The Fat Aristocrat Waltz in the Labyrinth - Chapter 36
Chapter 36: The fat aristocrat meets the powerful enemy once again
The debris fell like a waterfall.
Few were able to react to this abnormality.
The ceiling collapsed almost directly above the “Wolves Wind” and most of the trolls, and dust immediately filled the area.
“Mikel! Are you okay?!”
Mitrof shouted while covering his nose and mouth with his arm. After some time, the dust cleared, and his vision returned.
Where Mikel and the others were, there was only a pile of soil and stones, and there was a particularly large figure.
Upon seeing it, it was immediately clear that the figure was looking at Mitrof.
——That troll.
It’s the troll that fought Mitrof. However, what was strange about it was its appearance.
It was covered in wounds, and blood was still oozing from its body. There were diagonal claw marks on its face, and it seemed to have lost one of its eyes. It opened its mouth, which was dyed red, exposing its teeth.
The troll is holding an arm from his left arm. It was a thick arm covered in scarlet fur.
“… Is that the arm of the ‘Scarlet Bear’?”
Grace murmured in disbelief.
“He… he ate the Guardian!”
The trolls show off by biting into the arms of the “scarlet bear” and chomping down on a piece of meat. He chewed and then roared.
The air vibrated. Mitrof was overcome with unbearable trembling. As a living being, he felt fear.
That was a monster.
He wanted to run away now, to escape. He couldn’t possibly fight against such a thing.
But Mitrof saw it.
He saw a figure half-buried in the rubble. It was Mikel. He was protecting the black robed girl.
At that moment, he was trying to save his comrades. But they were now in no condition to fight.
What would happen if they ran away?
It’s obvious.
That’s why they couldn’t run away.
Why was that? Mitrof wondered. It wasn’t a rational decision not to run away. It wasn’t right as a noble.
It was terrifying. Even so, he felt that he had to fight.
Mitrof exhaled trembling breaths.
Bu,hiiiiiiiiii.
He tried to dispel all the fear and terror that gushed out of his body.
It was impossible.
It was terrifying. His body was stiff. He wanted to run away. He felt like he might soil himself.
However, he could not let go of his sword.
“Grace,” he called her name. “I will fight—you should run.”
“Don’t be silly, Mitrof!—We are a party—if we fight, we do it together.”
Her face was firm, with a smile. Mitrof smiled too.
“Okay, Canule, what about you?”
Before he could finish his sentence, Canule shook her head.
“If you consider me one of you, please allow me to stay here.”
“…Alright—while we distract him, please rescue Mikel and the others.”
“Understood—if it’s physical work, I can be of use.”
When the two said they would stay behind, Mitrof felt intense joy. He thought he was happy. He wasn’t alone. He had allies. And now, he would go and help his friends.
Could there be a more blessed situation?
He thought of such things for a moment.
Existence has meaning. There is a reason to fight, and there is a reason to live.
If that’s the case, there is nothing to fear.
‘The way of chivalry is to find death.’
“No, of course I do not intend to die, but I will go with the intention to die.”
Mitrof stared down at the troll, calmly approaching it.
The troll stood on top of debris, taking a step forward. The earth crumbled.
The footing was unstable. Mitrof thought to himself, ‘I can’t go there.’
The teacher who taught him swordsmanship since childhood taught him things that were not typically noble. He was originally an adventurer, and his skills were based on practical swordsmanship.
He often talked about the battlefield—places that were easy to fight, places that were difficult. Drawing the opponent into one’s own favorable terrain was a prerequisite for fighting.
That pile of debris was difficult for Mitrof to fight on, but suitable for the troll.
Therefore, he couldn’t attack and had to wait for the troll on level ground.
However, Mikel and the others were in the rubble. If the troll shifted its focus there, they had no choice but to jump in.
With a tense stare-down, the pressure builds up around Mitrof, taking his breath away.
Behind him, Grace had an arrow ready, while Canule was looking for an opportunity to help Mikel and the others.
They knew that something would trigger the situation, and once it started, it would not stop.
That trigger came from within the rubble.