Chapter 18: Combat (Part 2)
The battle between Feisha and the little demon king
Feisha stared at the private part now exposed to air, then at Layton’s flaming red face. “It’s surprisingly majestic,” he amended after a while. In proportion to a dwarf’s average height, of course.
Layton quickly scrambled up and wrapped the robe tightly around himself. “Get the fuck out of my room!” he roared, pointing to the door.
“We’re all friends here, why be so distant?” Feisha smiled. “C’mon, it’s just showing some skin. Think of all the public baths!”
“Does my room look like a public bath?”
“…Well- I can’t exactly un-see it, so what do you want me to do?” sighed Feisha. “It’s not like I’m going to do anything to you.”
Feisha’s words were like fuel to Layton’s fiery rage. “What the fuck are you planning to do to me!?”
Feisha was sent flying to the door with a kick, turning around to the sight of Layton rummaging around in a box.
“What are you looking for?” Could it be that dwarfs like storing tea in boxes? “I’m fine with just a coke.”
Layton stood up abruptly with a darkly twisted smile. Feisha’s eyes darted to the rusty axe in his hand, face devoid of colour. “Erm, I’m fine with no tea at all if it’s too inconvenient, actually. It’s best to avoid stuff like cutting down trees, you know what I mean?”
Feisha slowly backed away, opening the door behind him. As his feet touched onto the hallway floor, he called out in a last-ditch attempt: “Don’t you want to get rid of Borja quickly as well?”
There was a pause in which Layton’s eyes showed a trace of reconsideration.
Feisha held his breath.
“Come in.” The axe was thrown back into the box as the person outside quickly darted through and shut the door.
Layton emerged fully dressed from the bathroom after a period of time. “So, what’s your plan?”
Half a minute of silence passed by.
“Don’t tell me you only have a goal and no plan,” said Layton, scowling at Feisha.
“My plan is completely reliant on what tools you have.”
A moment of thought. “What do you need?”
“Do you have anything like atomic bombs or nuclear weapons?”
Layton shook his head blankly.
…Weren’t dwarfs in sci-fi stories all meant to be masters at forging weapons? Did Layton get sent to Noah’s Ark because he was too stupid?
An image of lab coat donning scientist dwarves making things explode recklessly came to mind, and the leader of which possessed none other than Layton’s face. In lieu of Layton’s answers, Feisha lowered the difficulty of his requests. “Then what about an AK47?”
“Do you even have any threatening weapons other than that axe?”
Layton flipped around in his box again, emerging with an object in his hand. It looked kind of familiar. “I feel like I’ve seen this somewhere before,” hummed Feisha.
“There’s an identical one in the kitchen.”
Oh, right- wasn’t this the knife Antonio always uses to chop vegetables?
Watching the slideshow of expressions pass by Feisha’s face, Layton finally explained: “I’m a scientist investigating into ways to make our lives easier, so I’m not very well-versed in weaponry.”
“Oh, I understand. I guess even law could be split down into stuff like civil law and criminal law.” But right now he needed criminal law! He couldn’t see how civil law could help them at all unless they resorted to verbal assault.
A lightbulb somewhere inside Feisha’s mind lit up. Layton felt a shiver down his back at the sight of Feisha’s gross smile and ran into the bathroom again for an extra layer of clothes.
Feisha was currently trying to adjust the DLD. Layton stood next to him, nervously fretting, “Can you hear anything?”
An exasperated eye roll and quietly mouthed ‘shut up’ later, Feisha nodded with vigour. “He’s snoring.”
“Fallen angels snore?” asked Layton, surprised.
“This is not the time to dwell on details. Hughes, you’re up.”
Hughes hesitated. “He’s still a child, don’t you think that this is a bit too much?”
“But I’m not even thirty yet,” Feisha argued, pointing at himself.
For a few seconds, no one moved.
Hughes relented, sighing, and took over the big chain of bright red firecrackers from Layton. “All I need to do is to put this into his room, correct?”
“It’d be great if you could stuff them under his blankets.”
At Hughes’s extremely disapproving look, Feisha backtracked. “I mean, on top of the blankets is fine as well.”
Hughes kept looking at him.
“…But putting it anywhere else wouldn’t have the same effect,” mumbled Feisha.
“Putting it next to the bed would achieve virtually the same thing.”
“Then it has to be at the headboard.”
Hughes turned around in silent agreement. Feisha and Layton excitedly watched him turn transparent, clothes dropping down one by one until all that was left was the chain of firecrackers floating away from them.
Layton’s eyes were glued onto the door opposite them, and spoke as it opened a crack: “He won’t be found out, will he?”
“Haven’t you know him for longer than me!?”
“But he’s never done anything like this before.”
Feisha shook his head in disappointment, sighing, “What a waste of perfectly good resources.”
After a few minutes, the door closed. And a few more minutes after that, the previously discarded clothes were picked up and neatly worn again. Layton took out a lighter from his pocket but before he could do anything, Feisha snatched it out of his hands.
“Heheh, how could you not let me to the honors? Something this fun doesn’t come along very often.”
“Why are you doing it and not me?”
“Because I’m both the commander in chief and the mastermind. Geez, stop making so much commotion; there’ll be enough of that in a minute!” At this, Feisha crept to one end of the long fuse, crouched, and set it alight. Thank god this level had marble flooring because carpet would undoubtedly have caught on fire almost immediately.
The three perpetrators anxiously watched as the flame licked up the fuse.
When the flame reached the door, Feisha and Layton broke out in cold sweat at the same time. The fuse may have passed under the door, but the flame might not make it. Just as they fretted over this, a series of almost nuclear explosions sounded from inside the door, followed by a scream.
Feisha and Layton’s train of thought grounded to a halt as they cheered for their victory. As the sole member with any shred of common sense left, Hughes remained calm. “We need to leave,” he urged.
The word ‘leave’ hadn’t even registered in Feisha’s mind before the door was thrown open, revealing a livid Borja.
Feisha and Layton pressed themselves onto the ground, holding hands like comrades in arms.
Hughes’ clothes slid onto the ground as he once again became transparent.
To the two still pressed together on the ground, Borja’s slippered footsteps seemed nothing less than that of a grim reaper’s. A grim reaper with its own marching percussion band, in fact.
Isefel’s voice came from above: “What are you doing to your room?”
The footsteps of doom paused, and Borja’s voice replaced it. “Mr.Isefel?” He paused, then continued furiously: “…I should be the one asking you that question! What did you do to my room?!”
“As the son of a demon king of Hell, how could your room be so easily infiltrated?” asked Isefel coldly.
Borja didn’t reply. All that could be heard were his enraged breaths.
“Of course, I could investigate into this matter should you wish for me to do so.”
“No need,” Borja huffed. “As a future demon king, I’ll investigate this myself.” The footsteps padded away from Feisha and co, door slamming firmly shut.
They didn’t dare to move until a good few minutes after the incident. The dust had settled, and Isefel had evidently left.
Feisha suddenly perked up and put his hands together. “I have another idea.”
Despite being put through a near-death experience not ten minutes prior, Layton still remained supportive of Feisha’s various ideas. “What do you want to do next?”
“This time, we’ll be covering for ourselves,” said Feisha with a sinister smirk.
Layton reflexively tightened his clothing around himself.
Not long after Borja’s room settled down, chains of explosions could be heard again from somewhere else.
What a perfect way to celebrate.
Sitting cross-legged on the ground, Feisha savoured the sight in front of him while keeping an ear out for any noise outside with the DLD. He waited for about half a minute before jumping up and exclaiming: “Who did this? Who set off this god-awful prank in my room!?”
His door was thrown open. Feisha whipped around to the sight of Borja storming into his room and raised an accusing finger. “Was it you who lit firecrackers in my fucking room!?”
“I’m going to break that finger if you don’t stop pointing at me,” Borja said arrogantly, tilting his chin up.
The accusing finger was immediately withdrawn. “Please stop bullying me,” Feisha begged pathetically. “Do you know how painful my nose was after you broke it? I’ve been looking forward to sleeping all day but came back to this lovely surprise instead… Please, I’m a human, and only in my twenties at that. There’s a limit to my life…”
“Shut the fuck up,” interrupted Borja, unable to stand his blabbering anymore. “I didn’t put firecrackers in your room.”
“But I’ve been here for almost a month and it’s always been very quiet. You couldn’t even hear someone fart at night, let alone firecrackers.”
“Are you trying to say that I’m lying?” asked Borja with a deathly stare. Feisha immediately wilted.
“No, I was just asking,” he murmured.
“Hmph. I’ve seen this trick of yours used by plenty of people before, don’t think you can fool me just like that.”
“…Are you trying to say that I set off the firecrackers myself?”
Borja’s expression was more than enough to convey his ‘that’s exactly what I’m trying to say’.
“Alright. Let’s say that I did set it off. Why would I set it off in my own room? And even if I did, why would I not admit it? It doesn’t make any sense.” Deny, deny, denydenydeny.
“Because…” The impending tirade was interrupted as Borja froze. Feisha looked up. The unmistakable sound of firecrackers came from upstairs.
…What a tumultuous night this is turning out to be.
“[…] Geez, stop making so much commotion; there’ll be enough of that in a minute!”
IT’S TIME FOR CH-CH-CH-CH-CHINESE: 哎呀，不要吵了，等下有的吵的 āi yā, bù yào chǎo le, děng xià yǒu de chǎo de (lit. Oh, stop complaining, there’ll be plenty of noise in a minute) As you can probably tell, the character for complaining can also mean noise in Chinese.
“This time, we’ll be covering for ourselves.” Layton reflexively tightened his clothing around himself.
Screw the English, I have Chinese: “这次我们来擦屁股。”雷顿立刻伸手挡在自己的裆前。“Zhè cì wǒ men lái cā pì gu.” Léi dùn lìkè shēn shǒu dǎng zài zì jǐ de dāng qián. (lit. “This time we’ll be wiping our butts.” Layton immediately used his hand to block his crotch.)
In Chinese, to wipe one’s ass is to clean up unfinished business, especially one that someone else caused. That’s not the case for Feisha and Layton obviously because they definitely caused more than 130% of this mess. Both the Chinese and English is meant to reflect the scene at the start of this chapter, where Feisha saw Layton naked like the protagonist of some shitty harem anime.