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The Knight-killer

Author: Mashiro Yuh; Translator: Raccoon; Editor: Jaime

"Do you mean to say that you can kill that bandit?"

"Yes, Your Majesty! I can do as you wish," replied Reinhardt with his head bowed.

"Hmm! However, everybody came here and told me the same thing. . . and never returned."

"Your Majesty, I am afraid that they all betrayed you."

"You think they betrayed me?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Why in the world do you think so?"

"I believe that they took the arms, guards and other things that Your Majesty had given them only to flee."

"Hum! Anyway, I hope you won't betray me."

"No, Your Majesty!"

Reinhardt was panting.

"Phew! How tough. . ."

His enemy was also marked here and there with wounds.

"You're as good. . . . . . at least in the. . . . . . speed department. . . as I expected."

"I'm also much impressed. . . . . . with your speed. . . . . . considering you're. . . . . . just a knight."

"It's time you told me your name!"

"I don't think much of f--king honor like you knights do. So, to spite you knights, I suggest you just call me the Knight-killer."

He was just a nothing. Was he really a malevolent villain, a great menace to the entire country?

Reinhardt looked down his nose at the man. The bastard wore fine clothes, not as opulent as a lord's but of higher rank than what he was supposed to be wearing.

He was unable to understand. Was this trying to carry out a revolution to replace the nobility?

It was his local land.

He was a bastard living in his own castle on a small mountain and posing as the head of a gang of bandits, who sent threatening letters to the king one after another, reading as follows: Should I receive no money from you, I shall put a curse on you and your kingdom to cause several disasters.

As a matter of course, the King decided to disregard the words from the bandit. What the bandit had stated in his letters, however, started happening one by one; the King's cats died of illness, the rain was ceaseless, and his staff turned into a snake, though that last one was trifling.

Finally, the King changed his mind; he dispatched a messenger to the bandit with a letter saying that he would not accept the bastard's requirements but was prepared to accept him as a royal prophet. The messenger never returned to the King.

His demands kept getting bigger and bigger, and assassins were sent to him in vain. Famous adventurers, mercenaries and knights went to defeat him, never to return.

How the hell could they be defeated by this bastard?

Reinhardt had his broad sword at the ready.

His enemy, just running around, had not tried to seriously atack him.

"You, knight, what a lucky man!"


The tip of his sword cut the bandit, but he was not seriously injured.

"Today they don't seem to be in a good mood."

"You mean devils by 'they'?"

"You have a quick mind!"

"You pagan!!!"

Still, he kept running around.

Reinhardt ran into some boxes that were piled up in the garden. The boxes were knocked over and fell open, scattering the contents. Many gorgeous dresses appeared out of them.

"Holy cow! These are all women's clothes!"

"Yep. You're right."

"What are you going to do with them?"

"I'm interested in this sort of thing these days."

"What a freakish bastard! I shall cut you down."

His enemy took several steps backwards.

"Don't, sir! You misunderstood me!"

"What, you bastard!"

The bandit dodged this next stroke just as the last one had been dodged.

"What's so different between you and me? I mean all that interests me is taking women's clothes off of them, sir."

"Shut up! Don't try to embarrass me."

"And also dressing people in them most recently."

Reinhardt attacked him with his sword, yelling out, before his enemy was done with his words.

The bandit turned a somersault to dodge this latest stroke, but Reinhardt felt the shock of contact in his arms

The ground was gradually being covered with spilled blood.

The bandit was pressing against his own arm. Reinhardt now saw him bleeding from that arm.

"Huh, I don't know what kind of magic you can do, but you cannot be allowed to continue. You must prepare yourself to die!"

However, the bandit began to smile dauntlessly.

"I'm afraid it must be you who prepares yourself. It's now time."

"Shut up!"

"I'm gonna warn you in advance so you do not misunderstand."

He changed his attitude dramatically; instead of running about, he began to take up a queer pose.

"It was in my boyhood when I learned this magic."

The bandit was getting closer and closer to Reinhardt, who carefully assumed a posture of defense.

"I admit your last stroke cut me deeply."

A lot of greasy sweat started running between Reinhardt's eyebrows. Calm down, this fellow is going to lose. How can he defeat me without a sword?

"In the beginning I didn't understand how my enemies came to be weakened."

I will strike him in the heart when he next speaks. . .

"But now I completely understand."


He moved like a different person; so much faster than before that Reinhardt's chest was left wide open.

Damn it! But his enemy just tapped him on his arms through his gauntlets and went on past without changing his speed.

"First, I will rob you of your striking power. I'm terribly sorry."

In the next moment Reinhardt felt his sword become too heavy to hold, though he used to handle it easily in his hands. The point fell down to the ground.

"F--k you. You must have used some kind of dark magic, coward!"

"Did you call me a coward? I'm afraid not. All you have been doing so far is wield your huge sword with all your skill. I have my own way of fighting."

What's happening? My arms now have no power, and my gauntlets are getting looser. So is my plate mail! Damn!

He removed his gauntlets which were now somehow too loose.

Reinhardt discovered something unbelievable.

He did not see his muscular, strong arms, like tree trunks, where they used to be. Instead, there were very thin arms that looked so fragile as to snap if any force were put to them.

"W-what's wrong with me?"

Then the bandit attacked him again.

"Hey you, don't let your mind wander during a fight!"

However, the fellow acted in a very unusual manner again. While he could have struck Reinhardt in the face, he instead just ran past, patting him on the cheek.

The next moment innumerable black lines fell and covered his eyes.


He could not believe his ears, and knew that it was not his own voice: it was thin, weak, high and cute.

"Holy cow! . . . Much cuter than. . ." said the bandit.

Reinhardt was struggling to push aside his now soft and long hair that was obstructing his view with a now-beautiful hand.

"Don't. . . Don't do anything more!"

"Umh? Did you say to me?"

The bandit kept smiling defiantly.

"Well, it's time to get down to business."


Using his remaining strength to the best of his ability, Reinhardt brought up the unusually heavy sword with his pale and thin arms and intercepted the bandit who was charging like a wild boar.


Seemingly struck right in the middle, the bandit fell head over heels.

But Reinhardt could do no more, and dropped his sword. Numb, he could not even move his arms. Even worse, now the weight of the heavy armor he wore all over his body was effectively multiplied, which prevented him from moving.

"I'm very impressed with your guts."

The bandit was bleeding from his forehead, but Reinhardt could not pay attention to that.

My, my body is shrinking!

The neck of his plate mail was now at his lips. Besides, inside his armor there were some changes going on.


His chest started inflating until it became female breasts, and pressed against the armor from inside. His bare breasts touching directly against the coat of mail, he felt a pain from the nipple.

"That's too bad!"

The bandit no longer had to even use his footwork. Bound up by his own oversized and weighty armor, Reinhardt could not move an inch.

And his enemy punched him very hard in the breast.


Then he patted Reinhardt on the legs, which was decisive.

His now-weaker legs could not support his weight, and he tumbled down.

"How do you feel now?"

He could not reply; his breast was terribly pained.

"A man has a weak spot in the crotch, and a woman has the same in the breasts."

The female, who used to be Reinhardt, could only look frightened.

"All I've gotta do is pat you a little bit and then strike you hard in the breast. I fight like that against everyone."

Then he began to remove the armor from the former knight without any trouble. Her ample breasts were exposed to the air through the chain mail.


""I can't, this is too much fun"

It seemed very easy for the fellow to paralyze an immobile person. Reinhardt could not move her body, even though all of her senses were fully alive. She was totally denuded like a new-born baby all at once.

She could not move. The bandit brought something big from a place she could not see. What? What is that? A torture instrument?

"You must have thought I would bring a torture instrument. You are right. . . . . . in a sense."

It was one of those fascinating dresses she saw several minutes ago. Reinhardt opened her eyes very widely.

"Let's enjoy ourselves, sir. . . no. . . Princess."

Reinhardt did not return in triumph, either.

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