Irreverence
Irreverence
Why was it that predictions unfavorable to me never missed? The two handaxes moved independently to an unpleasant degree.
Axes had a different center of gravity from swords to begin with, which made them difficult to deal with. And it was even more of a headache because he covered the inherent weakness of a weapon with its weight concentrated in the head through sheer physical ability.
If I could have messed with his handaxes while keeping him at a distance, it would've been much easier, but pulling that off in the middle of direct combat was something my one, tragically singular brain couldn't manage.
If the bastard's attacks had even been a little less heavy, I could've trusted my armor and bulldozed in, but his one-handed strikes landed with the same weight as other bastards' two-handed blows.
"Seems your mouth isn't the only thing with muscle!"
First Water Buffalo Horn, now this. It felt like I was being forced into mirror therapy every single day. Whether it was because he had a ton of combat experience or because he'd simply lost his goddamn mind, I really hated the sight of him running his mouth just as relentlessly as his hands.
Thanks to him, my resolve to pay the exact same treatment forward to every bastard I met from here on out had grown even firmer.
"I heard you took out Irap, but it's nothing spec—!"
With my heart full of that sentiment, I deflected the axe he swung at my shoulder off to the side as much as possible, flipped my sword, and drove the pommel right at his trap.
"Shut your damn mouth!"
"Ghk!"
Smack! The clean impact snapped his head sharply to the side. Before I could capitalize on it, an arrow flew in and struck the bastard in the chest just as he tried to retreat. I swung my Magic Power-wreathed sword with full power at his neck as he faltered, but just as Asilie had supported me, the mage flying around behind him threw a wrench in it.
The fire arrows that flew in like guided missiles, trying to circumvent him, thankfully couldn't pierce the barrier I threw up with the gauntlet. The thing was definitely worth the Magic Power it devoured.
"Damn, I never knew a mage's help could feel so goddamn appreciated."
I didn't bother saying it out loud. I was the one who couldn't afford to waste a single second.
That time was better spent steadying my breathing once more, loosening my body again, and keeping up the offensive before he could fully recompose himself. As I launched needles once more to cut off the magic that threatened to rain down until the bastard regained his senses, Asilie's arrows poured toward the Axe-wielder too.
And in that opening, someone from behind me hurled a Holy Art at the mage. The sheer density of the Divine Power packed into it made it clear it had to be the Saintess.
Thanks to that, the magic cut off immediately and I could charge in again. But even though his vision had to be spinning, the bastard effortlessly deflected three of Asilie's arrows with his axes, glared at me, and shouted.
"What's the fuckin' rush, you fucker!"
Even though the blow had landed true, the Axe-wielder hadn't lost a single tooth. Still, the inside of his mouth must have been torn up, because he spat blood-flecked saliva and hurled the handaxe from his left hand.
For a second I thought he'd snapped, but the attitude behind the throw was far from desperate. Since he had spare weapons, it seemed right to read it as a tactical move to seal my movement, even if only temporarily.
In that case, the correct move here should have been to catch the axe, divert it, and close the distance. But what nagged at me was that even when I extended my Magic Power to sap its force, its speed barely slowed.
It might be too tough to deflect with the sword alone. The moment I made that call, my helmet enveloped my head. I twisted my stance so my right pauldron faced forward, and took a high guard to catch the bastard's axe.
"What the—?!"
A yell of what seemed like even greater shock at the suddenly deployed helmet burst out, but I ignored it. The weight behind the handaxe as it collided with my blade, right as the bastard spat his curses, was anything but ordinary.
Deploying the helmet really had been the wise choice. I somehow managed to block the axe and take one more step forward, but even though I'd deflected the majority of the force, the axe's blade and haft rode up my sword, struck my helmet and pauldron at an angle, and bounced off to the side.
In exchange for a minor shock, I advanced. It was a trade you could call perfect, and his brow twisted as the motion of his empty left hand toward his waist grew frantic.
"Ha! I do like the recklessness!"
I don't like you, you bastard!
I closed exactly three more steps, pulling the Axe-wielder into my range. The moment I swung my sword, he drew a new weapon from his waist and threw up a guard—it was almost simultaneous, hard to say who was faster.
But whatever it was he drew, I'd already won this exchange.
-SKRRRANG!
"Huh?"
If I was going to just stand there like a B-grade villain gawking at him pulling out a concealed weapon, I might as well blow some Magic Power on it.
Get a taste of the Magic Grinder, asshole.
-SCREEEEEE!
"Fuck!"
Despite the sparks flying everywhere, the bastard's weapon held out better than I expected. I'd planned to shear through it instantly and grind the Axe-wielder down along with it... but he had enough time to see with his own eyes what was happening to his weapon, and I had enough time to confirm what his hidden weapon even was.
A dagger. Nothing about it seemed like a secret ace other than being somewhat sturdy. That was my assessment, but the Axe-wielder, staring at a blade now being cleaved diagonally in two, had a different reaction.
"Do you have any idea what the fuck this thing is!"
What, some family heirloom or expensive trinket? The look of it reeked of a custom-made piece, not some standard-issue gear. Even this so-called special forces bastard couldn't stomach seeing an expensive weapon get eaten, it seemed.
The way he frantically swung his axe to try and shake me off was so comical, I loved it.
But what I loved even more was the fact that his reaction was already too late.
"The fuck do I care?"
-Clang!
With a piercing sound, the bastard's dagger snapped. At the same instant, his center of balance shifted, if only by the tiniest margin.
A sinister black mist, looking for all the world like it was about to spew a mountain of debuffs, unfurled ominously from his broken dagger. It bothered me deeply, but the way he made no move to avoid it suggested it was only a problem if it cut him. I recklessly pushed in.
No matter how he swung those handaxes like extensions of his limbs, in this kind of point-blank range, I held the advantage.
As if taking a Half-Swording stance, I gripped the blade with my left hand, caught the axe haft with my right arm, then slammed my left elbow into the bastard's wrist with all my strength to stop him from stabbing my flank with the broken dagger. Using the recoil from that, I drove my sword in where his cuirass and ribs would meet.
Maybe because I'd usually resolved things by slashing, the sensation in my hands felt slightly raw, a little unsatisfactory.
But separate from that feeling, a thought circled in my head with a hint of regret. 'I should've shattered the blade in there.'
"Ghurghk...!"
It was a fleeting thought that surfaced alongside the bastard's groan. Even I had to admit it was a truly demonic idea, but it seemed pretty viable.
Up until now, I'd only used weapons sturdy enough for my own use, but the truth was, without even needing pure physical force, most weapons couldn't last long before shattering once you pumped Magic Power into them. It was hardly a difficult problem to solve.
If I stabbed a dagger that looked practically guaranteed to cause tetanus from a scratch into someone's body and then snapped it off... wouldn't that prove fatal, even for a member of the Demonfolk? I suddenly needed to carry a few daggers as auxiliary weapons.
"Thanks, that gave me a pretty solid idea."
"An... idea?"
I hadn't been talking to him specifically. I just smirked behind my helmet and kicked him away.
I'd stabbed him deep enough; the lung was definitely damaged. The moment I adjusted my grip on my sword and settled into a stance to behead him before he could retaliate, this time not only the mage but other soldiers of the Demon King's Army also charged at me.
"Captain!"
If they'd been members of the Human Race, a different end would've awaited them, one where they missed their timing despite those urgent shouts and could only stare in vain at the Axe-wielder's departing neck. Sadly, the enemy were Demonfolk.
When they entered that unique, rampage-like state, they became faster and stronger. This time was no exception.
The heresy inquisitors who'd stopped their ranged Holy Art support and plunged into direct melee couldn't keep up either. The bastards, charging back in at full tilt, were faster than my sword could reach the Axe-wielder's neck.
But those checks were all within expected parameters. What was certain was that I'd already half-broiled the most immediate threat. As I scattered Magic Power to retrieve my needles and axe, and triggered the gauntlet's protection magic, the Axe-wielder—who'd just been kicked and tumbled twice across the ground—convulsed, twisting his body as he shouted.
"You fucks, fall back!"
Then, with the ominous energy still not fully dissipated, he reversed his grip on the broken dagger and stabbed it into his own neck.
"What the hell is this shit...?"
I was stunned. Even the bastards charging in were stunned by the sudden act of self-harm. But the mage was different. He cast his magic not at us... but at his own soldiers from the Demon King's Army. The bastards, caught by the fierce wind, flew toward the mage at high speed against their will.
I could only stare at the bizarre response with a dumbfounded face. In that instant, a powerful warning screamed through my mind and a shitty memory surfaced.
"Fuck, is this another suicide bombing?!"
Goddamn Suicide Bomber Saintess.
I couldn't afford even the time to question it. I poured every needle and the double-headed axe I'd been trying to retrieve straight into the Axe-wielder and threw myself backward.
The gauntlet's protection magic, at maximum. The Holy Art of Protection, used to its utmost. The Saintess and the other heresy inquisitors rushed to my side and unfurled their Holy Arts once more.
Beyond them, the Axe-wielder's body was swelling up in an instant, as if he really were about to self-destruct.
But... something was different.
"Divinity?!"
The Saintess's gasp of shock at noticing the anomaly, and the sight of the bastard's swelling body—which I'd assumed was the aftermath of a self-destruct—transforming into a hulking mass of muscles that could put a rage-filled gamma-irradiated invalid to shame... it all happened at once.
"Dying's... the same either way, isn't it...!"
Now monstrously bloated, the Axe-wielder—so huge the dagger in his neck looked like a cute accessory—babbled incomprehensible words in a grotesque voice and charged.