Chapter Thirty-Five—Sword Skills of an Isekai

Haydaru gestured toward Shiro’s bag slung at his side. “Let’s have it.”

Reflexively, Shiro moved the bag further behind his hip.

Oh, Jessamine said. Aren’t you protective? How sweet.

“Hush.”

Haydaru tilted his head slightly. “You tell me to be silent when I have your friend?” He gestures with his sword. “Look at my men, you fool. Do you really want to fight us?”

“I—I didn’t mean—“

“No,” Haydaru cut him off sharply. “You didn’t. Now throw the bag here, or we bleed this goat lover.”

Ali looked up at Haydaru with a frown, but he said nothing. Would Shiro attempt to save Ali? He had abandoned him, like a coward, and what’s more, he snitched Shiro out to these headsmen.

Oh please, Jessamine conveyed to Shiro. He’s going to kill you as soon as he has your bag.

Shiro wasn’t sure what to do. He had no intention of surrendering the lamp. This was the loot he needed—that piece of legendary loot he had been searching for to correct all his problems.

Hey! I’m not loot!

“I’m—“ Shiro broke off. Then inside his head he thought, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to think of you like that.

Surely… Jessamine conveyed in a drawl-like manner.

“Have you gone stupid?” Haydaru asked, his eyes narrowing. “Has the sun cooked your brain? Speak!”

Shiro glanced toward Ali and he thought the man gave him a very subtle nod. What did that mean? Well, he wasn’t going to give Haydaru the lamp in any event, and he wasn’t going to sacrifice himself to save Ali—though Shiro would save him if he could.

Instead of answering, Shiro sighed and unsheathed his sword. Haydaru scoffed. “This fool wants to fight? Fine, let us fight. Kill the goat lover, then kill—“

Suddenly the man holding Ali hostage grunted as Ali performed a maneuver that disarmed him, then sunk his teeth into the man’s wrist. Ali snatched up the dagger and then jumped in Shiro’s direction and rolled in the sand. He spun to face their attackers.

“KILL THEM NOW!” Haydaru commanded.

The five men drew their scimitars and spread out. “So,” Ali said, “I have the three on the right and you the three on the left?”

Oh please. As if you could only take three of these louts with me in your possession. This should be fun to watch.

“Hai!” Shiro said, and moved in to defend himself from the three attackers on his side. One man came in with an overhead attack, grunting with the force of his swing. Shiro dodged the attack and cut the headsman’s hand off with his katana, moved in and spun a circle around the man’s back before he even cried out and slashed his second opponent from behind with a downward thrust, then came back up with his blade for an upward slash at Haydaru, but the headsman angled his blade and parried the slice, then rolled out of Shiro’s reach.

What had just happened only took a moment, but to Shiro had felt like these men were lax—as if they hadn’t picked up a sword in ten years, their bodies stiff and lethargic.

The first two men fell to the sand with screams of agony. Haydaru glanced down at them, then back up at Shiro in alarm.

How did I just do that? Shiro wondered.

Wow, Jessamine conveyed. Not bad, Adventurer.

“Thank you.”

“WHAT?” Haydaru yelled at him.

Shiro advanced.

“Wait! Stop!” Haydaru shouted, putting a palm forward.

Shiro held still, Ali and his three opponents still grunting as they chased him about with their swords while he defended himself wildly with the dagger he had stolen. It befitted him. Ali was a roguish type after all.

“Call off your men,” Shiro commanded.

“Okay! Okay! I will do as you say!” He turned and bellowed, “STOP! Leave the goat lover alone!”

They obeyed.

“Now leave,” Shiro said, pointing toward the desert.

Without further words, Haydaru nodded stiffly. “Come!” he said to his men. They took their wounded, saddled their camels and departed with haste, one man sent behind to fill up a dozen water skins tied to a long stick. He moved quickly, seemingly afraid that Shiro would change his mind and cut him down.

You took to my sword magic quite well, Shiro.

“Thank you,” he said.

Ali frowned. “Who are you talking to?”

“Me.”

Ali whirled, saw Jessamine. “By the gods! You—you’re the jinni!” he said, pointing at her. It wasn’t but a moment later that he dragged his eyes across her body.

She smirked, her eyebrow raised skeptically. “And you’re the scoundrel.”

“What? I’m no scoundrel!”

She looked at him like he was holding a bag full of gold and saying he had found it on the side of the road.

“In any event,” Shiro said, “we should leave this oasis. Go back to Atoulia.”

“Yes!” Ali said. “We’re rich now.”

Jessamine leaned on her hip, her posture unmoving as she stood still with an expectant look on her face.

“What is wrong?” Shiro asked.

“I’m just not sure we should travel with your friend here,” she said, gesturing toward Ali with her palm, “considering that he betrayed you, Shiro.”