While two demons were deciding to use their fellow generals to carry out a scheme that would benefit only themselves, their target—the young man known as the Hero—was facing a problem so trivial that the earnest would never dream of it.
“Hey, Arist. How long are we going to keep doing this?”
After teleporting from Samakai back to a cheap inn in Myuronba, the young man quickly tore off the adorable armor he’d been wearing—pink, decorated with sunflowers and cosmos.
Scowling at it like it was filth, he spat out those words with contempt. The other two men, clad in similarly patterned armor now stained with blood, also stripped it off and echoed his complaint.
“Seriously. People will think we’re some noble’s idiotic sons.”
“No kidding. Even those peacocks obsessed with appearances wouldn’t be caught dead in this ridiculous armor—it’s the kind of costume a clown wears during a village festival.”
As the youngest of them finished speaking, he kicked the armor he’d just taken off. It hit the wall with a thud, the cheap paint chipping off to reveal the dull metal beneath—clearly a second-hand, low-quality piece.
“Still…”
The older man standing opposite the three grumbling young men picked up the helmet and smiled awkwardly.
“That morning, didn’t you all tell me this? ‘That fight wasn’t nearly enough. Give us another chance to face demons in battle—we’ll accept any condition.’ Isn’t that right, Farb, Maro, Bran?”
He wasn’t wrong—it was a fair point. But the others had their side of the story too.
With a glance from one of his companions, the young man named Farb—still bristling—responded.
“Yeah, I said that. But I didn’t say I’d do it in a clown costume.”
“And you didn’t say you wouldn’t. That was part of the ‘any condition,’ remember?”
“Exactly. Besides, you looked absolutely perfect in that armor. Even toddlers would be embarrassed to wear it, but you three really pulled it off. It suits your idiocy wonderfully.”
The mocking voice cut into the conversation like a blade.
All three men grimaced. The voice belonged to a woman.
Ordinarily, they’d snap back, but Farb only scowled. Not because she was older, or because he was the Hero, but because within this group’s hierarchy, she had overwhelming authority.
“…Say whatever you want…”
He muttered just quietly enough that she wouldn’t hear. But of course, that wasn’t enough to satisfy him. So Farb turned his glare toward the man who had made him wear that humiliating costume day after day.
“This is all because Arist keeps going easy on Fine.”
“Totally agree.”
“Same here.”
The other two victims chimed in with their support. But that did nothing to improve the situation.
Putting on a deliberately serious face, Arist opened his mouth.
“What nonsense. Fine is simply tolerating your selfishness. Naturally, she gets better treatment. In Fine’s words, this is ‘reaping what you sow.’”
“Exactly! Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Fine added with a smirk.
Arist’s words shut down the three complainers with ease, and he continued.
“And as for Farb’s question—‘how long will this go on?’—the answer is: until our mission is complete. That is, until the demon forces are sick of being harassed and call off their raids. Your little costume parade will continue until then. Although I’ve run out of new outfit ideas, so we’ll be starting the rotation over next time.”
“…Wait… don’t tell me…”
“That’s right. The flashy armor even a gaudy noble would envy? You’ll be showing it off again soon.”
“…Anything but that…”
“Denied.”
“…Ugh…”
Faced with the worst possible news, Farb slumped in despair. If the demons he’d defeated ever saw him in that outfit, they’d probably roll over in their graves and die of shame all over again.
Next to the sulking Hero, another young man turned to Arist with a serious question.
“So Arist… how much longer do you really think this will go on?”
“I’d like to say about ten more days, but honestly, I don’t know. There’s a particular unit I want to hunt down—and this will continue until then.”
That answer made the young man silently curse in his heart. Glaring at Arist, he delivered his most sarcastic line.
“I’m shocked to learn you have demon friends. Who is it?”
“Farb, how many enemies did we face in our skirmishes?”
“Fewest was about thirty. Never more than a hundred.”
Arist answered the question with another question, nodding as Farb—bearer of the world’s most well-known (albeit unofficial) title of “Hero”—gave his reply.
“Success or failure aside, most of these raids involve small units. Can you guess why?”
“Could be that they didn’t have many troops to begin with… but more likely, a lack of mages. Though that’s not just a demon problem—it’s the same on our side.”
“Exactly. Most battlefield mages can only teleport ten people at a time.”
Meaning: there are too few skilled mages, limiting unit size.
A brief academic-style Q&A like this wasn’t unusual for the group. And the one taking on the role of teacher—despite being only nominally their leader—was actually the group's decision-maker: Arist.
After a short pause, Arist spoke again.
“However, there’s one unit that breaks this pattern.”
“An exception?”
Farb immediately latched onto that and asked for details.
“Yes. I’m referring to the group that launched the first strike. They had a sizable force, and their formation was focused not on swordplay, but on magic. I haven’t seen them directly, but over several days, around 300 troops were teleported in multiple waves. I believe it’s accurate to say it was a specialized unit.”
“I see…”
“…So you want to take out that unit. But if they were cobbled together for the first strike—borrowing mages from various groups—it’s possible they’ve already been dissolved, right?”
This time, the dissenting voice came from Fine—the silver-haired “Witch,” a woman highly skilled in both magic and swordsmanship.
Her sharp point directly addressed the core of Arist’s true objective.
Nodding slightly, Arist responded.
“Yes. Given their disappearance after the initial attack, that’s certainly possible. But without definitive proof, we must also consider the opposite. More importantly—their commander. His strategy was nothing like the brute-force style common among demons. He used layered, flexible tactics with great precision, clearly based on careful prior reconnaissance. His style is in stark contrast to the sloppiness we’ve seen since. Honestly, more than the unit itself, he is the one I want to eliminate.”
“A hundred wolves led by one sheep will lose to a hundred sheep led by one wolf.”
Fine’s words were a quote from someone who shouldn’t even exist in this world. Arist took a long pause to ponder its meaning, then slowly nodded and closed the discussion with finality.
“That’s the first I’ve heard that saying, but you’re absolutely right. And if I may borrow your words, we must pluck this wolf out while he’s still a cub. If we let him grow, he may one day lead an army of real wolves—and then all hell will break loose. We don’t know who he is, but if we keep up this parade of foolish costumes, it’s very likely his unit will come to stop us. And since we currently have no other way to lure him out, if that happens, all the better. So… keep playing the fool for a bit longer, will you, Farb?
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