Neither Snow, Nor Rain.
The next day at the Border Stronghold was... interesting. The truck discovered that being a divinely blessed vehicle came with certain expectations. The paladins insisted on washing it with blessed water, which felt nice but made its windshield wipers twitch nervously. Someone had even draped a ceremonial cloth over its side mirror, though they removed it after the truck accidentally smacked a passing knight with it. They insisted on attaching a wax seal with some piece of parchment to its hood tho.
Its new divine status also came with paperwork, which seemed oddly fitting. The Knight-Captain's scribe spent hours drafting what he called a "Holy Vehicle Registration Form," muttering about unprecedented situations and regulatory loopholes. Apparently, the bureaucracy of the Holy Order hadn't accounted for delivery trucks in their classification system.
"Well, it's clearly not a war horse, pack mule, carriage..." the scribe had said, scratching his head with a feather quill. "But it's also not technically a divine beast…"
The truck honked once, which the scribe dutifully recorded as "Answers in Mysterious Ways.". That's when the alarm bells rang. The Knight-Captain burst into the courtyard, his composure ruffled.
The Captain cleared his throat, his armor creaking slightly as he shifted his weight. "Great Metal Spirit, we have a rather urgent request. Our Forward Operating Base in the Valley of Whispers has been cut off by demon patrols. They're running dangerously low on supplies, and we haven't been able to get anything through."
The truck sat there in the courtyard, still glowing faintly from its divine blessing, wondering if this was how all those legendary heroes felt when they got their first quest. Back in Japan, there would be checking of delivery schedule, but here... well, its schedule was remarkably clear aside from "figure out how to get back to Tokyo" and "maybe don't get summoned by any more three-headed mutts." The Truck honked in approval.
"The route is... challenging," the Knight-Captain continued, gesturing to a squire who hurried forward with a map. The young man hesitated for a moment, not quite sure how to show a map to a truck, before carefully holding it up to the windshield.
The truck dimmed its headlights slightly aligning them higher to get a better view. The map was hand-drawn on what appeared to be leather, with various ominous symbols and warnings scattered across it. The route to the Forward Operating Base wound through something called the Haunted Woods (marked with tiny skulls), past the Cursed Swamp (decorated with what looked like sad faces), and around a mountain range labeled "Here There Be Dragons (Currently On Strike Over Working Conditions)."
A group of paladins had already begun moving crates and barrels toward the truck, handling them with the kind of reverence usually reserved for holy relics. One of them actually bowed slightly before placing a crate in the cargo hold.
"We have healing potions, blessed ammunition, preserved rations, and..." The Knight-Captain looked slightly embarrassed. "Well, they specifically requested coffee. Apparently, they've been reduced to drinking tea."
The truck's headlights flickered sympathetically. It had made enough deliveries to Japanese offices to understand the gravity of a coffee shortage.
A young priestess stepped forward, her white robes practically glowing in the morning sun. "If you'll permit me, O Great Metal Spirit..." She raised her staff, and golden light swirled around the truck's tires. "A blessing of traction. The roads ahead are... well, I'm not entirely sure they qualify as roads anymore."
The truck revved its engine in what it hoped was a confident manner. It had handled Tokyo's narrow back alleys, navigated mountain delivery routes, and survived that one time GPS had directed it through a yakuza turf war. How bad could fantasy world roads be?
As the knights finished loading the cargo, the Knight-Captain pulled out a small crystal and held it up. "This communication crystal will let you contact us if you run into trouble. Just... honk at it, I suppose?" He attached it to the truck's dashboard with care. "The demons watch all the main routes to the valley, but they might not stop what appears to be a delivery vehicle… maybe"
The truck's newly acquired "Delivery Stealth" skill tingled with anticipation. It had spent its entire existence making deliveries – it was just that now, instead of dropping off packages at downtown high-rises, it would be sneaking supplies past demon patrols.
"Oh, and one more thing," the Knight-Captain added, reaching into his armor and pulling out what appeared to be a small metal plate. "Your official Holy Knight Order delivery authorization. In case anyone questions you." He paused. "Though I suppose being a divine metal spirit probably grants enough authority on its own..."
The young squire who had shown the map stepped forward and carefully attached the authorization plate next to the faded Quiq-Ship Logistics logo. The two emblems seemed to shimmer slightly as they sat side by side – the old life and the new, delivery service and divine mission, somehow making perfect sense together.
The truck's engine purred to life, its holy-enhanced fuel gauge showing a full tank. The knights stepped back, some saluting, others bowing, as the gates creaked open to reveal the road ahead.
Time to make its fantasy world delivery.
---
The truck had barely made it past the third bend in the road when it heard something that made its brake lights flash in surprise – a muffled sneeze from its cargo hold. It slammed on its brakes, causing several crates to shift and a distinctly human "oof!" to emerge from among them.
"Sorry!" came a young voice, followed by the sound of someone trying very hard to hide behind a barrel of blessed ammunition. "I was just... um... inspecting the cargo security?"
The truck recognized that voice – it was the same squire who had shown it the map. Through its side mirrors, it could see into the cargo hold, and wedged between two supply crates was a very sheepish-looking young man in apprentice knight armor that was slightly too big for him.
"I just..." the squire began, then sighed. "Everyone says I'm too young to go on real missions. But you captured the Demon General! I thought maybe if I helped with this delivery, I could prove myself worthy of being a true knight."
The truck's engine grumbled. It had done enough deliveries to know that stowaways were definitely against company policy – even if said company was now technically the Holy Knight Order. Besides, this was supposed to be a stealth mission. Having an enthusiastic wannabe hero along would be like trying to make a quiet delivery with a truck full of wind chimes.
Making its decision, the truck carefully pulled over to the side of the road. Its cargo doors swung open in a way that somehow managed to convey "Out."
"But—" the squire protested.
The truck revved its engine firmly.
"I could be helpful!" He gestured with his training sword. "What if you need someone to fight off demons?"
The truck flashed its newly blessed stoplights pointedly. It had already taken down one Demon General (albeit by accident) and had literal divine protection. It would be fine.
The squire's shoulders slumped as he climbed out. "I understand. I just wanted to be part of something important..."
The truck waited until the dejected young man had started walking back toward the fortress before continuing on its way. It wasn't being mean – it was being responsible. This was a dangerous mission, and—
Through its mirrors, it could see several dark shapes emerging from the underbrush behind the squire. Goblins, armed with crude weapons, were sneaking up on the unsuspecting young man.
The truck's engine roared as it threw itself into reverse. Its tires kicked up gravel as it spun around, accelerating back toward the squire. The goblins looked up at the sound, their yellow eyes widening as several tons of divinely blessed delivery vehicle bore down on them.
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
The new suspension handled the impacts remarkably well. The squire spun around just in time to see three very flat goblins and a vehicle that had somehow managed to look both heroic and slightly embarrassed about the whole thing.
A familiar blue box appeared in the truck's field of vision:
The squire stared at the truck, then at the squashed goblins, then back at the truck. "You... you came back for me?"
The truck's cargo doors swung open again, but this time in a distinctly different way – less "get out" and more "get in, but if you tell anyone about this I'll deny everything."
The young man's face lit up as he scrambled back into the cargo hold. "I promise I'll be quiet! You won't even know I'm here! Although..." There was a pause. "Do you think we could go over those goblins one more time? Just to be sure they're really dead. And maybe because it was kind of awesome."
The truck pretended not to hear that last part, but it might have driven over the goblin remains a bit more thoroughly than strictly necessary as it turned back toward its original route. After all, a good delivery vehicle always made sure the job was done properly.
The truck's engine roared as it accelerated down the rough path, its newly blessed suspension working overtime to absorb the impact of rocks and roots. In the cargo hold, the squire was thrown back against a crate of healing potions, letting out a startled "Whoa!"
Through its mirrors, the truck could see the young man's eyes widening as the speedometer needle climbed. The blessing of traction was proving its worth—the truck took corners that would have made a Tokyo drift racer nervous, its tires somehow finding grip on surfaces that barely qualified as roads.
"This is AMAZING!" the squire shouted over the engine's roar, bracing himself between two securely tied-down crates. "I've never gone this fast! Even the knight-commander's enchanted stallion doesn't—TREE!"
The truck swerved around the fallen log without slowing, its cargo shifting but held firm by the knights' careful packing. The squire's oversized armor rattled as they bounced over a series of roots, but his laughter suggested he was enjoying the improvised roller coaster ride.
A branch scraped along the truck's side, leaving a brief trail of sparks but no damage thanks to its divine blessing. The forest blurred past in streaks of purple and green, mysterious lights in the darkness falling behind like stars.
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
Its new "Unstoppable Courier" passive ability hummed through its chassis. The truck was in its element – it had a delivery to make, a schedule to keep (sort of), and a route that was trying its best to stop it. In other words, just another day at work, fantasy world style.
Suddenly, the squire grabbed onto a crate. "We've got company!" he shouted. Through its mirrors, the truck spotted them – a pack of dire wolves running parallel to their path, their eyes glowing an unnatural red in the darkness. The beasts were keeping pace, which was impressive considering the truck was doing speeds that would've gotten it ticketed on the Tokyo expressway.
The lead wolf leaped for the cargo hold, but the squire was ready. He swung the side door open just in time to connect with the side of the wolf's head. Another one tried to get in front of the truck, but quickly reconsidered its life choices as several tons of divinely-enhanced delivery vehicle refused to slow down.
"There's something ahead!" the squire called out, pointing through the windshield. A massive web stretched between the trees, its strands thick as rope and glistening with an otherworldly sheen. Behind it, multiple pairs of eyes reflected the truck's headlights.
The engine roared louder. Its "Unstoppable Courier" ability pulsed through its frame as it accelerated straight toward the web. This was exactly the kind of obstacle that used to slow down its deliveries in Tokyo – just replace "giant spider web" with "unexpected construction barriers" and it was basically the same thing.
"Are you sure about this?" the squire yelped, gripping tighter to the cargo netting. Giant spiders began descending from the trees, probably not to sign for a package.
The truck's blessed headlights blazed brighter, illuminating the web. At the last possible moment, it swerved slightly to hit the web at an angle, using its momentum to slide through the strands like a delivery van drifting through a tight alley. Spider silk snapped and wrapped around its wheels, but the blessing of traction held true.
They burst through the web in a shower of silvery strands, leaving behind some very confused arachnids. One of the spiders gestured with several legs in what appeared to be the universal sign for "Did you see that?"
The dire wolves had fallen behind, unable to navigate the broken terrain at the truck's speed. The squire let out a whoop of triumph, then quickly tried to compose himself back into proper knight-in-training dignity. "I mean, uh, excellent maneuvering, O Great Metal Spirit."
The truck's windshield wipers activated, clearing away the last bits of spider silk. A new notification popped up in its vision:
That's when they saw it – a spider the size of a small house descending directly onto the path ahead. Its eight eyes gleamed like toxic lanterns, mandibles clicking in anticipation of what it probably thought was going to be an easy meal.
The truck didn't hesitate. It had dealt with entitled customers who thought their packages should have arrived yesterday – a giant spider wasn't about to ruin its delivery record.
SPLAT.
The impact rattled every bolt in the truck's frame. Green goo exploded across its windshield like a slime bomb had gone off. The enchanted wipers activated automatically, working overtime to clear away the viscous spider remains.
"That..." the squire said, picking himself up from where he'd fallen between two crates, "was the biggest spider I've ever seen. Well, for about two seconds, anyway."
A blue box flashed in the truck's vision:
The windshield wipers made one final swipe, clearing the last streak of green goo. The truck could have sworn they looked rather proud of themselves.
The path ahead opened into a moonlit clearing, where twisted trees gave way to rolling purple grass that seemed to whisper in the breeze. The truck's headlights caught something moving in the distance—a patrol of skeletal warriors, their rusty armor gleaming dully in the night.
"Demon Army scouts," the squire whispered, ducking lower in the cargo hold. "They control this whole area. Maybe we should find another—"
The truck revved its engine confidently, accelerating straight toward the patrol. The squire's eyes widened as he realized what was happening.
"Oh right!"
Sure enough, as they approached, the skeleton patrol lowered their weapons. One of them actually stood at attention and saluted. The remains of the Quiq-Ship Logistics logo combined with the truck's confident approach was enough to convince them this was an official delivery.
The lead skeleton raised its bony hand in a 'halt' gesture. The truck slowed just enough to let the undead warrior peer into its cab, then at a clipboard it produced from somewhere in its ribcage.
"Hrrrrrgh?" it rattled questioningly, tapping the clipboard.
"Do you know how many other deliveries I have to make tonight?" the squire called out from his hiding spot in the cargo hold, doing his best imitation of an overworked deliverer. His voice echoed slightly off the metal walls, making it hard to tell where it came from.
The skeleton quickly waved them through, even shooing away a curious bone-wolf that had started sniffing around the truck's tires.
They continued through the purple grass, the skeleton patrol growing smaller in the mirrors. The squire emerged from behind the crates, looking rather pleased with himself.
"Did you hear my delivery driver's impression? I based it on that one time a guy yelled at my uncle for not having the exact change ready. Though..." He squinted at the clipboard-carrying skeleton as it disappeared into the distance. "I have so many questions about undead bureaucracy now."
---
"You know," the squire said thoughtfully, watching the purple grass ripple in their wake, "we can't keep calling you 'O Great Metal Spirit' or 'Divine Delivery Vehicle.' You need a proper name." He leaned forward, studying the interior of the cab. His eyes landed on a faded maintenance sticker near the dashboard - Quiq-Ship Unit SOU-421. "Four-two-one..." he muttered, then suddenly brightened. "Fortune's One! Because you're definitely the luckiest thing to happen to our kingdom, and that number... it just feels right!"
The truck's headlights flickered in what might have been approval. All those years it had just been Unit 421 on the company records, but trust a squire's imagination to find something more meaningful in those simple numbers. 'Fortune's One' did have a certain ring to it.
"Oh! And I should probably introduce myself properly. I'm Marcus." He gave a slightly awkward bow from his seated position between the crates. "Squire Marcus of the Eastern Valleys, apprentice to Sir Galbraith the Wise, and now unofficial assistant to Fortune's One, the most amazing delivery truck in any world!"
A distant explosion interrupted any further conversation. Through the windshield, they could see flashes of light on the horizon, accompanied by the clash of steel and the distinctive crackle of combat magic.
"That's coming from the direction of the Forward Operating Base!" Marcus scrambled forward, pressing against the back window of the cab. "They must be under attack!"
Thunder Runner's engine growled. It hadn't come all this way just to have its first fantasy world delivery interrupted by a demon attack. The speedometer needle began climbing again as blessed tires gripped the uncertain terrain.
As they crested a hill, the scene below became clear. The Forward Operating Base – a fortified manor house surrounded by hastily constructed walls – was under siege. Demon troops in dark armor clashed with holy knights at the barriers while twisted creatures circled overhead, raining down balls of dark energy.
"There's no way through," Marcus whispered, pointing at the ring of demons surrounding the base. "Unless..." His eyes widened. "Fortune's One, remember how you handled those goblins earlier?"
The truck's headlights gleamed with understanding. Its "Reverse of Justice" skill hummed to life, but this time, it wouldn't be going backward. The definition of justice, after all, was fairly flexible when you had several tons of divinely blessed metal to work with.
Fortune's One's engine roared – not the usual purr of a delivery vehicle, but the battle cry of a legendary courier who had absolutely had it with obstacles getting between it and its destination. Marcus grabbed onto the cargo netting as they accelerated down the hill, straight toward the thickest concentration of demon troops.
"FOR THE HOLY KNIGHT ORDER!" Marcus shouted, unable to contain himself. "SPECIAL DELIVERY!"
The demons turned at the sound of the approaching truck, their red eyes widening in confusion at the sight of what appeared to be a metal box on wheels charging toward them at extremely inadvisable speeds. One of them actually dropped its sword, pointed, and started to say something that was probably along the lines of "What in the nine hells is that?"
Then Fortune's One hit their lines like a battering ram blessed by a particularly enthusiastic war god.
Demons went flying in all directions. Dark armor crumpled against blessed metal. Thunder Runner's "Bug Splat" ability apparently worked just as well on some demon troops as it did on giant spiders, though the results were considerably more dramatic.
"Left! LEFT!" Marcus called out, and Fortune's One swerved, its side panel catching a demon lieutenant and using it as an impromptu bowling ball to take out three more troops. The truck's "Too Fast to Stop" perk was working overtime – magical attacks that would have blown holes in the walls merely left scorch marks on its divinely protected paint job.
They broke through the siege lines in a chaos of scattered demons. When Fortune's One drifted to a stop in the Forward Operating Base's courtyard, its blessed tires leaving perfect circles burned into the cobblestones, steam rose from its hood – not from any damage, but what seemed to be pure satisfaction with a job well done.
Marcus jumped between the crates, pumping his fist in the air: "Woooo! What a day! What a lovely delivery day!"
---
