36

I waited for the pitiful group, hardly worthy of being called an army, that came charging straight at me from the front.

The leading heavy cavalryman kept widening the distance, not even checking behind him.

Now, depending on how I dealt with this group of about 500, I might need to change my overall strategy.

At present, the choices available were three, put simply—

1: Hold back and beat them up half-heartedly.

2: Go all out and massacre them.

3: Run away.

—those were the options.

Naturally, option three was out of the question.

Though it technically existed as an option, running would only result in me being treated as a “rare monster.”

Given the value of exploiting me, the deliciousness of my materials, and my rarity, it was clear I would be hunted relentlessly.

Retreating once to lower my perceived threat level might have short-term benefits, but in the long term, my intelligence would stand out as a threat, making it likely to backfire.

In other words, the option of “running away” held no meaning unless I intended never to interact with humans again.

So, what would happen if I chose the first option?

It was simple.

Once the army had been deployed, if it were annihilated through mere “playing around,” they would be compelled, for the sake of honor, to hunt me down at all costs.

As for the second option, the process might differ, but the outcome would be nearly the same.

A monster that could easily wipe out even a small force would be nothing less than a national threat.

There was no way they could leave such a thing unchecked, and the Kingdom of Canaan would, for the sake of national pride, send its forces to hunt me.

If I considered the possibility of dragging other nations into it, the second option would have even greater consequences than the first.

National pride, military pride—it was all just a huge nuisance.

(I had thought the army would come much later… what triggered their deployment?)

I could look for the cause later (not that I promised I would).

Watching a knight panic upon realizing the rear was no longer keeping up, I yawned and waited.

I had thought I would be able to play around with mercenaries for a while longer, but the army showing up this quickly was far beyond my expectations.

Though the exact number of regular soldiers was unclear, scattering them would undoubtedly hinder my activities in Canaan.

Specifically, carriage traffic would decrease.

If I suppressed this too much, the other side would get serious. Since I had no intention of completely crushing Canaan, I wasn’t motivated to go that far.

In short, I would have to voluntarily restrain my activities in Canaan.

Incidentally, I had no problem with either the army or the knights themselves.

(Still, I’ve become quite belligerent, haven’t I?)

Sitting and watching as the soldiers finally began to form up, I thought.

The mercenaries, moving in groups, tried to encircle me by clustering together and spreading to the sides, though some moved erratically.

“They’re a disorderly bunch.”

I muttered in exasperation, but then reminded myself—that was the nature of mercenaries. I decided to wait until their movements settled.

Upon rechecking the numbers, it seemed to be about 300 mercenaries and 250 soldiers.

(The large proportion of mercenaries shows they’re not really serious about this… but it’s such a borderline case it’s hard to judge.)

On my third yawn, the army in front finally began to move.

I stood up and lumbered forward.

All right, if they wanted me head-on, I’d oblige—only for their movements to slow down.

Perhaps because I was now close enough for them to clearly see my size, the soldiers in the front line appeared intimidated.

If the knights had charged, I had been willing to grant them the first strike, but instead they shouted orders, the initial momentum nowhere to be seen.

They loosed arrows at me as I pressed forward without stopping.

Naturally, I paid them no mind and continued advancing.

With a calm face, I walked through the rain of countless arrows.

Not a single one pierced me; they either fell to the ground or lodged there uselessly.

The distance kept closing, and a second volley was loosed.

With the same results, a knight on horseback shouted, and soldiers with arbalests stepped forward.

It seemed they intended to hold their fire until I was close enough. The crossbowmen leveled their weapons, awaiting the order to shoot.

The fact that they could wait for orders with me right in front of them showed they were decently trained, and their morale wasn’t low.

‘Now it depends on how the mercenaries move,’ I thought, when suddenly there was movement among them.

A single horse came charging from behind.

At the same time, distinctly different voices rang out in unison from among the mercenary ranks.

(Magic, huh! Let’s see how they plan to use it!)

Ignoring the crossbowmen ahead, I turned toward the approaching mercenary.

Immediately, bolts struck me from behind, but even an arbalest could only manage to scratch the hard surface of my back.

Cries of astonishment rose from the rear when the bolts failed to penetrate, but I had more pressing matters—the massive man wielding a halberd rushing at me.

(So, they’ll hit and run like a lance charge, then follow up with magic—that’s the plan?)

Predicting this, I grabbed the halberd in the giant’s hands, using brute force to stop his charge.

His horse neighed, and as he nearly toppled off, he abandoned the halberd, kicked his mount, and pulled away.

A moment later, countless spells rained down on me.

I made sure the horse escaped safely.

Fire, ice, stone, and lightning slammed into my body—but aside from the lightning, none hurt much.

Hot, cold… yes. But did they feel threatening? Unfortunately for them, no.

It seemed their mages weren’t of high caliber.

Now it was my turn to attack.

Just as I was about to step forward, the halberd vanished from my hand.

Then, cloaked in the dust thrown up by the magic’s impact, the giant man’s strike grazed my cheek.

I thought I had dodged in time, but I was a fraction too slow.

Though no blood flowed, there was indeed a wound.

Touching it with my tongue and tracing it with my finger, I determined the man’s weapon was a type of magic spear.

(I thought it would just be a simple rout, but it looks like they might actually be entertaining!)

Even when I shifted to offense, the man skillfully deflected and maintained distance.

His face showed surprise, but not despair—in fact, he was even smiling.

(As expected of a mercenary company. Battle maniacs appear one after another.)

Following the halberd-wielding man’s lead, more mercenaries charged.

If reinforcements joined now, it might become troublesome, so I decided to make the man before me leave the stage quickly.

That was my intention, but he seemed to have switched to stalling for time. He dodged my first strike brilliantly, and just when I thought I had him on the second, he pulled off acrobatics unbecoming of his giant frame to evade.

“Damn! That move looked cool!”

I even had the leisure to say, but with the leading mercenaries about to reach me, it was time for him to retire.

“Grahh!”

I gave a low roar and lunged at the giant with outstretched arms.

The countless arrows released at that moment bounced off me, and when the man leapt back to evade the first blow, I followed up with a left straight.

Though he blocked with his halberd, his half-plate armor shattered, and he rolled across the ground, motionless.

Shouts and screams filled the air as spells and arrows flew chaotically, finally giving the battlefield its proper atmosphere.

With the halberd man down, the first to close in was that stinking greatsword-wielder from before.

Apparently, he had overextended, so I would face him alone until the others caught up.

Facing me head-on, the greatsword bearer grinned.

“Yo.”

He spoke briefly, in words I could understand—worth ten points.

However, he was already at minus fifty.

When I growled low, “Grrr,” his vigilance peaked and he raised his guard.

(Still, with all these numbers, they should have just rushed me all together from the start… mercenary life must be tough.)

He dodged, deflected, and parried my incoming strikes from both sides, while waiting for a chance to counter.

I took arrows on my back, swatted spells out of the air with my fists, and pressed the attack.

Perhaps thanks to having fought me before, instead of turtling up, he focused on evasion.

The giant halberd user had been decent, but he failed to correctly gauge the gap in strength, and his metal armor hampered quick dodging, leading to his quick defeat.

With more mercenaries about to join, it was time to send this captain out of the fight too.

I stepped forward in a single stride, closed the gap, and backfisted him away.

Just as I prepared to step in further and strike again—something slammed into my raised left hand, forcing me to plant it hard against the ground.

The greatsword came swinging down at my face immediately after.

I kicked forward, both blocking and countering with a headbutt that sent him flying.

(That was magic!? I got careless, thinking their spells were all weak… no, they lulled me into lowering my guard before striking!)

That last hit had rattled me a little.

It barely caused damage, so its purpose was clearly to disrupt my movements with the shock.

Still, since it couldn’t have been a finishing blow, I generously offered praise to their combination.

(The one who cast that must be… probably that woman dressed like a stereotypical mage.)

I caught a glimpse of her—navy witch’s hat, robe-like dress—and marked her as a person of interest while continuing the fight.

She vanished from sight immediately after firing, blending back into the mercenaries.

Moving deliberately to avoid detection—quite the troublesome opponent.

The mercenaries surrounded me, some staying just outside my range while readying their weapons.

Their morale had risen after the recent exchange, and they seemed ready to keep fighting hard.

Unlike the mercenary bands that preferred to cling to me, this unit, led by the greatsword wielder, clearly learned from past fights and stuck to hit-and-run tactics.

It was a movement born of knowing they couldn’t win in a direct clash.

The confident ones still clung to me, and the clever ones maneuvered to avoid facing me head-on—but had they forgotten I had a tail?

Finding them clinging annoyingly, I swatted the mercenaries harassing me aside.

I parried the greatsword captain’s clean strikes, deflected arrows, and countered when gaps appeared.

This mercenary unit was highly coordinated: whenever I dealt with the captain, two or more would reliably attack from behind.

One was always used as bait for my tail.

Naturally, attacks also came from elsewhere, and I couldn’t deflect everything. The hits steadily piled up.

But the damage was nil.

Too few of their attacks could breach my defense, and the barrage from army and mercenaries alike only hindered their elites.

“Fire!”

Each time the order rang out, mercenaries would pull back—but the timing of volleys was poor, and their coordination failed.

Still, even knowing arrows were coming, I sensed someone charging at me from behind.

I could have used my tail, but instead, I whipped around, throwing a sweeping backfist low along the ground.

The strike cut the air as the attacker slipped inside its arc.

(They dodged that!?)

Startled by the unexpected angle of evasion, I involuntarily let out a “Gah!?”

It took nerve to pull that off—ah, it was that wild blonde beauty from before.

But her magic sword no longer worked on me.

“So, what now?”

I laughed—our eyes met.

She laughed too.

At that moment, she threw a half-transparent vial, and I leapt back.

As I landed, an enormous fireball, big enough to engulf even me, hurtled toward me.

“GRAAAHHH!”

I punched it head-on, brute-forcing its trajectory aside.

My fist burned slightly, but my body was unharmed.

She had done good work, keeping me wary this whole time.

The vial the blonde had thrown now hissed on the ground, spreading a foul stench.

Meanwhile, the troublesome mage had once again vanished from sight.

I grinned.

Then I leapt into the midst of the soldiers commanded by the knight, smashing them aside with my fists upon landing.

Blasting them away, I turned and charged the shouting heavy cavalry.

Until now, I had stood my ground to fight, but from here on, I would battle while moving.

In other words, the real fight started now.

I would hold back, but I could at least pray they didn’t die.