Volume 5, Chapter 7 – Shields
The 1/2 Final was cancelled due to: "The opponent left to visit his grandmother, who fell ill." Two questions here. How did he find out his grandmother felt bad? We're in the Middle Ages — magical means of communication belong to state structures. And second — why did he leave exactly at the moment of our duel?
It seems to me that the kind person who decided to inform him about his grandmother's health is Guya. It's infuriating — as is the fact that people are starting to think I eliminate my opponents on purpose to build a "tough guy" status, to the point where people are even afraid to start a fight.
And Cherubima has become my immortal snail. I go up the pyramid, then down, waiting for her to come back down, and go around the pyramid, climbing back up. It's starting to wear me out. But now, finally, the A-rank final is about to begin — and after it, I can enter the 21st S-rank division, where I need to beat at least five, at most nine, to reach the playoffs. And then 1/16 and so on to the 1/2 and the final.
And on another descent from the pyramid, I spotted Guya — and this time I couldn't let her pass. Though, remembering our last conversation, it's a bit scary. But looking back (literally), I see Cherubima, who clearly has stranger plans for me. Who knows what biblical ranks do with each other — they probably don't read the Bible and discuss how hard it was for the Cherubim to guard Eden.
I ran up to Guya.
"Hey. Care to explain what this tournament bracket cleanup is about?" — I pestered her.
"Oh..." — Guya smirked, watching my breathing from under her fringe. "You decided to talk to the psycho-mercenary-with-two-standards-cruel—"
"So what? Why are you doing this? I doubt the world wants to know about an IBR-A agent involved in—"
"Mouth!"
Guya walked up, pulling me by the ear toward her, and smiled for the public, looking into my eyes.
"You're a mortal boy. Maybe you forgot. Don't forget I don't believe you about all that nonsense. And you'll stay alive until I check all the taverns in Rekhilon," — she kneed me in the stomach and immediately elbowed my spine.
I collapsed to the ground, and Guya grabbed my hair, pulling me toward her.
"And you can play your little tournament as much as you want. But I won't let you die there. I'll deal with you myself," — she kissed my cheek for the public. "— (Into my ear) I. Will. Kill you. If your tongue says even a word about me. Hehe."
(I see... So this psycho just decided that only she gets to kill me. Why is yet another shield attaching itself to me? It's so... Insulting — even this... Guya tries to protect me from everyone just so she can deal with me herself.)
"You know... Cough... Screw you..." — I got up, holding my stomach.
Guya smiled at passersby and tried to swing a spinning punch at me — but before my face appeared a block made of... A Wing? (What? Lord... A new shield protecting me from another shield...)
(And who is this feathered one? Maybe I should at least punch him in the face.) I turned around — and the wing turned too. In the distance by the pyramid, Cherubima was jumping merrily, waving at me. (So... If it's not her, then who is this feathered one standing behind me, holding this wing?)
I spun sharply — and the wing spun too. (He's quick.) I lunged from the opposite side — the wing followed parallel to me. (Yeah, he clearly doesn't want to show himself...)
"I don't know what kind of magic this is, but you look like a cat right now," Guya concluded, rubbing her fist displeased.
"What?" — I grabbed the wing and tried to force out this new shield that keeps evading — but pulling felt like dragging a multi-ton slab, even though it felt quite pleasant to the touch. Soft feathers with sharp edges.
And it slowly disappeared.
"Did you see who it was?" I asked Guya. (Though that's probably strange after what happened a minute ago.)
"Are you an idiot? You have some kind of magical protection that appeared in the form of a bird's wing. Though I don't see magic in you. How did you do that?" — Guya asked in a displeased tone.
"Whaaaat? I'm an ordinary person. Do I look like an angel to you?" — I protested.
"An...gel? Who?" — Guya barely pronounced the word.
(They don't even have the concept of God with angels. Only Archons and Archmages.) But her words sound like nonsense. Why did a wing suddenly appear on me out of nowhere? Why didn't it appear when she was turning my legs to dust? Only when a scuffle appeared — a wing right in front of my face. Nonsense.
"Looks like someone used magic on me," I answered her thought that I have no magic.
(One hundred percent, Cherubima tried to prove to me that I'm the highest rank and cast something.)
Guya walked around me thoughtfully, feeling my back, ignoring my displeased comments. And started reasoning that if it's not my doing — and since she doesn't see magic in me, it's definitely someone else's — then there's a person following us.
(Though I'd argue. Before, I could turn on magic and was an Archon — but in this reality, that ability belongs to the Lady, and I'm an ordinary person.)
(I am a mage) — I believed.
Guya didn't react. (What else to say — that's just how it is. The toggle was passed on.)
The crowd of onlookers also decided to comment on the event in their own style — from "The Butcher is cheating at the tournament" to "The Butcher is becoming a bird."
(Neither of those is about me.) I just stand there while Guya audits my back, poking at pain points — which actually hurt, but why not, if she's going to help me make sure there are no wings in me. And then I'll go up to this Cherubima and make it clear she can read her pretentious scriptures as much as she wants, but she doesn't need to become my new shield.
"And how about..." — Guya giggled, crossing her arms behind her back and leaning toward me, looking at my face from below. "I... Hit you!"
"Stop. Wait. No—"
Guya wound up a three-hundred-sixty-degree swing, driving her fist down with a whistle of air. (I doubt I can block that strike...)
I stepped back, but Guya, like a hurricane, kept up the pressure, spinning into a vortex again and again, trying to smash my skull to pieces.
Backing away, I fell between Cherubima's legs, and she leaned down to look at me.
"Oh God... Is this really the highest rank — Seraphim? This is..." — she thought, simultaneously blocking Guya's strike with her wing. "This is so shameful and embarrassing to see this," — Cherubima pointed at me lying between her legs — "in this state and this position!"
"Uh-huh! So it's you... Though you also have no magic..." — Guya thought, feeling the wing. "Who are you? I don't remember you on the lists, girl."
"Can I get up?"
"NO! (MOUTH!)"
"And why are you groping me, girl? Extra fingers?" — Cherubima turned her wing, aiming the sharp feathers at Guya.
"And this little birdie talks too," — Guya quipped with a smile, leaning on the top of the wing and glancing at the Winged one. "Maybe you'll take off and go eat worms! Oh. You only have one little wing... " — Guya made a sad face, still hanging on the wing and pointing at the opposite side. "— Lost it... So sad..."
(I should probably just crawl away from them.) Cherubima squeezed her legs together, and Guya appeared at the exit. (How infuriating... I've literally become an object being passed around.)
"ALRIGHT! Feathered one, see you in fifty annual cycles!" — I shouted, trying to push her legs apart.
"Hey, Six-Winged. I do love Seraphims and their statute, but you look... Pale next to them. Why should I obey you?" — Cherubima muttered displeased, still arguing with Guya.
"You only got one wing — and... That's it? Aren't you ashamed to show your legs? And do you dare look at God?" — Cherubima continued, holding me like a vise.
"Guya... Maybe the hammer?" — I suggested.
Guya smiled, and the three-hundred-kilogram hammer flew to her at full speed.
"What? Stop-stop-stop!" — Cherubima panicked.
"Happy flying!" — Guya smiled and struck lightning-fast at the Winged one's side. "— What?" — Guya froze in shock, seeing the hammer hit the second wing.
(Good Lord... This is some farce... Fine, give me wings too so I can throw this Bird off me. Standing on all fours, squeezed by an Angel's thighs, looking at Guya with a hammer — is... Not very comfortable.)
Guya stood in a stupor, seeing that for the first time in her life she'd lost to someone. And to whom? A bird girl? Shame...
"You're under arrest for slave trading," Guya decided to change tactics.
"What? What?" — Cherubima and I in unison.
Guya crouched down, peering into my "house," while Cherubima covered her view with her wings. (I'm in hell... They're starting to take everything from me — even communication with people.)
"ENOUGH ALREADY, YOU DAMN FEATHERED ONE!" — I snapped, trying to throw her legs off — and as soon as I bit her knee, she jumped up. "— Sort it out between yourselves. If you want to kill me personally — kill her. And you, if you want... What do you even want from me? Whatever. If you want something from me — try not to kill her, and don't let her kill you. Sort it out, girls!"
(These breaks are starting to annoy me. They test me both physically and mentally.) I walked quickly away from Guya and Cherubima and finally exhaled — and as soon as I entered the pyramid, I was told... "The opponent is ill." (Exactly during the final, he decided to get sick.) And I received the A-rank winner title, and now the S-rank tournaments begin.
[Norn: Attention all participants. Leave the arena surface. Attention all participants.]
Guards on cheetahs walked around the pyramid, driving everyone off the blocks and cordoning off the area. And a moment later the pyramid screeched, and mages around it cast a collective spell — the whole structure unfolded like a flower in all directions. The blocks cast shadows over everything below, and spectators gathered in the stands. The stands looked like a stadium — only the number of seats decreased with each section, ending with one seat at the edges.
(Incredible... The warm-up is over — the fights begin, and the King himself will arrive to watch the 1/2 and the Final. But I'm in the 21st division — that means waiting for two hundred people to fight "king of the hill," and only then my turn... How long will my break be? A day? Two?)
I turned, pacing among the participants, wondering what to eat and where to sleep tonight. (Maybe...) I glanced at Guya and Cherubima. (I could try to stay at her place for the night. Of course, how would that look?)
"Hey, can I crash at the special service's place?" — I said aloud, confirming how absurd it sounded. (Do I have Stockholm syndrome by chance? Where am I going — she turned my legs to dust and tortured me.)
(Who's better? Guya? Pfft — a yandere, or whatever they call sadistic women who pursue one goal and also protect someone. I'm alive until she checks all the taverns in Rekhilon — but in any case, her husband is alive, I know. I personally pulled him out — well, in this reality, the Lady did. Could go to her...)
(Cherubima? A turquoise nun with a priest's speech? A girl who considers me worthless and beneath the highest rank and loves to insult me at every opportunity.)
(Definitely — Guya.)
(I won't even approach — she'll hear me anyway. And if she doesn't hear, what kind of agent is she?)
"Guya, I'm going to sleep in your tent," I said into the air — and passersby looked at me in surprise.
(The Butcher's completely lost it — talking to himself) (What can you do — the mind's going. Killing isn't for everyone) (Apparently the Butcher's already sunk — I'll go get my money back) (Agreed, shouldn't have bet on him)
(What? I feel like I'm the president of some huge company and any word of mine makes stocks twitch.)
(Sigh... I'm a little jealous of the Lady... No — I'm very jealous of her. First, she's next to all the officers. Second, she can bring so much to this world and become a pioneer. Invent a stock exchange, rockets to fly to the two moons, and so much more. And I have no knowledge even of how to make fabric — let alone tanks and satellites...)
(Enough going into myself. I'll just go to her tent, and whatever happens, happens. I don't want to die, but... I'm starting to give up, realizing that those I lived my whole life with in this world — even if it was just a couple of months — have forgotten me. I'm a stranger to this whole world... And every time someone tries to protect me, something inside me cracks, and I think... After a while, I'll break from the constant guardianship in any form... It's hard to realize that no one values you and they show it directly.)
(Guya removed half my opponents, protected me from the Syndicate, and she didn't believe I could handle it myself. Uyana... Sigh... Uyana... A smile appears on my face by itself — but she also protected me. Just she said it straight out. The officers did the same. And Cherubima is doing the exact same thing now...)
(Heh... Apparently, God was wrong about me. What willpower — I gave up... Standing in front of Guya's tent, I understand it's over.)
"I can't handle it," — I fell to my knees. "God... Why did you resurrect me? You should've left only them alive... But I... I... I... Can't be here. I want to drop everything and... And... Lie in bed for the rest of my life so everyone forgets me and leaves me alone..." — I bowed, pressing my face to the ground. "— I'm very grateful that you gave me so many chances. You translated me into this world. You resurrected Aviana when she... She... In the armored vehicle... I'm grateful that you resurrected them again when I just caught bullets. Ordinary bullets from a pistol. But I don't understand why?"
(The Butcher's done for. You can cross him out) (He's pathetic. And what's "God"?) (I think the tournament broke him. He's weak for it. He's always lucky! One opponent gets sick, another breaks his leg on a PEG! Dude! On a PEG!)
"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" — I shouted at him and instantly put the rapier to his eye. "Bitch, if you're so tough that you can judge — then hit me. Show me you stand by your words. Or are you a couch expert?"
"Easy. Easy. You looking for trouble?" — he answered.
(Ha-ha! Dude chickened out!) (Can't answer for his words. Loser!) (Kid, well since you said it — say it right to the Butcher's face. What's wrong?) ((Whisper) I don't recommend it. This fighter rose from B to S and cut down everyone in his path!) (So no wonder the commentators say "release the Kraken" and "the Butcher is coming to work" the moment he enters the arena) (Hey. They got paid) (So what — the point is the same: someone wanted them to say it) (True — and knowing Norn, he wouldn't agree so easily if he didn't like it)
"MOUTH!" — I shouted at all the onlookers. "You're all such rats. You —" I poked one onlooker's belly. "— You think it's cool to discuss people behind their backs? Or you — you just enjoy watching a person who could kill you and still saying something? If you're so brave — go drown yourselves! But leave me alone."
The crowd looked at me in fear.
"What rank are you?" — I exhaled.
(A) (A) (B) (B) (B) (B) (B) (F) (F) — total: about ten B, two A, and seven F.
"S," — a fan flew past me, cutting the ground like a ten-point earthquake.
All the onlookers quickly scrambled, searching for the source of the voice — and once they found it, they quickly parted, and some ran away.
It was a girl with fiery hair, her fringe curled like a wave, swept back — and at the sides above her ears, her hair streamed backward, freezing like vinyl on a machine in the shape of fire.
Her figure was clad in an outfit the color of hell, made of shining silk embroidered with intricate silver ornament. A shortened top with a deep neckline, laced crosswise, emphasized her athletic build. From her waist hung a central skirt panel, like a banner, adorned with intricate silver patterns resembling frost designs or ancient runes. Her legs were protected by high boots with silver metal plates, and her face was hidden by a thin black mask, leaving only penetrating eyes visible. The outfit seemed like a second skin, not restricting a single movement — and two huge steel fans, their razor-sharp edges glinting in the light, served as a deadly extension of her image.
(She's so... Undressed?! She looks deadly compared to this gallery.)
"And what does the S-rank need?"
The girl approached, making the crowd part with just her gaze. She walked slowly up to me and, unnoticed by me, shredded my shirt, turning it to dust.
"S-ranks these days aren't what they used to be. They cry, talk to the lowlifes, and act like upstarts," — she lightly slapped my cheek. "— Boy, whose are you? You look like a slave. Maybe shut your mouth and behave like a good boy?"
"Seems you've found yourself a master, if you're so bold," I snarled, watching her fiery eyes.
"Yeah, I have. Want to come to me, boy?"
"What? How old are you?"
"One hundred and thirty-two."
"You're old enough to be my grandmother."
"Boy, I'm inviting you to talk and meet my family. Maybe you'll want to become part of our family too."
"No. I don't want anyone to get attached to me and die because of me."
"That's part of any life," — she crouched, since she's taller than me. "— People protect their loved ones — that means they love each other. Wouldn't you protect someone precious to you?"
"I did — that's exactly why I don't want anyone to die because of me."
"Seems you have some trauma around this. But you have to live in the present and value friends and family — not 'dream' about their deaths because of you. That's at least selfish."
"Better selfish than losing my friends."
"You don't allow yourself to love."
"Love can be shown without saving someone from death."
"Seems you have a deep trauma... You're fixated. Come with me — maybe you'll like one of my brothers and sisters," — she poked my forehead. "— You don't have to get attached."
(She's the first who doesn't act like my "shield" — though it's too early to say. I'm sure in a day she'll be like those two "girlfriends" — the overprotection will kick in somehow. But right now she looks like... Guya the first time. Just an introduction — that's all. But...)
I stepped away from her.
"God... Please, let her not become my 'shield,'" — I tried to say in French — but I don't know it! (What the hell?! I spoke French my whole life, and now I speak Ruman — this... This... This is terrible! Did this attribute go to the Lady too???)
"Who are you talking to? Anyway, not my business. So — coming? Last chance. I assure you, you'll like the family," — she extended her hand and smiled, still in a half-crouch.
(But... Why did I decide that these new people would jump to protect me? I want to be closer to people, but... I'm so afraid... With my whole body I'm afraid they'll become protection for me. I've become completely certain this is a curse.)
"Let's... Try," — I let out that corner of my soul that wanted to communicate and meet people — it was a piece of 0.00000001 out of a billion. And it came out right now.
"Let's go," — she shook my hand, and we headed toward the family.