The Ordinary Sorcerer's Fun Otherworld Villain Play

◇◇◇◇

The battle quickly descended into a stalemate.

Grelod wielded her death goddess Gift with terrifying precision.

Shadow arms extended from her body, attacking the three dark-clothed knights in waves.

But—

“Slow.”

“Child’s play.”

“Fuhehe.”

The three knights cut them all down.

Vivid. Elegant. Flawless.

I could only comprehend that their skill was superhuman.

What is that speed…? I can’t even follow it with my eyes. Are they perhaps even faster than the instructor…?

“Heh… not bad. That sword technique of yours… You lot have experience fighting powerful magic users and Gifted, don’t you?”

“Naturally. We are those who draw bows against gods.”

“Of course we prepare for battles against those who wield divine power.”

“Fuhehe, we trained extensively with Master as well…”

Magic combat.

The cutting edge of warfare—the most mainstream method of killing in this world.

Just as modern warfare evolved from hand-to-hand combat to weapons operation, and eventually to remote killing by unmanned aircraft, humans always gravitate toward the latest, most efficient means of death.

Magic. Gifts.

Supernatural powers brought by the gods, now prevalent throughout this world.

Humanity’s wisdom still falls far short of what the gods possess.

And so, humans in this world chose magic—the supernatural—as their tool for killing.

Because I’d received training, I understood.

Because I possessed a Gift, I understood.

The refinement of Grelod’s Gift, and the sheer magnitude of magic power her body contained.

“You’re keeping up? Then how about this? Abbreviated chant—Noir Dro.”

“Elementary.”

They cut down even the black light that erupted from Grelod’s fingertip.

“Haha! You’ve mastered magic power cutting!? Are you aiming for a seat among the Seven Swords?!”

“Fuhe, not really. That kind of thing doesn’t matter to us.”

The combat unfolding before my eyes was taking place on a level far beyond my reach.

“But… I can’t comprehend it. What happened to you, Domination, War, Famine…? You weapons from the unexplored continent aren’t fighting like you used to. The you from five years ago would have pulverized this place and been done with it.”

“We told you. We are no longer the Seven Apocalyptic Prophecies.”

“Therefore, we are no longer weapons.”

“Not if we are that person’s knights.”

“Don’t like it… What changed you lot? Well, fine. Now then, what should Grandma Grelod do…? My preparation is insufficient to kill you here… So then.”

“””!!”””

“Death Goddess Gift—[Death Arm].”

The three knights froze.

Multiple shadow arms sprouted from Grelod’s feet.

And they were all directed at us—the crucified reincarnator heroes.

“Tch.”

“Oh my, just as I expected. This is a masterpiece. To think the hostage method would work on you lot… Gods’ apostles carrying out the gods’ will… The person who showed you the way must be quite noble indeed.”

“…Our king is one who bears burdens. That excessive magnanimity extends even to things that need not be borne.”

“My lord never gives clear orders. That person allows us freedom. Not as toys, not as tools, not as weapons—but treats us as people with our own will.”

“So we think of Master. We consider what Master would want. We think about what that person’s strength would do, what that person would do.”

What I felt from their voices was profound trust and respect.

But for me, it wasn’t like that at all.

Those clothes. There’s no mistake.

That design—there’s no way I’d forget it.

That was, that was… Why—

“If I do this, what happens?”

Black arms extended toward me and my classmates.

Ah, crap—my Gift, it’s no good, I won’t make it in time.

Death. If I’m touched, death—

“I won’t let you.”

Swoosh—rararara.

A silver-white sword cut down the multiple extending black arms in a single flash.

And the black arm reaching for me—

“Excuse me, young lady.”

“Eh?”

My vision blurred.

Before I knew it, she was holding me as we leaped backward.

The white-haired knight.

I couldn’t really make out her face, but I understood at least that much.

“Are you injured? Reincarnator hero, can you treat yourself?”

I was saved.

Thank you, I have to say thank you, because she saved me, thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you…

“Wh-why…”

No good. My mouth won’t open properly.

“…?”

“Wh-why are you wearing [Dark Night Combat Clothing]?”

Thank you, I have to say thank you. That’s from Brotherhood—no, that’s wrong.

“…What are you saying, reincarnator hero?”

“Tha-that… Mine… That person gave it to me…”

Ah, I can’t stop.

“No. This is what my king gave me. Not you.”

Wrong. King? What’s that supposed to mean?

That’s wrong, though.

“Wro-ng. That person gave it to me… Because of the snow… Because it suits my name… Not royalty or anything, to me, because it suits me…”