If I had to pick one reason I volunteered to serve as the second in this duel, personal grudges would top the list.
Personal grudges against the male capture targets.
In my previous life, my little sister forced me to play that otome game—the five men I was supposed to charm.
Why on earth did I have to court those guys and listen to their cheesy lines?
Those feelings came bubbling back up, whispering to me.
*Just destroy them.*
Inside the arena.
I'd had the debris and other junk cleared away, and even the crate we'd used to haul in Arrogance had been carried outside.
Standing in the center and waiting, I noticed something off about the princes' group.
Arrogance's microphone picked up their voices.
*"I'll go. Brad is certainly weak, but that thing is a threat. Too much for you lot."*
*"Well, that's insulting. You think I'd lose to you?"*
Greg and Chris were arguing, while the prince and Jilk were looking my way.
*"That Bartfort fellow was a dungeon conqueror, wasn't he? So that's where his confidence comes from—having a suit of armor like that."*
*"It must be a Lost Item. But I've never heard of such powerful armor lying around. From the looks of it, it seems like a power-type."*
The arena was buzzing with talk of an upset.
Plenty of students believed I'd lose—they were utterly convinced of the princes' victory. Many of them had bet serious money on top of it.
The voices the microphone picked up were brimming with confidence: *"This is about the minimum you'd need to see if you ask me,"* and *"But this'll be the last round, right?"*
Luxion was busy updating his combat data.
*"I've revised the combat protocols from the previous fight, accounting for spear-based attacks."*
"Thanks. Oh—next up is Greg, huh."
I climbed into the red armor with its gold trim, grabbed the massive spear, and descended into the arena.
Luxion assessed the opponent's condition.
*"Surface repairs visible on the armor. Based on the pattern of damage, he has real combat experience."*
"Yeah, this one's strong. Strong, but..."
Greg Fou Seberg lived up to his wild appearance—he was the most active adventurer among the five. He was the type who valued real combat above all.
That was fine.
In the game, too, I'd considered him reliable in a fight.
Greg pointed his spear at me.
*"Bartfort, right? I'll remember that name. But you've pushed your luck far enough. Looks like you got your hands on some powerful Lost Item armor, but in the end, that's the armor doing the work. Not you."*
That was dead accurate—an honest truth so perfect I wanted to applaud.
"So what? I thought the same thing at the party—you've got quite the silver tongue. If you want to chat so badly, invite me for tea sometime."
I prodded him indirectly, calling him all talk. The effect was immediate.
*"I'll... crush you!"*
The referee called the start of the match.
*"Begin!"*
Greg swung his spear and closed the distance in a rush.
He'd watched the previous fight—he clearly had no intention of letting me attack first. He unleashed a relentless barrage of strikes—
*"Come on! What's wrong?! Is that all you've got?!"*
I blocked the thrusts, slashes, and sweeps with my shovel.
Sparks flew from metal crashing against metal, and since his spear was faintly glowing, the display was dazzlingly bright.
But this guy—
"His movement's good. He's got guts. But here's the thing... you really ought to invest more in your equipment!"
I knocked his spear aside with the shovel. The gap in armor performance threw him off balance. His suit was lightweight, and the weight difference sent it flying.
Greg's red armor launched into the air, trying to create distance.
Armors were originally designed to fly, after all.
But I reached out with my left hand and grabbed his right leg.
*"You—this guy!"*
He stabbed at my left hand with his spear, but not a scratch showed.
Greg's armor was an older model—decorative at best, mass-produced. This man had real ability, but just like in the game, he refused to rely on proper equipment. He probably considered it second-rate to depend on gear.
Thanks to that, he sank like a rock during the war segments every single time, triggering game overs over and over.
Drop that ridiculous pride!
Arrogance's left hand crushed the right ankle of Greg's armor. I knew there was no actual foot inside, so I went ahead and squeezed, but plenty of the girls watching didn't understand the armor's structure—they let out something between a shriek and a gasp.
I pulled him in and drove the shovel into his helmet. Then, with my now-free right hand, I grabbed the arm holding his spear and crushed it.
The massive spear in Greg's grip buckled with a groan of metal.
"Go on, try to run away~"
I toyed with him, grabbing his right hand next and crushing it as well. Greg's screams echoed through the arena.
*"Damn you! Let go!"*
"Let go? Yeah, right—idiot."
I let Arrogance's superior specs do the work, systematically tearing apart Greg's armor. I was careful not to injure the man himself as I ripped the armor's arms away.
Greg's bare arms emerged.
Arrogance was a full size class larger than a typical armor.
*"Is hurting people fun?! You're no man! Fight like a real knight! You're only winning because of that armor!"*
He was shouting something, so I fired back.
"Knight? I'm not even an official knight yet. And while we're at it—if you show up to a duel in an obsolete suit of armor and lose, you're going to blame the armor? You'd be better off lamenting your own lack of preparation. No, you should be ashamed of underestimating me. But hey, at least you've got an excuse. 'I only lost because of the difference in armor performance,' right?"
I tore off the chest plate, and Greg's face appeared beneath.
He was frustrated—overwhelmed by a power so absolute he couldn't lay a finger on me. His expression shifted from shock to fury.
Like a child watching his toys destroyed one by one, Arrogance dismantled Greg's armor piece by piece. If I were Greg, this would be a trauma-inducing spectacle.
Well... I wasn't going to stop, though!
Once Greg realized his armor was useless, he stepped outside, grabbed a shard of the wreckage, and stood before me.
*"Don't screw with me! I haven't lost yet! I'll fight you until I die!"*
His refusal to rely on equipment and trust only in his own strength was almost moving—no, whatever. This guy had tormented me plenty too.
"Ugh, but still..."
*"Just come at me already!"*
Greg slashed at me again and again with the armor fragment, but I held firm, offering no resistance.
There was no damage, anyway.
In the first place, the power gap between a suit of armor and an unarmed human was simply too vast.
"...I really do hate picking on the weak, you know."
Greg stopped mid-swing.
*"W-what did you just say?! WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?!"*
"I said I can't bring myself to bully weaklings like you."
*"D-don't joke around! When have we ever bullied the weak—!"*
"Ahahaha! You really never stop talking, do you? I mean, you underestimated me enough to show up in an obsolete suit, so you must've been pretty confident in your abilities... but guys like you are a dime a dozen. I'm not exactly top-tier myself, and when you challenged me to this duel with so much bravado, I actually had a sliver of hope—but look at this. You're truly pathetic. I don't want to waste any more time humiliating a loser like you. This feeling—you probably don't get it, do you~?"
I politely, roundaboutly told him he was weak.
I'm so kind.
*"Waaaaaaaah!!"*
Greg charged in screaming, but his charge was less heroic than it was pathetic. Being called trash by the guy he was fighting, then losing while being treated as trash... it was too miserable to watch. Well, not really—I didn't care.
These guys needed to face reality.
The referee finally stepped in.
*"...Winner—Leon Fou Bartfort. Greg Fou Seberg, please step back. A round of applause for both combatants!"*
His voice was thin and sympathetic, devoid of any vigor. Greg collapsed to his knees and sat slumped on the spot.
The arena offered us a smattering of applause.
I murmured to myself.
"That leaves three more."
Luxion was, as always, cold toward me.
*"What a cruel outcome. Most people would hesitate to corner an opponent this completely."*
"Spare me. These guys need to learn what reality looks like. I can't stand people who get full of themselves."
*"Shall I prepare a mirror? Those words apply perfectly to you as well, Master."*
...I was aware of it, but hearing it out loud still irritated me.
◇
In the stands, the students were stunned.
"That last match was brutal. That's no way for a knight to fight."
"Idiot, it's a duel."
"That's two down. Well, Chris will probably hold back, but..."
The spectators were all saying the same thing: Greg had been far less impressive than expected.
"Was he actually weak all along?"
"All that talk about real combat and experience, and this is it?"
"I had high hopes—what a letdown. I'm not interested in weak men."
Angelica broke into a cold sweat watching the match against Greg.
"He showed that much of a gap?"
She didn't think Greg was weak.
It was that Leon was too strong.
Greg had simply been unlucky. He held the belief that relying on equipment was second-rate, and he'd brought an older model to the fight—but even with the latest gear, the outcome wouldn't have changed. Angelica could see that clearly.
The difference in their power was overwhelming.
*(Could any armor available in the Kingdom even compete with that?)*
Olivia, on the other hand, was a little angry.
"I'm glad Leon won, but that was too much! He should apologize to Greg later!"
She genuinely believed this, but Angelica shook her head.
"Don't. You'd only wound Greg's pride further."
Still, Angelica dipped her gaze.
*(...Bullying the weak, hm? From Bartfort's perspective, I'm probably nothing more than a little girl myself.)*
When Leon had been taunting Greg, he'd said *"weaklings like you."* She realized that was a jab at Julius and the others—the ones who had hounded her mercilessly at the party when she had no allies.
Whether Leon himself was conscious of it or not, she couldn't tell.
"So that's it... I'm weak. How pathetic. I need to become—"
Angelica looked up at the sky.
*(I wanted to become stronger.)*
◇
Once the arena had been cleared, the one who descended next was Chris in his blue armor.
He held a massive greatsword in both hands, and strapped to his back was a sword of an entirely different type.
A young sword master—not merely a swordsman, but a true sword prodigy.
In the game, that title ranked above a regular swordsman—it was a recognition of proven skill.
His father was the Sword Saint, and he'd been raised under strict training from a young age.
Cool and composed, but poor at expressing his emotions.
However, once a sword was in his hand, he became an invincible swordsman... I'd hated this guy too. He'd been difficult to pursue in the game, and on top of that, he only ever used a sword.
That meant he lacked any ranged attacks, making the war segments a nightmare. Actually, all three of them—Chris included—had such strong quirks that I'd hit game overs repeatedly.
Just remembering it now made my blood boil.
Chris stood with a sword nearly as large as his armor. In my previous life's terms, his stance reminded me of the Shigen school—the kind where you bring a hand up beside your ear.
Chris spoke.
*"Unlike the other two, I won't let my guard down. I'll use my full strength from the start."*
"Is that so? Then I'll go all out too."
He was clearly irritated that I was still carrying the shovel, and he lunged at me.
*"How long do you intend to keep holding that ridiculous tool? It doesn't belong in a place like this."*
"That's not for you to decide, is it?"
The referee signaled the start.
*"Begin!"*
Well, quirks aside, I had to admit he was strong. Unlike the other two, there was no trace of carelessness.
His charge came in a perfectly straight line—no hesitation whatsoever.
"Luxion, deploy the drones."
*"Deploying drones."*
I backed away while Luxion launched drone after drone from the weapon container on Arrogance's back. The spherical drones were armed with firearms.
Eight of them.
*"What—?!"*
Facing Chris's astonished expression, I said:
"Commence firing."
I pulled the trigger on the control stick, and the drones opened fire on Chris's blue armor in unison.
Chris scrambled to dodge, but surrounded by eight machines, there was no escape. The machine-gun-equipped drones hammered him, stacking up damage.
Realizing he couldn't win on the defensive alone, he tried to attack the drones—but Luxion was the one controlling them.
*"Futile."*
The moment he moved to strike one, another circled around and attacked from behind.
Chris adapted quickly, backing against the arena wall to prevent flanking. Good instinct—but...
"Checkmate. Would you like to concede?"
I stood almost motionless, the shovel slung over my shoulder, and Chris grew emotional.
*"You! Are you satisfied fighting like this?! There isn't a shred of chivalry in this! Fighting like this—"*
I acknowledged his dedication to the sword, but honestly, I couldn't care less.
"Is that all you have to say? This isn't a sport match. A duel is a kill-or-be-killed affair, no matter how you dress it up. What, relying on guns isn't allowed? I don't recall that rule. Besides, shouldn't someone be sympathizing with me for taking on all five of you? No, wait—sorry about that. I only need five one-on-one fights, so I suppose sympathy isn't warranted. Even so, the gap between us is so vast that I was actually giving serious thought to holding back. How about I also consider your precious chivalry—the honorable way you keep talking about?"
As I prattled on, Chris lunged. Luxion didn't miss the opening—all eight drones hovering around me opened fire simultaneously.
Chris couldn't move freely anymore. He crouched, using his greatsword as a shield.
*"Don't mock me... no one will ever acknowledge this kind of fight!"*
"Fine by me. What matters is the result. You lose, I win. Not many people care about the process. Oh, but I will say—you tried hard. I'd rather not rub it in by saying you lost pathetically."
*"Waaaaah!!"*
Chris charged through the rain of bullets on sheer willpower and swung his greatsword down. The combination of Chris's magical power and sword speed made the blade look like a streak of light. I caught it with my left hand, then crushed the greatsword in my grip.
"That was a fine display from the greatest swordsman alive. Well done."
Smoke was already rising from his armor when the referee declared the winner.
*"Chris Fia Arclight is unable to continue! The winner... Leon Fou Bartfort."*
When my name was announced, the words somehow lacked any punch.
From inside the armor, I could hear muffled sobbing.
*"...Why? Why did I lose? I worked harder than anyone. I gave everything I had... I just wanted to be recognized."*
I sympathized with Chris—family circumstances had left him no choice but to grind—but that was a separate matter entirely.
"Don't go around boasting about your misfortune. Go find a girlfriend who'll feel sorry for you."
*"You really are trash."*
Luxion's comment stung more than it should have. No, I did feel like maybe I'd gone too far.
◇
Anxious murmurs rose from the stands.
"H-hey, Chris lost too."
"What the hell. That was just dirty, wasn't it?"
"Wait—didn't Leon solo a dungeon and earn a baronetcy? Could he actually be strong?"
"V-wait! If this is how it goes, the whole bet is settled?! I bet everything I had!"
The spectators who'd been absolutely certain of winning their bets now realized they were wrong and panicked. At the same time, the students who'd been mocking Leon were beginning to reconsider.
Olivia looked like she was about to cry.
"Angelica, I... I'm so sad. I'm happy Leon won, but this is too much."
Angelica silenced her.
"Don't be ridiculous. Leon is the kind of man who could have lost if he'd let his guard down. That should tell you how seriously he took his opponent."
"R-really?"
She nodded and spoke of Chris.
"He's from a court noble family with the rank of count. His house serves as the royal sword instructor. Chris's father is the finest swordsman in the Kingdom and holds the title of Sword Saint. Chris himself is a step below that, but he's earned the title of sword prodigy."
Olivia was genuinely impressed.
"That's amazing."
"Yeah, he's an incredible fighter."
*(If even someone like that couldn't lay a finger on Leon... Jilk must be panicking.)*
She glanced toward where Julius and the others sat. Jilk was nowhere to be seen—not his figure, not his armor.
Julius was comforting Marie, whose face had gone pale. Seeing them made Angelica's chest tighten with pain.
*(...Your Highness.)*
◇
While Chris was being carried out of the arena and taken to the infirmary, Jilk was preparing for the next match.
He barked orders at the armor technicians.
"Load every weapon you can find into it. We're using live ammunition and magic bullets too."
The technician's eyes went wide.
"Those aren't meant for match use!"
"This is a duel!"
Jilk, normally gentle and composed, was so rattled he'd lost all composure.
The green armor was adorned with wing-like decorations on every joint.
Into that frame, heavy rifles and an axe instead of a sword were being installed. It looked like equipment for an actual battlefield.
"Remove the decorations and attach additional armor plating. Also, prepare grenades for me."
The technician looked troubled.
"Sir Jilk, with the parts we have on hand, this is the limit."
Jilk lowered his head, then raised it.
"That's fine. Do whatever you can."
Surrounded by a flurry of last-minute equipment changes, Jilk's mind was focused entirely on his strategy.
*(I have to be the one to stop him. If I can't do that, at least I have to deal enough damage or His Highness's reputation—)*
Foster brother, best friend... Jilk had lived his life for Julius. If he lost here, Julius's standing would plummet.
For that reason, he resolved to use every手段 available.
He picked up one of the bombs placed nearby.
"...I'll be stepping out for a moment."
With the armor undergoing its overhaul, Jilk left the room alone.
◇
"Whew, what a exhausting break."
There'd been an intermission, so I climbed out of Arrogance and stretched.
On my way back from the restroom, Olivia and Angelica hurried over to me.
"Leon, where have you been?!"
"We were worried."
Their reactions made me tilt my head.
"Huh? What's wrong?"
The two exchanged glances.
"Well, we heard you weren't looking well..."
I narrowed my eyes.
"Me? I just went to the bathroom."
Angelica looked at me with a hint of suspicion.
"Someone claiming to be your older sister showed up. Olivia confirmed the face, but she said your complexion looked bad and asked her to come find you."
My second sister worrying about me? Virtually impossible.
I hadn't seen her since I'd provoked the prince—I was sure I'd been a nuisance. But would she really approach me at a time like this?
As I was thinking this, Luxion spoke to me—inaudible to the two women.
*"Master, explosives have been planted on the armor. Your sister planted them, but she was acting on someone else's instructions."*
...That figured.
The most likely explanation was coercion.
After I'd provoked the prince, she'd probably had a miserable time at the academy. Jilk had exploited that. I was trash, but Jilk was a real piece of work too.
*"Based on my investigation, the next opponent has the highest probability of being behind it."*
I let out a small sigh.
I turned to the two girls.
"Yeah... I guess my real sister would know. Actually, I was holding in a big one earlier. My stomach hurt so bad. I thought I was going to let it slip."
When I said that, Olivia fumbled for words.
"O-oh, well, that can't be helped."
Angelica shot me a cold glare.
"I'm sure there are better things to say in front of ladies?"
"You're right. I was out picking flowers. There's no flowerbed in the arena, obviously."
Olivia laughed awkwardly.
Angelica pressed her fingers to her forehead.
"That excuse is... well, whatever. Fix your habits now, or you'll slip up when it matters. More importantly, time's almost up."
"Then let's head out."
As I made my way toward the arena, Luxion fed me more intel.
*"The explosives are positioned on the back. The armor has critical systems there—they're aiming to hit it with lethal force. Judging by the amount of explosive, a standard armor suit would likely kill the pilot inside."*
The quiet ones are always the scariest... that really is a common saying for a reason.
◇
When I reached the arena, my second sister was nowhere in sight.
Well, not having to talk to her was a relief. I wouldn't have known what to say anyway, and more importantly, there were explosives to worry about... they'd been planted discreetly.
Angelica studied the opponent.
"Look—your opponent's eager. Finally getting serious, it seems."
Jilk emerged into the arena in equipment fit for an actual warzone.
Once inside Arrogance, Luxion briefed me.
*"It appears to be the type that detonates in response to a specific magical trigger."*
The game had bombs like that too.
"The Jilk type was always the scariest. His specialty was marksmanship—beyond that, he had no particular quirk. But performance-wise, he was average in everything else, making him an all-rounder who could hold his own anywhere."
The prince excelled in close combat, while Jilk was the mid- to long-range specialist. No quirks, easy to use, reliable. In the game, he'd been a dependable character.
Well, his pursuit difficulty was high and infuriating—that hadn't changed.
I descended into the arena, and Jilk addressed me.
*"You are strong. Allow me to pay my respects."*
"I appreciate that."
The instant the referee signaled the start, Jilk raised the rifle in his right hand and aimed it at me. He launched into the air from the first moment, and without a word of negotiation, pulled the trigger—then hurled grenades as well.
*"Smoke screen!"*
"No mercy, huh."
White smoke engulfed the surroundings.
◇
Jilk rose to the maximum allowable height within the smoke-shrouded arena.
Fly too high and you'd be disqualified, so he climbed just to the limit and attacked from directly above with his rifle and grenades.
*"If only this would put him down..."*
He'd used a card he'd rather not.
He'd made contact with Leon's actual sister and given her the bomb. Not directly—there was a male student as an intermediary.
Even if this came to light, it wouldn't damage Julius's reputation; it would be handled as a student acting on his own.
The arena was blanketed in smoke, but through Jilk's eyes, a magic circle manifested, revealing Leon's silhouette within the haze, searching for him.
*"You're dangerous. Let me deal with you here."*
He pulled the trigger.
The anti-armor rifle used by the military had serious penetration power. Bringing it to an academy duel wouldn't earn any goodwill, but his opponent was Leon.
Against someone who'd demonstrated such overwhelming superiority, niceties were off the table.
*"The moment you defied His Highness, your life was already over. Let me give you a glorious ending."*
The bullet struck Leon's head. It was the armor's head, but at this angle, a clean penetration would definitely injure the pilot inside.
And yet.
*"W-what?!"*
Leon was gazing up at the sky as if nothing had happened.
He waved.
*"Tch!"*
Jilk threw more grenades, then raised his rifle. He loaded a new round with the bolt action and fired.
Leon stood amid the explosion without a scratch, and Jilk resorted to his trump card. He unleashed a special spell at Leon to trigger the planted explosives. The spell itself was meaningless—it only mattered as a detonation signal, and it set off a massive blast.
*"A direct hit has to do some damage!"*
But Leon had vanished from the arena. After the shockwave subsided, he was simply gone.
*"Where—where is he?!"*
Jilk felt a strange unease as the sun suddenly vanished and a shadow fell over him. The sky had been blue and cloudless a moment ago.
He looked up.
Leon was right behind him.
*"Hey there."*
*"!"*
Jilk spun around mid-descent, raising his rifle, but Leon was already on him.
He fired, but Leon's armor deflected the round.
*"I hit him dead on!"*
*"It stung, I'll give you that—in more ways than one."*
Reading something in Leon's tone, Jilk swung his battle axe. Leon blocked with his shovel, then spoke in a voice the arena spectators couldn't hear.
*"You don't understand a thing, do you?"*
*"Take a look in the mirror. You're the ones who aren't right in the head."*
*"Do you intend to duel His Highness too? You'll die no different from how you are now—as a noble."*
*"That sounds great! The upper crust can go choke! If breaking free means doing whatever it takes, then I'll do whatever it takes! ...Just like you!"*
An ordinary man would have caught on by now. Even someone dense might have found room for negotiation if the downsides were laid out.
But Leon only seemed more motivated.
Jilk pictured Marie's face.
She was a mysterious woman—as if she understood him completely, the very embodiment of his ideal.
It hadn't taken long to fall for her.
She wasn't in the palace. Unlike the women who usually surrounded him, she brought genuine peace to his heart.
*"I met the woman of my dreams for the first time!"*
*"Good for you—one less rival to worry about. Go enjoy your little love games to your heart's content."*
Jilk swung his rifle to block Leon's shovel attack, but the impact sent the rifle flying to the ground.
And then Julius's face surfaced in his mind.
The way Julius would light up whenever Marie was brought up—the face of a dear friend he treasured.
*"What do you know?! I truly love His Highness and Marie! I don't want to monopolize her—I want her to be happy!"*
*"Then step aside."*
Leon was calm, but every blow carried tremendous weight.
*"No matter what it takes, I won't lose to you! If you so much as think about doing anything to His Highness, I'll stake everything I have and make you pay—even your family!"*
They loved the same people.
At first, it had been painful, and he'd wanted to withdraw... but the love he felt wasn't the kind you could walk away from so easily.
Jilk was prepared to do anything—not for himself, but for Julius and Marie.
*"Threatening someone's family in a duel—that's pretty low, even for you."*
*"Say what you want."*
They were fighting in midair, out of earshot of the spectators below.
Jilk felt a hit connect and moved to press his advantage when—
*"No matter what it takes, I won't lose to you! If you so much as think about doing anything to His Highness, I'll stake everything I have and make you pay—even your family!"*
—his own voice replayed those exact words back at him.
*"W-why—?!"*
He'd never heard of magic that could do that. It might have existed without his knowledge, or it could be a new development.
And Leon certainly hadn't mimicked his voice.
*"You were the one who started the threats. So I decided to threaten you right back. Let's see—I think I'll bring this to your family estate. What do you think they'd say? Their son threatened someone during a duel because he was about to lose—as a noble, you're finished! Oh, or should I let your precious Highness and Marie hear it? I'm sure they'd despise you. Actually, no—I'll submit it to the academy! Every student should hear it!"*
Jilk composed himself as best he could, fending off Leon's relentless assault while desperately trying to turn things around.
*"His Highness had nothing to do with this! It was my own decision!"*
*"That's not really for you to decide, is it? People will connect the dots whether you like it or not... and besides, back with Angelica, you all jumped to conclusions without even hearing her side. Why do you think that same thing can't happen to you?"*
Jilk faltered, words failing him.
Yes—they hadn't listened to Angelica. She'd claimed she knew nothing about bullying Marie, that she'd given no such orders, and they'd ignored every word.
*"That—that was—"*
*"Enough. Go down."*
The instant Leon's voice turned cold, Jilk felt a crushing force from above and plummeted toward the ground.
He slammed into the earth, consciousness fading.
*"I did cause trouble for my sister, but I wonder what I should do about the people who threatened her?"*
Leon had already lost interest in Jilk. After all, Jilk's armor was smashed to pieces on the ground—he wasn't getting up anytime soon.
His final thought was—
*(Your Highness... this man is dangerous. You must not fight—h—im—)*
Consciousness cut out.