Fuuma is Living that Isekai Life

Fargo, the city in the mountains. To its west lay the hills and plains that connected it to the realm’s western civilization, and to its east, a series of deep caverns and ravines, virtually unscalable without approaching from the safer passageways. It was the connecting point between East and West Glynn’s World. That is, it used to be.

To the southwest of the city’s walls, on a narrow pass made of red clay and sparse vegetation, the remnants of a once mighty force held the line. Out of the 200 or so members of Fargo’s Defense Force assigned to the Sternwall pass, only 80 remained to run their usual tactics, a long grind of attrition. They were to hold the narrow entrance in the morning, pull back to allow the monsters to advance in the afternoon, and then push back in the evening, slowly churning through their numbers that moved like a river.  The bodies have piled up so high that they were closing the gap by themselves. The thin slice of land could only hold so much matter. Then again, the monsters were known to eat their way through their own.

From their vantage point, the beleaguered forces could observe the enemy from afar, as the pass led down past the lower mountains into plains on the other side of the mountain range. Everything was easily observable, and they wished it wasn’t, for there was only endless darkness. The once familiar landscape was overcast with a cloud the sun couldn’t penetrate. The only light the black haze received was the use of torchlight and the glow of red eyes, which marched up and down the field like ants. What they were facing was insurmountable, endless, inevitable. Anything that touched the darkness would face imminent death.

Suddenly, the darkness crept, and the absence of light took the entrance they had just retreated from, swallowing the dead monsters whole with violent gnashing. Then it went silent. The men watched. The darkness crept a little bit forward slowly, slowly. The darkness leapt.

The beast was long and sly, running on three sets of legs with tails that cracked like whips from behind. It rushed up the path like a missile, closing the gap between it and the pike line within seconds, absorbing the volley of iron balls without flinching. The army had not faced such an enemy in three months of fighting. Their morale was shaky at best, and once the beast pounced into the formation with its size and weight, the defense fell. Men screamed and rushed in terror as the shadow monster tore at the armored men one after another. Biting, whipping, clawing. The long-snouted predator was immune to everything Fargo could offer.

Then its head was blown off in a beam of light. Its source was unknown, the assailant hidden further up the range on the side of a mountain. The shot was clean and effective, but the monster still attacked undeterred, consuming another guard with its other sets of teeth. It’d take six more shots to fully take it down, and by then, the distraction was enough to allow the usual horrors beyond comprehension to rush up the pass and take the scattered guards by surprise.

Their victory wouldn’t come to pass, though, as reinforcements swiftly cut the hordes down. Well, reinforcements was a strong word, as it was only two women, but their results spoke for themselves. They were not mages, as other regiments would receive, nor were they Amazonian warriors, like the Fargonians prefer.

The enemy was met with firepower, a cloud of wire, and a paper that was almost invisible to the naked eye, and yet split the darkness apart in an ocean of blood, slicing as if flesh wasn’t there. The monsters died in droves, rushing straight into the girls with no acknowledgement of their own lives. Anything armored received sniper fire from afar. No demon was safe from their damage. 

This would go on for ten minutes until all three were completely out of ammo. At that point, the pass was drenched in viscera and shadow bodies. A mage was called at the end of the day to perform a wind spell to blow away the corpses back into the deep. If left for too long, the darkness would come to creep up the path as well. The ravines on each side already had pockets of corruption, looking up at them with those red glowing eyes.

“We’ll have to accelerate the schedule at this point.” The guard captain said, wiping his head off with a rag. “We can’t hold this position any longer. The pass will have to be destroyed.”

“I think we could hold them a bit longer,” said the hero through a peculiar device. “If we cut off access too early, they’ll concentrate on the other chokeholds. The spread of forces needs to remain even until more heroes arrive.”

“It’s only a matter of time before they can start scaling the walls. These new monsters would annihilate the city if they were allowed to get through.”

“We can defeat them. They haven’t given us anything we can’t handle yet.”

The captain wasn’t so sure. The only reason the division hasn’t been annihilated in its entirety yet was due to the hero and his two servants. He had never met him up close, only through his voice. His servants, however, were another story. Their dress and body were more befitting for a brothel than the battlefield, not advisable for a military installation, and their countenance was cold and distant. No one appreciated their tone. Some resented them. Still, they were admirable fighters, and their dutiful nature was lauded. The captain had to accept their strengths. Ninjas, they were called. An unfamiliar title.

“Will we be expecting any reinforcements soon?” Hero Fuuma asked. “I’ll need some time to make more ammo.”

“The city cannot offer any more men, lord Fuuma, and I wouldn’t want them to be here either.”

“I would. It’s your home we’re fighting for, isn’t it?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Either way, keep up the good work. Kuroni, Tama, meet me back in the city.” 

“Yes, my lord.” They both said, and they disappeared from the battlefield in an instant. 

The men couldn’t help but be jealous. There were only a few who were allowed within Fargo’s walls these days. They must’ve been summoned for a good reason.

“So, how do I look?” Fuuma twirled. “Reminds me of a Manchurian Campaign uniform. Does it fit?”

The three spent the evening in King Vladamor’s company, with the mountain city’s nobility as their conversation partners. It was not to the boy’s style. He was far too introverted to speak to high-class gentlemen regularly, but he could attend once a week or so. After all, it meant that Tama and Kuroni would dress up as well. A reasonable trade.

“You look like a dork!” Tama retorted. “You need to get rid of those glasses, Fuuma!”

“B-But I can’t see.”

“You can make your own, can’t you?” The girl got in his face and stole his frames. “Look, these things are round, and they make you look like a child. You need, like, rectangular ones. Something that makes you look older, serious.”

“But, I am a kid.”

“You’re 14. You’re an adult, like me. Don’t you want to be taken seriously?”

“I’m already serious!”

Kuroni smiled. “I think he’s fine as he is.”

The boy stole his glasses back. “See! I’m already a charmer!”

Tama pushed him away. Every conversation ended this way. She’d try to improve him, and Kuroni enabled him, and in the end, he always took Kuroni’s side. She wouldn’t be so upset about it if it were for legitimate reasons, but she knew he was just trying to please her. He was predictable like that.

Fuuma was a boy hungry for praise, and the royal parties demonstrated that. His presence only lasted as long as the noblemen and clergy sang his accomplishments, complimented his weaponry, and rewarded him with gold and trinkets. So long as he was considered a genius, and his beautiful servants stood by his side, all was right in the world. 

“I’m very pleased with your efforts, Sir Toyotaro,” said King Vladamor. He was a younger king at 35, a very dour-looking man but with a warm heart. “Thanks to you, we’ll have forces from Dreams back us up in the imminent future. We’ll be able to fortify the pass in a week.”

“A week?” Fuuma scratched his chin. “I think I can hold out if I have more time to make ammo. Are the Dreams folk powerful?”

“Very much, and I’ve received word that my cousin is arriving tomorrow with 80 riders. She’s apparently riding a magical steed.”

“That sounds…enchanting.” It sounded stupid. “Where’d you hear that from?”

“From your friend, of course.” 

It was as if the king spoke him into existence, because the Black Swordsman appeared as if from shadow at his mention, and Fuuma couldn’t be happier.

“Big bro! You’re here!?”

“I know, not my thing,” Akira said. His clothes were the same as always. No dressing up for him. The man eyed Fuuma intently. “Level 87. You’re getting close to your max.”

“Thank you. I wonder what’ll happen when I do.”

“Great things, kid. I came to tell you all that we’ll have more heroes joining the fight other than Cordelia.”

“That’s great news!” Vladamor said. He coughed, enough to briefly raise concern. “How many are we talking about?”

“Three teams. Team Sakakura, Team Sarugami, and Team Moor. That’s what I have on my world map right now.”

Fuuma perked up. “Sakakura? I think I know that name?”

Tama perked up. “It’s the guy who-.”

“He’s the magic knight,” said Kuroni. “He has the three witches as his party members.”

“Oh, Shige! I’d love to see him again. When can we expect them?”

“It looks like they’ll make it here at the same time as Cordelia. I’ll analyze our defenses and see which team works best where.”

The King breathed a sigh of relief. Two heroes were enough to keep his city alive for so long. Four additional heroes were a game-changer. The possibilities were endless. Perhaps they’d be able to push the darkness back. Maybe he’d have a secure city once and for all. Maybe he could push his city to outpace Dream's industry once again.

“Can you put me with Shige, please?” Fuuma pleaded. “I’d love to talk anime with him again.”

“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised with who I’m sending your way.” Akira patted the boy’s head. “Remember, I’m counting on you, Toyotaro.”