Chapter 132
Chapter 132
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter Title: Life Flashing Before One's Eyes
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Enemies swarm in from all directions.
The heroes, who had briefly recoiled from the overwhelming aura Han exuded, now charged forward in unison as if nothing had happened.
-Click.
Han readjusts his grip on the sword's hilt and assumes his stance.
In that split second as cold weapons like swords and spears surge toward him like a tidal wave...
Han's eyes glow red as he meets them head-on.
-Flash!
"Gaaah!!"
"Aaaah!!"
He slashes.
One, two, three, four—doesn't matter how many.
The moment they rush in, he swings his right arm and cuts them down.
"―――!!!"
Han roars, and almost simultaneously, the blood of the severed heroes sprays into the sky.
As if the heavens themselves mourn their deaths, honoring their souls with a torrent of dark rain.
Han stands bathed in the warm liquid pouring down with wet slaps, his red eyes glaring fiercely upward.
A vast open space where hundreds of heroes stand arrayed.
But the space he occupies is a narrow sliver, barely enough room to stand.
Through it, the emotions of countless people here flood toward him.
The feelings of the hero lunging at him, moments from being cut down.
Even the hero whose head has already been severed, flying through the air.
The one spilling their guts from their belly.
And those watching it all.
Numbness and emptiness, anxiety, agitation, trust and resolve.
He senses clearly not just what the dying feel in their final moments, but how the survivors gaze upon him.
"Attack!!"
"He's exhausted anyway!!"
Shouts ring out, trying to drown out the anxiety and unrest.
No matter how much they bluster and threaten, he's just a worn-out human.
Meat already in the bag.
The last gasp of a beast trapped in their snare.
That was how they saw Han.
They had only flinched momentarily from his unexpected presence; the heroes no longer retreated.
These were the heroes who had deceived Han, even employing large-scale illusion magic to capture him.
They charged now, shoving aside their unease, determined to reap the rewards of the seeds they had so carefully sown.
"Guhk!!"
"Keurgh!"
He slashes again.
No, "slash" might be too mild a word.
He pulverizes.
He shreds the flesh of enemies lunging from all sides, rips out innards, crushes bones.
-Crunch! Graaah!
"He's still just a one-armed swordsman! Don't be scared!"
"No left arm—target that side!!"
-Crunch, whoosh!
-Fwoosh!
-Bang!
The attacks shift heavily to his left, the side that's hard to defend. The heroes relentlessly exploit his weakness.
Up close, swords and spears flash by his face; from afar, precisely calculated spells and projectiles fly in.
But it doesn't matter.
He just needs to slash more, pulverize more, rip more, crush more.
As long as he moves his right arm even busier to compensate for the missing left, that's all.
-Slash!
Bodies pile up.
With them, Han's wounds multiply.
A long gash from his left shoulder to his chest spills blood where he couldn't dodge; a fireball from afar chars his abdomen black.
His overworked right arm's muscles scream.
Blood seeps from his clenched hilt.
Yet Han doesn't stop.
Slowly, but steadily.
He carves a path.
Not outward through the encirclement, but inward, to the core.
He breaks straight through the wall of heroes without pause. The blood drenching him shows no sign of cooling.
But only for a moment.
-Splatter!
"Ugh…!?"
For the first time, Han's relentless steps halt. A spell had struck his left eye dead-on.
Pain so intense it feels like a spike piercing his brain.
Half his vision blacks out, and something viscous oozes from his eye.
-Clatter.
"He dropped his sword!!"
"Now!!"
Stabbing agony racks his head like it's being gouged; Han's sword slips from his grasp. The heroes swarm like they've been waiting for this.
Han clutches his blinded left field of view with one hand, watching the heroes close in with his remaining sight.
"………."
It hurts. The world spins.
Pain births a fishy scent, and the scent weaves faint haze into his vision.
Everything swirls in a maelstrom. Hatred, pity, fear, guilt, ecstasy, resolve, hesitation, awe, panic, futility, madness, resentment, despair, agony, hope, numbness, fervor, regret, rapture, excitement, longing.
All the emotions he's witnessed, heard, felt from others throughout his life converge and seep in.
Violent feelings overload his mind.
-Stab!
A spear pierces his left abdomen.
The cold metal grazing his innards isn't pleasant. A groan of pain escapes, blood rising to choke his throat.
"………!!"
He grits his teeth. Then looks down at his wretched state.
Left eye gone, left arm missing.
Now a hole in his left gut, contents spilling out.
Lose the left leg next, and it'll be total hemiplegia. Han mocked his own predicament.
"Now! Kill… Guurgh!?"
-Slash!
He draws the second sword at his waist and cuts down the man charging at him.
"Gaaah!?"
"Keurgh!"
Then the heroes following are all slashed down.
One, two, three, four—doesn't matter how many.
The moment they approach, he slashes, pulverizes, rips, crushes.
The warm red rain of blood still falls. The only change: now mingled with Han's own blood.
But Han swings heedless.
Advancing, he glares at the heroes with his sole remaining red pupil.
"That mad…!"
The ceaseless onslaught of heroes falters, stepping back in fear.
From the downpour of blood, red eyes pierce them.
A demon swinging his sword to the end, despite a gut wound and one gouged eye weeping bloody tears.
Covered head to toe in gore, his form was more black than red.
Even battle-hardened veterans could only swallow hard at the sight.
The vast space filled with hundreds of heroes.
The myriad swirling emotions there boiled down to two.
Terror and awe.
Han drags his staggering body forward, stepping ahead. With each step, the heroes retreat one.
Han speaks to them.
"How many have I killed?"
His voice boils up from the depths of hell; the heroes' faces pale as if beholding a ghost.
Han stares them down.
They only gaze back in fear; none answer.
His consciousness fades.
How many has he killed?
Who knows.
Can't remember.
He's come too far to recall every soul felled by his hand.
Dragging his creaking but still-moving body, Han asks again.
"How many more do you think I'll kill from here?"
Again, no answer from the heroes.
So Han asks himself.
Unlike before, this he knows for sure.
"At least one. I'll kill at least one for sure."
Han gazes at someone not far off, beyond them.
A little further.
Almost there.
"No, it ends here."
And from the murmuring heroes, someone steps forth to block his path.
It was Aselrica.
"………."
Oh, right—you were here too.
Han glares at her, readjusting his grip on the sword.
His arm trembles, strength failing; his balance teeters on the brink of collapse.
Yet he steps forward.
Han repeats endlessly in his mind.
At least one. I'll kill at least one for sure.
So when facing me, come prepared.
With resolve that you might be that one.
That if you fail to kill me, you'll die instead.
Forcing open his drooping right eye, Han glares at Aselrica. His vision swims. The world he sees is long since blackened on the left, red on the right.
-Thud!
He plants his foot and kicks off.
It felt like stepping beyond the boundary into the realm of the dead. Han senses his body nearing its limit.
Thus.
"Uwaaaaaah!!"
He roars.
No blocking, no clashing.
For sure.
One strike to end it.
Stronger, faster than ever.
Han charges at Aselrica.
With all his might, pouring his soul into the swing.
And at last,
-Flash!
The blade extends toward Aselrica.
-Clang!!
"………."
His full-force swing doesn't cut her—it clashes and stops.
-Screeech… screeeeech….
The grating friction of crossed blades as they vie for power.
Aselrica presses against Han's sword, forcing him unable to pull back.
"………."
Han falls silent, staring at his blade locked with hers.
-Screeeeech….
A heavy force travels up his arm.
Pull back, and he'll be wide open; push, and he lacks the strength.
"…It's over."
Aselrica mutters.
"…Ha."
He lets out a hollow laugh.
He wants to deny it, but deep down, he agrees.
Aselrica, pinning Han immobile, signals the surrounding heroes with her eyes.
And.
-Stab!
-Stab!
-Stab!
The heroes' weapons pierce Han's body in unison.
'…Ah.'
His life flashes before his eyes.