Chapter 9

A voice boomed from the sky: “Four damage. That’ll leave a mark.”

Truck-kun stepped back, considering the punch Nyarin had just landed on his face.

“I have had enough of you sabotaging me. My job is hard enough without some irritating middle manager mocking me as I work. But you’re stuck in here just as much as I am. You have to live by this world’s rules. Not so high and mighty now,” she punched him again, “are you?!”

Another red four appeared above Truck-kun.

Again a voice boomed from above. “Another four damage. This is getting serious.”

I didn’t know why this was happening. On the other hand, I could really, deeply, passionately understand why someone might want to punch their manager in the face, so I instinctively came down on Nyarin’s side.

Nyarin led with another swinging right hook, but this time Truck-kun grabbed her arm and followed her motion into a throw. She landed hard, a red 20 appearing above her head.

The voice boomed again. “And he responds with a throw worth twenty damage!”

“Am I the only one that hears that voice?” I asked.

The voice answered back. “I’m just the damage announcer on shift. We try to keep the action exciting here.”

Truck-kun stood over her. “Don’t forget, I’ve got SPEC levels meant to make our customers feel like little gods. I’m not some incompetent part-timer kitty cat notorious for chasing decent prospects off with flat performances.”

“You’re still at level one with nothing but beginner equipment,” Nyarin said as she stood, ears pulled back and down in a fighting position. Her tail waved with a tense energy. “Besides, you said during the first night in the earlier Isekai that you didn’t recognize me.”

“Not at first. I don’t know most of the shift workers.” Truck-kun smiled. “Later I recognized you as the one that kept messing up long-term customers. Lowest retention rates in the eastern market. You completely missed your quota last quarter. You actually tried convincing some poor sap he’d enjoy being reincarnated as a vending machine. A vending machine!”

“How do you know about my last performance review?” Nyarin said in a dangerously tense tone.

“Sweetie, I was the chair of the last review board. Personally, I think we should be taking your department in another direction. You’re not cut out for this stuff.”

She shot him.

I didn’t even see her materialize the gun from her inventory. A red fifty appeared, reducing his life to at about three quarters of his maximum. With that, they began fighting in earnest.

Now mind you, I felt strongly that I should stop the fight. Believe me, I couldn’t. There were five things that kept me from using what little I knew about battle in this world to stop their conflict.

First, I really like Truck-kun. To me, he was like Santa Claus and a good luck charm and a favorite celebrity all rolled into one. He materialized the exact pistol I had been using. It was one of my three starting guns. It wasn’t very powerful, but it was fast.

Nyarin materialized a shield bracelet that would let her ignore such small-time damage. Good move. Damage from Truck-kun’s tiny gun would round down to zero with that shield. Once she raised it, it would take at least 50 damage to bring the shield down.

What seemed a reasonable response by Narin was exactly what Truck-kun had meant her to do.

In the instant before the shield activated around Nyarin’s battle armour, Truck-kun produced one of the six novice grenades given to all new players. These were only for practice, since they took an agonizingly long ten seconds to explode. Such a long delay made them good for practice but useless in a real fight despite their large damage output.

Or I thought they were useless in a real fight. Truck-kun pressed the activated grenade against Nyarin’s chest, right below her chin. When her shield activated his hand was pushed away, but the shield formed around the grenade.

The grenade stayed under the shield, pressed against her neck.

Her eyes widened as she realized her misfortune. The only things that would bring the shield down included 50 damage or leaving battle. Truck-kun smiled at her and folded his arms.

Nyarin panicked, ears suddenly forward and wide with anxiety. She materialized one gun after the other, looking for one that would deal only about 50 damage to her without also killing her outright.

She produced a bazooka. Too powerful. A rifle. Too long. Three different pistols that were too weak. I kid you not she produced a small tank big enough for a crew of three from her inventory. Just before the grenade exploded she pointed at Truck-kun. “You know what? Fu…”

She was cut off when the grenade exploded, which was contained entirely by the shield. A massive 4,500 damage showed in dynamic red letters over her head, accompanied by words like ‘CRITICAL HIT’, ‘BONUS: Confined Space x4 damage’, and ‘Weak Spot x2 damage’.

“What a move!” the big voice in the sky boomed. “How will she respond?”

Even with all of that damage, she still had just under half of her full life total. She was a maximum level trainer in this world, with an inventory full of the best equipment. Not even a training grenade directly against the skin could kill someone at her level.

Truck-kun was a novice with incredible innate abilities but the only the starting equipment.

“I’m,” Nyarin gasped, “going to kill you.”

I’m no tailor or dress designer, but the explosion had blown away the upper portion of her torso armor in a most dashing and perky manner. I would have intervened to stop the fight, but the second reason I didn’t stop them was the incredible way Nyarin made clothing with explosion damage look alluring.

I would find three more reasons to not stop the most intense fight I had ever seen.

Truck-kun smirked. “Let’s blow off some steam before I eventually escape and you get fired to spend the rest of your nine lives inhabiting a dollar store good luck necklace, kitty cat.”