True Vorpal Bunny (Danmachi SI) Ch.33 (Patreon)

Chapter 33:

The day of the battle came. On a sand ship, Freya, Ali, Bofman, Douglas and the members of the Freya headed for the Gazoob Wasteland.

Ali stood proud while Freya leaned back in a chair set on the desk so that she could appreciate the spectacle.

Behind them were their attendants for the day. Douglas stood behind Ali, clearly nervous and still a bit unbelieving that nine men could take on an army.

Horn, of course, stood at Freya’s right, ready to serve. It was on Freya left that things became weird. Bofman was here, but who stood there was no longer a fat, greedy merchant, but a statuesque edifice of muscle with a gaze of stone.

The day before, a fat pig had tried to invade a goddess’s room for his “reward.” Ottar and the others saw fit to train the cattle that had forgotten his place. What came out of this training was no longer a lusty pig, but a man devoted to building his body like a temple.

Both Ali and Freya threw side glances at the new Bofman, both weirded out at the drastic change. Even with her soul sight, the goddess had doubted she was looking at the same man.

The ship stopped on a dune that overlooked the land. They could see the Warsan army spreading out over the horizon. Well, only a part of it as the rest had already split and was surrounding the wasteland, expecting to catch the Shazaldian army in an eight-way pincer attack with their superior numbers.

“Go forth!” Ali called out, technically still the leader of the Familia until her country was retaken.

The nine executives moved, fast enough that even most people blessed with a Falna could not even see a blur.

“Are you sure of this, your Highness?” Douglas asked once more.

“Are you doubting my Familia?” Freya smiled, but it wasn’t a nice one.

While Douglas shivered under the intensity of Freya’s attention, Ali smiled.

“Don’t worry, they’ll win.” She was convinced of it.

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Hedin Sellan had once been a glorious king.

He had been born stronger, smarter and overall better than his brethren. He was a genius and a perfectionist. So, when the crown fell upon his head, he had sought to be the perfect king.

It had almost driven him mad, because to be king was to deal with the imperfection of others. The only equal he had met at the time was his rival, Hogni, and yet that was only on the battlefield. Governing the White Elves had taken a toll on him.

Hedin respected those that were competent and those who strived to be better. In the same vein, he hated the incompetent and those who gave up. His subjects had clung to him and stagnated. The only reason he had stayed king despite the disgust for his people was that his own perfectionism wouldn’t have allowed him to quit with a stain on his record.

It was only when both the kingdoms of the White and Dark Elves on that cursed island were destroyed that Hedin became free, and he willingly took Lady Freya’s offered hand.

Today, he was fighting on behalf of a ruler that his Lady had approved of. On its own, that was reason enough for Hedin to obey. But, he had also recognized the soul of a ruler coming from this little girl, so he was treating her as such.

Those two reasons would have been more than enough for Hedin to give his all in this battle, to not dirty the name of his goddess and in respect of that princess that would become king.

But no, Warsa had done one thing that condemned the souls of their army to damnation. They had tried to raid Leodo, the place where Freya had bought a mansion and freed more than a hundred slaves who had all sworn themselves to the goddess.

Warsa had tried to take Lady Freya’s property. This was an affront equal to spitting on her face.

Hedin could at least appreciate the bunny’s intervention for preventing the slaughter of Freya’s people. But, Hedin’s goal was to become the strongest man of the Familia to gain Freya’s recognition and love. Ottar alone was enough of an obstacle, however, too busy looking above and trying to dethrone the king, Hedin hadn’t seen the rabbit overtake him until he stood equal to the boorish boar.

Planning how to take them down could come later.

For the moment, those animals who had grown drunk on the scent of blood  would be incinerated by his lightning.

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Hogni Ragnar was an insecure mess of a living being. He was aware of that.

He had been a foolish and fearful king who had crumbled under the expectant gaze of his people. People found his speech pattern weird. He was also scared of being looked at and preferred to stay in the shadows.

Before, the only times where he was at peace were when he was hidden in the darkness, and when he faced Hedin, a worthy opponent who made his blood sing.

And then one day, Lady Freya appeared before him and heard the grief of his tortured soul. She had planned the fall of both his and Hedin’s kingdoms so that they would be free.

For once in his life, Hogni had been sure of himself when he chose to follow the goddess.

For once, he had wanted someone to rely on him. And so, the Falna had answered his wish under the form of the spell that would become his alias, Dainsleif. A spell that was akin to self-hypnosis, turning the anxious wreck that was Hogni into a merciless warrior.

With it, he could run through the battlefield, not feeling pressured under the soldiers' stares, and just cut them down as they needed to for daring to be on the side facing the goddess.

He also did it because he respected Ali. She was already a better ruler than he had been even though she was so young.

His cursed blade sang a melody of death and blood.

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The Gulliver brothers had spent their early lives crushed underfoot. Like all Pallums, they were underestimated and seen as weaker than everyone else.

Even though they had talent as jewelers, their dwarven boss had still treated them like shit. They had repressed their anger and accepted their lot in life.

Until the day they met the goddess. The necklace they had made for her had touched her so much that she had been willing to lay with the Dwarf to free them. Seeing that vision of beauty being defiled by that beast had been too much, and so they had killed him for daring to touch her.

They had become Bringner, the four man squad of the Freya Familia. They were Pallums that rose above their origins.

And though they lived for Freya, and hated the fact that she fawned over the stupid rabbit, they could appreciate the fact that Iru treated Pallums like he would anyone else.

They saw how Blood Red had totally a crush on him and they had patted the girl on the back, one part Pallum pride for a fellow Pallum who rose through the ranks, one part comforting for she had no chance when compared to the goddess. Finn’s bastard daughter, no matter how much the two of them denied it, had been weirded out.

However, that equal view could not be found in the Warsan army. Even over the wide distance separating the Gulliver siblings and the army, their Level 5 senses caught how they mocked them for being the weakest race.

They were dead meat. Pierced by Allfrigg’s spear, sliced by Grer’s sword, minced by Berling’s axe and crushed under Dvallin’s hammer. Such was the fate of those opposing the Freya Familia.

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Allen shouldn’t have let the Elf talk.

Seal, he had called himself, a long-haired, full body-tattooed jackass with two magic swords. Allen had measured him as a Level 4.

Seeing that Allen was above his paygrade, he had casted a spell, a curse that made Allen see and hear his most beloved person instead of his enemy.

“Big Brother!” Anya called out with a smile, heading for him, clad in her armor.

Allen’s spear stabbed her.

The assassin under the illusion choked on his blood. Seal gawked at the madman who killed the person he loved the most without hesitation.

Allen’s hackles were raised. Anya had finally given up the life of an adventurer and was leading a peaceful life as a waitress under Mia. A Level 4 working for a Level 6. And of those strong enough to threaten the Hostess of Fertility, none had any ill will against Allen’s sister. She was one of the safest persons in the world. 

To dare to bring her image on the battlefield was a bigger blasphemy than disrespecting Freya.

Allen was always grumpy and angry against the world. In this shit world, only Freya had been willing to take him and Anya out of the garbage. But right here and now, Allen was more livid than he had ever been.

Allen roared and Freya’s chariot advanced, trampling all underneath his charge.

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