One year earlier.
"Why did it end up like this?"
His legs had gone numb and lost all feeling. The short monk crumpled to the ground, staring blankly at the empty space where half his arm used to be. He had even forgotten to scream from the pain — all that remained was terror and incomprehension.
God... am I going to die here?
"Ahahahahaha! Humans really are so entertaining."
The heavyset woman known as Hans held up a blood-dripping arm in one hand, then reached out with the other and snatched the Scripture resting on top of it. Without so much as a glance, she tossed it aside like a piece of garbage.
At the far end of the church, a massive black dragon — large enough to cover the entire floor — gnawed on the remains of half a body. It kept a wary eye on the woman laughing wildly, letting out a low, threatening growl from between its teeth.
Crunch.
The light had long since gone out of the swordsman's eyes. Half his body was already inside the Imperial Prison Dragon's maw, his upper half swaying with each wet chew of those bloodstained jaws, until he was swallowed completely.
Just a few minutes earlier, under the miraculous camouflage magic of Miss Hans, the three-person party had slipped past the Imperial Prison Dragons outside and crept quietly into the crumbling old church.
"An Imperial Prison Dragon..."
The moment they stepped through the door and saw the Imperial Prison Dragon coiled across the entire interior, the young swordsman immediately had second thoughts about the whole venture.
Seeing his hesitation, Miss Hans sidled up to him.
"Don't worry — I'll cast a buff on you. With it, you'll be able to slay this dragon without breaking a sweat. A true dragon-slayer, just like that."
With that, Hans leaned in and pressed a kiss to the swordsman's forehead.
The young swordsman — who had never so much as been near a woman in over twenty years of life — flushed scarlet from his forehead all the way down to his collar, a faint red lip-print stamped squarely on his brow.
"Listen to me — go, now! I've empowered you. There is nothing in this world, save the gods themselves, that can stand against you."
At the same time, an inexplicable surge of confidence flooded the swordsman's chest. He felt boundless strength coursing through him, his body light as a feather — and beside him stood the woman who had just lit a fire in his heart.
He tightened his grip on his longsword, and for one soaring moment, he felt as though he were standing on top of the clouds.
All he had to do was charge in and swing. With Miss Hans's blessing upon him, he was invincible!
The short monk, who had dimly sensed something was very wrong, tried to intervene — only for a slender hand to press down on his shoulder, locking him in place.
"Please. Trust him."
The voice carried something almost magical about it. The monk's head swam, his thoughts scattering like smoke.
"Stay right here, both of you — don't move! Watch me slay this dragon!"
The swordsman, now running entirely on adrenaline, hoisted his longsword and sprinted out of the camouflage's range. Just before he left, he made sure to wink at Miss Hans.
"RAAAAAAAH!"
He charged at full tilt, sword swinging — and brought it crashing down on the Imperial Prison Dragon as it dozed with its head bowed.
In his mind's eye, the sword blazed with a colossal burst of magical sword-aura at that instant, cleaving the Imperial Prison Dragon's head clean from its neck. A single strike. Done.
"I did it! I succeeded — I'm a dragon-slayer! Someday I'll kill the Demon King! I'm the Hero!"
The metallic shriek of shattering steel rang out as the sword snapped in two. The swordsman stood there brandishing the broken blade above his head, screaming with elation — and turned toward Miss Hans with pure, gloating triumph in his eyes.
Miss Hans curved her lips into a sweet smile.
Meanwhile, the monk — clutching his head in agony nearby — stared with widening eyes.
The Imperial Prison Dragon was awake. Its crimson eyes slid open, and that enormous maw lunged for the insignificant pest that had disturbed its sleep.
The world spun. The swordsman was dangling from the dragon's jaws, the broken sword clattering to the ground below him.
"Huh?"
He coughed up blood — utterly caught off guard, still not understanding what had just happened.
"Pffahaha!"
At that irrepressible burst of laughter, the monk finally came back to himself. Forcing down the pain hammering through his skull, he tried to flip open the Scripture tucked against his chest.
Then a strange and brutal force slammed into his shoulder. His arm went dead in an instant, the overwhelming pain short-circuiting every sensation at once.
His whole body went limp. Hans gave him the gentlest of pushes — and he collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. High above, the church's ruined ceiling had gaping holes in it, and thin shafts of sunlight streamed through, casting what little warmth they could onto his shivering, broken body.
— — —
The little black horse snorted and balked, refusing to go forward. From the urgency in its manner, Nanoda could tell it was afraid of what lay ahead.
On the journey toward the far west, Nanoda had run into bandits, flying magical beasts, and wild beast-type creatures time and time again — and had passed through her share of villages and small towns along the way.
Aside from confirming the direction of her route, she almost never spoke to anyone, keeping an unbroken low profile from start to finish.
She crossed a muddy swamp, a barren desert, and range after range of dry, withered mountains — and at last arrived at the jungle she had heard about.
"This one can feel it — the destination of this journey is just ahead. Deeper in, there are many enormous sources of Mana. Those must be the ones called Imperial Prison Dragons."
"We're finally almost there."
She jumped down from the carriage. Nanoda untied the little black horse's reins and reached out to stroke its back in reassurance.
The little black horse let out a snort, its restless hooves settling down at last, clearly enjoying the attention.
"From here on out, you're free. Go — get away from this place. It's dangerous ahead."
The horse seemed to understand. It turned its head and nuzzled Nanoda's chest with its nose, its bright, intelligent black eyes fixed on her — and didn't move an inch.
After a full year of traveling together, Nanoda felt a pang she hadn't quite expected.
"The journey is over. Go on — find somewhere safe, and live well."
The battle with the Imperial Prison Dragons was sure to devastate the surrounding area. She couldn't let the little black horse stay at her side.
"I know you're smart. Your task is finished — the rest of this road, I walk alone. It's time for us to part."
After Nanoda's repeated urging, the little black horse finally let out one last whinny. It wheeled around and bolted back the way they had come, brushing past her shoulder as it went.
It didn't look back — as if it knew that if it did, it would never be able to leave.
The wind stirred Nanoda's white hair, sending it drifting and swaying. She reached up and lifted the triangular mage's hat from her head, setting it down on the empty four-wheeled cart beside her.
A pair of pointed horns emerged. There was no longer any need to conceal what she was.
"Time really does fly. This one hasn't even had nearly enough fun yet."
Sode tilted its head with an air of mild dissatisfaction.
"We'll be heading back soon."
Without bothering to indulge the complaint, Nanoda let Mana begin to gather and coil around her body. She started walking toward the ancient church deeper in the jungle.
"This one will stay out of it for now — consider it a chance for this one to see what you've accomplished over this past year. Your own way of fighting."
"Then let's make it count."
____
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🔥 New history: Danmachi: Summoning Ruri Gokou, And other Chuunibyou Brats
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