A short distance away from the forest where Rei and his companions were located, a tent had been pitched, surrounded by nearly twenty soldiers.
The tent was meant to offer some slight respite from the midsummer sun—shade that would have been softened by the trees had they remained in the forest. Yet this particular tent was in immaculate condition, so pristine that it seemed to have never seen actual field use.
Beneath it, a man was shouting in clear irritation.
"Enough! What of the report?! The soldiers entered the forest over three hours ago! And yet, why is there not even a single report?!"
The one shouting was an overweight man whose body surely weighed no less than a hundred kilograms. He had a mustache beneath his nose, but the slack, round shape of his face stripped him of any semblance of dignity.
No—it was more than that. There was a flabbiness about his entire presence, an air that only further diminished any impression of authority.
"Lord Rajaras, they are mere commoners at the end of the day. Is it not likely they are simply struggling with the task inside the forest?" One of the men surrounding the heavyset man—Rajaras—offered this with a clear air of superiority, as though asserting his own excellence.
Several other men nodded in agreement.
The escort soldiers standing guard outside the tent listened to all of this with barely concealed irritation, letting the words wash over them while carefully keeping their expressions blank.
If they were truly meant to protect Rajaras, they should have done so from inside the tent. But to Rajaras, a noble of the Reblurina nation, commoners were nothing more than garbage. Having such garbage share his tent was utterly unacceptable.
It would have been one thing if he kept that attitude to himself, but he made no effort to hide it, displaying his contempt for all to see. Naturally, the escort soldiers stationed around him found nothing amusing about the situation.
Moreover, the soldiers assigned here were all skilled individuals who had posted outstanding marks during training. Of course, as the escorts guarding the unit's commander, they could accept that skilled personnel would be assigned to the role. They could accept that much. But even so, there was no way they could stomach being commanded by a man like the one before them.
(This Orc is our commander? What a joke. First of all, why is a man in a command position so damn fat?)
One of the escort soldiers watched Rajaras rant and rave, unable to contain his frustration even internally. Keeping that frustration from showing on his face took considerable effort.
"In the first place, why do I have to wait in a place this hot?!"
"That is, indeed, because your strength is needed to command this unit, Lord Rajaras."
"Quite so, quite so. These soldiers are mere dim-witted commoners. As nobles—when Lord Rajaras commands them, who knows what they might do otherwise."
Flattered by his flunkies, Rajaras's self-esteem must have been satisfied to some degree. The irritated expression he had worn just seconds prior softened, if only slightly.
The soldiers who had overheard the exchange were, naturally, not amused.
Rajaras was a noble—and a noble who embodied the worst traits of nobility. If they incurred his displeasure here, there was no telling what form his retaliation might take. He was merely a noble of the small nation of Reblurina, and a viscount at that—low enough that one could count from the bottom of the peerage. Yet precisely because of that, Rajaras clung to his identity as a noble, and had stirred up all manner of trouble because of it.
Among the soldiers, there were even those who had been forced to resign from the military on his account.
For that reason alone, no matter how irritated they felt, going against Rajaras was something they absolutely could not do.
(Rotten noble. Why doesn't a stray arrow come flying in and kill him already.)
The moment one of the soldiers thought that, he noticed a figure burst out from the forest.
For an instant, he took it for an enemy, but upon recognizing the man as a familiar soldier, he let out a breath of relief.
He was not the only one who noticed. The other escort soldiers spotted the approaching figure as well.
And then, dozens of seconds after the soldiers had noticed him, the man from the forest drew close enough to the tent that Rajaras and his flunkies finally registered his presence.
"Hm? What are you? Who gave you permission to show your face here—"
"Wait, Lord Rajaras."
Rajaras muttered unpleasantly at the sight of the soldier's face, but one of his flunkies cut him off. The flunky had no desire to earn Rajaras's displeasure, but the fact that the man had returned from the forest meant he likely carried some kind of information—perhaps even a report that the mission was complete. To cut down a soldier bringing such a report would clearly lead to problems later.
Of course, as Rajaras's flunkies, they had no intention of showing mercy to a commoner. But punishing a soldier without cause would obviously create issues down the line.
"What is it?"
"This man most likely brings a report that the mission has been completed. Given that the operation was carried out under Lord Rajaras's command, you would be the first to receive such a report. That is likely why this commoner, knowing his place, came running."
"Indeed, as expected of Lord Rajaras. Your command is splendid. Your very presence changes the soldiers' motivation."
At the flunkies' words, Rajaras turned his gaze toward the heavily panting soldier. What lay in his eyes now was a look of satisfaction, quite different from what had been there moments before.
(Idiots.)
Watching Rajaras and his flunkies, the soldier who had been inwardly cursing moments ago laid bare his frustration once more. It was only natural. If the man had truly returned after annihilating the enemy in the forest, there was no way his face would be pale and contorted with terror. Which meant something had definitely happened—something insurmountable, despite having sent hundreds of soldiers.
Feeling a bad premonition—a truly dreadful one—the escort soldier watched the panting man closely.
"Haa, haa, haa..."
"Enough! How long are you going to stand there?! Hurry up and report what happened! Naturally, it's good news for me, isn't it?!"
Unable to tolerate the soldier's state, Rajaras shouted, his irritation laid bare. Whether or not the soldier was responding to Rajaras's words, he had recovered enough from his breathlessness to finally speak.
"The allies who entered the forest... t-total annihilation!"
Silence fell.
At the words that left the soldier's mouth, everyone stood frozen, unable to comprehend what he was saying. Somewhere in the distance, the cry of a bird echoed.
Even the escort soldier who had been showing irritation toward Rajaras could not process what he had just heard. If the enemy had been annihilated but casualties were high, or if the enemy was strong and they were struggling—he could have accepted a report like that. But what the soldier brought was total annihilation of their allies. That was not something that could be taken at face value.
"I... no, m-maybe there are still people alive. But, that guy... that man... ah... aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"
The moment he tried to say more, the soldier lost all ability to speak coherently. It was as though the terror he had desperately suppressed had broken free of all restraint.
(What? What happened?)
Watching the soldier suddenly scream, the escort soldier reeled in confusion. What could have happened to reduce a man to this state? He simply could not understand it.
And he was not the only one. No—the fact that things were not going his way was what Rajaras found most unforgivable.
"Gah, stop screaming! Stop screaming so pathetically and explain what happened, now! You good-for-nothing!"
He snatched the longsword from one of his flunkies and swung it down at the soldier screaming in terror. Of course, Rajaras had no intention of actually killing the man. The longsword was still in its sheath—useless as a blade, though serviceable as a blunt instrument.
The dull thud of metal striking flesh rang out across the area.
But that was not enough to bring the soldier back to his senses. No—it was beyond that. The sight the soldier had witnessed must have been that overwhelming.
Rei, wielding Death Scythe and the Twilight Spear, dancing through blood. That sight must have been nothing less than an embodiment of awe and terror to the man.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"
As the soldier clawed at his own head, Rajaras brought the sheathed longsword down on him again and again.
"Lord Rajaras, that is enough! If you kill him here, we will not be able to obtain any information!"
At this rate, he would genuinely kill the soldier. Judging this, a flunky hurriedly intervened. That a single commoner soldier died was of no concern to the flunkies any more than it was to Rajaras. But killing this man here meant they would learn nothing about what had transpired in the forest. The flunkies understood the situation at least that well.
"Ngh... but this man could not even satisfactorily fulfill the role assigned to him. Punishment is necessary."
Rajaras's words dripped with dissatisfaction. Punishing the soldier before him was part of it, but above all, he found the man's incessant screaming intolerable—and there was a certain pleasure to be had in beating down someone like that.
But Rajaras should have properly assessed the other man's condition before acting. He should not have attacked a soldier who was half-mad and screaming without understanding what that entailed.
To be mad meant the soldier had already completely lost his grip on common sense. Yes—normally, even if attacked, he would have understood that his opponent was a noble, that it was Rajaras, and that he could never strike back. But the soldier, stripped of all common sense, would not think twice about retaliating against whoever laid hands on him.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"
"Enough, you're so noi—"
Rajaras raised the sheathed longsword to strike the soldier again, but in the next instant, a powerful impact jolted through him.
"Gubeh..."
He had no idea what had happened. One moment he was standing, and the next, his face was pressed against the ground. He had been knocked flat.
He tilted his head in confusion and tried to rise, and in that instant, pain shot through his cheek.
"Guh!"
It hurts.
He reached for his cheek, grown flabby and sagging from his lifestyle of excess. Then the pain struck again—intense, searing pain that ripped through Rajaras.
"Ow—what? What..."
Struggling to his feet despite the bulk of his belly getting in the way, Rajaras opened his eyes to find the soldier pinned down by the escort guards, still screaming and raving as violently as before.
Seeing Rajaras finally rise, the flunkies—who had been standing dumbfounded, unable to process what had just happened—snapped out of their daze.
"Lord Rajaras, are you all right?!"
"That lowly commoner, raising a hand against a noble—what could he be thinking?!"
"Kill him! Kill him!"
Hearing his flunkies carrying on, Rajaras finally grasped what had just occurred. He had been struck by that soldier—punched by a mere commoner, sent flying, and made to eat dirt.
The realization sent blood rushing to his head with explosive force.
A mere commoner.
His mind reeling from the rage, Rajaras scanned his surroundings. What caught his eye was an ornate sheath and the longsword that had slipped from it, its bare blade catching the light. The instant he saw the glint of that blade, he lost himself and seized the weapon.
"You... I'll kill you!"
It was too feeble to be called murderous intent, but the man himself paid that no mind whatsoever as he gripped the longsword and began walking toward the soldier restrained by the escort guards.
One of the flunkies must have noticed. He shouted in alarm.
"Lord Rajaras! We need to hear what happened first—gubeh!"
"Shut up. Don't stand in my way!"
Rajaras yanked the longsword free from the flunky's belly and barked the command.
But in the next moment, something came flying from the forest—and blew off Rajaras's right hand, the one still gripping the longsword.