Episode 59 - The First to Back Down Dies 1



Dawn.
The attack had begun.
The mercenary company was moving at a quick march along the outer wall, closing in on the fortress.
"Hold position until the vanguard makes entry."
"Yes...!"
As they drew close enough, they lowered themselves to avoid detection and waited for the movement of the vanguard unit assigned to push through the front gate.
"You there! Kingdom City Guard! Surrender at once!"
The mercenaries selected as vanguard confirmed the front gate was shut with no sentries posted, and gave the doors a hard kick to try forcing their way through.
"Ow?!"
"Damn it! They've barred it too!"
The first man who kicked the door tumbled backward, and the faces of the others around him soured.
Rotten bastards.
They'd actually barred the gate.
Grinding their teeth, they immediately reached for what they'd brought along.
On the off chance the front gate had been sealed, they had carried a relatively lightweight portable battering ram specifically to deal with it.
"We beat on two! Understood?!"
"Yes!"
"One — twoooo—!!"
Thud...!
They threw themselves at it again and again with the battering ram — but the doors shuddered slightly and refused to yield.
Half-hoping he was wrong, the vanguard leader approached and rapped lightly on the door at various points.
"Those little—...!"
"What is it, sir?"
"These miserable bastards have planked the inside of the front gate solid — completely sealed it off...!"
"......!!"
This was a setback.
The siege equipment they had brought was limited to this lightweight ram.
They hadn't come expecting a proper siege — which meant no ladders or ropes for scaling walls either.
"Son of a—! Now what?!"
"Wouldn't it be better to keep battering? Going all the way back to the main force at this point would take too much time..."
"I know that! But listen to the sound — they've packed it in thick...!"
"Tenacious little rats...!"
He thought it over for a moment — and then something clicked, and he slapped his knee.
Years of hard experience had finally given him the answer.
"Hey! Change the angle!"
"Rejoining the main force?"
"No! We target the hinge side of this damned door! Shift the ram about twenty degrees to the left! Now!"
"Ah — yes sir!"
They immediately angled the ram sideways and threw themselves at it again — and just as he'd figured, as the ram began striking the edge of the door rather than the center, the hinge side began to rattle and shift, little by little.
"Just a bit more! Keep at it! Even the sturdiest gate — the hinge side is surprisingly weak!"
"Yes sir — one, two!"
After battering at it for over thirty minutes, the solidly sealed gate began to shift in its frame — and finally the hinge on the battered side snapped free, and the whole door toppled sideways.
"We're through — charge!"
"Chargeee—!!"
They threw down the ram, drew their blades, and stormed through.
What greeted them inside was an empty training ground — and packed onto the rooftops of the nearby buildings and along the walls...
An obscene mass of grey pigeons.
"What? There's nobody here."
"Their people must all be holed up in the main keep..."
They did their best to ignore the pigeons and began advancing, scanning their surroundings — and then a figure appeared on the main keep's balcony.
"...! Who are you?!"
"What?! When did they get up there—?!"
"Come down this instant and surrender!"
The figure said nothing — just slipped a hand into their coat.
The hand rummaged around briefly, then swept outward in a wide arc, scattering something like fine grain over the mercenaries standing packed together in the training ground below.
"Wha?! What — what is this?!"
"This is... mixed grain...?"
The mercenaries registered that what had been thrown at them was nothing but ordinary grain — and their expressions soured.
Was this some kind of mockery?
"Hey! You there! Come down quietly and surrender — we won't get rough if you cooperate! Get down here now!"
They were so focused on the figure that they failed to notice it.
The instant the grain scattered — the eyes of the pigeons all around them had changed.
One by one, other pigeons from further away began fluttering in and settling nearby.
The figure drew out the other hand that had been hidden in the coat — and perched on it was a pigeon that could only be described as spectacularly obese.
"Coooo... GROO-GROO-GROO!"
"...Pigeons?"
The moment it let out what sounded almost like a shout — the entire flock exploded skyward at once, as if on a signal.
The mercenaries, realizing a beat too late that they had fallen into some kind of trap, set their jaws.
"Don't panic! They're pigeons at the end of the day! Form a circle! Shield bearers — shields up!"
"Yes sir!"
"Spearmen — spears raised!"
"Raised!"
The mercenaries snapped into formation with the ease of seasoned veterans — experience radiating from every movement.
"Stay sharp! Those pigeons might—hm?!"
Plop.
A mercenary felt something land on his helmet and, with a sinking feeling, reached up to touch it with a finger —
"These filthy little BIRDS—?!"
What had landed on his helmet was pigeon droppings.
Boiling with rage, he snapped his head up to find out which one of them had done it —
And his expression shifted from fury to horror.
"OH FOR—! Everyone scatter! SCATTER!!"
"What?! Why?!"
"UP! Look up! Oh hell — EVERYONE BREAK FORMATION NOW!!"
Those who hadn't understood yet looked up — and their faces fell.
Black.
The wretched pigeons had massed above them in a solid dark cloud, churning and circling overhead like a flock-shaped thunderstorm.
"Why are they doing that?"
"You still haven't figured it out?!"
One mercenary was still tilting his head in confusion — and the one who'd taken the dropping jabbed a finger at his own helmet, then pointed upward again.
The moment the finger pointed —
As if they'd been waiting for it, the bombardment began.
SPLATTER. SPLATTER-SPLATTER!
"Wh-WAAAAAAGH?!"
"These DISEASE-RIDDEN BIRDS—?!"
"Scatter!! SCATTER!!"
As they broke in every direction, the mercenaries did the mental math.
That clustered mass up there — a hundred, maybe two hundred birds at most.
Once they'd let loose in one go, there'd be nothing left to attack with.
But that hope was quickly betrayed.
The mercenary who had taken the first hit had been nervously watching the sky — and what he spotted made his face go white.
"You absolute sons of—...!!"
"What now—? ...!!! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!"
It looked like the Milky Way.
An enormous grey wave of pigeons was flowing in continuously from multiple directions across the city.
The ones that had finished releasing would scatter naturally in all directions — and a fresh wave immediately filled the gap.
"Find something to use as a roof! Block it! BLOCK IT—!!"
"YOU FILTHY BIRDS—!!"
The mercenaries with crossbows were furiously firing skyward in a blind rage, while the rest scattered desperately, searching for any overhang that might offer protection.
At that same moment.
The main force, which had begun moving at the sound of the vanguard making entry, had run into its own problem.
In front of the rear gate — a tiger demi-human in a training robe, arms folded, was standing there blocking the path. And he looked, even at a glance, considerably more formidable than anyone had imagined.
"Hey! Who are you?!"
"...Ho Maengseol. Martial artist. And a senior member of the organization that has seized this fortress."
"......!!"
The mercenaries swallowed.
Just standing there with his arms folded — and the hairs across every inch of their bodies were already standing up. The sheer pressure of it.
The man had clearly, unmistakably, reached the level of a Master.
In the end, the one who stepped forward with a tense expression was their commander — Barkdin.
"Why would someone of your caliber be involved with a small operation like this — or what seems like a gang? Are you the leader?"
"No. As I said — I'm a subordinate. A senior member, nothing more."
"......!!"
Barkdin's face twisted.
He was keeping someone who had reached the Master level as a subordinate?
Just what in the world was running this place?
"You're not about to tell us we have to defeat you to get through... are you?"
He floated it carefully — and Maengseol, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, planted his feet at shoulder width and stood squarely across the entrance, blocking it entirely.
"Unfortunately — that is exactly the situation. If you'd prefer not to be seriously hurt, turn around now and go home. As quickly as possible."
"That puts us in a very difficult position... we're not here on a private commission — this is a national contract. If we turn back now, the Mercenary Kingdom's credibility goes down in flames."
"...Truly unfortunate. I don't particularly enjoy pointless killing — but warriors who have come prepared to fight are another matter..."
He settled into his stance — and the pressure that radiated from that single motion alone was enough to make the air feel tight. Barkdin's expression curdled completely.
A Fist Master.
And one who had clearly reached a considerable depth within that realm.
Even in an all-out fight, he'd be knocked loose before a hundred exchanges at best.
In that case, there was only one option.
"This is a deeply embarrassing thing to say — but I'm asking you for a one-on-one duel...!"
"Hm...?"
"I am Barkdin Usiliска — commander of the Wolfscarz security force! In exchange for letting my men through, I'll stay here and fight you myself!"
Maengseol briefly closed his eyes and thought.
He had a bad feeling — that Kaftin had read exactly this situation and deliberately told him to hold one strong fighter in place.
Stopping all of them here was perfectly possible — but Kaftin had specifically said to pin down only the strongest one and let the rest through.
And thinking about what was waiting inside the fortress behind his back...
Maengseol let out a breath and gave a nod.
"Very well. I accept that duel. But — may I offer you two pieces of advice first?"
"...What are you going to say?"
"First — inside the fortress, there are senior members who may be weaker than me, but are considerably more savage. If you intend to enter regardless — only those prepared for a horrifying death should go in."
"What do you mean by—"
"Simply put — within this organization, I am by far the most moderate person. The others... my boss in particular... considers killing people a hobby. An art form, even."
"......!!"
He had suspected this wasn't an ordinary outfit — and sure enough.
Barkdin shook his head with a thoroughly exhausted expression.
"I'd heard the Maritime Kingdom had no shortage of strange criminals — but I didn't expect anything quite like this."
"And the second warning — the escape route will be cut off shortly. Anyone who intends to run should do so now. Immediately. As fast as possible."
"What...?!"
He flinched and looked behind him — but there was nothing to see. He turned back to Maengseol with a frown.
"What kind of nonsense is that?! Maengseol! If you're trying to intimidate us, it won't work. We may not look it, but we've—"
That was the moment.
With a thunderous blast, a pillar of flame erupted from the base of the junction connecting the royal capital's outer wall to the fortress wall — and the section collapsed entirely.
"Wh-WAAAAAAGH—?!"
"What — WHAT?!"
That section happened to be where the rear column was positioned — at least thirty mercenaries were hurled skyward and came crashing down onto the rubble of the collapsed wall. Dead on impact.
"Wh-what is this?! Maengseol! What have you done?! This is despicable—!"
"...That's why I warned you. Leave now, I said..."
"...Kgh...!!"
He finished speaking, slowly pushed the rear gate half-open, and gestured — a clear signal that the subordinates were free to enter.
—To be continued—