Watching his comrades being consumed around him, Gabil snapped out of his shock and shouted across the field.
"Retreat! Everyone fall back, now!"
The Lizardmen began to move. Then a trusted aide, clutching his spear, spun around with wide eyes.
"Gabil-sama! We've been surrounded!"
"What!"
Gabil swept his gaze across the wetlands. On every side, Orcs were closing in from all directions, tightening the ring with methodical, terrible patience. There was no gap left.
He stared at the advancing wall of bodies. Something was wrong beyond the sheer numbers. Their movements had changed. They were faster, more coordinated, their footwork cleaner than it had any right to be.
"Their movements... they've gotten sharper!"
He looked closer. The Orcs nearest him had developed webbing between their fingers. Scales had begun spreading across their skin, dark and glistening.
"This... that looks like us."
"Gabil-sama, one of our men was eaten a short while ago, and right after that they changed! They absorb our abilities by devouring us!"
An Orc directly ahead raised a giant axe and brought it down without warning. Gabil braced and shoved back with everything he had, forcing the Orc several meters away, then wheeled on his troops.
"All of them have evolved! Defensive circle, right now!"
The Lizardmen pulled inward fast, locking shields into a tight ring. It wasn't perfect, but it held shape.
"Trample!!! Trample!!!"
The Orcs came regardless, pressing forward in a wave that didn't care what formation waited for it. Gabil raised his voice above the roar.
"Do not break! We are Lizardmen! Show them what that means!"
The answering roar was ragged but real.
"Ohhhh!!! *n"
Then the Orc ranks parted, and something walked through the gap.
An Orc in black armor, broader than the rest by a full head, carrying a great axe that glinted with a deep, ugly light. The magical pressure radiating off him hit Gabil like a wall, heavy enough to feel in his chest.
He steadied his grip on his trident and kept his voice level.
"You there. Are you the Orc Lord? I am Gabil, commander of the Lizardmen. Face me in single combat, if you dare."
The armored Orc regarded him without any particular emotion.
"I am not His Majesty. I am simply his general, and my strength is less than a ten-thousandth of His Majesty's."
The cold that ran down Gabil's spine was involuntary. He thought of what that power had felt like pressing against him just now, and for a moment he couldn't move.
The general took two unhurried steps forward, axe resting against his shoulder.
"You want to duel? I accept."
Gabil pushed the cold out of his chest and charged, trident lowered.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
Somewhere in the forest.
"It keeps getting better and better, doesn't it, Gelmud-sama!" The figure in the clown costume spun on his heels, gesturing grandly at the magic crystal ball hovering between them. Inside it, Gabil and the Orc General were trading blows across the wetland field.
Beside him, the man in the gentleman's suit and bird-headed mask watched the scene with quiet satisfaction.
"Everything proceeds exactly as planned. My son will soon claim dominion over this entire forest, and when that day comes, my ambitions will finally..."
A flash of green light split the air at their side. An elegant voice cut cleanly through the forest quiet.
"My, what a pleasant conversation you two are having."
The clown spun, startled. Standing nearby, composed and entirely serious, was Treyni. She looked at them both with the calm expression of someone who has already made a decision.
"My name is Treyni. Nothing that targets this forest escapes my sight."
"This is bad, Gelmud-sama, the forest administrator herself has come!" the clown hissed.
Gelmud stiffened. "What!"
Treyni clasped her hands and raised her eyes above them.
"I will expel those who disturb this forest. [Spirit Summon: Wind Maiden]!"
A beautiful figure materialized in the air behind her, the Wind Spirit answering the call without hesitation.
"Wait, wait, please, just hear us out..."
Treyni did not wait.
"The time of judgment is here. Confess and seek forgiveness. [Atmospheric Compression Rupture Slash]!"
The Wind Spirit's chant rose and carried, and blades of compressed air tore through the space between them in sheets, relentless and precise. The two scrambled behind a protective barrier, straining to hold the onslaught back as the wind hammered against it from every angle.
"This is entirely too merciless, you give no room to explain at all! Well... it doesn't matter." Despite the missing arm and the crumbling barrier, the clown's voice stayed almost cheerful. "We've already gotten what we came for."
He reached into his sleeve and produced four small spheres, holding them between his remaining fingers.
"Goodbye."
He dropped them. Pink smoke erupted in a thick, rolling cloud that swallowed the ground and billowed outward in every direction. By the time it thinned, they were gone.
Treyni stood alone in the sudden quiet, her expression unchanged.
"They escaped." She turned her gaze toward the distant sounds of battle, her voice dropping. "The situation grows more difficult. Rimuru Tempest... the Orc Lord's subjugation rests with you now."
She dissolved into green light and disappeared.
Back in the village, Kaito rested his chin on his hand and watched the water mirror still.
"Treyni. He let you push him back on purpose."
He said it quietly, to no one in particular. The masked clown was Laplace, a member of the Moderate Harlequin Alliance and once, long before that, a hero. His real strength was nowhere near the ceiling Treyni had been pressing against. He could have ended that confrontation in seconds if he'd wanted to.
What an actor. If I didn't know his background, even I might have believed it. I wouldn't hand the Oscar for Best Actor to anyone else.
He waved his hand slowly across the surface of the mirror. The image shifted.
In the wetlands, the duel had grown one-sided.
Gabil was breathing hard. He planted his feet, gathered what he had left, and leveled his trident.
"[Water Current Surge]!"
A compressed wave of water launched toward the Orc General with a sharp crack. The general swung his axe in a single clean arc, and a wind shockwave split out from the blade and slammed into the water head-on. The two forces canceled each other in a burst of mist and spray.
As the mist thinned, the Orc General stomped his right foot into the ground.
"[Chaos Eater]!"
Black tendrils erupted from the earth all around him, wound through with veins of deep red, surging toward Gabil from every direction at once. He leaped back once, twice, three times, the tendrils grazing his arms and shoulders each time, leaving burns that stung deep.
"You're trying to devour me!"
"Keep dodging," the general said, flat and unhurried. "See how long it lasts."
The clang of exchanged blows slowed. Gabil's legs were trembling. His breath came in short, ragged pulls and then, mid-step, he stumbled. His knees hit the ground and he couldn't find the strength to push back up.
The Orc General raised the great axe above his head.
"End."
"Gabil-sama! *3"
Gabil shut his eyes. He heard the axe begin to fall.
Then a streak of orange and red crossed the field, and the sound of impact never came.
"[Flame Breathing, First Form: Unknowing Fire]!"
A blade trailing flame arced clean across the path of the descending axe, and a figure in black landed between Gabil and the general in a single motion, fiery red hair catching the light.