The Laziest Rescue Mission Ever

The inn room was a chaotic mess of panic and half-baked strategies. Justus was talking about a glorious, suicidal charge. Eliza was formulating a multi-pronged infiltration plan that probably involved spreadsheets. Edgar was hyperventilating in a corner. They were all looking at me, waiting for a grand, heroic plan.

“No,” I said, my voice flat and cold. It cut through their panic like a knife. “No plans. No infiltration. The note said to come alone. So, I’m going alone.”

“Okina Sukebe, you cannot be serious!” Justus protested. “It is a trap!”

“Of course it’s a trap,” I said. “That’s what makes it simple. There are no variables. I know what they want. They just don’t know what they’re dealing with.”

I turned to Eliza. “Pinpoint the exact location of Benimaru's Peak on a map for me. Now.”

She was about to argue, but she saw the look in my eyes and thought better of it. A moment later, a glowing map appeared on her black slate, a single, pulsing red dot marking a jagged mountain range to the north. I memorized it.

Walking is for suckers, I thought. If I have to do this, I'm doing it with the least amount of cardio possible.

I didn’t say goodbye. I just focused on the location, tore a small hole in the fabric of reality, and stepped through it, leaving my "team" behind in stunned silence.

I reappeared on a windswept, barren slope before the fortress of Benimaru's Peak. It was a crumbling, ominous ruin of black stone, clinging to the side of the mountain like a cancerous growth. I started walking, straight up the main path, directly towards the front gate.

As I approached, four figures stepped out to block my path. They were clad in ornate, shining armor, each piece custom-made to match their weapon of choice. One held a massive, intricate shield. One carried a long, elegant spear. One had a greatbow slung over his shoulder, and the last held a sleek black sword. They radiated an aura of manufactured importance.

The one with the shield stepped forward, slamming it into the ground. “Halt, heretic! You have fallen into our trap! Before you face the Grand Cleric’s judgment, you will face us! The Four Holy Champions of Nazareth!”

“I am Naofuma of the Aegis Shield!” the first one declared. 

“I am Matayusa of the Divine Spear!” the second one preened. 

“I am Itsuku of the Heavenly Bow!” the third one announced. 

“And I am Rin of the Onyx Sword,” the last one said coolly.

I just stared at them, my mind going completely, utterly blank for a moment.

A shield. A spear. A bow. A sword. Four of them. The Holy Kingdom’s own “heroes.”

Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

The internal monologue that had been a quiet stream of complaints my whole life suddenly became a roaring, torrential scream directed at the heavens.

Author, you bastard! ARE YOU EVEN TRYING ANYMORE?!

I had accepted the premise. I had accepted the lazy title. I had accepted my ridiculous name. I had accepted the cursed loofah, the giggle curse, and the paperwork plague. I had even, begrudgingly, accepted that this whole world was a cheap, shameless rip-off of Tensei Slime, right down to the Demon King’s name and the location of their damn lair!

But this? This was a new level of creative bankruptcy! A shield hero? A spear hero? A bow and a sword? You didn’t even bother to change the weapon types! You just grabbed the main cast of The Rising of the Shield Hero, rearranged their name, and called it a day! What’s next?! Are you going to have some rubbery idiot who ate a weird-looking Devil Fruit show up and try to gomu gomu no punch me?! Is a smarmy, background Otome game Mob character going to appear with his overpowered robot ball assistant and start complaining about how hard it is to find a wife?!

Look, if you’re going to be a lazy, plagiarizing hack, could you at least steal from something that benefits ME?! Where’s the Shades Garden? Where are the Seven Shades? I really want to meet Gamma and Beta! If I have to be stuck in this copyright-infringing nightmare, the least you could do is provide some high-quality waifus for me to shamelessly hit on! This is just insulting!

My entire existential crisis happened in the span of about three seconds. On the outside, I just stood there, my face a mask of profound, weary disappointment.

“Great,” I said, my voice dead flat. “The bargain-bin version of the Four Cardinal Heroes. Can we get this over with? I’m on a schedule.”

Their faces contorted in rage at my disrespect. They charged.

I just kept walking.

Naofuma shouted “Shield Prison!” and a cage of green energy erupted around me. I walked right through it as if it were a soap bubble. Matayusa thrust his spear at my heart; the tip bent into a corkscrew against my invisible aura. Itsuku fired a volley of light-infused arrows that evaporated twenty feet away from me. Rin came at me with a fast, multi-hit sword skill that looked impressive but resulted in his blade shattering against my passive defenses, the shockwave sending him tumbling backwards.

I didn’t even break stride. I walked through the four of them, leaving them in a heap of broken weapons and shattered pride, and continued on through the fortress. The rest of the guards, having witnessed their four “champions” get dismantled by a man who wasn’t even trying, wisely decided to faint, run, or suddenly develop a passionate interest in studying the castle architecture in the opposite direction.

I kicked open the doors to the throne room.

Alistair was there, standing over Marie, who was magically bound to a chair.

“Impossible!” he shrieked. “My Holy Champions! How did you defeat them?!”

“I walked past them,” I said. “Now, are you going to give me back the princess, or am I going to have to do something that requires actual effort?”

He screamed in rage and fired a blast of holy magic at me. I caught the spell in my open palm, crushed it into a ball of light, and snuffed it out between my thumb and forefinger.

I walked past him, went to Marie, and broke her bonds with a simple touch.

“You okay?” I asked.

She looked at me, at the cold fury in my eyes, and then at the terrified Alistair. “I am now,” she whispered.

I turned back to the trembling Grand Cleric. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” I said, my voice a low, cold promise. “You are going to stop this. All of it. And you are never, ever going to bother me or anyone I care about ever again.”

I turned my back on him and opened a portal right there in his throne room.

“Because if you do,” I added, without looking back, “I won’t be this nice next time.”

We stepped through, leaving Alistair alone and defeated in his own fortress. The rescue mission was a success.

Great, I thought, as the portal closed behind us. I just beat up the cast of Shield Hero to rescue my potential waifu from a religious fanatic. My life is a bargain-bin crossover episode. I need a drink. A very, very strong drink.