Was teasing Fukushi a tactical mistake? Possibly. Could I help the urge to do so? Also possibly. Could I have let her win in order to curry her favor? My posthumous thoughts on the subject pointed towards ‘no.’
There was some grudging respect in her eyes after my direct display of potent magic. Perhaps the storm had been all power and no finesse in her eyes? Daniella took an interest after watching me ward off the natural disaster, but Fukushi seemed to respect proper battle prowess over the potential to reduce an army to ashes in an afternoon.
Deep down, I was getting the impression that letting her win would’ve earned me less than no points of favor from her. I’d made the correct decision, as usual! I could still tell she wasn’t going to be so easy a case to crack as Daniella was. The blond had her own agenda: leeching magic from me. Fukushi? She clearly possessed feelings for Daniella, and my intrusion hurt her. Even disregarding how pretty the swordswoman was, I didn’t need any more enemies to worry about, either.
I suppose I owe her the effort to mend things. Teasing her about romance will probably only make her dislike me. Best to treat her nicely, shower her in subtle affection, and when she feels less negatively about me, prod her a bit then.
With that matter settled in the short term, I turned to the three dozen Earthlings in the courtyard.
“So, are these just the heroes interested in swordplay?”
Fukushi grumbled, her gaze darkening. “They were the ones who challenged me, thinking they could defeat me in single combat. They failed to do so even ten against one.”
“Well, that’s impressive. I appreciate you bringing them all down a peg. It spares me a lot of time and effort.” I looked up as Daniella approached, her eyes firmly on the wooden sword Fukushi was holding.
“You were really holding back,” the ‘high mage’ mused.
“Oh?”
Fukishi nodded. “They’re slow. Slower than most civilians. A few have the focus and stance, one even has good footing. But they’re too slow.”
Daniella’s expression turned increasingly concerned. “They’re heroes. They’re supposed to have gifted abilities. Not a single one of them required you to draw a blade you actually have an affinity for?”
“Even against me?” I asked, not liking the idea she might’ve been the one going easy on me.
Fukushi nodded. Her hands shifted to the blade at her waist, which seemed unusual to magical senses. “This is a specially made sword for my unique limitations.” Her right hand tugged at the grip, sliding the blade out until her armspan couldn’t draw it further. “My blades must be at least six feet long before my affinity will apply to them.” She further unhooked the scabbard from her belt, and pushed it aside, drawing the full length of the insanely long blade.
I eyed it with suspicion. The sword was longer than the sheath was. “Storage enchantment?”
The shorter woman nodded, silently focused on her sword, eyes filled with reverence for her craft. Then her right hand seized the pommel, twisting a ring at the end and extending it, revealing that the pommel hid a storage enchantment as well. In the end, the woman was holding an incredibly slender curved blade on the end of a polearm grip. A nodachi, if my memory of Earth’s weapon designs was accurate.
“So you went easy on me.” I felt pretty bitter about that.
Fukushi glared sidelong at me. “Are you wishing for a rematch? I felt the handicap made up for your being a mage. If you aren’t… satisfied, I would happily teach you proper manners.”
The air felt a little chilly, with the look she was giving me there. I waved her off. A rematch wouldn’t earn me any favors, given her mood. Better to let her cool off, I wagered.
I raised my voice towards the bruised heroes. “What have you all learned today?” By my tone, they were under my supervision. By my language, I was their teacher. Blessed Japanese education system; they all gave me their complete attention.
“The correct answer is that you’d all be dead. A real sword in the hands of even an amateur means death at the moment your guard is down. This is not an anime. This is not a manga. This is a bloody world where you either learn to keep aware at all times, or you die. There’s nowhere to relax. Nowhere to let your guards down. If it were up to that king yesterday, you’d all be enslaved and working for his personal interests. If it were up to that storm, this city would be a ruin.”
They all seemed to be processing different degrees of what I was implying. For the slowest, I made it clear.
“Twelve hours. In under twelve hours, you’d have been enslaved and then killed in a natural disaster.”
“What about you?” One of the older ones asked, cutting through the moment. “What makes you so special? Sure, you claim to have been a former hero in some other world. That’s a lot of hubris you’re carrying.”
I looked at the man. Average guy, probably in his mid to late thirties. Technically, he had me dead to rights on that one. I couldn’t falter and reveal flaws, though. I had to rally them to my banner. We stared into each others’ eyes for a long few seconds before I spoke. “I’m alone. I had cherished companions once. They’re all gone now. I survived and they didn’t. It’s not hubris to have a whole world against you, and be the last one standing. It’s suffering. I’ll be hard on everyone… because my pain is too much for most.”
I played that up a bit. Implying the others from my past hero adventure had died? Not entirely a lie. I referred to my chosen and champions in my past worlds. The servants of chaos in those annoying previous games. I’d watched my cherished servants fall over and over again. It was part of the script for the amusement of Su’el and his friends.
I hadn’t really known what to do with the… emotions? The things I felt when those servants died. I could emulate the emotions I witnessed, but only my mortal body’s actual chemical functions really gave me a dose of emotional depth. I’d learned more about mortals since arriving on Earth than I’d understood in hundreds of thousands of years.
My speech had some of the intended effect. A few seemed like they truly got the implications of my meaning. Losing my companions—I was the one who lived, meaning the others didn’t. My power was what made the difference between the companions I mentioned and myself. The difference between life and death.
My problem would come from the next bunch. The ones with pity in their eyes as they felt I needed to be comforted for my loss. I didn’t need pity, I needed them to become receptive to learning and surviving.
There was the middle crowd, too. Those who just never had a family member pass away in their lifetimes. People who only knew of death educationally or through media, like games. They didn’t fear the kind of revelation I delivered, and they didn’t know what it felt like to lose someone they cared about. They felt above the concern, and they’d be fine right up until someone next to them got their soul ripped out or something. That had looked like a terrible way to go, really.
The first group would listen to Fukushi and learn well. The second group would spend their time trying to comfort each other, which was fine, but not the mindset of a fighter who might be delivering death as frequently as playing therapist. The third group would take to some of the lessons, and hopefully build a bit of muscle memory before they hit their first panic moment.
That second group, though… it would be best if they never saw a battlefield. How did a person convince a bunch of weebs to not go on their grand adventure, though? We had enough members to build a small army. An army of people whose abilities ranked in the upper echelons of what usually made up most worlds’ nobility.
The average civilian was likely E class. A guard in a town or village might be D classed at most. The highest ranking marauders—adventurers, sorry, I was thinking from the wrong team’s perspective—might be in the C class, and be legendary in their own right.
A D class person could, at their peak, accomplish a feat worthy of being named Knight, or becoming a landless baron. The C class was for those who ended up in the middle ranks of nobility. B class people reached up to some duchies. A class individuals were rare, and usually ruled large areas, led armies, or managed kingdoms. S class? Heroes, and maybe their luckiest descendants, like Daniella, and maybe Fukushi as well.
Turning that scale on the Earthlings, though? The weakest of them was reading as C class. A small army of counts and viscounts, all able to use magic to various degrees. I just had to identify if their weakness next to Fukushi was because the swordswoman was abnormally strong, or if it was because the heroes were unusually weak. The latter made the weight of my self-appointed task a lot heavier.
Though, if the heroes were on par with their actual class rating, they’d definitely cause problems as a large group. Topple nations they felt were inhumane. Not that they’d be wrong, maybe.
I let out a long sigh as I realized I’d gone down a deep, deep well of negative thoughts. I didn’t do depressive spirals. They were especially bad for my beauty routine. Retirement was good for me. Gave me a nice, healthy pallor. I needed to get back to that.
Think positive thoughts. Daniella. Fukushi. Rio. Adorable girls. Beautiful women. People I could enjoy being around. All of them, wonderful in their own ways. Daniella’s delightful voice, with that refined accent. Fukushi’s shyness and hesitation to just take what she wanted. Rio’s mind blanking when she saw something that stimulated her yuri senses too much. Mhmm. Much better.
Mental exercise complete, I refocused on the gathered heroes.
“Keep training. Learn to stay vigilant at all times. Keep progressing, and learn to run away from a fight you can’t win.”
With that bit done, I turned to Daniella and smiled somewhat stiffly. Motivational speeches were a rare weakness for me. See, perfect humility… sometimes.
I tilted my head towards the courtyard exit, and led the way out. Daniella followed, joined by Fukushi, to my surprise.
“Not the worst leadership skills in the world, but you can’t be a master of everything, right?” Daniella tried to make that sound comforting… not that it helped my ego sting any less.
“Setting that aside.” Fukushi cut in like a razor blade, her words terse and annoyed. “Really, Daniella? Falling for her after a single evening?”
Daniella stared, her mouth open in shock for a long moment. I decided it might be an opportunity to lay a few things to rest.
“I’m standing right here. It’s clear you two need to work things through. Daniella, perhaps clarify your more unique interests? I won’t let anyone harm you, even if your secret gets out. Fukushi, communication is important. If you love someone, say it. Otherwise, don’t complain that they can’t read your mind.”
With that, I took Daniella’s hand, raised her knuckles to my lips, and kissed them gently before departing. I also entirely avoided meeting Fukushi’s outraged eyes. After the ladies worked things out, she’d feel better. The ‘hand grenade’ approach to problems was a favorite of mine, and it even worked in social situations.
Next, I decided to track down Rio and begin magic lessons for some of the other heroes.