My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

Chapter 568

Chapter 568: A Mild Warm Up

Irene won.

A complete and utter slippery landslide sliding her all the way to victory.

I mean – who’s surprised? Who’s shocked? Who’s calling this a plot twist? Of course she won.

Was there ever even any doubt at all in the first place?

The only sliver of hope, or any prospect of success I had for myself was surviving for as long as I could... but alas, it seems a lone survivor I was not.

It truly was quite a comforting thought knowing that if WW3 was just right around the corner at some point, I’d be right on top of the list of confirmed casualties.

The first round started off well enough – had myself bunkering down inside a big empty crate with some good line of sights on either end, staying out of the unceasing crossfire as best I could ’cause outside it looks as if Irene had garnered a strong vendetta against poor green for some reason.

.....

I was hoping all the noise would draw everybody else’s attention, and I could just spray away and take victory in the comfort of my crate.

As I anticipated, it happened – the sound of heavy boots crunching against gravel. I was smiling. I was delighted. Until I realized the sound was getting louder, closer...

I scrambled.

Then from one of the entrances, I heard a quick yelp, a gasp, and then a crash.

When I went to peek around the corner, I saw red face flat on the ground, and she definitely saw me too.

I aimed my gun at her, and she fumbled for hers... only to horror, discovering it strewn way beyond her reach.

A free kill, an easy kill, literally falling onto my lap. I didn’t even think to think twice... then she whimpered, frightened, staring up at the barrel of my gun with those quivering puppy-dog eyes, and I just...

Yeah, I choked.

And for my act of mercy, I was generously bequeathed a reward – in the form of a bullet to the back of my skull.

The moral lesson here is – looks can actually kill.

“First rule of the battlefield, rookie,” cackled a dastardly blue devil behind me. “Hesitation is defeat! You fall for your opponents, you’re dead! Ever heard of equal rights?”

“You’re very kind...” whispered red, throwing a fleeting apologetic gaze before breaking away. “But better luck next time.”

I was promptly booted off from active combat, placed beside a suddenly sullen-looking green... vacant eyes hauntingly reflecting back the untold horrors of war.

Not even a full minute later, red and blue came to join us by the sidelines, displaying some battle scars of their own – one on the temple and one on the chest, and I considered myself avenged.

I thought I fared much better in the second round, with better positioning, and a better understanding of the grim reality of war. I managed to take blue by total surprise mid-reload behind a barrel, completely helpless and utterly defenseless.

She knew she was done for, she knew she had to do something quick – and quickly, she did... throwing me a silent plea for mercy, batting those same frail, maidenly eyes I’ve seen before.

Except I didn’t fall for it, not this time, and so, entirely benumbed to compassion, I raised my gun. Sorry blue.

Equal rights.

After eliminating one of the biggest threats to the competition, I set my sights on the true apex predator of the arena... and after walking and creeping from one landmark to another, I came to the realization that I haven’t seen Irene once the entire time. Not in this round, and not even in the round prior.

See, green’s movement was about as subtle as a pair of clown shoes in a funeral, and on the other hand, red couldn’t help but emit panicky squeals every time she’d relocate – but the detective herself was like a total ghost, floating invisibly across the battlefield, not a single trace of her presence to be heard nor seen.

Hell, she could give Adalia a run for her money. Considering the skills she possesses... it’s really no wonder she’s always a winner every damn time.

Except, somehow, for this time.

I’m still piecing it together myself. Must have gotten complacent over time, stumbled myself into the direct line of sight of enemy fire...

The next I knew, Irene bolted out into the open from her hiding spot, spraying bullets upwards at a nearby tower – and at the same time, I heard a wimpish squeal of defeat just as a stray pellet closely whizzed by me from the same direction.

But we were far from being safe still, as behind us sprung another ambush, a volley of bullets gushing out from a busted car window – manned by a vindictive green, spraying and praying perhaps a little too eagerly.

It was too late to do anything else – and Irene and I sadly became potential canvases for little Miss Jackson Pollock over here... claiming a surprise victory for round two, and achieving her revenge.

Yet it didn’t have to be... Irene could have simply bided her time, left me to die alone due to my own sheer negligence, but she didn’t... for some reason, she tried to save me.

Why?

No clue... and she stomped off back to the starting grounds before I had the chance to ask. And so now they’re tied – a match point – meanwhile, I’m just here holding onto my big fat zero for three.

The final round ended up being a total massacre. In meticulous fashion, one by one, I heard the churn of crackling gunfire accompanied by a scream only for a swift and deafening silence to follow right after.

It seems Irene doesn’t take to losing too well.

I heard green first, two minutes later, red followed suit... then peeking over my metal sheet of cover, I saw blue dashing out into the field, arms up in surrender... out of ammo, I guessed.

“Okay, you win!” She proclaimed to the open, empty air around her. “Just save your bullets, detective! You’ll need them. Just... just let me walk, I’ll see myself out, alright?”

A lie. I see that sidearm she got concealed around her hip. I could also see through her plan...

Get Irene’s guard to drop, take that walk of shame as a chance to survey her surroundings, find a better position, an advantageous vantage point maybe... and hopefully get the drop on her.

This girl’s crafty, if a little rule-breaky... kinda reminds me of someone I know.

But alas, if I could see through her ploy... then it’s a given that Irene could too.

And indeed, as a voice rang out from somewhere and everywhere, my assumption was confirmed true.

“First rule of the battlefield...” Irene said.

Blue let her arms drop, pure apprehension her only sole expression. “Hesitation is defeat.”

At once, blue spurred into action, quickly uncoupling the handgun on her holster, but Irene was just much too fast on the draw for her... and with a few well-placed shots, the crafty devil was sent dragging her feet out of the arena, her head hung in shame.

Leaving just me as the sole, lone survivor.

Yet of course, we already know how this all would end.

I ran around the stage, desperation, and paranoia gradually replacing the oxygen in my bloodstream, and with the turn of a corner – I was halted, standing frozen... staring cross-eyed directly towards the barrel of a gun, her gun.

We met each other’s gazes, my shock reflecting in her visor, her cold callousness gleaming in mine... and I blinked once, accepting my untimely would-be death.

But then...

“Bang,” Irene said, lowered her gun, and promptly walked away.

She didn’t even pull the trigger...

Was that a surrender? Did she just force a surrender onto me? I think she did.

Rather than open fire at me, she coerced me into conceding.... Whatever the hell happened to hesitation is defeat?

Either way though, that was game, set, match. With the reigning champion still going undefeated.

“So...” Irene said, walking over to the lifeless corpses of her three victims. “I believe that was two weeks of double shifts, am I correct?”

The blue one groaned, her eyes staring stiffly. “Actually you said just one.”

“Two shifts it is, then,” She said a little firmer. “Starting tomorrow, am I clear?”

The three begrudgingly nodded their heads.

Not a good enough answer, apparently. Irene took another step forward. “I said – am I clear?”

“Sir, yes, sir...” All three chorused as lackluster as can be.

“Good, very good,” She approved, then whirling around to me, she spoke. “Alright, now that we’re done with warmups, let’s move on to the real deal, shall we?”

“Um...” I looked back at the stage, freshly adorned with splatters and streaks left in the wake of our destruction. If that was just warm up... “What’s the real deal?”

Irene nodded forward, directing my gaze over across to the other side of the premises, where an even bigger, intricate arena sat, brimming with even louder screams, louder gunfire – chaos on a whole ‘nother level.

“Capture the flag,” Irene said, a wry expression visible even through her mask. “Still eager for some more fun?”