Kazuki the Black Tone - 1

At that moment, four different things were visible in Milieu the Hemp Drop's narrow eyes.

First, the mercenary who was quarreling near the counter—from what he could make out, he said something along the lines of "Who cares about a damn contract?" and "I quit." It wasn't anything important, but he was eventually shot with a crossbow. A fight within the Free City of Okafu, and especially inside the walls of The Goose, meant that either side was drunk, so the arrows missed their mark by a wide margin, destroying two liquor bottles on the counter. The contents then trickled down to where Milieu and the others were. An all-too- common sight.

The next event came from the chair in the corner. He saw it out of the corner of his eye. A man covered in rags reacted with lightning speed to the stray arrow closing in. He twisted his body slightly. A bolt pierced his chest. The arrow stabbed perfectly through the area near his heart and stuck itself in the pillar behind him.

After it was all over, the waitress near the man in rags finally realized the situation at hand. Together with a high-pitched shriek, she let the water jug slip out of her hands. Milieu could also follow the trajectory of the spray as it scattered in midair.

However, when the jug left the waitress's hand, the hand of the man in rags caught the bottom of it. With the subtlest of moves, he captured all the water back inside the jug.

"I'm all set on the water, thanks."

The man, his heart freshly pierced through, handed the water jug back to the waitress.

"Since it looks like my seat's got a bit of a target on it."

Milieu also clearly saw the state of the fingers poking out from the gaps in the man's rags.

"Hey there, you a mercenary as well?"

Milieu was now in a merry mood for the first time in a long time and nearly

skipped over to take the seat across from the man. Normally, Milieu would've liked to treat the man to a drink, but considering who he was talking to, he knew his kindness would be meaningless.

"I'm Milieu the Hemp Drop. Instead of water, maybe you need some tobacco or something?"

"...Nah. I've heard booze and tobacco aren't great if you want to live a long time, so I abstain."

"Pfffft, that's a tasteless joke. In that case, you must be here looking for work."

The Free City of Okafu was an independent city created by the self- proclaimed demon king Morio, where mercenary services were the city's main business…

The war between the kingdom and the self-proclaimed demon kings—or possibly the struggle for existence between the minian and monstrous races— raged on. It was fueled by applying military force to conflicts of any size—so much so that these territories were no different than mercenary headquarters.

Now, with the fall of the New Principality, the proficiency and number of soldiers gathered there from the far reaches of the realm surpassed all other nations besides Aureatia. They came due to its specialized logistical support beyond an individual mercenary's reach—aggregating jobs and information, loaning out cutting-edge weaponry like guns and cannons or peacetime training.

Of course, during the end of the True Demon King era, they were only given jobs that involved getting rid of the Demon King Army, and the mercenaries lost any room to freely choose who were their friends and foes.

This was still true, even now.

"I came here this morning. I have business with the people trying to crush Okafu. Don't give a damn what happens to this country, but they might be the ones who know something about me."

"That part about knowing something about you sounds suspicious to me.

Right now, at the very least, I don't know you at all." "Sound Slicer."

The man put his right hand on the table. It had neither muscle nor skin. It was a smoothly polished, jewel-like, skeletal minian hand.

"Shalk the Sound Slicer. But that's not my real name. I'm just calling myself that."

"…The lost memories from when you were living, then. Or rather, they say that skeletons are totally different creatures, personality-wise, from their

previous living forms… How many years since you came alive?"

"Alive? Don't be silly. It'll be two years soon. I've been dead for two years. To be honest, I don't even know much about this world in general, let alone about myself."

Milieu was already convinced. That stray arrow from earlier that pierced through the man's chest wasn't because he hadn't dodged in time. With minimal movement, he dodged to ensure the arrow would slip through the gaps in his rib cage. He had matched the speed of the arrow's flight to do so.

Skeletons. Like golems and mimics, their existence was totally different from life birthed in nature, instead of created with Demon Arts. In minian society, they were feared more than the monstrous races; they were abominations to be avoided.

However, given that skeletons and revenants used corpses for their base materials, there was someone living who existed before them. Though they didn't have memories and souls of their previous forms, it was natural for them to discover things regarding their former lives.

Though realizing it to be an idle endeavor, there were some who pursued the memories of their previous lifetime in order to fill in their vacant selves.

"Sounds to me like you could use a guide, eh? Someone with the same goal in mind, with the know-how and skills, to boot. A guy like me, for example. Though, well…"

Milieu looked over his shoulder toward the counter. A man with a bottle smashed over his head collapsed, covered in blood, and the remaining mercenaries had run off in separate directions.

For the past several days, it was this scene repeated over and over again. Not a rare sight at all.

"Can't say it looks like a very favorable state of affairs at the moment."

"…I want to know about my enemy. How many people he's brought with him, for instance."

"Go on."

Milieu shrugged and smiled with his narrow eyes.

"Hasn't brought anyone. Plans on eradicating all of them by themselves.

Ridiculous, huh?"

What was laughable was the fact that their enemy truly did possess the strength to keep their word.

This was still a world where the strength of an individual could sway a battle. Even examples like this, of an inconceivably powerful individual causing the

destruction of large military forces, weren't rare—anyone resolved to the path of the warrior hoped to reach such limits, pouring themselves into polishing their skills, and a small number among those then joined the ranks of the strong. Such examples were called champions.

Okafu currently was under attack from just such a champion. It was said she was a visitor who had a long-standing feud with their lord, Morio the Sentinel, but given their status as mercenaries, they weren't privy to any more details than that.

"Kazuki the Black Tone is coming."

In the span of a single big month, and at frightening speed, Okafu's elite had met their end. Doment the Green Sash. Inezin the Ophidian Measurer. Larky the Hemotidings Bullet. All of them taken out by a single person.

"That'll make things quick. We'll figure out which of us is stronger, and that'll be the end of it."

"Whoa, whoa, and here I was thinking up until now it'd be all about who's stronger between Kazuki and me, instead."

"…You might be right."

The skeleton's hollow sight dropped. He was staring at the weapon hanging from Milieu's waist.

It was a commonplace rapier, if anything an abnormal sight within The Goose's walls, overflowing with dangerous mechanized or heavy weaponry.

"Is it better if a new recruit like me stays out of it? This is a mercenary's pride issue, isn't it?"

"Can you even handle it—is probably the better question. We've more or less got our strategy all figured out, but if you come out of nowhere to throw a wrench in the works, I feel like you're the one who'll end up having a bad time." "Got it. In that case, I'll just remain on defense... I'm the new guy, after

all."

"Ah-ha-ha, I love it. You're real confident, aren't you? If that's not enough for you, you could join the other side, if you'd like. After all, we're heading into a new era. Defending a self-proclaimed demon king's country is going out of style."

"Well, as you can see, I'm dead. I exist in the past tense, as it were."

It was then that the door behind the counter opened, and the pair both turned to look at the same time.

The proprietor drew a simple line across the chalkboard to display a reward

sum and announced the gathered men's new job.

"We got a mission, mercs! Gathering people to fortify the area around Great Bridge Gate! Hold the enemy back until tomorrow morning and keep them outside the second outer wall! Paid in full up front, whether there's an attack or not! It's a mission straight from Lord Morio himself! Any ungrateful bastard fixing to challenge him, huh?!"

Six of the men responded to the hoarse shout.

"I'll take today's job, too. I still haven't earned enough for my sister's treatment."

The huge man, gigantic two-handed swords strapped to either side of his waist, had deeply tanned skin, like black ink. His name was Hilca the Shadow's Ship.

"Whoa, hold up here—the pay today's got an extra damn digit tacked on!!

Lord Morio's gonna spend up all his popularity!"

The elf, wearing a wide-brimmed hat low on his head, hollered while stretched out on the couch. He was said to use a staff in battle, but no one had ever seen him carry one before. Leforgid the Woven Trail.

"I'm in, of course."

The calm, elderly ogre was a veteran even to the other gathered mercenaries. He answered while making adjustments to the cogwheel on the inside of his round shield, appearing to be some sort of mechanical weapon. Wint the Astonishment.

"…I'd like clarification on some of the conditions. What happens if we put this threat down?"

The tall zmeu woman fiddled with a slender instrument in her hand, resembling a medical bottle. She was Pagireshe the Quivering Toes, former second-formation rear guard in Obsidian Eyes.

"Well, obviously I'm in."

"I'll be joining up with you today, Shalk the Sound Slicer." Two minia. One elf. One ogre. One zmeu. And one skeleton.

In this town, where power was the measure for everything, no one was treated differently, even monstrous and construct races. Fight, get results, and be rewarded. For Shalk, living as a mercenary, it was a very simple arrangement— and one he was long familiar with.

"Well now, Shalk. My name's Leforgid. I can tell even with that cloth covering you up. You're a skeleton, right? How the heck're you moving if you don't eat nothing?"

"Sorry, that's a secret."

Shalk dealt with the elven mercenary who was first to chat with him.

"I was thinking I could give you that juicy info in exchange for hearing why you can't move an inch without food, see."

"Heh, funny guy, huh? Well, how 'bout we have even more fun, eh?" "…Quit while you can. Shalk's not just talk. I saw his moves a bit earlier. He

could probably dodge your techniques, too."

"Even without any muscle? Well, I hope so, I guess…"

Milieu arbitrated the situation, and the elf shrugged before stepping back.

Shalk said nothing more, but he did feel a twinge of nostalgia. When he was a mercenary for the New Principality, he recalled someone trying to rile him up like this on his first there day there, too.

A carriage was likely to be along soon to take them to their post. A harsh mission, where from now until the following morning, they'd need to be on constant guard against an attack, completely unsure when it might come.

While each of them prepared for battle, Shalk, too, took his own weapon in his hand. It was a white short spear. The shaft seemed to be made of bone, as white and smooth as Shalk's own body.

"Are these lot the only fighting power we got? Seemed like there were quite a lot of mercenaries back at the citadel."

"Each shop is in charge of defending different positions. Morio's personal troops, well… They'll probably provide supporting fire from the citadel—but can't rely on them for much. The enemy'll attack under the cover of night, so they'll only be able to fire at random. You'll get caught up in the fire and shot yourself if you're not careful."

"If you're worried about our fighting power, the plan's that three of our proudest fighters are returning from Aureatia today, but…"

"Hey, don't go looking at me, Hilca. I tried to stop 'em." "…Wanna take bets on if they'll make it back alive or not?" "They must have been wiped out."

"Yeah, definitely."

"Not even worth the wager."

Under the current situation, even coming in and out of the Free City of Okafu was a game of pure luck.

Not only that, but with how it was, the ones who managed to get through the gate unscathed were considerably blessed by fortune.

In Shalk's particular case, though, entering the city without his carriage

coming under attack at all, it had been a considerably misfortunate outcome instead.

"That reminds me, I haven't asked yet. Have any of you here seen the Hero's bones before?"

"What's that question about?"

"Some code or something? What about you, Hilca?"

"I don't even know their face; how am I supposed to know what their bones look like?"

"Ha-ha, good point!"

Shalk looked at the ogre drinking his booze, the only one yet to answer. He shook his head, just like the others.

It appeared Shalk's only option to find his answers was to ask their enemy that night.

"I don't have any proof, but… I'll take the bet that they're still alive."

The setting sun, like a bright flame, cast defined shadows on the ground.

The main road that led them to Okafu had even terrain until, as it approached closer and closer to the city, it changed into a mountain slope. The Free City of Okafu was an impregnable fortress cast into a huge rocky outcropping.

Within the carriage, wrapped in red shadows as it returned home, there were people engaged in conversation.

One zmeu. Two ogres. Including the driver, the three were all Okafu mercenaries—and confident in their skills and prowess.

"From here to Okafu… A bunch of places that menace could be waiting to ambush us."

With their work in Aureatia finished, they chose to return to the Free City amid its current state of danger. Up until a few days prior, Aureatia itself was facing a similar crisis as the Particle Storm disaster approached their borders. Although they heard that Aureatia had already warded off the threat, there were plenty of people, even beyond other mercenaries like them, who would choose to return to their home city.

"You think Kazuki the Black Tone's coming this way? A swordsman like you is at a disadvantage against a gunfighter, right?"

"Yeah… I've dodged bullets…four times, I think? One time, I didn't dodge and got a wound in my side. It must've just grazed me, because it only took one large month to heal," the ogre in the passenger carriage replied. The blade he carried was short but as thick as a shield.

Lifting up his clothes, the scar he showed was cut deep into his skin, and if he were minian, it'd likely have been a fatal shot to his inner organs, but for an ogre with extremely thick muscles and fat covering his body, it wasn't even enough to incapacitate him. They were the most terrifying monster race of all, combining horns, a massive body, and an intellect on par with the minian races.

"I'm intrigued. How'd you manage to dodge 'em? You must've caught their look and hand movements, right?"

The zmeu linked both her claws. This reptilian race was counted among the minian races because unlike the monstrous ones, they did not eat minians.

"You think you'll be able to dodge after your enemy sets their sights on you?

Bullets fly at you like this—"

The ogre mercenary slapped both his hands together.

"In the blink of an eye, without any prior warning. I guess if you focus hard enough, you'll know the second it happens, but that's it. Your body won't be able to react."

"Huh. Well then, what d'you do?"

"Same as always. I move my enemy. If I cover my head, they'll want to aim for my easier-to-hit torso. If they're already in motion, then that brief second where they stop moving and drop their sights is the perfect chance. Imagine where your opponent's sights are set—and manipulate the moment they fire and where they aim."

"Sheesh, those reflexes you ogres have are absurd. I'd go with a nice, clean bomb, I think."

When weapons were involved, the zmeu's were much more large-scale than the ogre's. The complex mechanical launcher was curiously fitted with a fuse-lit explosive. The functionality allowed them to sync the moment the bomb went off with the moment it hit the ground, by using a cogwheel to rearrange the launch angle and ignition point for the fuse.

"...…Hey."

The ogre driver cut into their conversation. His senses were far more sensitive than the two riding in the passenger carriage.

"I heard it just now. A song."

The mercenaries in the carriage instantly moved. A finger brushed a sword

hilt…and another sat itself on a firearm's grip, before stopping in its tracks with a spray of blood. It came almost exactly as the stray sound of a gunshot rang out.

"..."

The driver instantly crushed the horse's neck, toppling the carriage over. It needed to serve as a shield from the gunfire.

A sea of blood flowed from the sideways carriage. The zmeu and ogre pair were already shot dead.

There had been only one gunshot.

Went through the damn eardrum, did ya?

Even while covered with a thick armor of muscle and flesh, the ogres had one spot that was completely defenseless. Nevertheless, the shot came in the middle of a twisting mountain road, through a carriage…and pierced a zmeu's lungs at the same time?

"Taaaah, tah, taaah. Tah-taaah."

He could tell the song was getting closer. It was completely irrational behavior and only served to give away their position.

"Dammit. Visitors. Accursed visitor psycho…"

He looked down at his own weapon, thrown out of the carriage and on the ground nearby. Just how much of a fight could he put up with this iron rod? It was impossible think that an ogre would lose to a minia. As long as it was an ordinary, commonplace minia.

"Taaaah, ta-taaah…"

"You're dead meat."

He lunged and tried to grab his weapon…and that was as far as he got.

Aiming at the smallest inch of his head bending forward, the bullet

circumvented the downed carriage and pierced him through the eye.