An Ordinary Recruit's Monster Life (WN)
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However, things that bothered me still bothered me.

The ones here were almost certainly from the Zesat clan, and there was no doubt that the one who had shot my hand earlier had used a magic bow.

A mere arrow should not have knocked the saber from my hand, and although it had not pierced through, the lingering shock and numbness even now testified to its power.

I licked the blood running across the back of my hand and pulled the saber out from where it had been stuck in the ground.

“Hey, hey… unless I’m imagining things, it sounded like something just talked, didn’t it?”

I would have preferred to let it pass as if nothing had happened, but that did not seem possible.

This captain apparently had a poor sense for reading the atmosphere.

He had placed himself between me and the old man who had carefully kept his distance—just how many times did this man intend to stand in my way?

“It is neither Canaan nor Einhel. Yet it does not seem to be Seizeria either. In that case, perhaps Furon, or even further south… but then why would it speak such a language instead of Canaan’s, which is encountered most frequently? Questions without end…”

The old man muttered, beginning his speculation after he had barely managed to escape with his life.

If he continued reasoning things out, he might uncover things I preferred to keep hidden, so it was best that intellectuals exited the stage early.

But I saw the trajectory of the second shot and reflexively swung my saber to cut it aside… and failed!

I had not been hit, but it was a little embarrassing.

As arrows continued to be fired in quick succession, I obediently chose to retreat.

Only the first two attacks had come from the magic bow; the rest were extremely sharp but ordinary arrows, suggesting it was not something that could fire repeatedly.

Now that I knew part of their hand, I thought I had regained some advantage, but my waist pouch had been shot through, and my means of recovery had disappeared.

What a loss.

“That thing scavenges the ruins of the old Empire and taught itself the Empire’s language. That is likely the reason.”

Said a single elf who then revealed himself.

(Two in the forest. One here with them.)

Facing the arrogant elf man who snorted irritably, I lowered the saber in my hand and looked down at him.

“A member of the Zesat clan?”

Since I was no longer covering my throat like before, there was no need to hide it any longer, so I spoke in the elven language.

A murmur spread around us, and the old mage’s eyes widened.

“As expected of the monster who calls the secret technique we treat as taboo mere ‘entertainment.’”

“So you no longer need to tamper with your throat?”

The man in front of me said provocatively.

Among those here, only the mage could understand the elven language, but from his reaction the others were beginning to sense that something unpleasant was being said.

Was the change in atmosphere due to the pressure emanating from the elf before me?

The air around him seemed to waver as if even the surrounding space were being distorted.

I realized it was not my imagination just before the first strike was unleashed.

It was a motion as though an invisible blade were slashing across my throat—by reflexively bending backward I avoided the attack, but I could not capture it through magical perception alone.

(Invisible!? A blade of wind or something like that!)

Because he was empty-handed I had assumed he would use magic, but I had not expected the battle to begin with close combat.

But at this distance, it was within my range.

I retaliated with a sweeping slash of the saber, and the elf man ducked.

For a moment I thought he would not evade it entirely, but as soon as he raised his arm the trajectory of the saber was deflected upward.

Another spell I did not know.

Still, surprise was no reason to stop attacking.

My counter ended in a miss, but I stepped forward and attempted a follow-up strike with my fist.

“How long do you intend to just watch!? Get into the fight already!”

The elf shouted, and the mercenaries moved forward.

All of them were sweating like waterfalls and gasping for breath.

Even so, they still slashed at me.

Realizing I had missed my chance, I dealt with the mercenaries rushing toward me while keeping my guard up against the spirit-sword wielder advancing in tandem.

Then the elf archer and the mage joined in as well.

Ordinary arrows could still be ignored.

The impact was certainly there, but the pain was negligible.

But with magic, one was always forced to find the correct response.

And this was the result of failing to do so.

“Daaah!”

I caught the captain’s spirited strike with my arm.

A visible blade of water and an invisible blade of wind from the elf mage.

Caught perfectly in that trap, I received a single cut on my leg, and with my defense delayed I ended up stopping the greatsword’s strike with my arm.

“So you finally took a hit, Argos!”

It was less a slash than a blow of sheer mass, and the definite pain and numbness ran through my left arm.

(If I try to knock it away like this… the strain on my arm will be too great!)

So instead I slid the greatsword aside as it pressed in.

The captain lost his footing and pitched forward.

Before my saber could descend toward his head as if drawn to it, a shot from the magic bow struck the back of my head.

“Gah—ha!”

The weapon slipped from my hand, and the shock forced the air from my lungs.

Now it was my turn to lose balance; I stepped forward to brace myself, but I saw a figure leaping toward me.

I raised my arm instinctively, but she narrowly evaded it.

Yet the middle finger that should have missed slid into the cleavage of her chest.

In other words, my finger slipped into the gap of her undergarment, lifting her up slightly.

She placed her foot on the back of my hand, her exposed chest swaying into view, but she cut her own undergarment and escaped.

Without even fixing her clothing, she glared at me while gasping for breath.

Unfortunately, I had no leisure to appreciate her chest at the moment.

Even after she withdrew, the battle continued.

Among everything, there was only one thing I truly needed to watch for.

I picked up the saber and caught the incoming strike.

“Surely you’re starting to miss the sharpness of this blade, aren’t you? Why not finally try getting cut by it, Argos?”

“I refuse.”

I answered in the Canaan Kingdom language and forcefully pushed the spirit sword back.

“So you speak our language too.”

The spirit-sword wielder spat before slashing at me again.

“Coordinate with me, Alberto!”

At the elf mage’s shout, I instinctively turned toward him.

Chains of water wrapped around my arm.

I tore them apart with brute force, but the chains immediately reformed, stealing the freedom of my right arm holding the saber.

The spirit-sword wielder called Alberto was running toward me.

Meanwhile a greatsword, a great axe, and a warhammer slammed into my body.

The impacts were far from small, and I was likely bleeding.

But all I had to do was endure that one thing.

An arrow flew toward my arm to knock my weapon away, but I ignored it.

Still, I made it in time.

The saber I had switched to my left hand was descending toward the spirit sword—

—and suddenly a shock ran through the back of my knee, and my left leg buckled.

Simply put, it was a childish “knee buckling” trick, but the result left me in a posture as though offering my neck.

Ahead of my gaze stood the old mage holding a shabby staff.

The moment I thought, “I’ve been had,” I released the saber and fell onto my back solely to evade the strike.

At the same time, I made the decision to fight with my full strength in the truest sense.

Ordinarily, once one’s back touched the ground in this situation, fatal follow-up attacks would be unavoidable.

Even so, I chose it, and the spirit sword swung exactly as intended cut through empty air.

“Huh… wait, where did he dis—”

Still holding the spirit sword, Alberto looked around after losing sight of his target, but before he could finish speaking, my kick struck him while I was still lying down.

“Guh—ha!”

The blown-away Alberto was caught by one of the captain’s companions.

I stood up and canceled my camouflage ability.

As I tried to pull away the water chains wrapped around my arm, the elf mage dispelled the spell.

I let out a sigh and declared in the Canaan Kingdom language:

“I shall praise you with a ‘well done.’ And I apologize. I underestimated you. From here on, I fight at full power.”

I spread my hands and used the camouflage ability once again before them, who still could not fully grasp the situation.

“You can make your body disappear?”

The captain’s voice trembled slightly, but the others were probably the same.

I brushed away the bloodstains and dirt here and there on my body.

My wounds seemed to have closed as well, which was fortunate.

The tail that could reach every corner of my back was useful even at times like this.

“Indeed. Let me say this in advance: I would resent being thought to have been holding back. Concealing one’s hand is the most basic of fundamentals. But take pride—you forced me to reveal this card.”

I had somehow begun acting like an overconfident powerful foe, but it was not such a bad feeling.

If I lost after this it would be beyond embarrassing, but now that I had chosen to use it, I would not even struggle.

There was nothing to be done about detection through magic power, but at best they might manage to dirty me somehow—and even if part of an invisible monster that was a weapon from head to toe became visible, it would hardly change anything.

Naturally I remained wary of the elf’s magic, and I would not make the mistake of letting them see the movement of my arms or legs.

All that remained was to take care not to make loud noises.

At that point, perhaps displeased with my words, the captain stepped forward.

“Don’t screw with us! We came here ready to risk our lives to kill you! And you—”

“Jump back!”

At the elf’s warning, the captain was blown backward.

How was the taste of a surprise attack from straight ahead?

“You shouldn’t have the leisure to talk…”

That single exasperated remark probably gave away my position.

Yet no one moved.

Perhaps their hearts had broken before their bodies.

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