

'Of course, a dozen guards. Let's see how to proceed.'

The demi-humans looked well-visaged and ready to give battle at any moment. Nevertheless, they were not going to be a problem. Not for him, at least.

The real challenge was to eliminate them without them having time to warn their comrades.

'What a nuisance. It would be enough for the captain to break down the door and eliminate all the enemies in his path.'

Unfortunately, the first seat preferred to proceed with caution. Especially when they were in unfamiliar territory. It was a most just reasoning, leaving the poor assassin with the most ungrateful tasks.

'Well, there is no other way.'

Giunio slipped through the streets. He had to admit that these nonhumans knew how to keep them clean. Much worse had been seen in his last mission to the Holy Kingdom.

He was only a few steps away from the guards. No light revealed his location. Heaven and Earth moved a couple of meters closer. Still, no one had noticed anything.

'Now.'

The mask he wore was not just to conceal his true face or to instill fear. It was, like all his team's equipment, a powerful magical object with fascinating peculiarities.

Usually, when he was with all his other teammates, it was useless. In fact, almost harmful.

In contrast, when he acted alone, it was perfect.

"What's going on?"

"I don't feel very well..."

A venomous cloud began to spread, carrying his virus among those who stood between him and his target.

After a few seconds, many of the guards collapsed to the ground in pain. Their complexions were now pale, ghostly. The last breath of life had expired.

A couple were still holding on. When they noticed him, an astonished expression was the only reaction they could make.

He felt pity for them. Then he remembered his training. Pity became apathy.

"How did you do that? We didn't hear anything."

Crack.

There was no need to answer their questions. The dead did not need answers.

'If they knew how many times I saw those questioning faces. Whatever.'

Giunio rummaged through the corpses, looking for the keys to the watchtower placed near the gate. After finding them, he entered the room where the lever to open the door was located. He pulled it easily.

He returned to the street, where his companions were waiting for him.

"Good job," Aeneas merely said, with his usual impassive expression. Heaven and Earth was used to it by now.

"Fuhuhuhu," he hated that laugh. One of the few things that could make him lose his concentration. "Can we start having fun now? It doesn't seem fair to me that only Heaven and Earth should taste the thrill of blood."

A woman with short hair and a slender physique licked her lips greedily. She wielded a scimitar of an unknown material, sharp as a dragon's claw, and was clad in amber armor that shone in the dark of the night.

Giunio would have gladly gone without tasting blood, as she had said. But he avoided pointing it out to her.

"Soon you will be able to enjoy yourself, Windstride," the captain had already taken a path to the center of the city. After directing his attention to Giunio, he watched him with those black eyes of his. The same color as that darkness that served as the assassin's home. "Have you noticed if there are any captive human beings? Or can we act without worries?"

"I think there are only demi-humans," his reply was full of conviction, but the mask didn't show it. "Before I opened the door, I took a quick look around and detected no traces of our kind. Not recent ones at least."

"So, we can jump into the fray without worry!"

Giunio wondered if it might not have been better to go with the other group to Evasha's forest. As he watched his companion, so imposing that he could be easily mistaken for a giant, he could not help but think that Lady Misfortune had taken a fancy to him so that he would end up with all the battle maniacs.

"Wait, Strongest Human," Aeneas stopped him. How was that boy keeping that band of unhinged lunatics at bay? Okay, he knew the answer. "We must not be hasty. I wouldn't want us to get caught in any traps."

The fears of the first seat were understandable, but unwarranted. However, the assassin did not feel like pointing out the situation. After recent events, an unnatural dread that things might take a turn for the worse at any moment had become a constant in the lives of the inhabitants of the Theocracy.

'I wonder how Aradia is doing. I don't see her, as clumsy as she is, able to untangle herself in that forest. Plus, there's Lady Zesshi...'

"Heaven and Earth, is everything clear?"

"What?" He was lost in thought. How strange, that usually never happened. Was he so worried? "Can you repeat that, Captain?"

"I asked you to take us to the central area, where the municipal building is. Do you think you can do that?" Aeneas looked at him as one looks at a lost puppy. What a pathetic figure. A perfectionist like him reduced to that state.

"That is, if you don't prefer to continue getting lost in the world of dreams."

"Sister, you of all people could not afford to criticize your comrades. Or should I remind you of all the mistakes you have made over the years?"

"And should I remind you that I can kick your little princess butt from here to Argland Council State?"

"I'd be really curious to see you try."

"Then get ready, because it's not going to be pretty."

"Stop it!"

The captain's order, which was beginning to lose patience, stopped the two siblings.

"They really never stop those two, do they?" The sixth seat, Shining Blade, asked him. He too was exasperated by the constant bickering of those two at the most inopportune times.

In fact, Windstride and One-Man Army used to engage in those little shows. It was almost as if they did it on purpose, to dampen the tension.

"What a lack of professionalism," lamented a man with dried-out skin, covered in a long dark robe. "I long for the days when I was in the Holocaust Scripture."

"Ahahahahah," Strongest Human's laugh was filled with unexpected joy. "All they do is show that they are full of life. When Surshana could greet us at any moment, we cannot help but reaffirm our existence at any moment. They remind me of my youth."

"In any case," Quaiesse had regained control of himself, and was acting as if nothing had happened. "Captain, we are ready to go. Tell us what we have to do."

Aeneas adjusted his long hair, which was beginning to flow down his forehead. Then, after a long breath, he said, "What we always do. Kill the enemies of the Theocracy."

At these last words, the air of joviality ended. The laughter had been consumed. Slaine's special unit was ready to give credit to its fame.

The city center did not stand out for interesting details. Like dozens of its peers, there was a larger building that served as the town hall, a square where trade took place, and plenty of houses and stores.

Only this was teeming with demi-humans, all of different races from each other.

Some were mounting guard in the square, but it was certain that many others were resting in the structures.

"Heaven and Earth, Windstride, you two will sneak into the dwellings and eliminate the demi-humans who are sleeping. After that, Strongest Human and I will strike those who are awake," Aeneas began to explain as he observed the situation from the top of the rooftop where they were perched. "One Man Army, Shining Blade, and Four Great Spirits will cover us in case more enemies come from other parts of the city. Is everything clear?"

He did not have to wait for an answer. Each of them took a stand, without delay.

"Hey, assassin," Clementine's voice was full of wicked excitement. Would the impending massacre satiate her thirst for death? "Shall we have a contest? Whoever can eliminate the greatest number of those beasts without getting caught wins. Simple as that."

Normally, he would have refused, but Giunio felt particularly irritated that evening. A friendly competition couldn't have hurt.

"Okay, I'm in."

"Splendid," a grin that resembled anything but a smile appeared on the woman's face. "Let the fun begin!"

They parted ways.

The man entered the first house.

An oppressive silence. He slipped through the darkness. Walls and floor changed position as his body defied the laws of gravity. Directions lost their meaning. The above was the below and the below was the above.

After finding balance, he began to run. His steps produced no noise. He found two horuner asleep. They would never wake up again.

He continued.

Heaven and Earth.

The assassin.

The man gave credence to his name.

Where did his nickname come from? Each of the Black Scriptures earned an epithet because of their abilities.

Quaiesse was One Man Army, because he controlled magical beasts that caused terror in the souls of those who needed to make numbers to feel strong.

Samson was Strongest Human, because no human being could hope to beat him. Godkin excluded, of course. A wall between men and Gods.

Clementine was Windstride. When she moved, it was as if the wind itself was screaming. Only the wails of her victims caused a more deafening sound.

Aradia was Infinite Magic. With her talent, every spell consumed less mana than normal. If normal people could use a lake filled with water, she had an ocean to draw from.

And he was Heaven and Earth.

Why?

Because when he aimed at his target, there were no places to hide. Neither on earth nor in the sky.

A whisper you hear during an agitated sleep, that doesn't make you open your eyes. For you know that if you had to, what you would see would raise a desire to return to dreamland. No nightmare would be as frightening as him.

How would he kill?

It didn't matter the method. He was a professional.

Poison.

Knives.

Darts.

Truncheon.

Short sword.

Daggers.

Needles.

But, strangely, none of these was his favorite.

Ever since he was just a street rat as a child, he had learned to use what was available to him to get any job done.

And what does a poor orphan have at his disposal?

Only his own body.

Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack.

Not that he was endowed with exceptional musculature or destructive power. He was not a warrior or another class dedicated to a head-on collision, after all.

He was an assassin.

His fingers knew where to touch. His hands were capable of twisting a neck as easily as crumpling a leaf. The gloves he wore took his already exceptional physical abilities to the limit.

Not even the strongest demi-human bodies could resist his touch.

A sparsely furnished living room. Three zoastia. Dangerous adversaries. Fortunately, they were in the dream realm.

'Quick. I must be quick.'

Giunio sprinted. Dust began to rise.

He arrived at the first Zoastia. "[Body Enhancement]."A sound of bones breaking. It couldn't be helped.

The other two woke up, disturbed by the noise. A cloud of dirt began to rise. The right arm charged an uppercut.

The target's chin was hit, flinging him a few meters away. While the arm was still raised, an ax blow came.

Earth. He ducked. The dust had dispersed. He picked up two needles, which he stabbed into the Beastmen's left foot. A scream of pain. The poison had entered the Beastmen's bloodstream.

The other charged with a shoulder strike. The huge body, an explosion of muscle, covered the view. "[Shadow Pass]." But the assassin had already disappeared into the shadows.

Heaven. He was above them. He threw two daggers. The first one was hit in the eye. The second in the chest. Dead.

The one left grabbed the ax of his fallen comrade and threw it toward him. The blade began to twist and twist, faster and faster until it caught Giunio squarely in the chest.

The zoastia had won.

Or had he?

In his final moments, the demi-human wondered why it was he who collapsed to the ground with his neck slit and not his opponent.

"There is a difference between us," the Black Scripture member explained to him, unnecessarily. By now he could no longer be heard. "The equipment."

'Phew,' thought Giunio, as he checked the dents on the protection he was wearing. 'That makes fifteen. I should be done. I wonder how many Clementine got to?'

He looked out the window. Seeing that the woman was on the roof as she swung herself over the ledge in a bored manner, he joined her.

"How many?" Curiosity was eating at him. He was not the competitive type, but losing to that maniac could have unpleasant consequences.

"Seventeen," she replied, continuing to watch the road.

"Shit. I've eliminated fifteen." Fortunately for him, no mockery came. Unusual. Should he have expected something worse?

"What do you say? Want a rematch?" Clementine pointed his attention below them. The battle had begun, and their comrades had begun to engage the Beastmen. "Before the party's over."

He knew why Windstride was in such a hurry.

Like almost all Black Scripture members, Giunio had undergone Lady Zesshi's special training.

Now, that had certainly been the most terrifying experience in his entire life. The assassin had compared it to climbing an endless wall. Without hands. And while a boulder attached to your legs tries to make you plummet down.

And he was sure that similar experiences had befallen most of their elite group.

Therefore, sometimes it was easy to forget.

That the half-elf wasn't the only monster.

That their Captain was strong, too.

Strong was a word that Giunio felt was sometimes used inappropriately. Was he strong? He could kill many people with ease, but it was equally true that within Black Scripture there were individuals against whom he could never win.

And against a substantial number of capable individuals, his chances would go down. If other races were counted, then surely the number of individuals capable of overpowering him would have grown immensely.

So no, he did not feel that the strong word was appropriate for him.

For Aeneas, on the other hand, the matter changed.

Numbers? They made no difference. He was certain that at least a hundred Beastmen had thrown themselves at the young man.

And the ease with which he disposed of them was terrifying.

The young man did not even bother to dodge as he passed among them and took all the blows they tried to inflict on him.

Aeneas was strong.

He would travel ten meters, and only then would the enemies realize they were dead. His bare hand pierced the skin and armor of the demi-humans with such speed that it remained perfectly pristine.

"It's always like this with him," lamented Clementine, as she slipped one of the stilettos she always carried with herself into the hip of a caben. "He doesn't even need to use the divine spear. It would be enough for him to punch all these creatures. Well," she began to tear apart her enemy's wounded body with her scimitar. "I prefer to take my time with my victims. It's a form of respect."

'But weren't we having a contest?'

Realizing that by now her companion was more engrossed in her macabre entertainment than in their challenge, Giunio pointed his attention to the enemies who were nearby.

There were very few left. The most dangerous ones had lashed out at the strongest members of the group, Strongest Human and the Captain, and there was little left for them to do.

It was interesting to note the different fighting styles between the two.

Samson sought challenge more than anything else. So, he would let his opponents take their time in launching an attack, then counterattack. When he found that no one could parry his blows, he was disappointed. The man would then move on to the next enemy, hoping that this time he would find the excitement he was looking for.

Aeneas, on the other hand, wasted no time. Here he went from one end of the square to the other, giving no respite to the Beastmen. Throwing his spear in front of him, piercing rows of enemies, he snapped in its direction and regained his weapon before the drops of sweat could touch the virgin earth.

The demi-humans thought that surrounding him would lock him in a cage, unaware that they were the ones who were trapped.

In his rush, he would grab some of the weapons left on the ground by the dead bodies and hurl them into the sky so that they would descend like projectiles.

A rain of iron and steel.

There was no escape.

'Every time I see him in action it is always the same. I don't think I can ever get used to how crazy the difference between us is.'

"Humans, your race ends here!"

The captain paused.

A bovine-looking demi-human stood before them. Its fur was a deep dark blue, blending with the darkness of the night. He wore silver armor, probably of adamantium, and arm guards covered with thorns. On his head was placed a tiara, resembling a crown, and a pair of curved horns sprouted at the sides. In his hands, he clutched a large hammer, within which precious gemstones were set.

'A minotaur? No, the horns are too small. Maybe a bouffalor?'

In comparison, the young man looked like an insect. And the demi-human was not alone. A dozen or so of his kind, though smaller in size, accompanied him in battle gear.

"Face me in an honorable confrontation! The goddess Korinthus is watching us."

Aeneas sighed. Heaven and Earth could clearly read his captain's expression.

'What a nuisance.'

The bouffalor raised the hammer high, ready to smash it on the young man. He struck. But to his surprise, the blow stopped in contact with his rival's hand. His eyes did not have time to widen in amazement, for the spear had already pierced his chest, piercing his heart.

Aeneas withdrew the weapon. The bloody tip was beginning to leak drops.

Two of the guards of the now-dead leader found that same spearhead inside their bodies.

Three more bouffalor charged with swords, ready to strike. Aeneas picked up with his free hand the giant hammer that had fallen to the ground and used it for a sweep that overwhelmed the unfortunate.

Those who remained could not move. Good. They would never do it again.

"And that's done, too." Said the captain with satisfaction. All the demi-humans in the city had been exterminated, and now the place was free.

"Bah, I would have liked to have had a little more fun," complained Clementine, as she cleaned her weapons of the bits of entrails that remained attached. "Next time, let me take care of the big ones."

"What do you say, Captain? Do you think their leader could have defeated me?" Strongest Human, as usual, had only one thing on his mind. Battle.

"He could have given you some headaches. He was stronger than ordinary Beastmen lords for sure. But in the end, I'm sure you would have prevailed."

The young man sat down on a bench in the middle of the square. He looked at all the blood that had accumulated on his armor and began to wipe it off with a magical item he carried.

"Of course, if there are so many strong specimens, it is not strange that they called us to clean up," commented Giunio, who like his comrades had found himself a little place to rest and regain his strength. "The Sunlight Scriptures are not enough to be able to repel all these demi-humans."

"Yeah. That means a lot more work for us," Aeneas had finished with the protection, and went on to clean his spear. "Get ready, another city like this awaits us tomorrow."

"I look forward to it," Clementine replied, unable to hide her bloodlust. "I was too generous today. I will not make the same mistake."

As Windstride was ignored, their remaining companions also joined them.

"I have discovered something interesting," Quaisse proclaimed immediately, looking smug. He was riding on one of his giant basilisks, which he tenderly stroked. "It seems that one of their kings is in this place. We can try to capture him and extort information."

As he finished saying that, all the Black Scripture watched the corpse of the giant bouffalor still in the middle of the square. The smell of death was still fresh.

"Fuck."