Not even the "Nine Divine Generals" knew why he was here.
The bombshell declaration—and Subaru's botched attempt to process it—sent his mind spiraling into confusion.
The shock hit him far harder than a splash of cold water, and he couldn't help but blink repeatedly.
"W-What do you mean, you don't know why you're here...?"
"What do I mean? I mean exactly what I said. I was thrown onto this Sword Slave island without any warning, with absolutely no context for what came before or what comes next. I was in a real pickle. Well, it's actually a fairly comfortable place for me, so I wouldn't say I'm in dire straits—but I thought I'd put it that way!"
"——"
"Oh my? Are you deep in thought again? Geez, Bassu, you sure love your thinking! No, no, I think it's great! Me, I'm not much of a thinker myself. I would never make fun of someone who's deep in thought, nor would I ever interrupt them—I'll keep my mouth shut!"
It took quite a while before Cecilus actually fell quiet. Even so, his feet kept pattering around during the silence, and his fidgeting was a distraction in itself.
He might not have been making fun of him, but he was plenty disruptive all the same.
But Subaru had no luxury for nitpicking. If he was going to push back, it should be about something that actually mattered.
For example— "How can you not know about the 'Nine Divine Generals,' but still know you're called the 'Blue Lightning'? That doesn't make any sense!"
"Oh, that's an easy one! The person who came up with that electrifying epithet was none other than me!
"You made up... your own nickname...?"
Hearing Cecilus puff out his chest and answer so proudly, Subaru slumped his shoulders in defeat.
At the sight of that, Cecilus leaned in casually, asking "Hmm? What's wrong~?" But Subaru had no energy left to respond.
Whether the boy before him was the real Cecilus Segmunt or a fake—that question had been settled.
The theory that there are many adults who can't respect children might hold some truth, but it didn't have the power to overturn the ludicrous claim that someone didn't know about the "Nine Divine Generals."
No matter how you sliced it, no real general would fail to know the "Nine Divine Generals."
"To not even know you're a general of the Empire... that's going way too far..."
There was no way to patch together those full-of-holes arguments and make them hold water.
So, in Subaru's mind, the possibility that the boy before him was the real Cecilus had been eliminated. He was nothing more than an overly mischievous boy who cried wolf—Fake Cecilus.
And with that, the thin thread of hope that had sprouted in this dead end was cut clean through.
If there was still one seed of hope remaining, it was the possibility that Fake Cecilus was a liar—which meant maybe that terrifying story about the island had been a lie too— "There you are, Segmunt."
"Whoa!?"
The next instant, a deep male voice boomed at Subaru's back while he was lost in thought, and he jumped.
It was a voice that belonged to neither Fake Cecilus nor the sleeping
The figure standing at the entrance of the healing room was an enormous man.
"G-Good... grief!"
An involuntary exclamation of awe escaped him—the man was massive.
No, it wasn't just that he was tall. He was thick both vertically and horizontally, and the description "every part of his body is big and bulky" fit perfectly. His neck and limbs were as sturdy as logs, and the tight black uniform—resembling something a police officer or soldier would wear—was stretched so taut it looked ready to burst.
Regardless of whether Subaru was cowering or not, he had to crane his neck until it hurt just to look up at the giant.
His height easily exceeded two meters, making him possibly the largest person Subaru had seen in this other world. Perched atop that enormous frame was a stern face, with fangs that jutted out even when his mouth was closed and skin that had a blue tint—there were too many distinctive features to count.
But even that wasn't the most eye-catching feature of all.
The most eye-catching feature was— "Hey there, Gustaf! You're looking dapper as always this morning! Paying attention to every last detail of your appearance is the mark of a true gentleman—an attitude truly worthy of admiration!"
"Save your flattery. You look as unnecessarily healthy as ever, which is good enough. As for someone like you, I have made a fair and impartial judgment that the arena is where you ought to be spent."
With that, the large man—referred to as Gustaf—exhaled a long breath at Cecilus's lighthearted words and crossed his thick four arms.
That's right—four arms.
The enormous man, built like a wall of muscle with a demon-like face, had two arms growing from each shoulder, giving him a total of four. Subaru vaguely recalled an old acquaintance telling him that the multi-armed race of demihumans had that kind of trait.
An old acquaintance—an old man— "Ah, right... Wilhelm."
That was Subaru, struggling just to recall the name of someone he knew.
Oblivious to Subaru's mental gymnastics, Fake Cecilus grinned at Gustaf's words.
"I appreciate your concern! I understand exactly what you're saying, Gustaf! Even if I were to die, it should be on the battlefield! It's a tremendous relief to have someone so level-headed as the island governor—I really am a lucky man!"
"Mingling personal and professional matters is an impediment to order. I have no reason to perform such foolish acts."
"Yes, yes, I understand completely! My deepest thanks for Governor Gustaf's consideration!"
As Cecilus clasped his hands together with that goofy grin, Gustaf narrowed his keen eyes.
Subaru caught a faint nuance—Gustaf's statement about "not mixing personal and professional matters" sounded rather personal, as if he harbored some dislike toward Fake Cecilus. But digging into that wouldn't get him anywhere.
What mattered was that someone other than Fake Cecilus—someone he could actually talk to—had finally appeared.
"So then, Segmunt. That boy there—"
As if on cue, Gustaf turned his attention to Subaru.
Being stared down from such an intimidating height, just being observed made Subaru feel as though his whole body was wrapped in pressure. The four crossed arms ended in fists roughly the size of a child's head—if he got punched with one of those, Subaru would die.
Without thinking, Subaru swallowed hard, and beside him, Fake Cecilus clapped his hands.
"That's right! He's finally woken up. He was worried about the young lady who came with him, so I brought him here. But it seems the sleeping young lady wasn't the one he'd hoped to see, so there were some misunderstandings. We were just about to work through that shock and move the story forward!"
"Thank you for the explanation. But when he woke, he should have been brought to me first, as I ordered. That was the condition under which I permitted this young man and girl to set foot on the island, was it not?"
"Was it? My apologies—I have a terrible memory."
"——"
To Cecilus's nonchalant response, Gustaf silently pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose.
Then the man, so much closer to the heavens than Subaru, glared at the ceiling and muttered to himself: "I am the guardian of order... I must not mix personal and professional matters..."
Whatever his relationship with Fake Cecilus was, it was clearly causing him no end of grief.
Realizing this, Subaru felt a small measure of relief, even if it was somewhat unfair to Gustaf.
"So I wasn't the only one getting jerked around by Cecy."
"What an ungrateful thing to say! I accompanied you to get the explanations you wanted, introduced you to the people you wanted to meet, and tried to take you where you wanted to go!"
"Yeah, you're right—I went too far. The explanation was full of detours, the person I met wasn't who I wanted to see, and I was told I couldn't go where I wanted to go, which stung."
Fake Cecilus probably had no ill intent, so there was no point saying any of that.
At Subaru's retort, Cecilus puckered his lips in a sulky "Tch." Then, having apparently dealt with his grievance, he let Gustaf take over the conversation.
The substance of their exchange wasn't fully visible, but Subaru could pick up on two things: it was about him and Tanza, and Fake Cecilus hadn't been able to navigate the conversation well.
And the price for that failure didn't seem to fall on Fake Cecilus himself.
"I'm sorry, Bassu. It seems my help only goes so far from here. You'll have to do the rest on your own. I believe you can do it!"
"Wait, wait, wait! The way this conversation is heading is terrifying! What was that exchange just now? Gustaf—the condition for letting us stay on the island..."
"It is participation in the 'Spalka.'"
"Spal...ka?"
A word he'd never heard before, dropped on him from that imposing height, and Subaru grimaced.
If it involved "participation," then this "Spalka" thing was some kind of event. An event held on this Sword Slave island—a gut feeling told him nothing good could come of it.
For starters, Al had told him that life on this Sword Slave island was harsh and brutal.
An event on an island like that was bound to be something painful or terrifying.
"Wait, Gustaf! Why do we have to participate in this Spalka?! We didn't come to this island on our own!"
"Prisoners, slaves, criminals... the circumstances of those who set foot on
"His Majesty's... the Emperor's... wishes?"
"To transform this Sword Slave island into the most meaningful place for the shedding of blood in the entire Empire."
The blood in Subaru's veins ran cold. It was a thirstingly dry declaration.
He had thought Gustaf's eye color and manner of speaking were cold and unyielding, but that was wrong. There was a more fitting word to describe Gustaf.
He was, yes—as inorganic and cold as a machine.
Subaru held his breath at this shift in impression, frozen in place, and Gustaf called out to him: "Schwartz."
Then, looking down at Subaru—so much smaller than himself— "Address him as 'His Majesty the Emperor.' This is a reminder once, a warning twice, and there will not be a third time."
"...Ugh."
"Furthermore, I will make this clear: the 'Spalka' cannot be refused. If you decline participation in the 'Spalka,' you and the girl alike will be subjected to your original fate."
"What original fate..."
"I will reject Segmunt's plea and deny you entry to the island. You will simply become food for the aquatic Mabeasts that live in the lake."
With absolute finality and without a shred of hesitation, Gustaf plucked away Subaru's only future option.
A grown man who told a child, plainly and without shame, that refusing meant death. No blood, no tears—Subaru wanted to curse his own misfortune for never catching a break no matter how small he got.
Shouldn't adults be gentler with children?
Or was this just how the Volachia Empire worked—where the strong were superior, and children could be killed one after another for being weak, and it was all perfectly acceptable?
"If that's the kind of country it is, then it can just go to hell..."
"I don't know what you mean by that, but I'll permit that outburst. Shutting down all speech only breeds resentment. The seedling of great folly grows in the soil of discontent, nourished by the water of opposition."
Gustaf slowly shook his head and gripped Subaru's shoulder—the shoulder of a boy gritting his teeth.
Caught in a palm that could easily grab his own head, Subaru couldn't resist. He briefly considered forcing his way out, but— "I wouldn't recommend that approach, Bassu. You'd probably end up in an even worse situation. This isn't so much wise counsel as it is a heartfelt plea because it'd be boring if things turned out that way."
"Thanks for your feelings. Drop dead, Cecy."
"Wow, and after I actually saved you! What an unkind thing to say. Still, I can't say I don't understand why you'd want to say it, so I won't be angry."
Fake Cecilus casually blocked the exit, robbing Subaru of his last bit of resistance.
In the end, venting his frustration at the ambiguous Fake Cecilus with harsh words yielded nothing—like pushing against a curtain.
Either way, Subaru was going to be forced into this dubious "Spalka" event.
If he refused, he'd be fish food. If he played along— "If you can prove your worth, I, as Governor, will take responsibility and welcome you as a sword slave."
"...That's just great."
If things went well, he'd become a slave. If they didn't, he'd become fish food.
He'd said nothing good had ever happened since he got small, but he supposed he should revise that.
—Since coming to this Volachia Empire, nothing good had happened at all.
"...I hate the Volachia Empire."
Subaru's resentful curse was small, quiet, and feeble—as though he were being considerate of the still-sleeping Tanza.
And then— △▼△▼△▼△ —he could feel the oppressive heat enveloping the venue through every inch of his body.
Though the number of gazes raining down on him was enormous, there was almost no commotion.
Whether it was quiet excitement or quiet madness, the experience of silence feeling loud was a rare one.
But Subaru had no room to grow angry about it or complain.
"Shit, shit... this is no joke, this is the worst...!"
"I'll do it, I'll do it, I swear..."
"Silence! All of you, obey my instructions without complaint! That is the only way you'll survive!"
The voices cutting through that noisy silence came from three men near Subaru.
A Lizardman with rock-like skin, a bald man covered in tattoos, and a young man with rust-colored hair and fine features.
All different in upbringing and race, they shared one thing in common.
That one thing was that—counting Subaru—they were all young, and the desperate tension of a life-or-death situation was clear in their eyes.
And if things continued as they were, though their birthdays might differ, their death dates would be the same.
"Gentlemen, welcome to this island. His Majesty Vincent Volachia, currently residing in the Imperial Capital, must surely be delighted. As Governor, directly appointed by His Majesty himself to oversee this Sword Slave island, I shall bestow upon you a trial of honor."
Booming from his special seat atop a high wall overlooking the arena was Gustaf Morello—Governor of the Sword Slave island Ginunhive, and the man who ran the show here.
And at Gustaf's feet—the gate of the corridor leading warriors into the arena slowly opened, and from the darkness within, a horrifying aberration revealed itself, slowly, slowly.
A lion's face with red eyes, four legs like a deer's complete with hooves, twisted horns and fangs, a terrifyingly long tail, and a colossal body that made even Gustaf's massive frame look small.
Drool and growls spilled from its maw as it lumbered forward—a Mabeast. No—what was called an arena beast here. A fearsome enemy.
This was the opponent Subaru and the other three would have to face— "To prove yourselves as the resilient subjects of the Empire that His Majesty envisions!"
—the examiner for the savage trial known as the "Spalka," the path to becoming a sword slave.