37

It was fine that my attack had begun, but a problem immediately arose.

“Gyaaaaaah!”

“Stop!—Don’t come any closer!”

As you can see, total chaos.

The words I could hear were simple ones, and I understood about eighty percent, which was helpful, but soldiers were fleeing without resistance, and some even died when trampled by their own comrades.

I had thought their morale was high, but now it seemed they hadn’t been given accurate information.

The knights’ command was poor, and the army was nearly in full rout.

By rampaging within their ranks, I had completely collapsed one section of the battlefield.

Men had already begun abandoning their allies to flee, and if this had been a real war, the outcome would have been decided.

When one of the deserters shouted, “We weren’t told about this! (paraphrase),” it confirmed my suspicion.

Well, it wasn’t as though common soldiers could do anything against someone like me.

The simple truth was that they should come back after equipping themselves with modern weaponry.

“Graaaah!”

I roared exaggeratedly, swung my arms around, and swept soldiers aside—leaping, then sweeping them again in another spot.

Though I held back so they wouldn’t die, my arms were a bit too large for my body.

The violence of mass and speed was cruel; even if every soldier within my arm’s reach raised their shields, they were still all blown into the air together.

“Retreat! Pull back! Reform the line!”

From horseback, a knight shouted what was probably something like that—but what did he intend to accomplish by reforming the line?

“Damn mercenaries!—!”

I didn’t catch the rest, but it was probably an insult.

“How about you fight too?” I taunted, stepping toward him. A middle-aged knight with a scruffy mustache looked up at me with a ridiculous expression.

Immediately after, I heard the sound of one mounted knight charging my way.

“Lord Martis! I have come to aid you!”

“Oh, Lord Casangra! I am grateful!”

That was roughly the meaning of their overdramatic exchange, accompanied by flamboyant gestures.

(This isn’t a theater performance. Take it seriously.)

Were the Kingdom of Canaan’s nobles truly such hopeless fools?

I smashed aside the charging knight, lance and all, and with my tail struck down the other at the same time.

The remaining knight shouted to stop the fleeing soldiers, but of course it was futile.

Having probably blown away about half their number, I switched my target to the mercenaries.

Ignoring the elites who had been fighting me, I charged into the mass of mercenaries.

Naturally, they had no way to stop me, and were sent flying.

I knew very well that this was the worst possible thing for them—striking the weaker ones.

It took both time and money to raise soldiers.

Losing trained men inflicted a heavy blow.

Considering the morale of their unit and their future operations, there was only one action they should take.

Unlike lords or kings who thought soldiers could simply be “grown in fields,” mercenary companies could not continue their business if they didn’t avoid losses.

Because I knew that, I rampaged through their groups without mercy.

Then, as the elites who had faced me before returned, I suddenly turned toward them.

Forming a line, the strong ones prepared to face my charge.

(Last time they fought by surrounding me—let’s see how they handle this approach.)

At the front was that greatsword-wielding captain.

My sudden charge made the group falter for an instant, but they split into two: one to intercept me head-on, and the other to strike while slipping past without losing momentum.

The captain took the expected action, but since I was moving at high speed, I had no intention of colliding directly with his greatsword.

Sliding sideways, he swung his massive blade, but I leapt lightly, avoided it, and smacked him with my tail as we passed, sending him flying.

Upon landing, I struck at the next group and plowed into the intercepting unit without losing momentum.

Suddenly, a wall of earth rose before me.

I shattered the wall, taller than I was, with a shoulder tackle and burst through, barreling past mercenaries whose faces froze in shock.

Then I skidded to a halt, spun around 180 degrees, and dropped to all fours.

The mercenaries thought I had passed by, only to realize I was already bearing down on them again—a nightmare for them.

I launched follow-up attacks, striking down the survivors.

They were blown away when my arm hit them.

Even if they blocked, they were sent flying through the air.

Those struck by my tail were knocked far aside.

It was nothing but slaughter.

Before I knew it, no one around me remained standing.

The only ones unharmed were soldiers and mercenaries watching from a distance, their will to fight completely gone.

(It’s over. I held back, so the dead should be few… but those who did die were simply unlucky.)

Just as I turned to leave—a voice rang out.

Recognizing it as a spell incantation, I immediately looked back.

A stone spear, twice the size of my fist and sharpened to a point, spun at high speed as it hurtled toward me.

“Graah!”

With a full-powered backfist, I deflected it off course.

Its mass and speed had been impressive.

And that rotation.

If it had hit directly, it wouldn’t have ended well.

The sensation lingered in my fist.

To have hidden and waited for the chance, even in this situation—she was quite the mage.

(Yeah… “The moment you think you’ve won is the most dangerous”—guess manga wisdom is pretty accurate after all.)

The female mage who had unleashed that final strike collapsed where she stood.

It seemed that had been an all-out blow using up her remaining power.

I lumbered over to her.

Since her large witch hat hid her face, I thought I might at least take a look at it.

But as I drew near, the staff in her hand suddenly flared with a pale blue light, slashing toward me.

(A Light Blade!? I kind of want that, actually!)

I barely arched my body back in time to avoid the horizontal slash, knocked her staff away with my tail, and grabbed her.

She had a slender waist and a large chest—a most impressive figure.

I held her firmly, careful not to hurt her, but tight enough that she couldn’t escape.

Every time she struggled, her large breasts bounced against my fingers.

Though I wanted to enjoy the sensation for a while, first I needed to see her face.

When I raised her up, she wriggled as if trying to lift herself free, leaving her dress robe behind and exposing her full chest.

Watching her ample breasts sway with each struggle, I suddenly remembered.

(That chest looks familiar… ah, it’s that “Boobs Lady” from the ogre incident.)

I checked her face just to be sure, and she was indeed beautiful, but I couldn’t match face to breasts.

“—! —!”

As expected, I didn’t understand her words.

Judging from the fact that she spoke the Seizeria language, she really was that same woman.

Which meant she had come all the way to the Kingdom of Canaan to reclaim that magic sword.

(Ah, so it really was a valuable item…)

As repayment for saving her life, that magic potion had already been more than enough.

In fact, thanks to that potion, I had survived.

“Can’t be helped.”

I growled, and carrying the struggling woman, I lumbered back toward my belongings.

Each step made her chest jiggle.

Each attempt to break free pressed her breasts against my fingers.

Truly, a marvelous possession.

Then I noticed the others, frozen and unable to move, watching.

Though their mage was about to be taken, none tried to act. In fact, their expressions almost said, “If one sacrifice is enough, so be it.”

Snorting at the sight, I turned my back on them, no longer interested.

Realizing escape was impossible, the woman beat at my fingers, but it was painless, almost cute, so I ignored it.

Her breasts remained exposed, which raised her favorability points.

Now, though she spoke again, I couldn’t understand her, so I ignored it.

I regretted ignoring such a beauty, but hoped she’d forgive me.

I reached my belongings, set her gently on the ground, and she said something to me, clearly confused.

I removed the magic sword from my pack and held it before her.

She stared at it with disbelief, then turned sharply to me.

I nodded, set the sword down, slung my pack onto my back, and trudged away.

Since a carriage had remained, not fleeing, there should be no problem returning.

“—!”

Her voice called from behind me.

It sounded as though she were calling out to me, but turning back would have ruined the mood.

(Or… maybe one more look at those breasts wouldn’t hurt!?)

I thought about it, but reasoned that she had probably fixed her clothes by now, and so I ran on.

That ended my connection with the “Boobs Lady.”

I felt a little sad, but I still had my mission of observing the elves.

In any case, my activities in Canaan were now limited.

So then—what should be my next target?