The Master of Ragnarok & Blesser of Einherjar: Volume 21 E-Book

Seiichi Takayama

• Herausgeber: J-Novel Club
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Serie: The Master of Ragnarok & Blesser of Einherjar
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Seitenzahl: 236

Beschreibung

The Master of Ragnarok & Blesser of Einherjar: Volume 21

Leseprobe

PROLOGUE

“We will now commence a full frontal assault on Glaðsheimr,” Nobunaga declared the moment he appeared in front of the commanders assembled for the war council.

The announcement that they were about to conduct a full-scale assault caught even the battle-hardened generals of the Flame Clan by surprise. It had only been a day since the Flame Clan had lost two of the Five Division Commanders: Vassarfall the Fáfnir, and Ran, the most loyal of Nobunaga’s retainers. Although they briefly thought he was joking, a single glance at Nobunaga’s expression made it clear he was serious, and the color drained from their faces.

“P-Please, hold but a moment, Great Lord! Based on the battles to date, it’s clear that Glaðsheimr is an impregnable fortress worthy of the name of the Steel Clan. To force the matter and continue our advance upon that city would vastly increase our casualties. No doubt you have a masterful plan prepared?” one of the generals stepped forward and boldly asked.

Up until this point, Nobunaga, though bold, had always been extremely cautious and had always waited until he had prepared the table for victory before fighting. Given his rank, the general knew of this firsthand. Ordinarily, the general would not have doubted that Nobunaga had a plan. However, at this very moment, it seemed that Nobunaga was fueled by anger.

“A plan?” Nobunaga asked.

“Y-Yes. I thought it prudent to confirm,” the general replied, his voice trembling. Nobunaga’s reply had contained a clear edge of annoyance.

“There’s nothing of the sort. We’ll simply force our way in using sheer strength,” Nobunaga pronounced with conviction.

“Wha?!”

This time, the general was struck mute with shock. As he had noted himself, trying to capture Glaðsheimr through brute force was a fool’s plan. He wasn’t even able to imagine how great the losses would be. Then there was the fact that the Flame Clan had rapidly expanded its territories over the past few years. It was difficult to confidently state that the new territories had been fully assimilated into the Flame Clan. The reality was that they were held in check by the clan’s overwhelming military superiority. If the Flame Clan were to lose too many of their men, supporters of the former rulers might very well rise in rebellion, threatening to seriously erode the Flame Clan’s territory. It was far too risky. He needed to warn Nobunaga against this plan and convince him to reconsider.

“Urkh... Gasp...!”

Despite his reservations, however, he wasn’t able to raise his head. His mouth wouldn’t move. It took a great deal of effort even to breathe. While the general was a veteran who had served Nobunaga for a decade, he had never seen his liege express this much rage. Nobunaga’s ordinary aura was that of a wild predator—the conqueror’s aura he gave off now made that seem like a gentle summer breeze. The general could do nothing but cower like a frog facing a cobra, sweat pouring from his brow. It was a humiliating display, but he was still one of the better ones.

There were several thuds from around the general as several of the commanders collapsed despite being in the presence of the patriarch. They all clutched at their chests, and their faces were purple from a lack of oxygen. Terror had caused them to start hyperventilating, despite the fact that everyone present was a grizzled warrior who had fought on countless deadly battlefields.

“Not enough sleep? Tch. Such weakness.” Nobunaga clicked his tongue and drew the sword on his hip. Nobunaga hated idleness and a lack of effort more than anything else. To him, for the commanders to collapse in front of their patriarch showed that they were simply lacking in a sense of urgency.

No, that wasn’t it—or so the general wanted to say, but the only sounds that came from his mouth were wheezes. The general’s consciousness was slipping away. The aura Nobunaga radiated was no longer that of a man. The figure that stood there was a god—no, a demon lord—driven by flames of hatred.

ACT 1

“Ba ha ha ha! We have nothing to fear from the Flame Clan!”

“All we need to do is skewer them with our spears.”

“Glory to our reginarch, Suoh Yuuto!”

“Cheers!”

Valaskjálf Palace was abuzz with the sound of the spontaneous victory parties scattered around its grounds. The celebratory mood was understandable—they had won successive victories against the Flame Clan, an opponent against whom they had previously been forced to endure a string of humiliating defeats. They had even been able to kill one of the Flame Clan’s greatest generals, Vassarfall the Fáfnir, and Sigrún’s Múspell Unit, a symbol of victory to the Steel Clan, had joined up with their forces. Even without alcohol, the mood of the army was elevated by the circumstances.

“I’d heard we’d been ordered to keep fire away from the area at all costs. I never would have imagined the air itself would ignite had we disobeyed those orders...”

“Hah. I imagine the Flame Clan soldiers got a real fright.”

“Oh, they certainly did.”

Yuuto himself was busily engaged in an enjoyable chat with the Horn Clan general Haugspori, a key player in the recent victory, as the other generals celebrated around them. The subject at hand was the fire attack that they had unleashed on the Flame Clan using the highly distilled spirits at their disposal. Haugspori himself had been quite a distance away from the Flame Clan’s ranks, but it seemed he had gotten a good look at their reactions. Such was the eagle-eyed vision of the Steel Clan’s greatest archer and an Einherjar with the rune Ljósálfar, the Light Elves.

“I was certainly surprised by how you managed to pull that off. I heard you hit countless urns that the trebuchets launched. That was a feat of divine marksmanship,” Yuuto said in admiration.

“It wasn’t actually that big of a deal. When I first heard what needed to be done, I thought it would be impossible to pull off, but when it came to it, it was easier than shooting a flying bird. It was easy to read how they arced through the air,” Haugspori replied with a modest shrug of his shoulders. His expression, however, indicated he was proud of his accomplishment. “At the very least, I’m relieved I don’t have to give up the title of the Steel Clan’s greatest archer.”

“Ah, right, you won by two arrows, right?” Yuuto asked.

“Yes. Uncle Rungr was quite the shot, too, but I was still better,” Haugspori said, chuckling as his lips twisted into a proud smile. It seemed he was quite pleased to put one over on Hveðrungr, the man who had once been his enemy. There was something appropriate about the fact that Hveðrungr wasn’t quite able to topple the Clan’s, and perhaps Yggdrasil’s, best archer.

“Lord Haugspori, we’d appreciate it if we could have a bit of your time. It is only fair we get a chance to hear of your exploits.”

Haugspori let out a cry of surprise as a pair of arms suddenly grabbed him from behind. Of course, he wasn’t actually caught by surprise, and he was simply playing along with the act as part of the partying atmosphere. There was no way a man as accomplished in war would be caught by surprise from behind.

“Your Majesty, if we may drag him off?” a stern-looking man with a thick beard asked respectfully. His name was Fundinn. Though clad in a bare minimum of furs, he was a muscular man who showed off his physique without a hint of modesty. Although he appeared like any other mountain bandit, he was, in all actuality, the patriarch of the Mountain Dog Clan, and one of the highest-ranking members of the Steel Clan.

“Yeah, I’ve heard what I’ve wanted to hear. Go on and take him. With that said, it’s about time you returned the guest of honor of this party to me, wouldn’t you say?” Yuuto responded.

“Ah, of course. No doubt she would like to return to you as well, Father,” Fundinn said, nodding in agreement as he disappeared into the crowd, Haugspori in tow. Yuuto watched him depart and let out a long breath, letting his shoulders slump for a moment.

“Phew...”

Sieges were exhausting. While he had permitted victory celebrations to allow the soldiers to vent their frustrations and to improve morale, Yuuto himself still felt the pressure of being under siege. Yes, they had won the most recent engagement—the fact that they had been able to take down Vassarfall the Fáfnir, one of the Flame Clan’s Five Division Commanders, was a big accomplishment. They had, however, taken their share of losses. Though the number of dead was thankfully rather low, there were a fair number of wounded. A particularly painful loss had been the fact that Erna and Hrönn had been wounded gravely enough to knock them out of the fighting. The two were particularly notable for their offensive strength, even among the elite Einherjar that made up the Maidens of the Waves. Just having them on the front lines provided a massive boost to morale.

Yuuto had to admit that the forces he had at his disposal had been depleted by that battle. Furthermore, he had already expended one of his important trump cards—the distilled alcohol firestorm. The enemy had let the Steel Clan scatter alcohol over them because they weren’t aware that alcohol was flammable. He wouldn’t be able to use the same tactic a second time. Also, while the Flame Clan had lost their northern army, they retained their eastern, western, and main southern forces. Given that they had probably also collected the remnants of the northern army, they still probably had at least eighty thousand men at their disposal. The Steel Clan Army, however, numbered just a touch over thirty thousand men, of which three thousand were wounded. The situation still massively favored the Flame Clan.

“Father, I’m told you wished to see me.”

A familiar voice shook Yuuto out of his reverie. When he looked up, silver hair wavered in front of him. He felt his expression lighten and his brow unknit.

“Yep. Once again, welcome back. I’m so happy you’ve returned,” Yuuto replied as he greeted Sigrún with a warm, genuine smile. While she had come to see him to report her return, his dealing with the retreat back into Glaðsheimr and the victory celebrations meant he hadn’t had much time to speak to her. In fact, it had been two months since he had last seen her. Furthermore, she had been considered missing in action since being washed away by a surge in the Körmt River. Yuuto wanted to make sure he took the time to properly welcome her home.

“I am glad to be back at your side, Father.”

It seemed Sigrún understood Yuuto’s intent, and she allowed a smile to creep onto her usually stoic features. The sheer gap from her usual expression made her smile seem all that more dazzling to him. Lately, she had started to express more of her emotions in her facial expressions. She was already popular among the soldiers as the Frozen Flower and the Goddess of Victory, but if they were made aware of this development, no doubt it would drive her popularity to new heights.

“Yeah, and thank you for your souvenir. It was a huge help,” Yuuto responded gratefully.

The souvenir in question had been the head of Vassarfall, one of the Five Division Commanders of the Flame Clan Army and the commander of the northern army who had so fiercely resisted the Steel Clan. Sigrún was now not only a goddess of victory to the soldiers—even Yuuto had started to regard her the same way.

“I was only fulfilling my role as Mánagarmr,” she stated earnestly.

“Just doing your job, huh? If that’s what the job entails, your successor is going to have a hell of a time filling those shoes!” Yuuto chuckled as he considered how much the next generation’s warriors would struggle to live up to Sigrún’s reputation. He knew with confidence that they wouldn’t be able to match her accomplishments. Not only that, but they’d be constantly compared to their predecessor. Yuuto wasn’t able to resist feeling sympathy for that person.

“But, well, the best souvenir you’ve brought me...” Yuuto trailed off and lightly gestured for Sigrún to come closer. In response, Sigrún knelt to one knee and tilted her head in his direction. Yuuto gently placed his hand atop her head. “...is your safe return! Well done!” He then ruffled her hair with all of his might. He knew that war was her life, and he knew he needed her on the front lines, but if he was honest, he would have preferred not to send her to the front. What had made matters worse was that this time, she had been sent on a separate assignment and had been struggling both physically and mentally before the fact.

His relief and happiness at her safe return were pronounced. However, in contrast to her usual happy expression at having her head patted by Yuuto, Sigrún’s face took on an apologetic pout.

“My apologies, but I can’t say that I’ve come back completely unharmed...” she stated sheepishly.

“Ah?! W-Were you injured somehow?!” Yuuto couldn’t help but look at her wide-eyed in surprise. He had received regular messages from Linnea via messenger pigeon, but none of Linnea’s reports had mentioned anything of that sort. The news had caught him completely by surprise.

“Yes. My right hand isn’t working as I wish.”

“That’s your dominant hand! Was it wounded?!”

“No, not a physical wound, at least. I believe it’s a side effect of spending too long in the Realm of Godspeed.”

“Ah, that...”

He had heard that the ability allowed Sigrún to move with god-like speed, but that after prolonged use, it left her with muscle cramps across her entire body.

“So the technique had its dangers,” Yuuto said with a pained expression.

In modern Japan, it was well known that human muscles were only capable of exerting about thirty percent of their full strength due to its popularity as a trope in fiction such as manga. It wasn’t because humans were predisposed to reserving their strength, but just like how professional athletes often suffered from injuries, there were limits to the amount of force that the human body could withstand. Sigrún’s Realm of Godspeed was essentially a way for her to remove the limiters that kept her from overstressing her body to assist her in life-and-death situations. It should have been obvious to him that if she used it too often, Sigrún’s body would eventually begin to break down as it was unable to withstand the damage that its extensive use was bound to cause.

Yuuto frowned apologetically and bowed his head to her. “I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. I knew that it was dangerous, but I couldn’t tell you not to use it.”

“No. If I hadn’t used it, I wouldn’t have been able to be here with you like this, Father,” Sigrún replied.

“...I see. He must have been a hell of an opponent.”

That was the greatest reason Yuuto had never been able to prohibit her from using it. It was one thing to not use it in exhibitions or sparring matches, but Sigrún regularly engaged in life-or-death fights. He was afraid that if he put restrictions on its use, Sigrún would end up dying as a result.

“He was. If anything, he was so powerful that it’s a miracle I got away with just losing the use of my right arm. He was far stronger than I am,” she explained.

“If he’s got you saying things like that, then I’m damned glad you made it back to me.” Yuuto then once again stroked her hair and placed his palm against her cheek. He needed to feel it—the warmth of her skin that proved she was still with him.

“Things are starting to get a bit difficult now...”

Yuuto deeply furrowed his brow as he lay sprawled on his bed after the end of the party. While he hadn’t mentioned it in front of Sigrún, given her extraordinary contributions to the army, her injury was one of the worst developments that could have occurred. Certainly, he would prefer not to send her to the front lines, but at the same time, there was a part of him that had looked forward to her contributions on the battlefield. Being a patriarch required balancing competing desires like those.

“Indeed... I’m told Nobunaga’s daughter Homura is twin-runed. If Rún can’t fight properly, then dealing with her will become substantially more difficult,” Felicia, sitting next to him and gently stroking his hair, said with a troubled expression.

“Yup...” Yuuto replied.

According to Hveðrungr, though Homura was still a child, she possessed superhuman physical abilities.

“I initially had an advantage thanks to her being both off guard and rather arrogant. I was somehow able to defeat her because she was still young and her technique was rough, but I don’t know if I could do so again,” he had explained.

She was strong enough to make even Hveðrungr uneasy. With Erna and Hrönn wounded and out of action, he couldn’t think of whom to send against her.

“Sometimes the greatest opportunity comes after the period of greatest danger, but the reverse is also true,” Yuuto muttered.

Bad news tended to come in bunches, and another new difficult problem had just popped up for Yuuto to deal with. Southern Glaðsheimr had been a sea of fire for a while, but because the majority of houses were made of adobe, the fire was quickly dying down. It would probably completely die out by tomorrow morning. Of course, that was well within his calculated results, but although the adobe houses wouldn’t burn, they had grown more fragile due to the high temperatures they had been exposed to. According to Kristina’s survey, most of the houses in southern Glaðsheimr had collapsed after the fire. There were many locations where rubble blocked the alleys, and on top of that, the Flame Clan Army’s bombardment had also wiped quite a few of the houses off the map. That meant that the guerrilla tactics that had been the foundation of the Steel Clan’s defensive plans were no longer viable options.

“So, how do we deal with them?” Yuuto let his mind weigh the possibilities as he gazed up at the ceiling. In terms of numbers, the odds weren’t even enough to let him engage in direct combat with the Flame Clan forces. He needed some sort of scheme to overcome their numerical advantage. However, the honest truth was that he was running out of cards to play in that regard. He had concocted a number of schemes in preparation for this battle and readied them within the city. However, the battlefield was a living creature. The vast majority of those schemes weren’t suited for the current situation and wouldn’t result in any meaningful progress toward the Steel Clan’s goals.

“I suppose we’ll start with that one. It’s perfect given that we don’t know how the enemy’s going to move,” he decided. It was the patriarch’s job to make decisions even in the worst of circumstances. After all, countless allied lives depended on his choices. It was a heavy burden—one he wanted to run away from. However, that wasn’t a choice for him. He needed to grit his teeth and bear the overwhelming pressure.

“The moment we get to our new home, I’m going to abdicate. I’ll just sit in the sun and play with cats,” Yuuto stated.

“Yes, that sounds rather nice. I’ll follow you there,” Felicia replied.

“Yep. I’m counting on you to provide your lap as a pillow,” Yuuto said cheerily.

The peacefully mundane routine of daily life... Even that felt like a distant dream at the moment. It was something he was going to reclaim at all costs, and he was willing to do anything to accomplish that goal.

“Please wait, Great Lord!”

It was right when Nobunaga was about to bring down his bare blade upon his unconscious officers. A craggy but vital voice rang out. Nobunaga held back his blade right before it cut through the unconscious men’s necks and turned his gaze toward the voice, where he saw an old man with a gloriously full white beard.

“Salk...” Nobunaga muttered.

The man was none other than Salk, a grizzled veteran that the soldiers referred to as Old Man Salk out of respect, and the last surviving member of the Five Division Commanders. Because of his experience, his intelligence, and his care and cautiousness as a general, he had been placed in command of the defense of Blíkjanda-Böl, but now that the Steel Clan had practically abandoned their western territories and the Múspell Unit had appeared in Glaðsheimr, Nobunaga had ordered him to the front lines. After all, given the Steel Clan’s current military situation, there were no reasonable threats to the Flame Clan’s capital.

“You’re late. Where had you been idling?” Nobunaga glared at the old man and said icily. The other officers gulped in fear.

“Ha hah. So harsh, My Lord. I’m afraid at this age, I can’t keep up with the younglings on horseback,” Old Man Salk replied with a casual chuckle. As he had noted himself, his body was thin from age. Though his back was bent, and at a glance he appeared a withered old man, he showed no sign of being intimidated by Nobunaga’s gaze. He was one of the Five Division Commanders. He hadn’t lived to his current age through sheer luck.

“Hrmph. I’ll set that aside for the moment. On what basis do you demand I spare them?” Nobunaga asked.

“First, rein in your anger, My Lord. At my age, I can let it pass over me, but it’s a bit much for these younglings. The poor children, they’re even struggling to breathe,” Salk explained.

At Salk’s observation, Nobunaga turned his gaze to the officers around him. All of them flinched backward in fear the moment Nobunaga looked at them. That wasn’t enough to satisfy him though.

“They’re generals in the Flame Clan. To faint at my mere anger is a sign of unforgivable weakness,” Nobunaga stated coldly.

“Your rage at the moment is far too intense to be described as ‘mere’ anger, My Lord. It feels as though I’m facing a god or a demon lord,” Salk replied.

“And yet, you seem to be dealing with it without issue.”

“I suppose I am. I’m so old I may drop dead at any moment. With that thought lurking in my mind, most things seem trivial, much like flatulence in the face of a gale.”

“Hrmph. Full of hot air as always.”

“And by that, you mean the flatulence, My Lord?”

It was a painfully thin joke, but it took quite a bit of nerve to say it in front of Nobunaga himself.

“You fool. Tch. You’ve ruined the mood.” Nobunaga clicked his tongue in annoyance and sat down where he stood.

“Fine. I’ll forgive them this time, for your sake,” he added with a frown, resting his face on his palm. Salk’s words seemed to have calmed him down to a degree. He still felt that the officers were rather worrisome given that they fainted in the face of his anger (which by his own standards wasn’t particularly intense), but with four out of the Five Division Commanders dead, they now made up the core of the Flame Clan. If he were to reduce their numbers before the decisive battle, that would be shockingly poor generalship—it was a thoroughly unwise decision, no matter the situation.

“I’m glad to hear that, My Lord. I was worried you would take my head as well,” Old Man Salk said with a laugh. In contrast to his words, he showed no concern in his mannerisms.

Nobunaga snorted with displeasure at the old man’s unwavering attitude. At the same time, however, it was precisely that unwavering confidence and nonchalance that would be vital to the Flame Clan, given that they had just suffered successive losses.

“Now, My Great Lord, I’m told you were planning a massive frontal assault. No doubt you have a plan?” Old Man Salk’s expression changed from one of relaxed nonchalance to deathly seriousness in an instant. He hadn’t been present when Nobunaga had announced that fact, but it seemed he had been listening in. It was dangerous to underestimate the old man.

“What plan could possibly be needed to pull off an all-out assault?” Nobunaga responded.

“My Great Lord...” Salk said in exasperation.

“Even without a fleshed-out plan, I have great confidence in our chances,” Nobunaga stated.

Salk furrowed his brow in skepticism. Even if he had been enraged, Nobunaga wasn’t one to start a battle without being confident of victory. He couldn’t have been bothered to explain it, but he had already coolly calculated the odds of success.

“Oh? May I ask why?” Salk asked.

“The great fire. No doubt the effects of their entrapment have been weakened. Even if they had other things prepared, the fire would have consumed it,” Nobunaga explained. “If we give them time, no doubt they’ll come up with another troublesome scheme. In that case, it’s much better for us to attack with all of our forces from the south before they can do precisely that.”

“I see. Yes, that is logical.” Old Man Salk nodded as though in agreement. Salk then turned to the other generals.

“You have no objections either, I take it?” he asked with his lips curled into a smile. The officers also nodded in unison—they too seemed to approve of Nobunaga’s decision. Salk had instantly cleared the discord that had threatened to build between Nobunaga and his generals. That was an ability he had acquired through his years of warfare.

While Nobunaga appreciated that side of Salk, he also found it irritating. With his head boiling with rage, he wanted to move as quickly as possible. All his underlings needed to do was shut up and obey his orders. He swallowed the first words that had come to mind and instead waved his arm toward the north.

“Return to your units and prepare for battle! It’s time to avenge Ran and Vassar!” he proclaimed.

“Ah, so that’s how you’re moving.” Yuuto furrowed his brow and glared at the shogi board in front of him. Rather than Hveðrungr, his usual opponent, he faced a young woman who sat across the board from him.

“Heh... You underestimated me when you agreed to play against me without rooks or bishops,” Kristina replied as she placed her hand over her mouth and chuckled elegantly. She had just recently turned fifteen. Compared to when he had first met her two years ago, her height hadn’t changed, but her curves had filled out a bit, and she now looked very much like a young woman. Her perpetually expressionless features were extremely finely sculpted, and even Yuuto, who was surrounded by stunning women, had no choice but to admit she was turning into quite the beauty. She was also the blood daughter of the current patriarch of the Claw Clan, which, combined with everything else, would have made her quite the eligible bachelorette. He’d yet to hear any rumors of anyone seeking her hand, however. Given that she was now at the right age to marry in Yggdrasil, that was rather odd. The reason for that was simple though...

“Uta, my shoulders feel a bit stiff,” Kristina stated.

“At once, mistress!” Utgarda answered dutifully.

Soon after Utgarda started, however, Kristina lashed out at her with a riding crop. A clear smacking sound could be heard as it made contact.

“Eep!” she yelped in pain.

“Too strong. Use a bit less brute strength, will you?” Kristina demanded.

“But last time you said this was...” Utgarda replied.

Smack!

“Ack!”

“Quite brave of you to talk back despite your status,” Kristina said coldly.

“M-My apologies...” Utgarda responded meekly.

The reason was clearly because of this sadistic streak in her personality. Her lips were curled into a cruel smile—she was deriving great enjoyment from her actions. Yuuto couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh at the exchange. There likely weren’t many men who had the strength to be able to both readily accept her and keep up with her.

“Now it’s too weak,” Kristina complained.

“Urk!”