DXD: Table for one - Chapter 10

“What is it? Do you also want to stop me now?” Merlin asked, letting out a tired sigh. His eyes swept over the people nearby before settling on the Chancellor. “Come on, be serious—who here is better qualified to lead that wall?”

Shou Bun Kun didn’t look offended. Instead, he raised a hand and pointed toward the source of the earlier shout. “No. Look carefully—where did that voice come from?”

Merlin followed the direction of his finger. The realization hit almost immediately. “That’s… not from the enemy’s side.” His gaze shifted to the opposite horizon. “It’s coming from the north. The exact opposite direction. From the capital.”

The first thought that crossed his mind was obvious. “Reinforcements? Are you expecting more troops?”

“Not exactly,” Shou Bun Kun replied, his tone thoughtful rather than relieved. “But let’s go see for ourselves.”

The two of them moved quickly toward the commotion, weaving past the workers and militia still preparing the walls. The air buzzed with curiosity as others turned their heads in the same direction.

What they found wasn’t a massive army—nothing close to the kind of force that could sweep the battlefield in one charge. Instead, about a hundred men marched steadily toward the city gates. While the number wasn’t impressive, their appearance was.

Roughly half of them carried themselves with the confidence of veterans. These weren’t raw recruits or hastily trained townsfolk—they were experienced battle commanders, men who had survived and led in the chaos of real combat. Their armor was worn but well-kept, and every step they took carried a certain weight.

At the head of the group rode a single man whose presence seemed to draw everyone’s attention. His age was difficult to guess, but the sharpness in his eyes and the ease with which he sat in the saddle marked him as someone who had seen more battles than most soldiers could dream of. A seasoned leader—someone who could take command of an entire wall without hesitation.

That single arrival changed the entire situation for Merlin. With this commander in place, his own assignment would no longer mean stretching himself thin between leading and fighting. Shou Bun Kun could stand beside him to oversee strategy, coordinate troop movements, and issue orders, while Merlin focused purely on holding the line and striking where it mattered most.

It was a perfect balance. The Chancellor’s mind for tactics paired with Merlin’s overwhelming combat power meant the west wall would be in far stronger hands than before. Shou Bun Kun was no longer at his physical peak, but he still possessed decades of hard-earned battlefield insight. Merlin, meanwhile, could fight at the very front without worrying that the larger picture would be neglected.

The moment of relief didn’t last long. Scouts appeared on the walls, their voices rising in alarm.

“They’re here! The enemy is approaching!”

The atmosphere shifted instantly. Shouts carried along the battlements, armor clinked as fighters moved into position, and the once-distant rumble of war drums now echoed clearly in the air.

The real fight was about to begin.

———

It didn’t take long before the entire city was surrounded. All forty thousand soldiers of the Coalition Army had taken their positions, sealing every possible escape route.

The largest concentration of enemy forces gathered at the south wall. That was where the Coalition’s main force stood—and where their commander, Ri Boku, had set up camp.

Merlin didn’t need to guess why. From everything he’d heard, Ri Boku wasn’t the type to rush into a fight. He preferred to break an enemy’s will before drawing his sword. And if the south wall was where he had chosen to make his appearance, it was for a reason.

That particular section of the wall was defended by Shin, the young commander who gave Merlin the uncanny impression of a typical shōnen protagonist—reckless, loud, but with a stubborn confidence that could drag others along with him.

Even though the south wall was far from Merlin’s current position, his Devil Senses made the distance meaningless. Every word Ri Boku spoke carried clearly to his ears, as if the man stood right beside him.

“I am Ri Boku of Zhao’s Three Great Heavens! I have an announcement for the people of Sai!” His voice was deep, powerful, and unshaken, carrying across the battlefield with the practiced ease of someone who had addressed thousands before.

The effect on the defenders was immediate. A ripple passed through the crowd, a mix of fear and awe.

“To see ordinary folk such as yourselves courageously taking up arms… fills me with nothing but respect!” Ri Boku began with flattery, his tone warm and almost sincere.

Merlin smirked. Butter them up first. Textbook manipulation.

“However!” Ri Boku’s voice suddenly hardened. “If you believe that it is possible for you to oppose us with reckless valor alone, then you are severely mistaken!”

The mood shifted. That was the hook; now came the intimidation.

“On one side, you have yourselves—mere amateurs in the art of war. Against our army composed of handpicked elites from each of the six Coalition States.”

Merlin had to admit, the delivery was good. The man knew exactly how to get under people’s skin.

“And the commander of this army,” Ri Boku continued, “is none other than Hou Ken, one of Zhao’s Three Great Heavens. The same man who slew Ouki three years ago and Duke Hyou just earlier.”

Merlin didn’t know who either of those names belonged to, but the way Ri Boku said them made them sound like living legends.

Then came the closer. The finishing blow of his speech.

“You do not have even the slightest chance of winning! In which case… SURRENDER SAI!” His voice thundered across the battlefield. “Do so, and I, Ri Boku, will personally guarantee that not a single person shall be killed!”

Merlin rolled his eyes. Not killed, sure—but nothing about slavery, forced labor, or worse.

Still, he couldn’t deny it—the man was good. A manipulator, a strategist, and a speaker rolled into one. Unfortunately for Ri Boku, there was something he probably hadn’t expected. This city wasn’t being defended by desperate villagers alone. A king himself was here.

There was a brief silence after the speech, a heavy pause where hesitation rippled through the crowd.

Then came the first voice.

“Like hell we’re going to surrender!”

The shout was followed by another, and then another, building momentum like sparks in dry grass.

And then, as if it were scripted, Shin stepped up to take the spotlight. Merlin almost laughed. Once again, the shōnen protagonist energy was unmistakable. If this world was connected to fictional ones, as he suspected, then this guy was definitely a named character.

“That’s enough of your stupid prattling, Ri Boku!” Shin roared, his voice cutting through the tension. “No one’s going to listen to your sweet talk! What kind of idiot comes out at the start of a fight to beg the enemy to surrender, huh!? You’re just scared of us, aren’t you!?”

If Ri Boku’s goal had been to unnerve the defenders, Shin’s was the opposite—and just as effective. He wasn’t trying to win a debate. He was trying to piss the man off.

“Elites, my ass! Gyahahaha!” Shin laughed with all the confidence of a man who thought himself invincible. “Too bad your little scare tactics won’t work here! And the reason for that is…” He turned back to the soldiers on the wall, letting his voice rise. “Because Sai has a reason to fight, even if it costs us every last one of our lives! So hurry up and start climbing, you bastards! No matter what happens, we will never let Sai fall to the likes of you!”

Merlin knew the truth about historical battles—most soldiers couldn’t actually hear their commander’s speeches. The chaos, the distance, and the noise made it impossible.

But here? They didn’t need to hear every word. The sheer energy in Shin’s voice, the unwavering defiance, spread like wildfire. A wave of shouts erupted along the walls, rolling outward until it reached every section of the city’s defenses.

The morale boost was real.

———

War was… boring.

At least, that was Merlin’s first thought after the initial rush wore off. Maybe he was doing something wrong? Where was the dramatic, edge-of-your-seat excitement people always talked about in stories?

The day had started with an exchange of arrows. Dozens, then hundreds, whistled through the air. The city’s militia quickly began to falter, flinching back under the rain of incoming shafts. Their inexperience was obvious—several froze entirely, unsure whether to duck, shoot back, or run.

Only when the more seasoned soldiers barked orders and shouted encouragement did they snap out of it, raising their bows to return fire while others helped shield them from the incoming arrow rain. The first hesitant shots gave way to a steady rhythm, and the defenders’ confidence began to return.

Merlin, meanwhile, hadn’t felt even a flicker of danger. His shroud wrapped his body like an invisible armor, and not a single arrow had managed to pierce through. They simply bounced off or shattered on contact. His physical armor was still pristine, not a scratch marring the surface.

Under the cover of arrow fire, the enemy moved into the next phase. Large, flexible ladders—each one carried by several soldiers—were hauled toward the walls. Even from a distance, Merlin could see that men were already clinging to the rungs, ready to climb the moment the ladders were in position.

Thick ropes and brute strength pulled them upward until they hooked over the battlements with a heavy thud. In seconds, enemy soldiers were scrambling over, boots hitting the stone as they tried to secure a foothold.

On most walls, this was where the melee began. Defenders rushed to meet the first attackers, and an endless line of enemy troops began climbing up, intent on forcing their way through.

The west wall, however, played out differently.

The moment the first ladder slammed into place in front of him, Merlin stepped forward. Before the lead soldier even had time to raise his weapon, he was already dead. Another came right after him—same result. In less than a heartbeat, the initial wave was gone.

Logically, the next step was to deal with the ladder itself. Merlin raised his sword, hacking through the top section with one clean swing before shoving the broken remains back into the mass of enemy soldiers below.

And then he did it again. And again. Every time a new ladder appeared, he destroyed it before anyone could get over the wall. The process repeated until, eventually, the attackers stopped sending ladders his way entirely.

It was only then that Merlin realized the difference between his wall and the others. None of the defenders elsewhere had his raw strength or speed. Breaking apart a ladder in seconds just wasn’t something they could do. They had to hold the line in direct combat instead.

Unfortunately, that left him with no opponents to fight. And to make matters worse, Shou Bun Kun refused to let him move to another wall. His orders were to guard the west wall, and that was final. While some of their excess troops were dispatched to reinforce other sections, Merlin was left standing in place with little to do.

So he waited. And watched. And listened to the enemy camp below as the attackers kept repairing ladders, only for him to smash them apart the moment they went up. Based on the creative mix of curses drifting upward, he was fairly certain the commander in charge of the west wall had no idea how to deal with him.

Still, he couldn’t just stop. Everyone on the wall had already seen him dispatch the ladders with almost casual ease. If he suddenly let one stay in place just because he was bored, it would look ridiculous.

Fine. If he wasn’t going to get any real fighting in, he could at least make use of the time. That was how Merlin found himself practicing archery—or more accurately, learning archery from scratch—between the occasional ladder destruction.

And that was how his first day at war passed.

This was supposed to be the most critical and dangerous day, the hardest to survive. Yet for him, it had been… almost uneventful.

In fact, he had been more concerned about his own mental state than the battle. These were his first kills—well, his first human kills—and they didn’t bother him at all.

Did he subconsciously consider his life a work of fiction as well? Or was he secretly a psychopath? Perhaps it was simply a natural part of being a devil. His body was different from that of a human, so who could say that his brain chemistry and psyche weren’t affected as well?

As the sun dipped toward the horizon and shadows began to stretch across the battlefield, the attacks finally ceased. One by one, the enemy forces pulled back toward their camps. Cheers broke out along the walls. The defenders had held. They had done it.

———

“Attack! Get them!”

“It’s another attack!”

“Get ready for defense!”

The loud shouts from outside spilled into Menchi’s restaurant just as Merlin stepped through the door. He shut it behind him, muting the noise, but the tension of battle still clung to the air like a lingering echo.

The first thing anyone noticed upon entering was the open kitchen. It wasn’t just busy—it was a storm of movement. Knives flashed through the air, ingredients floated from shelves to chopping boards, and pots clanged as they zipped to the stove. The strangest part? There was only one cook behind it all. Menchi moved with such speed and precision it was like watching a dozen chefs work at once.

Normally, at this hour, the place would already be empty, the last customer long gone. But tonight was different. Two people sat waiting, their eyes immediately shifting to Merlin as he entered.

“Hey! Sounds like the fight’s still going,” Suzuki greeted with a casual wave. “Are you sure you can just leave your post?”

“Ah, yeah,” Merlin replied, walking toward them. “It’s a psych tactic. They’re trying to keep the militia awake all night to exhaust them.” His gaze shifted to the bags on the table—stuffed with bottles, packets, and bundles of cloth. “You got the stuff. Perfect. I’ll need them right away. Any trouble? Did anyone ask why you were buying all this in bulk?”

“There were a few strange looks,” Mikami admitted with a chuckle. “But we split the shopping. Different worlds, different stores—kept the attention down. Still…” He narrowed his eyes. “I think I have a pretty good idea what you’re planning with the bleach and the acid cleaner. That’s chemical warfare.”

“They won’t be able to replicate it,” Merlin said with a shrug. “And even with what you brought, the chlorine gas won’t be enough to cause heavy casualties. Open field, moving air—the concentration won’t be high. But I will be able to take several hundred soldiers out of commission for the war.”

Suzuki frowned. “And the spiritus? What’s with the Epsom salt?”

“Molotovs and water supply sabotage,” Merlin replied casually.

Mikami blinked. “Water supply sabotage? You’re seriously—”

“It’s war,” Merlin cut in, his tone calm. “And it’s not lethal. Epsom salt in water is colorless—it works as a laxative. I’ll get a few of their soldiers drinking it before anyone notices. The Molotovs are for burning their food stores.”

Suzuki pointed at another bag. “And the laxative tablets? You had us go to an apothecary for those.”

“Those are for the food I don’t burn,” Merlin said with a grin. “Imagine their soldiers halfway up the ladders and—well, you get the picture. They’re playing dirty, keeping our troops awake, so I’ll do the same.”

Mikami sighed and rubbed his forehead. “You’re going through with this no matter what we say, aren’t you? Fine. But how do you plan on pulling it off? You’re still stuck inside the city.”

“That’s the easy part,” Merlin replied. “I’ve got mobility. And thanks to their own tactics, they’ve made it easier. To keep us guessing, they’ve shut down all campfires at night. We can’t tell if it’s a real attack or just harassment. But I’ve got night vision. Perfect night vision.”

For night combat, his devil physiology was unmatched. His eyes saw through the darkness as clearly as daylight, and his wings gave him the freedom to fly over walls and enemy lines alike.

Outside, the night had turned pitch black. No moon, no stars. Not a soul would see the terror that was about to descend on them.