The next day, just before noon, Master stood with Fam and Mizuki outside the arena. He'd suggested rolling Fam in a mat for Aidan to collect, but her fierce resistance had made her angry instead. Rumors of the duel had spread like wildfire in half a day. Cheers and excited chatter spilled from within, turning the confrontation into public entertainment. This wasn't what I expected, Master thought, a knot tightening in his stomach. I imagined a quiet fight.
"Maybe I should just apologize and go back," Mizuki murmured, her usual courage visibly frayed.
"Too late for that, Mizuki," Master said grimly. "Even if you returned, they wouldn't treat you the same." He'd shared his plan with Fam last night, but not with Mizuki.
"I don't want to go in," Master admitted, the weight of hundreds of eyes pressing down. "Don't want to stand out." Running away felt tempting, but their unfamiliarity with this world left them nowhere safe to hide. He squared his shoulders. "Let's go."
They entered the arena through a dim brick corridor, emerging into blinding light. The circular battlefield felt vast – thirty meters across, surrounded by two-meter-high walls. Tiered spectator seats rose steeply, over eighty percent full. People ate skewers and drank beer, a carefree atmosphere clashing horribly with the deadly stakes. They're here for a show, Master realized, a bitter taste in his mouth. Not justice.
He walked towards the center on hard-packed soil. Wind Blade awaited, radiating smug confidence. Reid stood at the forefront, flanked by Cecily, Ayla, and the hulking Beers. Relaxed smiles played on their lips.
"Didn't expect you to run," Reid taunted.
"If you're stopping this, now's the time," Master countered, a cold dread settling in. "Can't predict what happens if we die."
"Ha!" Reid laughed, drawing his bastard sword. The weapon looked brutal, impractical. Beers mirrored him, hefting his battle axe. Mizuki started to step forward, her own blade half-drawn, a protective instinct flaring.
"Mizuki, stay behind us," Master ordered sharply. Need control before the chaos starts.
"...You have a plan?" Mizuki asked, understanding dawning in her eyes. At Master's nod, she reluctantly stepped back.
"The loser becomes the winner's slave. How do we enforce that?" Master demanded.
"Guild oversight," Reid replied smoothly. He nodded towards the stands where a guild receptionist was arguing with spectators. Beside her stood a thin, white-haired man in fine attire – the referee. He leapt down nimbly, striding towards them. Reid's already built the trap, Master thought.
"I'm Custer, Guild Master of this city," the man announced, unrolling parchment. "I'll oversee this duel." He began reading: "Battle ends when a party surrenders, all members are incapacitated, or death occurs."
"Mash, you'll kill me?" Reid scoffed.
"I can't guarantee everyone survives," Master stated, meeting Reid's gaze. "At least release Beers." Reid just snorted.
"Loser becomes winner's slave. Any objections?" Custer asked. "Representatives swear by blood." He offered Master the paper.
"Fam, please." Master held out his finger. Fam pricked the tip with her knife; a bead of blood welled. Wish it was Fam's blood, he thought absently. Reid sliced his own finger with his sword. They pressed their blood to the parchment.
"Begin when ready," Custer said, turning to leave.
"Wait," Master called out. "Why's the guild involved? No profit in duels."
"I handle the betting," Custer explained, a greedy glint in his eye. "Five percent cut to the guild. Slave crests are a… complimentary perk of the profits."
"Really?" Master seized the angle. "Can I bet?"
"On your own victory? Certainly." Custer smiled.
"Five gold on us," Master said. "Five gold," Mizuki added quickly. "One gold," Fam echoed, surprising Master. She never spends money.Hope she doesn't get hooked. Custer accepted the coins with a predatory smile.
"Odds were 99-1 against you," he noted. "Surprisingly, some bet on you. Now roughly 8-2." He returned to the stands.
"Now," Reid declared, raising his voice. The crowd roared, the arena shaking.
Only one chance. Master took a deep breath. "Fam, the rest is up to you."
"Yes," Fam replied, her voice steady. He pressed the magic recovery potion into her hand; she clenched it tightly.
"Summon the Goddess!" Master shouted.
Dizziness crashed over him, worse than ever before. The familiar drunken sensation intensified, blurring his vision. As he yelled, a dazzling light engulfed the arena. A spear materialized at head height, its tip aimed at Reid, light coalescing around it. Then, she appeared – Lachchel, seated casually on the spear shaft.
She looked down, golden hair cascading, a semi-transparent, rainbow-hued shawl draped over her divine form. She was terrifyingly beautiful, radiating power.
"It's… It's Lady Lachchel!" someone shrieked from the stands.
Lachchel's gaze shifted to Reid. Wind Blade froze, stunned into silence. The crowd's murmur died instantly. Mizuki must be reeling behind me, Master thought, swaying.
"...Today... enemies..." Her voice resonated, deeper, more resonant than before.
"He is too weak to be my enemy," she continued, contempt dripping from each word. "Summoned for such worthlessness… he insults me. While we are here… let us kill the audience as well." Always the threats, Master thought, the drunken haze making it harder to focus.
"Lachchel, forgive me," Master whispered, forcing himself to meet her gaze. "This was the only way."
"Hmm? Mash apologizes?" Her expression shifted slightly. Apologize first, survive later, he reminded himself, the mantra cutting through the fog.
"Lachchel, please… don't kill them."
"...Understood. One condition," she countered, her gaze sharp.
"What?"
"Get along with Mizuki-san."
"She hates me," Master blurted out.
"I grant Fam one special skill," Lachchel declared, ignoring him. "Agree?"
"Done," Master replied instantly. It was too valuable to hesitate.
"The skill catalog will be placed in your storage," she stated. "A magic key… bonus." Catalog? No need to rush choices then. Best not to question her.
"And," she added, gliding her spear down until her lips nearly touched his ear, "I await our next encounter."
Lachchel soared upwards, raising her right arm.
Time seemed to restart. The crowd's cheers roared back, cries of "Lady Lachchel!" echoing. "Defense!" Reid yelled, snapping back to reality. Cecily and Ayla moved instantly, a shimmering magical barrier forming before them.
Lachchel smiled, waiting until the wall solidified. She lowered her arm horizontally.
Instantly, the sky turned black. Tens of thousands of arrows screamed downwards, a roar drowning out all sound. The barrier shattered like glass. Reid and Beers swung wildly, deflecting a pathetic fraction. The arrows descended like divine judgment, crushing everything beneath them.
Master's vision tunneled. His magic drained faster than ever, a vacuum sucking him dry. Fam caught him as his legs buckled, holding him upright. Fam. My precious Fam. Love you. Thank you. Sorry for this morning. Didn't mean to hurt you.No, focus. Enemy. Hope they're not dead.Can't… think…
Darkness swallowed him whole.
Consciousness returned slowly, the drunken haze clinging. Fam's face swam into view, flushed crimson.
"S-sorry, Master," she stammered. "You didn't drink it… so I… orally transferred the potion…" He was still upright, supported by her arms. She saved me.
He glanced around. The crowd was dispersing, murmuring. Reid's party lay on the ground like discarded rags. Ayla, untouched? No, Myra stood beside Ayla, healing her. Myra? When did she arrive? Several others moved among the fallen, tending to Wind Blade.
"What? Treating them without asking? Who won?" Master slurred.
"I… I gave permission," Fam explained apologetically. "Used my cloak and ventriloquism… made it seem like Master spoke."
"Fam, in situations like that, you lead," Mizuki said, standing nearby. "If you speak up, no one questions." Fam nodded, absorbing the lesson.
"Myra-san, came to watch?" Master asked the priestess.
"Yes, Lady Lachchel vanished, we came from the stands," Myra confirmed, her voice gentle. "By then, the match was over. We won." Won? Master felt no elation, only the lingering dizziness and the distant memory of Lachchel's overwhelming power. The arrows had vanished without a trace.
"All Wind Blade members live," Mizuki stated flatly.
"I see," Master murmured.
"It's not 'I see'!" Mizuki exploded, frustration boiling over. "You can summon Lachchel! Seriously! Why didn't you tell me? I was terrified I'd lose! Thought you were just some pervert in a weird outfit!" Her assessment of Lachchel mirrors mine, Master noted dimly.
"Never used it in real combat," Master defended himself. "Didn't know how devastating it was." He'd seen Mizuki's and Aidan's skills, but this was different. Unquantifiable.
"Myra, will they be alright?" Master asked, his gaze shifting to Myra as she bent over Reid's ragged form. Her breasts moved distinctly beneath her robe. Definitely different from Ayla.
"Mash-sama, yes, I believe they will recover," Myra replied, turning. Mash-sama? The honorific stung, a sudden distance. Has hurting Ayla changed her view of me?
"I bet five gold on our victory," Master said, pushing the feeling aside. "Donate it all. For their treatment."
"I… I understand," Myra nodded, gratitude warming her eyes. "You help Ayla. To the church, quickly. The priests will assist." Churches are made of gold, Master remembered wryly.
"Mash-sama," Myra began hesitantly, "there is… something else I wish to discuss."
"Hmm? Alright."
"If possible… just us two," she murmured. "Ah, no, Fam may come too." Fam and Master exchanged a complex look. Fam's always supported me, Master thought. Stand on my own.
He carefully stepped away from Fam's support. His legs held. Okay.
He turned to respond to Myra. A figure moved between them, blocking his path. Reid. Blood streamed from countless arrow wounds, but he stood, eyes burning with hatred. His sword rose.
"Die, Mash!" he roared.
Master saw Fam's hand flash, a kunai appearing, her arm snapping back to throw. No!
"Fam, don't kill him!" Master lunged, throwing himself into Fam's path, trying to wrap her in a hug to stop the throw. Blinding pain erupted across his back. Reid's sword slash found its mark. Simultaneously, a searing agony tore through his abdomen. Fam's kunai, intended for Reid, had pierced him instead. He crumpled to the ground.
"Th-… that's impossible! Master, why…?" Fam's voice was a broken whisper.
Mizuki moved like lightning. Her blade flashed, knocking Reid's sword from his grasp. A glimpse of white panties flashed as she spun. "Mizuki!" Master gasped.
"I know," Mizuki bit out, as others rushed forward to seize the snarling Reid.
"Master!" "Mash!" "Mash-sama!" The voices blurred together – Fam's anguish, Mizuki's shock, Myra's alarm – as the world faded to black