Attrition

Random Mercenary POV

The caravan has been traveling for almost two days now. By some miracle, we encountered no bandits, beasts, or monsters on the first day, which we all were happy about. An easy job is a good job, I always say.

As we are now, nothing will happen all the way to the port, and all we have to talk about is these two weirdos who sit on top of the caravan all day long.

The guy is definitely a Master martial artist, no doubt. I've seen a few in my time on a variety of battlefields, and they all have this… feeling about them. I can't say I like it, but that could be a learned response. It's like mind wants me to pay as much attention to them as possible, but the majority of them don't let you do that, somehow, which makes it worse in my opinion.

The girl though, is an enigma. She can't be more than 16 years old, but she hasn't left any openings in the slightest. In fact, she's just been refining this whole time, only getting up to look at some massive book that keeps appearing out of nowhere or to eat. Although I haven't been watching her the whole time, I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't go to sleep last night.

I wonder if they're from some famous sect? It's not like I would know… I can only recognize those wanted by the guild anyways.

"Sigh…" I don't have a single friend here, only acquaintances or strangers, making this tedious walk all the more boring. At the front of the caravan, the chubby client was hunched over a pile of documents with his eyebrows scrunched.

You should really get some better posture, you'll get shorter than you are now…

"HOLD UP!"

What? I snapped my head back to the two weirdos thinking I may have just said that aloud. The girl just yelled to hold up, and the Shawls pulling the carriages just… did. They seem a little spooked, even.

I turned to the client, and he did not look happy. "Girl! You better have a damnn~ good explanation for-"

"BOOOM!!~"

!!! A giant smoke cloud came after something big fell just a few dozen meters ahead. I looked up to the weirdos, and the man just sat down. Odd.

The girl cleared the half of the caravan in front of her in a single leap. My hair stood on its ends.

No… sound?

Then, out of the smoke, laughter could be heard.

"Hahahahah!~ Good senses, little girl! I thought we had hidden well enough, but getting found isn't bad at all~"

The smoke cleared, and a tall and well built man clad in well worn plate armor stood at the center of a small crater. His hands were empty and spread apart confidently as if he were inviting a fight. He had a helmet covering his face, but despite not seeing his expression, it was evident he had a large grin plastered on his mug.

"You must have noticed, girl, so I'll speak more for your caravan!" he said while standing up taller through an exaggerated motion, "Ahem!" -he cleared his throat. "We! We are VERMIN! Give up your spoils and we might just turn the cheek! Ahahaha!"

Come now, you're looking quite… what was it?"

!!!

Another individual, considerably smaller and leaner than the armor clad man, landed next to him. "Meek! Meek you dunce!" he said while smacking the man in the back of the helmet. "And I told you not to say the thing anymore! It's old fashioned!"

"Ahaha! But aren't their faces great! I just can't help it! Ahahah!" he said. Right now, I'm surprised the helmet can contain his obvious smile at all.

"Then learn the damn thing!"

The man clad in armor simply waved his hand in dismissal.

Out of the corner of my eye and during their conversation, I witnessed a sword appear in the girl's hands out of nowhere. Does she have an item compressor?! That confirms it, they must be from some noble house or sect, those things are too damn expensive otherwise. But… why is the Master just sitting up there? Is he the noble and she's the escort? But she's too young…

Wait! I just realized! That sho… he's wanted! They both are! Samwise and Dunce! The leaders of the gang VERMIN, they're both near the peak of Advanced martial artists! Does the Master believe that girl can take the two of them on alone? Impossible…

I ran over to the front of the caravan, retrieving my halberd from my back. I whispered, "Girl, those two are Advanced martial artists. I don't care how much of a genius you think you are, you can't beat the two of them. Even if you have a chance, they won't play nice. I'll help."

She turned to me with a blank look on her face and simply said; "Leave."

"Wh-"

She cut me off -"The group surrounding the caravan will attack any minute now, you must feel their bloodlust building by now at the very least."

"Y-you!"

Hmm!?! My head snapped to my left. Bloodlust… she's right… no! They aren't as much of a threat as the two up front.

"Still-"

"Leave."

Motherf- … kids these days. Tsk~ I'm starting to sound like the manager. "Fine, have it your way," I threw my hands up, "I won't step in if you begged me."

Seeing as I couldn't convince her otherwise, I returned to my side of the caravan and raised my senses while keeping my eyes on the three up front.

"OoOoOh~ An item compressor! And that sword… very nice. Are you a noble? I hope you know your daddy's name won't save you out here!" he shouted while opening his arms up once again.

The girl didn't respond, and instead loosely spun the sw-, no, claymore around with the slightest movement in her wrist. It made a crisp sound at each dip, evidence of its quality. The entire blade, pommel, and pointed guard were forged out of some silver in-color material, and the handle was tightly wrapped in dark leather, giving it a sleek and fresh feel.

The blade itself was marginally slimmer than standard issue claymores, but I may be mistaken due to the angle I am positioned.

Dunce continued to babble on, ignoring the piercing glare he was receiving from the girl. Maybe he misconstrued it as fear, but I know annoyance when I see it. Or was it amusement? Gah…

THEN! I felt my chest tighten. The girl dashed instantly without so much as a hint of telegraphing right up to Dunce. He hadn't finished his sentence before her blade somehow slipped through the holes in his armor.

Still, he isn't an Advanced martial artist for nothing. After two near instantaneous attacks connected, he forced the girl back with a stomp that shattered most of the road within ~12 meters of him.

!!! Samwise is gone! My eyes darted around for a moment before finding him.

In the commotion caused by Dunce's stomp, Samwise had dashed around to the girl's blindspot. This uncommunicated joint attack made clear their solid teamwork and synergy. He had drawn two twin daggers from his belt, and once she got within range, he struck.

He moved faster than I could see, and I was sure the girl was dead, but then sparks flew.

"Clang!~"

Samwise seemed surprised that his attack was deflected, as was I, but that didn't stop him. He continued with a flurry of slashes and stabs, pressuring with one knife while attempting to slip an attack in with the other.

"OI! START ATTACKING! THIS ONE WON'T BE EASY!!!" he shouted while continuing his flurry of blows.

My head snapped around, knowing what he meant.

He's right, this won't be easy… damn, I just had to open my mental mouth.

======

Alfred's POV

The short one's constant barrage of attacks forced me to split my attention. I knew these two wouldn't play fair, so it was a must to pretend I'm all in on one or the other to bait out attacks.

As expected, the large one delivered.

While dodging a quick slash from the short one's daggers, I wrenched my body sideways to avoid a large rock flying my way, which conveniently struck the short one square in his stomach, sending him tumbling backwards a few meters.

I used that moment to pounce on him, slipping the other rocks flying my way. I slashed the nearest ankle before he could react, and using a technique called Redirection, I switched the direction of my slash to catch the other ankle all before he could move an inch. Subsequently, I began my assault.

The large one noticed the rocks wouldn't work, so he began a mad dash over to interrupt my Continuous Remise. Slash after slash, thrust after thrust, I pressured the short one. The speed, range, number, power, and distance I held up coupled with his inability to move forced him to take a great number of dangerous gashes. Before I was able to afflict him with any mortal wounds, the large one arrived.

He stomped and sent a ferocious left hook that would have instantly pulverized my skull if it made contact. I redirected it, but the force it generated took me off balance, allowing the short one a moment to muster up an up-kick to my chest, which knocked the wind out of me.

I let the momentum carry me close to five meters away, which the large one was able to close down in an instant. The nanosecond my feet touched the ground, I performed a short grasshopper to launch myself past the large one right on top of the barely standing short one.

My aggression obviously surprised him, as he could only muster a half assed technique in response, which easily granted me his hand.

"Ghhaa! You b-"

I didn't give him the luxury of venting, and promptly kicked him in his unguarded jaw to instantly knock him out. Quickly, I then spun my body around to face the incoming large one.

Something about him changed, I could tell. Instead of meeting him head on, I decided to take a more evasive stance and gauge his new strategy.

With the short one most definitely out of the fight, the large one changed his stance from tall and attention grabbing to a more condensed and efficient striking stance. It was unlike any stance I had ever seen, but I assume that it was created for those who wear full plate armor.

His hands were placed in the perfect positions to strike without worrying about guarding any part of his body. Said body was seemingly coiled up and ready to provide immense power and speed to any strike he delivers.

Seeing as I wasn't attacking on my own, he took initiative.

With extremely nimble steps only someone extremely experienced wearing plate armor could pull off, he closed the gap and shot a quick jab at my face. I twisted my body and sidestepped, arriving at his side. With Kororo, maneuvering my claymore in such close quarters was simple, not to mention getting the blade through the openings in his armor.

It seemed as if I would be able to get a free hit in, but as I was about to strike, his stance changed. I felt my blade cut deep, but he was already in a perfect position to strike. Had I been using HSM this whole time, I would have easily picked up on the change and reacted, but now I could only reduce the damage.

A massive sweeping punch landed at my side. I was able to shift my weight and prevent any fatal damage, but I still felt a few ribs crack. My feet left the ground and I flew 30 meters up and 70 meters back directly over the caravan.

During this short flight, I saw the large one crouch down low, and then leap clear over the caravan. His trajectory would take him to my landing point, but faster as he didn't need to go as high as I was forced to.

Using my Item Compressor, I recalled my claymore and retrieved throwing needles (although their thickness made them closer to stakes). Throughout my flight, I took out three random goons fighting the other mercenaries in my caravan by plunging the needles deep into their skulls in between their eyes before focusing entirely on the large one.

The sheer volume of needles I retrieved and threw allowed me to put a damper in his plan of crushing me the moment I landed, letting me retrieve my claymore and land on my own two feet.

I dashed over to him while dragging the tip of my claymore on the dry dirt. With a flick of the wrist, a cloud of dust shot into his visor, temporarily blinding him. Without sight and with my silent movements, he could only guess where I was. I began picking him apart at any opening I could.

The more I fought it, the more I realized that the stance wasn't entirely devoid of defense. It kept much of the vital joints protected while mostly leaving the less important openings, well… open. That doesn't mean I can't work with this.

I haven't taken many wounds that bled during this fight, but he has. Instead of uselessly fishing for a debilitating blow and playing to his strengths, I instead would turn this into a battle of attrition that I would surely win.

With my strategy finally set, he seemingly regained vision and took action. With a stride forward, he was once again within striking range, but I knew this would happen, so I matched the movement with a stride of my own to keep him out of his range but still within my own.

Using quick thrusts and cuts, I was able to bleed almost every opening available to me and deepen gashes I had already made, even some on his hands. The blood-loss clearly affected him, forcing him to attack less, but his tenacity was commendable.

!!! Without warning, he took a light step back, but somehow in the middle of that movement he pushed forward into his range.

Damn! This is a 2nd division technique!

He rotated his body, indicating a right uppercut, but his body violently changed directions and continued with a left hook that would surely kill me if it connected. I had already activated HSM the moment I realized the level of technique that he was using, allowing me to properly react.

At first, my sword and body were prepared to negate the uppercut, but now utilizing all of the control, speed, and dexterity I have cultivated over these past years, I forced my sword to push the attack upwards slightly and my body to lean backwards nearly perpendicular with the ground, avoiding the attack entirely.

Had I been able to look upon the large one's face, I would no doubt see a dumbfounded expression plastered on it.

In the awkward position I found myself in, my only option would have been to dash backwards, but instead, using my sword I pushed off the ground and hooked one of his knees with my leg, swinging me around to his back. After I accomplished that move, I recalled the claymore and retrieved my dual daggers.

After each subsequent yearly tournament, I used my rewards to fill out my roster of weapons. Having already received an item compressor, I instead chose to replace it with two extra weapon requests to accomplish this given the time I had.

One of the earlier weapons I had requested were these daggers. They were forged from the same silvery metal my claymore was, but there were a few ornamental etchings above the hilt consisting of thin flowing lines. Small divots like open gun triggers between the hilt and nearly non existent guard (which was simply another divot cut from the blade side to hamper another blade from sliding down to the hands) allowed for comfortable holding in both reverse or standard grip. The grip was wrapped in the same black leather as the claymore. The length of the daggers were marginally longer than average, and they have a ever so slight "S" shape from the short hilts that curve back into the palm to the blade that curves slightly outward.

The entire front edge was razor sharp. The back edge was flat and dull on the half closest to the hilt, but as the S curves back into the back edge, the other half is sharp again, forming an inward "C" blade instead of the outside "C" shape the front edge has.

Using this back edge and slipping the daggers through the large one's helmet neck to helmet gap, I slit his throat. This entire reversal happened within one tenth of a second. In fact, the act of hurling my body around to his back was a technique fittingly called Bestride [1].

I leapt off the large one's back the moment I slit his throat to avoid any attempted martyrdom, watching from a distance as he choked on his own blood.

After he ceased movement, I threw a needle through the eye-gap for good measure.

Turning around, I was happy to see that the gang of bandits had been swiftly cut down to only a few remaining members.

They must be for intimidation alone. The short and large ones seem to be their only real significant fighting force. Ahh… no. Being fair, had we left them alone, the lackeys would have made quick work of the Shawls and most likely escaped with our cargo.

"Ah! The Short one," I said aloud, slapping my forehead.

I bent low and angled my torso up and initiated a high arc Grasshopper leap. I got a good view of the entire caravan, and even some of the surrounding area. It seems like there are no remaining bandits in the forest.

Now, where is he… ah! There.

I landed on one of the carriages without so much as a creak from the wood and dashed once again to the side of the road. A small hill had probably been cut through when making this part of the road, as tree roots were protruding out slightly. There, the immobilized short one was doing a decent job hiding. Had I not been looking for him, his body not bleeding profusely, or the drag marks obviously leading to his position, I could have overlooked him.

Unfortunately for him, none of those were the case. His eyes were hazy, indicating his blood deprived state. I put him out of his misery by switching back to my claymore and removing his head from his shoulders after cleaning the blood from my daggers.

I stood aside and flicked my claymore to remove the blood from it. Funnily enough, I did this using one of the only 5th division techniques I have learned, and its only use is to completely remove liquids from a weapon.

After returning to my spot atop the center carriage, the client, carriage drivers, and other mercenaries returned to their posts as if nothing had happened. Even still, I felt quite a few more gazes directed at me.

"Oi Oi! Everybody! We're moving! If we're late you're all getting a pay cut!!!"

"Groannn~"

[1] Bestride (prep): stand astride over; span or straddle.