What the hell. What the hell, what the hell, what the hell. What is UP with that guy?

A thousand and one questions, all of which meant essentially the same thing, ran through Reynald’s head, taking his attention away from Ebstrea and Charlotte.

“Reynald?”

He knew about Caesar… is he just like us? But he’s a monster…

“Reynald, are you still with us? Earth to Reynald…”

And he’s got a blessing, too, but then he should be serving Lady Luciel, right?

“What ails thee, wielder o’ the god-sword? Feels thou unwell?”

No, what if he used to serve her, but stopped doing that?

This was a conclusion Ebstrea had earlier taken for granted, hence her question “why did you betray Lady Luciel”, but Reynald, for better or worse, did not seem to have heard her ask that.

“Ah, Miss Charlotte, leave this to me.”

But why—

“Ghhak!”

Reynald got a mouthful of dirt as his face made contact with the ground, prompted by a sudden impact to his back. With a smooth movement, he got back onto his feet to see Ebstrea lowering her leg.

“What was that for?!” he asked, looking at the culprit with half-lidded eyes.

“Well, I mean, you were spacing out, so…”

Slightly closed, upturned eyes, her head tilted to the side, her arms pulled in to make her look as small as possible—whether she was doing it on purpose or not, she truly looked the embodiment of innocence.

C-cute… So cute I could just—no, no! Pure thoughts, pure thoughts!

Reynald shook his head.

“Ah, that so? Sorry.” With an awkward smirk, he rubbed the back of his head.

“So, what were you thinking about?”

With Reynald out of his pondering daze, the trio was once more moving, slowly but surely making their way to the elven capital. Although Reynald and Ebstrea were side-by-side, Charlotte was in charge of guiding the group, so she lead the way, a couple of metres ahead.

“Ah, y’know, that guy,” Reynald said, clearly trying—and failing—to act nonchalant.

“Ahh. The demon lord, right?”

“Yup. Ah, speaking of, what do you think of the guy?”

“Well, he’s more suited to his role than His Majesty, if nothing else.”

The Heroes couldn’t help but laugh as the image of Cecilios sitting on his throne and bellowing orders.

“The king o’ the Astal Kingdom, is it?”

Reynald could barely prevent himself from jumping a metre in the air at Charlotte’s voice, which had suddenly come from behind him.

“ ‘T has been a spell since I was last in th’ hum’n territ’ries, excl’ding our exc’rsion to Gramrock. Is the pres’nt king as much a spineless fool as the pred’cessors I r’call?” Her face, despite her venomous words, reflected nothing but innocent curiosity, and though her tone was a little… patronising, almost, it did not sound maliciously so.

Is this… Is she making small talk?

“Well,” Reynald said, “he’s not spineless, so much as he’s just… I guess I’d call him stupid and stubborn?”

“C’mon, Reynald, you’re leaving out the most important part!” Ebstrea said, “he’s fat like a pig!” Her bright, innocent smile, despite her absolutely horrible words, was…

Cute. How can one person be this cute? This has gotta be illegal or something.

“I see,” Charlotte said, nodding to herself. “Then, not a spineless fool, but a wilful one… Ver’ly, you humans are d’serving o’ pity, all ye.”

You might be speaking from the goodness of your heart, but that still hurts, you know.

Reynald tried his best not to let that feeling show on his face, but he was interrupted in that endeavour by an arrow whizzing past, not two centimetres from his face.

“Ah. ‘T seems we have reached the cap’tal city o’ the elves. Wait here a moment.” Before Reynald could get a word out, Charlotte had gone ahead to speak with the elf aiming their bow at the trio.

What’s with the way these people are looking at us?

In a practically alien capital, one would have expected Reynal to focus, perhaps, on the unfamiliar architecture, the gorgeous trees or even the elves’ beauty.

But he couldn’t bring himself to look at any of that. His attention was stolen away by the expressions on the elves’ faces.

Given they’re elves, I was expecting haughtiness or a sense of calm, not…

Fear.

Indeed, the only emotion that could be felt from the elves was abject fear, and maybe a hint of dread. It was not at all directed towards the two Heroes, though—if anything, there seemed to be very few elves who noticed them at all—no, it was a fear of the mighty lady of the shadows, and the Heroes were simply caught in the area of effect.

“Hey, Ebstrea…”

Reynald didn’t dare speak out loud, so he whispered to his companion, instead, so quietly that even she couldn’t hear him and he was forced to repeat himself.

“Wh-what is it, Reynald?” she responded at a similar volume.

“What’s up with these people? Elves are supposed to be a proud race, aren’t they?”

“Thinking about fantasy again, are you… The elves in this world are more laid-back than they’re particularly prideful.”

“I wouldn’t call this atmosphere laid-back, either, though.”

“Well, that’s true… Um, a-aren’t they just afraid of the vampire?”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure that’s it, yeah, but that’s exactly what I mean. The hell’d that guy do here?”

The Heroes’ hushed conversation was interrupted by a brief cough from Charlotte, who had once again gone from ‘several metres in front’ to ‘right behind’ without going through the transitory stages.

“I do b’lieve ‘tis gen’rally considered poor mann’rs t’ whisp’r in comp’ny, no?” she said, raising a finger in the air. “Though I must c’nfess t’ be guilty of eavesdropping.”

From that distance?!

“ ‘Tis my b’lief that you are misattributing some o’ the appr’hension in the elves. ‘Tis not all M’lord’s doing.”

So some of it was his doing, wasn’t it, then?

“Then what did cause it?” Reynald asked, canting his head to the side.

“Art thou aware o’ the rising tensions b’tween the elves ‘nd the drak’nids?”

“Wait up.” Reynald stopped where he was, shaking his head side to side. “It’s political?”

“Ver’ly.”

“Count me out, then, I’m too simple for this kinda stuff.”

Reynald’s words, self-aware as they were, prompted a spontaneous fit of laughter in Ebstrea, and she wiped a tear from her eye before speaking. “Well, at least you know your weaknesses.”

“Oh, shut it.”

“I do not b’lieve a strong compr’hension o’ polit’cal princ’ples is r’quired… In truth, ‘tis quite a simple matt’r.”

“Ah,” Ebstrea said, “maybe you could explain it just to me?”

“An expl’nation for one will s’ffice, I s’ppose. Yet, wielder o’ the god-sword, do not feel f’rbidden from listening. P’rhaps thou wilt und’rstand one or two words.”

Hey, isn’t that just a little too cruel? Anyone?

“Ah, I see, is that how it is!”

Ebstrea, please don’t say that in that kind of tone. I’ll feel like an idiot.

Ebstrea turned to Reynald, a formidable smug, cat-like expression on her face. “If you ask nicely, Reynald, I could consider explaining it to you as well.”

How can someone so annoying be so adorable?

“If you’re gonna explain it, go and do it.”

“There’s tensions between the elves and the drakonids because of some conflict between their goddesses, so now both races are acting xenophobic.”

A few seconds of silence passed, as though Reynald was waiting for Ebstrea to say something more. Yet more never came. “You’re acting so smug over something you can sum up in one sentence?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“Says the person who didn’t get it.”

“Why you little…”

Seemingly not very keen on the idea of waiting around for a rom-com scene, Charlotte once more cleared her throat for attention. “Might the two o’ ye inform me when you are quite finished?”

Her sudden interjection pulled Reynald’s head from whatever cloud he’d left it in back to reality, and also forced a weird sound out of his mouth.

“Let’s just keep going,” he said, shaking his head and confidently marching off.

“Reynald, you’re going the wrong way.”

“The cap’tol building is over yond’r.”

I want to sink into the ground and disappear.

“... Wait, did you say the capitol building?” Reynald asked, a few minutes after blundering so bad that even a god would have blushed.

“Ver’ly, wherefore?”

“No, just… If something big’s happening in the capitol building, shouldn’t there be some kind of panic going on? I mostly just see a bunch of gloom and distrust.”

“Reynald?”

“I don’t like the way you’re looking at me, Ebstrea.”

“Are you okay? You don’t usually say such smart things.”

“I knew it! Could you just respond to my question?!”

Before Reynald once more had the chance to plunge into despair, Charlotte stopped in her tracks.

“Indeed, ‘tis remark’bly quiet… P’rhaps ‘tis the work o’ one o’ the goddesses?” she mumbled, more to herself than anything.

The main thing the Heroes noticed was that she closed her eyes and sniffed the air—her twitching nose and diminutive size caused her to bear a striking resemblance to, say, a rabbit or a young deer.

Though she seemed halfway towards pinpointing something with her sense of smell—

“Miss Charlotte’s hair is so nice and soft…”

And she’s going for it! Ladies and gentlemen, the most courageous girl in the whole wide world, Ebstrea, patting an ancient vampire’s head!

Before Reynald had a chance to process Ebstrea’s actions on an intellectual level higher than ‘sports announcer’, the actions had already stopped, since Charlotte had once more disappeared and relocated herself, this time directly behind Ebstrea.

“Wilt thou force me t’ report thy b’haviour t’ M’lord?” Charlotte asked, and her giggle, despite sounding like a little girl’s cries of excitement, had a true sense of malice to it. Reynald couldn’t help but gulp, and quickly leaned onto a nearby tree-turned-wall for support.

“I… I’m sorry, Miss Charlotte, I just impulsively… It won’t happen again.”

Ebstrea mimicked Reynald in terms of balance.

“If thou makes such a pr’mise, I may just f’rgive thy transgression. Then, let us move on.”

“E-Ebstrea?”

“W-What’s up, Reynald?”

“Did this world have dark elves?”

“Who knows…”

And what’s up with that outfit? She’s not as… big… as that devil, but her outfit’s even worse…

“Would you two cease your staring? ‘Tis terr’bly unb’coming.”

“Ah-”

“Oops-”

“So, uh, little missy,” the mysterious ‘dark elf’ with flaming red hair and a mysterious cheek tattoo said, “who’re these two, anyway?”

“Ah. ‘Tis fine t’ think o’ them as backup. M’lord can explain at later date, if need be.”

“But they’re humans, ‘n Heroes to boot… Well, whatever, I’ll just ask Lord Astaroth.”

It seemed the mysterious ‘dark elf’ was not even aware of the existence of Claiomh Solais.

“More critic’lly. There appears t’ be something truly… repr’hensible behind that door, but wherefore are the elves so calm? Is it, p’rhaps, thy doing?”

“Yup. I’ve been using heat to keep ‘em away, ‘cause I figured one of ya was gonna show up eventually. So what’s the deal?”

“My assignment is merely t’ accomp’ny the Heroes. They are in charge.”

The ‘dark elf’ turned her gaze to the Heroes to find that one had hidden behind the other.

“Wh-what the hell are you hiding behind me for, Ebstrea? It’s not like I have a shield!”

“Geez! It’s a man’s duty to protect girls from scary things, you know?!”

“As if I’m not scared of that aura!”

“Don’t just admit it, you blockhead!”

Quarrelling. Given, it was more of a lover’s quarrel than anything, but that was unpleasant in its own way. The ‘dark elf’ cleared her throat to get the Heroes’ attention.

“Ah, uh, right,” Reynald said, laughing awkwardly as he scratched the back of his head. “I’m Reynald, nice to meet you.” He extended his hand towards the ‘dark elf’.

“Is this the time for self-introductions?” she responded.

A mutual blank stare.

“R-right. So, I’m pretty sure you’re capable of using fire-attribute magic—am I right, by the way?”

In response to Reynald’s question, the ‘dark elf’ wrapped her hands in flames, further heating up the already-quite-warm area. “Yup, though I’m more of a frontline fighter than anythin’.”

“Right. What about you, Miss Charlotte?”

“I, too, am a fighter on the fr’ntlines. ‘Twould nary be wrong t’ call me invinc’ble, I do b’lieve.”

“Some confidence… Right, so we’ve got three frontliners, then. Fantastic.”

For a few moments, Reynald placed his hand on his chin and sunk into thought.

“Right, then. You said you were invincible… Are you like, a tank?”

“I loathe t’ s’plly inf’rmation t’ p’tential en’mies, but I suppose it cannot be helped… Indeed, ‘tis a word M’lord has used t’ refer t’ me, though I am afraid I nev’r asked what it means.”

“You don’t know what it… Right, of course you wouldn’t. Uh, to put it simply, the tank in a party is the member who attracts the enemy’s attention and absorbs all their attacks, either by bearing the damage or dodging. Judging from your build, I’d think you’re more of an AGI type…”

“Thou means M’lord places so much trust in my d’fensive capabil’ties? Then, I must try t’ meet his exp’ctations and let not the slight’st strike hit me…”

It seemed Charlotte was going to bear no mind to the fact that Reynald sank into gamer slang.

“So, could I ask you to man the front, then, Miss Charlotte? After that, uh… The fire lady and I will rush in, and Ebstrea will keep her distance and support us.”

“Sure, ya got it. Man, it feels weird to be takin’ orders from anyone other than Lord Astaroth or Lady Entropy, but whatever.”

A statement like that would likely do little to alleviate the misunderstanding about ‘dark elves’.

“V’ry well. Stay b’hind me.”

Charlotte took a step forward and swung open the door to what must have been one of the high-class elves’ residences—it seemed they lived within the capitol building.

Before Reynald even had the time to register what was in the room, he was on all fours, vomiting his guts out, and his legendary god-killing sword made a clattering noise as he dropped it.

«Look alive, wielder!»

Prompted by Claiomh Solais’s warning, Reynald rolled over just in time to avoid some manner of black tentacle that had ignored Charlotte completely and gone for him, instead. This manoeuvre certainly did not help his nausea, but he somehow managed to stand up and lean on a wall for support.

Hey now, aren’t you two having a little too much fun?

Rather than fright or even nausea, the mischievous smirk on Charlotte’s face reflected only joy. In her left hand, she held her usual ceremonial knife, and in her right her recently-obtained cursed sword.

The ‘dark elf’, too, looked itching for a fight, what with the excited grin and the fighting posture.

Reynald picked up Claiomh Solais and looked around to try and find Ebstrea. Just like Reynald a moment ago, she was on the floor on all fours.

With a few unsteady steps, he was by her side.

“Ebstrea, can you stand?”

“Reynald… I’m fine, I’m fine, no problem.”

‘Fine’? You’re on the floor, on all fours, in front of a puddle of vomit.

«Wielder, your left!»

Reynald grabbed Ebstrea and leapt to the right, once more narrowly avoiding a strange black tentacle.

He set Ebstrea on the ground and decided to have a proper look at the other side of the door, to see… nothing.

In a very literal sense.

There were vague outlines of furniture, but the entire surface of everything in the room was covered in dripping, pitch-black… something, and the same liquid was present in the whole room, moving around through the air as though fish in water. In the centre stood a figure, vaguely humanoid with a wicked grin on its face, made too from that liquid.

“This stuff is…”

Reynald was not very skilled with magic, but even he could use a few light-attribute spells. So he did.

“[Light-Attribute Magic: Detect Toxic Materials]... Nothing. Well, then.”

Ebstrea, who Reynald was still supporting with both arms, gently pushed herself away from him and then pushed a bottle into his hands, then pushed away entirely, using her staff for support. “A strength potion,” she said, “since I know you don’t carry this kind of stuff.”

What an angel…!

Reynald pushed the bottle to his lips and swallowed the absurdly bitter liquid. As much as he disliked the taste, the effects could not be denied—he immediately felt invigorated.

“How much longer are you two going to have cozy-cozy time back there?! We’re up to our heads in goop over here!”

“ ‘Twould be kind o’ ye t’ hurry up and assist!”

The two Heroes were drawn out of their dream world and back into the harsh reality of this combat situation. Reynald, in his unending wisdom, decided to reveal his secret trump card right in the same room as an enemy and used the [Appraisal] skill on the black figure.

Name

Fragment of ██████████eles

Sex

Inapplicable.

Race

>

Grade

>

Skills

[Black]

Black

Neverending darkness, praise be to thee! Shroud us in thy murky depths, so that none may know of our faults!

Afflictions

[Otherworldly] [Incomplete]

Otherworldly

You are not from this world, and your power is not well-adjusted to this world’s rules.

Incomplete

This is only a part of your divinity. After an hour, this form will further fall into pieces. You cannot use other parts of your divinity.

“Wh-what the hell…”

“Something wrong, Reynald?”

“Doth som’thing both’r thee, wielder o’ the god-sword?”

“You alright back there?”

“Ah, uh, no, I’m fine, its status is just a little weird…”

“Reynald!”

“Ah. Oops.”

“Its status…? Can thou p’rhaps… Well, ‘tis of no matt’r. Any part’culars?”

“Ah, right. Uh, try not to use anything darkness-related. It’s got a skill which is just called [Black]...”

«Wielder, your right!»

As though by reflex, Reynald swung his sword at the sudden tentacle and chopped it off.

It took far more effort than a sword like Claiomh Solais should have taken to cut through anything, let alone something biological.

«I do not mind being filthy, but I advise against doing that again, wielder. It will slow me down. I propose you dodge, instead.»

“Roger that.”

Charlotte readied her spears of blood, a sly smirk on her face. “So I must dance w’thout my shadows… V’ry well! I shall show the likes of thee my cent’ries-practiced blade dance!”

Reynald gripped his sword in both hands and set his legs steadfast on the ground. “I don’t know what you are, but you end here…!”

The ‘dark elf’ threw a few flaming punches at the thing. “I don’t have a cool line like those two, nor their motivation, but let’s do this!”

With the demented laughter of their collective enemy as a signal, the three front-liners charged forward while Ebstrea started chanting a spell.