v2c4 - 3

The dragoon cavalier’s greatest weapon, alongside dragon-derived defense, is “surprise.”  

This aligns with a saboteur’s strength.  

Namely—  

“—!”  

In a mere instant.  

The distance between them—ten steps to close the gap—vanished in a blink. Before Toru even closed his eyes, Dominica stood far off, facing him and as soon when he opened them, she was before him, her sword already swinging upward.  

An unbelievable leg strength.  

Her heavy armor and greatsword gave a sluggish impression… but no. She was as fast as—or faster than—Toru or Akari in light gear. If you let her appearance fool you for even a moment, the next instant you’d feel her blade biting into your skull.  

“Tch…!”  

Toru leaped right where Dominica’s left.  

The greatsword’s weight gave it devastating power but limited maneuverability. Once swung downward, its path couldn’t be easily adjusted. Especially on the non-dominant side, the wielder’s body shortened the reach, slowing movement—  

“Naive!”  

—Or so it should’ve been.  

He hadn’t expected her to bend it at a right angle mid-swing and with only one hand, releasing the left that steadied the sword. No technique it was but just brute, inhuman strength forcing the blade’s path to shift.  

“Gh!?”  

Two shuriken embedded in Toru’s chest vest snapped and flew off. Without them, that first strike might’ve sliced his chest open, killing him instantly.  She had heavy armor, yet this speed. High speed, yet this heavy blow. Normally, speed is sacrificed for defense, or striking power for speed… but Dominica defied such common sense entirely. Likely, that armor—crafted by dragon magic—wasn’t just for defense. Its organic, muscle-like design probably functioned like muscle itself, doubling Dominica’s leg strength and striking power.  

“‘No Second Sword Needed’—well dodged.”  

Dominica smiled, almost satisfied, returning to her stance with a basic, textbook posture, like a swordsmanship novice. But… that made it explosive with her speed and strength, leaving no openings. Fundamentals hold the potential to adapt to any variation.  

“‘No Second Sword Needed,’ huh… so most die from the first strike.”  

Toru growled.  

A sloppy foe might die without realizing they’d been killed.  

Dominica’s attacks were that fast—and heavy.  

Instant kill, total destruction. Truly one-shot lethality.  

“Your existence itself is a surprise attack.”  

“You won’t call it unfair right?”  

“Of course not.”  

Toru grinned boldly, leaping sideways again.  

Dominica had closed the gap in an instant, swinging her sword down.  

Even while talking, neither let their guard down.  

Boom! The sound wasn’t a sword but a massive bludgeon—a siege ram—echoing as the strike carved a long, deep fissure in the courtyard’s ground.  

A cloud of dirt rose, obscuring the space between Toru and Dominica—  

“—Mph!”  

Dominica grunted.  

A sharp metallic clang rang through the dust.  

A shuriken, spinning upward, had been knocked away. Dominica had instinctively blocked one thrown through the dust cloud with her sword.  

“As expected of a saboteur! No hesitation, no openings.”  

“Same goes for ya.”  

The dust cleared.  

A shuriken was lodged deep in Dominica’s abdomen—armor’s gap.  

More shuriken lay scattered at her feet. Aiming precisely through the dust was impossible; Toru had thrown them knowing most would miss, hoping one might hit a vital spot. It had landed better than expected.  

“But that was too close.”  

Dominica said, walking calmly toward Toru.  

Without effort—the shuriken slid out of the armor’s gap, falling to the ground with a bounce.  

No pain crossed her face, no change in her stride. No blood seeped from the gap. A normal human stabbed in the abdomen would, even if not killed instantly, be immobilized…  

“…I see.”  

Toru narrowed his eyes, muttering.  

His gaze caught a fleeting blue light at Dominica’s abdomen—where the wound should’ve been. Magic. Transformation magic had changed a “wounded abdomen” to an “unwounded” one.  

“If it hit your head…” Dominica said, genuinely regretful.  “A shuriken in the forehead would kill you?”  

“Just stabbing? Doubtful. Swords are too sharp. You’d need to scramble the brain, destroy a certain amount, to prevent repair.”  

“Got it, I’ll do that.”  

Toru said.  

The next instant—  

“—Hm.”  

Dominica hoisted her sword onto her shoulder.  

A casual gesture—but it perfectly deflected an iron hammer arcing toward her head with a sharp clash. She’d blocked a rear attack without turning.  

“…”  

Akari didn’t resist her hammer’s recoil, redirecting it into an opposite spin, aiming for Dominica’s neck from the left.  

Dominica, in response—  

“Hmph!”  

Retreated.  

No—wrong.  

Facing backward, she rammed Akari with a body check.  

Dominica’s leg strength, as shown, was extraordinary. Her tackle couldn’t be ordinary either.  

Lightly equipped and naturally light, Akari was blown back, crashing into a mansion window.  

“Gah—!?”  

Shattering glass and snapping the frame, Akari tumbled into the mansion.  

“AKARI!”  

Chaika shouted.  

Clutching her gundo—nearly as tall as she was—she ran toward Akari.  

“Idiot! You—”  

Focus on casting—Toru’s words were cut off by a sword swinging down with ferocious force.  

“Tch—”  

Toru reflexively threw shuriken in rapid succession, like a flurry of slashes. Normally, this would halt an opponent—they’d brace to knock away the incoming weapons—but…  

“No way!?”  

Toru groaned, retreating.  

Dominica didn’t stop. Not for a moment.  

Unlike his earlier blind throws, these small blades flew on precise trajectories, each sucked into gaps in Dominica’s armor. But Dominica ignored them—letting the shuriken pierce her.  

Her pace didn’t slow.  

This—rendered combat tactics meaningless. An opponent unconcerned with injury nullified even feints.  

“What did you think you were fighting?” Dominica grinned ferociously, chasing the fleeing Toru. “What did you think an armored dragon’s defense was? A cute creature that curls up, waiting for enemies to pass?”  

She poured most of her strength into attack, not splitting it between defense and offense.  

Hence—lethality.  

“Humans are inconvenient.” Dominica said, swinging her sword wildly.  

In a sense, it wasn’t technique—just brute swinging, overly straightforward. But her immense strength turned it into a fatal blow. Toru could only dodge. Blocking with a weapon risked snapping his arm along with it.  

“A stab to the gut, and they die. A gash to the chest, they die. A slashed throat, they die. Even a blow to the head can kill. With such fragile bodies—how do they dare wage war?”  

As she spoke, Dominica raised her sword high.  

(—!)  

Toru realized he’d been cornered.  

A garden stone to his right. A flowerbed to his left.  

Jumping either way would slow him for a moment due to obstacles.  

So—  

“Tch!”  

Toru leaped backward.  

He’d gauged Dominica’s weapon range from their exchanges.  

He was sure he could just barely dodge the blade’s tip—  

“—!?”  

Gadun.  

A shock ran through his reflexively raised left arm.  

Then, searing heat—and pain.  

Broken.  

He knew without looking. Dominica’s sword had snapped his arm, along with the dagger strapped to it. Without the dagger and the chainmail beneath—if the sword hadn’t slid off them—Toru’s arm would’ve been severed. There was no chance to parry.  

“No… way…”  

He’d dodged perfectly. Accounting for Dominica’s stepping speed, he was certain it wouldn’t reach—  

“—Wait!?” Forgetting his arm’s pain, Toru shouted in shock. “That’s…!”  

“I told you.” Dominica said, almost exasperated. “What did you think you were fighting?”  

The sword in Dominica’s hand was noticeably longer than before.  

Not quite doubled, but extended by about a step’s length. That threw off Toru’s timing, letting the blade connect.  

“This sword was made by armored dragon magic. It’s within ‘transformation’s’ scope. Why would it always stay the same length?”  

“Come on… that’s basically cheating?”  

“You’re not calling it unfair, are you?”  

“…Kinda wanna take that back.”  

Muttering, Toru leaped backward again.  

The landing’s jolt sent pain shooting through his broken left arm.  

“Guh…”  

This was bad for him as pain disrupted focus.  

And—in such an open space, he’d be prey to a freely extending sword.  

Toru turned, darting into the mansion.  

“Damn… didn’t know it was that absurd a creature.”  

Grumbling, Toru ran down the corridor.  

Dominica—seemed to follow.  

“Fine. Come on, dragoon cavalier.”  

Muttering, Toru raced through the mansion.

“…I see. Luring me indoors now hm?”  

Dominica muttered, stepping into the mansion herself.  

In the confined space of a building, her greatsword’s power would be halved. In contrast, Toru’s main weapons were short swords, more maneuverable. Using the terrain’s advantage—a straightforward, fundamental tactic.  

More like a warrior than a saboteur.  

Dominica actually found it admirable—  

“But shortsighted.”  

As she muttered, her sword vanished.  

The next instant, curved blades extended from both wrists of her armor like claws. As she’d said earlier, her sword was part of her armor, and thus part of herself, within the scope of the armored dragoon’s magic—“transformation.” If a greatsword was impractical, she’d switch to weapons better suited.  

Toru’s group, already overwhelmed outdoors, had no reason to gain an edge by fleeing indoors.  

If anything…  

“That girl, Chaika is the issue.”  

Dominica knew why mages weren’t suited for the front lines.  

Magic was… like setting a trap.  

A gundo had to be positioned, and conditions like temperature, humidity, ley lines, or celestial alignments adjusted for the spell to fire properly. Its power was great, its effects versatile and adaptable, but it required time and effort. But indoors, where movement was restricted. Where temperature and humidity varied little, and positions were roughly fixed.  

If a mage knew these conditions in advance then magic could be cast relatively quickly.  

Having stayed overnight, they’d had ample time to analyze and grasp the Škoda mansion’s conditions. Chaika could likely cast spells faster.  

Dominica glanced around—and then.  

“…Hm.”  

At the end of the long, straight corridor—there was Chaika.  

Her gundo aimed directly at Dominica.  

No telling what kind of attack spell she’d unleash—  

“—Ha!”  

With a sharp exhale, Dominica kicked off the floor, charging toward her.  

With her leg strength, a few steps could bring Chaika within weapon range.  

“Manifest—‘The Creeping One’!”  

Chaika chanted softly.  

Immediately—something shot from her gundo.  

—Shun! A blue-glowing projectile grazed Dominica, who twisted aside, embedding into the wall behind her—then vanished. By then, Dominica had Chaika within her weapon’s reach.  

“True, a straight corridor limits my movement,” Dominica said, looking down at Chaika. “But it also makes your attack’s timing and aim obvious. Knowing that, dodging magic is easier than a thrown pebble.”  

“Ugh…”  

Sweat beading on her forehead, Chaika clutched her gundo tightly, stepping back with a jiri.  

Dominica advanced a step.  

Chaika retreated another.  

And then—  

“Pity, but…”  

This was war.  

What Dominica sought wasn’t half-hearted camaraderie. It had to be a desperate struggle to hold meaning.  

Dominica raised her right claw—no, dagger.  

Chaika hurriedly backed away, but hit a wall.  

“Uyah!?”  

“…?”  

The instant Dominica swung her dagger down, Chaika’s figure vanished.  

Apparently, a hole had been pre-cut in the wall. She’d tumbled through it, escaping outside. To hide the hole from Dominica, they’d pasted fabric resembling the wallpaper over it.  

“…I see.”  

She wouldn’t call it underhanded. Facing a swordsman head-on, a mage would only wait to be killed. Preparing an escape route was natural.  

“Hm…?”  

Curious, Dominica picked up the fabric.  

It was heavy. Wet.  

Smeared with a viscous liquid, like oil.  

What was this? Did they plan to burn the mansion down in a fire attack? But such an attack was meaningless against a Dragoon. She could punch a hole in the wall to escape, or stride through a small fire unscathed.  

When Dominica released it, the fabric sagged under its weight, sticking to the wall. Perhaps it was just to keep the fabric inconspicuous—to prevent wrinkles.  

“Doesn't  matter.”  

Sensing presences, Dominica walked on.  

She climbed the stairs to the second floor, feeling Toru’s presence in a guest room at the end.  

And then—