15

Well, I knew it would come to this.

I mean, come on—these guys hadn’t upgraded their equipment in 200 years.

They’d got attack power seemingly meant for anti-tank warfare, and defense power that looked like it was designed to withstand bullets—yet they’re fighting me almost without magic? That’s nothing short of suicidal.

Their power was on a completely different level, and they had the kind of sturdy bodies that could withstand that full power. Their stamina, of course, was far beyond that of a human.

Given all that, this result was only natural.

About ten minutes into the battle—the simple summary was that I was “unscathed.”

The crossbow bolts bounced off my skin without piercing it, swords that should have slashed me break instead, and spears that thrust at me snap in two.

They quickly realized that “cheap weapons won’t cut it,” and only those with weapons that wouldn’t break attacking me keep fighting. That’s a good move.

In fact, I’d say this captain was competent for being able to make that call right away.

But… having the front-line members drop to just fifteen was a bit of a problem.

The rest of the mercenaries, who’d switched to support roles, had nothing to do and were giving off a painfully awkward vibe.

(They should really invest in better gear. And seriously, with so few mages, why are they getting winded so quickly? I know magic isn’t something you can just spam endlessly, but if that’s the case, at least bring more of them.)

Thinking that, I swatted away a man with an axe who tried to get behind me using my tail.

For reference, only about eight were incapacitated so far, so my holding back was working out well enough.

Since this was just combat training, I couldn’t have them dropping out too soon.

It might look like I was being overly relaxed, but there was a good reason for it.

It’s because of the weapons’ performance.

Aside from the greatsword wielded by the captain—who was always at the front and giving orders—none of the other weapons were worth worrying about.

And ability-wise, he’s the only one who could actually be considered dangerous. Honestly, it was worrying how much this mercenary band seemed to depend on their leader.

The members were shouting something, but with my language skills, I couldn’t quite catch it when they spoke so fast.

I could pick up bits and pieces, but if I focused on that, the captain would take advantage of an opening to attack.

That greatsword of his was a slab of iron about 1.5 meters long.

I was not stupid—or even human—enough to just take that blow head-on.

I deflected his strikes with my fists, or forcefully altered their trajectory to avoid damage entirely. And yet, there’s no sign of the weapon breaking—not even a single crack.

(This is definitely a magic sword.)

It’s probably one of those types that “hardened” and balanced durability with destructive power.

If you wanted to cut me down, you’d probably need a diamond cutter, so in terms of compatibility, it’s likely the ideal weapon.

I kept dodging his strikes, fending off the sporadic attacks from the others, while checking each mercenary’s weapon and skill level.

(I was expecting at least a gun or two…)

So what was all my caution up to this point for?

Now that the biggest threat I was worried about wasn’t even here, this place was basically my training ground.

Early in the fight, my caution got the better of me and I accidentally killed one guy, but since I’d had room to hold back, no one else has died.

Even so, defending against coordinated attacks was good training.

My movements have gotten much sharper, so this training should prove very beneficial.

I tried out ideas I picked up from manga, refining my own style as I went.

By now, the mercenaries must have realized—

—that this wasn’t really a “fight” at all.

“Haaaah!”

Suddenly, to break through the tense atmosphere, a wild, scantily-clad blonde beauty rushes in from behind, shouting.

“Annie!”

That must be her name.

Judging by the captain’s harsh tone, she probably charged in without orders.

Maybe her goal was to boost morale with a sudden offensive, but unfortunately, I was not about to let such a simple attack through.

I whip my tail for the fastest strike yet in this fight, while deflecting the hand axe she throws with my left fist.

But she slipped right under my horizontal swing.

The shock nearly made me say, “No way!” out loud.

She was suddenly right next to me—and her next move was to pull out a crossbow.

Her target was clearly my eye.

(If it doesn’t work from range, try point-blank, huh?)

It’s not impossible that it could work, but it’s bold to take such a risk.

What I thought was just excessive exposure is actually her greatest weapon: her light gear and agility.

I underestimated her.

When she extended her arm and pulled the trigger, she probably thought she had me dead to rights.

But too bad for her.

Her make-or-break shot was stopped by my teeth.

I bit down hard enough for the arrowhead to deform, spit out the mangled metal, and grabbed her with my left hand.

Ignoring the angry shouts from around us, I noted that her waist was nicely slim—easy to hold in one hand.

She tried to pull away, but the difference in strength was too great.

She looked like she was in her mid-to-late twenties, and while I didn’t like killing pretty women, I decide to just toss her back to the rear lines—

—but she slipped free.

Something slick and soft brushed my fingers, and suddenly she was standing on the ground again.

Instead of going up, she slipped down.

In my hand were some liquid, her jacket, and a tied piece of cloth—while she now stood bare-chested, drawing a scimitar.

(That’s a No. 5 if I’ve ever seen one!)

I was surprised, but there’s no time to dwell on the order of my thoughts.

More importantly, her scimitar was wreathed in a faint flame the moment she drew it—a magic sword.

Naturally, at this range, she attacked right away.

The other mercenaries moved in to support her.

From the front, the most dangerous greatsword approached; from behind, likely a greataxe; from the right, a huge man with a warhammer.

Jumping away would be easy.

(But I’ll take it head-on!)

This was a chance she risked her life to create—it would be rude to waste it.

Also, ending the training here would feel wrong.

Since I couldn’t take the captain’s blow directly, I prioritized dealing with him first.

I smashed the side of his greatsword with a left hook, sending both weapon and wielder flying to the right.

I handle the rear attack with my tail—striking the axeman right in the side as he raises his weapon, sending him spinning away.

The warhammer? I just caught it in my right hand.

Even a big blunt weapon is still human-sized—easy for me to grab.

And in terms of strength, I’ve got the clear advantage.

There’s no way I could lose from here.

I dealt with all three attacks at once—but one still got through.

A swift strike that slips past my defenses.

I was cut—right across the side.

But the difference in ability was cruel.

Not a single mark remains on my body.

(Well, yeah, it was a little hot and stung for a second.)

Realizing her comrades’ effort didn’t pay off, she turned for a reckless second strike.

Watching her chest bounce wildly as she pivoted, I flicked her on the forehead before she could follow through.

She stumbled back onto her butt, frowning in confusion.

I tossed her jacket and the cloth she had wrapped around her chest back to her, and shoved the warhammer—along with its wielder—away.

Most of the mercenaries had lost the will to fight.

That magic sword strike—it must have been their last hope.

When it failed, she went for that reckless follow-up.

(Any more and this wouldn’t be training—it’d be a hunt. I misjudged.)

I pointed at the strongest man in the group—the captain.

It seemed he got the message, because he shouted something and the mercenaries, all but one, backed off.

The exception was, of course, Annie—the topless blonde—who’s now arguing furiously with the captain.

I want to say, “Put some clothes on,” but it’d just come out as “Grr grr,” so I don’t.

And with everyone staring in one place, it’s not the time for that—though, was I the only one actually staring?

I kept watching her for a bit, but eventually she started getting dressed, and I looked away.

The captain looked up at the sky, exhaled deeply, and met my eyes.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” or something like that, he said, raising his sword overhead.

Looks like he wanted to finish this in a single blow.

This straightforwardness… was this what they called “seasoned steel”?

He’s not exactly clean, but maybe this was what “a man of the battlefield” was supposed to be.

In that case, it’s only polite to respond in kind.

For the first time in this training, I took a stance.

I lowered my body, pulled my right leg back, and placed both hands on the ground.

We glared at each other from about five meters apart.

With everyone holding their breath, I thought about how to end this fight.

(I guess this is the only way to do it.)

I’ve decided.

So I moved to finish it.

I kicked off the ground, closing the distance at once. The captain reacted instantly, swinging his sword down.

But I accelerated even more, grabbing his hand before the sword could fall.

I lifted him up, but he wrenched his right hand free and reached for the dagger at his waist—only to find he couldn’t draw it with broken fingers.

His feet dangled in the air.

I opened my mouth wide.

In that moment, he must have realized it was the end.

He looked around at his men and gave a short, final order: “Live.”

Some of the mercenaries shouted.

And I—bite his head. Lightly.

Then I spat him out, gagging in disgust.

The man lay on the ground, dripping with saliva, looking confused—but I ignored him.

If I was going to bite anyone, I’d much rather it be the wild blonde—specifically, around the chest area.

But in this situation, he was the only option.

Groaning as I pushed through the mercenaries’ lines, I made my way out.

No one followed.

They must all be stunned.

It’s not elegant, but I wanted to make it look like I “fled.”

It might be a bit soft-hearted, but after getting some training and a good show, I could at least spare their lives.

And, truthfully, I did have some pride as an Imperial soldier—I couldn’t stand bullying the weak.

An Imperial soldier should be noble, after all.

Running over people with swords and spears in a tank wasn’t a fight—it’s a one-sided massacre.

Besides, if I caused a bloodbath here, it might make things harder when investigating the Kingdom of Canaan.

Better to control the level of alarm I’ve raised—that’s just good strategy. Learned that from manga, too.

Well, I’d let the captain take the fall for this.

Considering he only got covered in saliva in exchange for his and his men’s lives, I’d say it’s a good deal.

Still… my mouth felt gross. I really wanted to rinse it out with water.