There was no massive charge where heavy cavalry cut through the enemy host like a hot knife though butter. While welcome, then there wouldn’t have been a need for a Remerrin commander to beg for help from a potential enemy. There was, however, a strafing charge, disrupting the horde of monsters and enraging them. Ioha couldn’t have orchestrated a better mass taunt, even if he had time to prepare.

  The sound of lightning striking and detonations rolled from the north, and the pressure lessened, became intermittent and vanished. Ioha staggered to his feet, sent his prepared spinning shield after the closest monster, and grabbed his shaft with both hands to stand upright. Just as he cast a quick cleaning spell over himself and those around him, absurdly clean, yet another delivery of offensive magic reached the retreating creatures. Two went down outright, and the line of monsters moving away from them faltered. When it seemed unclear if they would return, the next dose of magic killed and mutilated, and a line of monsters returned to the fight.

  That was just enough time for Ioha to set up five grids and one maze. He even had time to recast his swirling zone of death around him. At his sides, a few soldiers retreated, but the line never broke. Then the monsters were over them again, but this time they met a bristling wall of spears. Ioha waited until his grids and maze had packed them two deep before he let loose his mass taunts. The chaos when monsters tried to claw their way through obstacles on their way to him was total.

  Archers filled out the frontline and systematically picked out targets that tried to find their way through Ioha’s ever-changing maze of shields and barriers. A few of the larger creatures roared in frustration and tried to return to the line just to burst into fountains of bleeding and rotting innards. The damage wasn’t all that much. Ioha’s offensive abilities were weak compared to those around him, but rotting and bleeding helped them locate weak points.

  Three explosions showed how the mages had time to concentrate their effects to kill from a distance, and more monsters turned and attacked until the pressure was upon them again. At that time, the horns blared once again, distant explosions ripped unseen holes among the monsters to the north, and the pressure lessened once again.

  It took most of the afternoon, but in the end the field was a disgusting mat of carnage. A few dozen monsters fled into the mountains with a tail of adventurers with cat-like abilities harassing them and picking off stragglers.

  Ioha waited until the fighting was done before he released the banner and its associated spells. The Valkyries hailed him with their spears and vanished together with the blue white light into the sky above them. Three dozen of the raid collapsed unconscious when they vanished. Their healers went to work, and Ioha started cleaning the troops up. One battle and he had almost no aura left. Extending armour or shields was impossible.

  There were casualties. He staggered around the part of the field they had held on to. With what little aura he could afford to burn, he made fields with a minimum of fireworks added for visibility. They had to suffice as beds for the wounded. A border ran along where they took their stand after their initial charge petered out. On one side trampled grass and on the other a nightmare of broken carcasses in a large semicircle widening toward the fortress. Soldiers were already walking around in it, collecting valuables.

  There’s going to be squabbling about this. The mass of blood and gore might look disgusting, but by now Ioha had an inkling of its worth. The question wasn’t if it paid for the extermination raid. It was a matter of how many hundreds of raids it would pay for, and they were inside Remerrin territory now. Damn, the market for this junk is going to crash. Well, not my problem.

  Ioha found a place where a stone or something lay hidden in the ground and took a grassy seat. The battle was over, and soon he’d drown in questions. His display blinked several times during the fighting, and he wanted to know where he improved. Unsurprisingly, his two new divine abilities took a fair jump upwards, together with some other battle standard associated abilities he still didn’t understand but must have used nonetheless. Apparently, the act of walking here from camp kicked up some obscure marching ability a notch. It belonged to the outdoors junk, where he gathered the practical abilities he still hadn’t decided how to group together. For him, more important than anything else, was a one point increase in range adding maybe a metre or two, a point in shields and barriers making them a tiny bit harder to break down and another in aura. The way he felt right now, every single addition to his aura was a godsend. His multi-target ability now sported a fourth lance and reached into the perfectly useful points bracket, and even his spinning shield dealt a little more damage and lasted a bit longer. He grinned when he noticed an additional point to his spear fighting ability. It made little difference for fights like these, but might come in handy someday in the future.

  Faster progress, he thought when he joined the raid, and faster he got, but this wasn’t a sustainable way to live. He knew he gambled with his own life, and worse, he gambled with the lives of those around him as well. He also began to dislike the person he grew into. Killing monsters became a numbers game, and one day he risked facing something other than monsters. Rationally, killing humans was also a numbers game, but rationality and his own humanity didn’t really go hand in hand.

  Rede climbed up the slope and made for him with Nanami and two Remerrin commanders in tow. This was it.

  “Sir Questingtank, the gentlemen over here would like to have a conversation.”

  “Why pretend he’s knighted?” the older of the two said with a sneer.

  “Why pretend he called down divine defenders from the heavens?” his colleague retorted.

  They hadn’t come from the heavens. The Valkyries hovering above him during the battle were only spell effects. At least, Ioha hoped they were. “Yes?” he said.

  “That man,” the older pointed at Rede, “claims you’re a protector of the line.”

  So, one of those people. “Sir Ironsnake is a native here, in difference from me. I guess you’re referring to what we outworlders would call a tank.” Not all outworlders would. By now, the fantasy geeks in Isekai were a minority. A very substantial one, but still. Most outworlders would think of sixty tonnes of metal with a big gun when you mentioned a tank.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “That man…”

  “Sir Ironsnake,” Ioha interrupted, “is my old swords trainer from Spellsword Academy. Leaving his knighthood out would do him a great dishonour.” Ioha thoroughly enjoyed the greybeard cringing with discomfort at the mention of how important his title was. There had been one too many occasions of ‘young Questingtank’ since they left Nanami’s camp. He rose to face the Remerrin commander properly, and almost immediately regretted it. Even among his peers, the older man was short, and Ioha towered over him in a way that must have felt condescending.

  “Well built lad, isn’t he,” the younger commander who surrendered his troops to Rede the day before said.

  “I don’t care if he’s built like an ox, if he thinks like one, Meneki.” He turned and looked up at Ioha. “You, who are you?”

  Be smart or an arse? Ioha thought. A smart arse, he decided. “I am Ioha Questingtank, Protector Saint of Heimdall.” It wasn’t like he could hide shining armed women climbing down from the heavens singing heroic songs and throwing spears around them.

  The effect was immediate. Commander Meneki took a step back and stared at Ioha with eyes like tennis-balls. The older man tried his best not to look taken aback. “Are you saying that you are a saint, you…”

  “Sir!”

  There was a rasping sound from around them. The greybeard was the first to unsheathe his sword, and Ioha saw from the corner of his eyes how Harvali’s sidearm glimmered in his hand. A few other high-ranked adventurers within listening distance drew their weapons as well.

  “What is the meaning of this?”

  “Lord Armiander, I strongly suggest you do not accuse a knighted saint of lying,” Rede said.

  “Who are you to tell me what to do?”

  “Sir, I believe he used to be called Rede the Snake, later knighted Sir Rede Ironsnake.”

  “He’s still only a knighted commoner, just like the boy.”

  Meneki groaned. “Sir, he’s barely an adult. Who do you think knighted him?”

  So there was a difference between knighthood and divine knighthood? Well, in his case, Heimdall the jerk stapled a sainthood on top of it all, just for good measure.

  Lord Armiander kept staring at him. “You heard him, answer the question!”

  Ioha looked at Rede for support, but the greybeard was strangely silent. So, he’s measuring me. Well, I’m out of here after this anyway. “You shithead, I think not.” A second glance at Rede told him that wasn’t the right answer. Too late now.

  “What did you call me? Who do you think you are?”

  “I already answered that question. I admit I forgot to mention I’m the reason that breakout,” he pointed at the carnage, “isn’t busy spreading north.” If he had already screwed up, bending the truth a bit didn’t really matter.

  “Another glory hunter! Believes he saved us all by himself.” Lord Armiander snorted and turned to Meneki. “Not much to see here. Gather the remains and return to the fort!”

  There was no reaction. Between flickering shadows cast by clouds hiding the rapidly setting sun and wind rolling down the mountainside, moments of inactivity passed one after another.

  “What’s the matter? Get to work!” Lord Armiander said in an attempt to regain command. What he gained were mostly tired glares.

  “I’m afraid that might be difficult,” Rede said after a long silence. His voice was deceptively mild. “Saint Questingtank has yet to give his permission.”

  “What the hell…”

  “When news reach the Remerrin capital that you disregarded a divine command, I fear your king might face a conundrum. Do we incur the wrath of the saint from Isekai, or do we relieve one lord of his title?”

  The wrath of… what the hell is he talking about? Ioha stared at his old teacher. Talk about blowing things out of proportion. Then his eyes met Meneki and his men. Ah, they’re not Remerrin soldiers any longer.

  “You cur!”

  “I am Sir Rede Ironsnake. In accordance with the surrender I previously accepted, I order you to turn that fort over to us.” A long finger stabbed northwards. “I will expect night quarters for my men.”

  “Meneki, arrest him!”

  There were delusions of grandeur, and there were organised mass suicides. Counting the soldiers standing in the bowl turned battlefield, Ioha had no illusions about what Lord Armiander had just suggested. If the situation degenerated any further, whatever an A-rank extermination raid did to the fifty odd Remerrin defenders would be brutal and fast. Oh, shit. He doesn’t know all of Meneki’s men are ours now. “Captain Ironsnake, I believe the good lord suffers from a misconception concerning the relative strength of the present manpower.” Which translated into the moron being utterly clueless.

  “Captain, I believe I have been given an illegal command. What are your orders?”

  Ioha stared at Meneki. OK, now he knows. “Lord Armiander, you do understand that half of the troops from Remerrin are under our command?”

  Armiander’s face turned red, and Ioha threw a glance at their healers when several veins threatened to burst.

  At his side, the greybeard looked tired and sighed. “Meneki, just spill it! I want no bloodshed here.”

  “I would have preferred not to.” Meneki straightened and stared at Lord Armiander. “I am Meneki, Lord of the river. Lay down your weapons!”

  A moment of tension, another of hesitation, and then the defenders dropped their weapons. Even the haughty lord complied. Ioha had a hard time understanding, but this world had absolute hierarchies he wasn’t used to from Sweden.

  “I obey the king’s orders.”

  He’s the king? No way!

  Rede laughed. “Young Questingtank, Remerrin is not Wergaist, nor any domain of the federation. Meneki is a commoner duke in your system, if that makes any sense.” The greybeard looked at Meneki and bowed in gratitude. “Lord of the river, carrying the king’s orders. I fear your king will be unhappy, learning what he ordered today.”

  Meneki bowed in return. “As I said. That is my shame to bear.”