Chapter 310
Chapter 310
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 310
Chapter Title: Afterglow of the Flower
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"We won by ambushing it? Come on, make some sense. I can't believe this."
"No, seriously."
I slashed through the vines and pushed aside the underbrush.
Intermittent pain throbbed inside me, but huddling up in agony would mean I'd never escape this jungle.
For now, I'd grit my teeth and keep moving.
"That bitch was totally off guard, thinking she'd just eat us alive. But more than anything, her curses didn't work on me—that was the biggest factor. And since she'd only just awakened, she wasn't in top shape, which probably helped the ambush succeed too."
Everything had lined up perfectly in so many ways.
The Alraune had been planning to devour us—literally and figuratively—so she hadn't gone all out from the start, not truly trying to kill us.
And my guess? She hadn't fully recovered since waking up recently.
Above all, her illusions...
They had awakened the power within me.
In the end, the Alraune might have been a cruel flower queen, but she was no warrior.
A true warrior meets the enemy with one thought: kill them, nothing else.
In a real life-or-death bloodbath, any half-assed distractions get you killed. That's exactly why the Alraune died.
And why I won.
She'd never even considered losing.
That complacency created the opening.
A real warrior never lets their guard down, not even against an infant. They always fight at full strength, coordinate attacks if possible, use poison, hidden weapons, even take hostages—whatever it takes.
The truly skilled ones pull it all off at once.
"Like those curse-slingers, her actual combat ability sucked. Similar to a dryad. That's why the ambush worked. And once she went down, the garden collapsed on its own."
I continued like that.
No point explaining Heavenly Demon Death Beam or whatever to Kobson—he wouldn't get it, and he'd probably convince himself my skull got cracked from the shock.
My improvised story even sounded plausible to me.
"Hmm... Is that how it went? Well, I blacked out halfway, so I wouldn't know, but if her curses didn't work, yeah, that tracks."
"Yeah, it was an all-or-nothing gamble in every way."
—Slash.
The vines seemed endless, no matter how many I cut.
Luckily, no monster encounters meant no extra stamina drain, so it wasn't too exhausting.
"But how the hell did you resist her curses? Me? I didn't resist shit—lights out."
What a weakling.
It's all about mental fortitude.
"The Young Master spoke not of supernatural strength or divine madness."
I cleared my throat and declared it as I swung down another cleaving strike.
Supernatural strength and divine madness.
That's right. Curses fall under that category, and the Master of Fusion Confucianism himself said no such thing exists—so of course they wouldn't work on me. It was only natural.
Alraune.
You picked the wrong opponent.
If I weren't the Heavenly Demon from beyond the heavens, the seeker of Fusion Confucianism, you'd have achieved your goals long ago.
Drained my nutrients and gobbled up my purity to your heart's content.
"What? Supernatural strength and divine madness?"
"Simple terms: my faith pulled through."
"What a bizarre faith. Figures it'd come from those mysterious savage lands... So much I don't know."
"Heh heh heh. Shut it, Kobson."
"Kekeke."
"Oh, right."
I pulled the flower from my pouch—the trophy from slaying the Alraune.
Wrapped neatly in leaves, it looked impossibly fresh, even after two days of me being unconscious.
"What's that flower?"
"This here's the spoils. Alraune's flower, I guess you'd call it."
"Alraune's flower?"
Kobson took it and examined it closely.
He didn't seem to know anything special about it. I explained that after killing the Alraune, the flower bloomed right there, and I picked it.
"Hmm... Quite the beauty."
"Looks expensive. Sell it and split?"
It did seem valuable.
Still, spoils from an Alraune.
Plant it and grow another one? Nah.
Anyway, it'd fetch dozens of silvers, easy.
Ask Winia for a fair price and sel—shit.
Fuck.
What do I even tell them when I get back?
Thinking of them searching for me soured my mood. I didn't want to worry them, but the delay was ridiculous.
My heart burned like it was on fire.
Hurts worse than the internal injuries.
"Nah."
Kobson handed the flower back and spoke.
"You keep it, barbarian."
"You sure?"
"It's mostly your achievement anyway. Consider it payment for saving my ass. Plus, you need healing. Buy me a drink next time—that's plenty."
"You bastard... Fine."
"Heh heh heh. Looking forward to it."
What a decent guy.
We chuckled and pressed on through the jungle.
—Hack.
Blood-mixed phlegm dribbled out even as we walked. These injuries were no joke... If I didn't get treated soon, it could be fatal.
But once we got back, it'd work out somehow.
—Rosario.
My rosary hung around my neck.
During that holy war, I'd been hailed as Saint Kim Katt, and churches gave me this rosary in gratitude.
Show it, and they'd help anytime. The Brass Celestial Society would heal me for free, no doubt. Relief monastery works too, but why not use connections? As a saint, they'd fix me up good.
"Hey, Kobson. Let's rest here."
"That rough, huh?"
"Fuckin' A, yeah."
I slumped for a bit to recover stamina.
Fever...? Body's too hot to tell. The battle drained even my future reserves. Mind a bit foggy now, vision blurry.
If I had mana, I could reset myself, but I'm tapped out.
Overall, body's fucked.
Drank some water, ate a bit, rested, then moved. Praying to exit before sunset.
—Rustle.
Walking along, the bushes ahead shook. Kobson and I instinctively ducked behind trees without a word.
—Then.
"Fuck, it's hot as balls. Bugs everywhere."
"No good loot either. This a bust?"
"Let's go deeper. Something'll turn up."
Out stepped obvious criminal types—adventurers by the look.
Five of them, sacks and weapons in hand. Poachers after illegal game, probably.
"..."
Thought I'd be glad to see people, but in this state? Awful. Could be bandits. We held our breath with Kobson, waiting them out.
"Hey, let's forage around here. Heard there's valuable stuff. Poison shrooms and junk could sell."
No, fuck, what did you just say?
Forage nearby? You moron, ever heard of natural destruction?
"You rest, I'll forage."
"What? You been a dick since yesterday."
"H-Hey, no fighting. We're a team."
Watching these hot-blooded idiots bicker made me wanna puke. Whispered to Kobson.
"Hey... They're looking here too?"
"We'll get spotted quick..."
"Just go out?"
"Five's too many. Out here, morals drop hard. Bad vibes."
"But if they start searching, we're screwed."
"Damned if we do, damned if we don't. Quiet retreat it is."
—Rustle.
We backed away carefully, trying to slip out.
But silent in this shape? Impossible for either of us.
"Noise? Hey! There! Who's that? Monster?!"
Fuck.
Five of them raised weapons, fanned out.
"Come out!"
The brown-haired leader-type bellowed. No choice—we stepped out.
"Hey, nice to meet ya."
"People? Why were you hiding?"
"You guys popped up sudden-like, thought monsters. Reflex. Real glad you're adventurers."
He eyed me suspiciously.
"Yeah?"
"Anyway, good morning. Hope your hunt goes well. We struck out. Heh heh heh."
They huddled, whispering. I'd been polite, but their rude retorts chilled me.
That ominous feeling before shit hits the fan.
"Struck out?"
"Yes, sirs."
"Hmm, right..."
"Well, see ya. We're heading back."
As Kobson and I tried to skirt around—shing. They matched our steps, weapons aimed.
Thick killing intent and zero conscience poured out.
"Hold up. We meet out here, let's chat first."
His swagger screamed poorly raised scum. Fuck off home and leech your mom instead of roaming?
"Man, your crew looks like total beggars. Guess the bust is real."
He scanned us, smirking.
We looked like absolute trash right now—easy marks. That's why the blades.
"But I got a hobby: begging from beggars."
What a sick hobby.
You even human?
"Hand over everything if you don't wanna die. Oh, armor too. Heh heh heh."
—Heh heh heh.
—Hee hee hee.
—Kee kee kee.
The bandit scum laughed like hell's denizens. Always the same with types like this out here.
"Barbarian?"
Kobson poked my back.
"Ah, fuck. Of course. Good luck was too much to hope. Why do you assholes never miss my expectations?"
"What?"
"Pay up and we'll let you go?"
"Smart guy. Exactly."
—Rummage.
I pulled a wallet stuffed with coppers.
"Here, asshole."
—Whoosh.
Tossed it; he snatched it grinning, checked inside.
"This all? All coppers?"
"Take it and let us go. We're in the same trade. No rent to pay."
"Way short. Armor too."
"Armor's my livelihood."
—Rummage.
Adventurers carry multiple wallets.
All eggs one basket? Lose it, you're fucked.
Pulled another with spare change.
"Four silvers here. Fair, right?"
"Four silvers?!"
They yelped in delight. Decent haul. Leader beamed, waved.
"Deal! Toss it! Swear on my mom's name, you're safe!"
"Thanks. Here."
—Whoosh.
I threw it and—
"Take a knife to the gut instead of cash, you fuck."
—Dash.
Body wrecked, but piercing that money-distracted fuck's neck? Easy.
Ignored the chest pain, thrust in. Fluid motion—he didn't react.
—Spurt!
"Guh... guhhek?"
By the time I stopped, blade deep in his neck. Greedy idiot dropped guard—wrong job.
"Greed's a one-way to hell, moron. Didn't know? Your ferry fare's a stab. Fuck off."
—Shluck.
Yanked blade; blood gushed. I slid sideways, lightly decapitating the next.
No reaction—didn't even know why he died.
—Thud.
—Thud.
Two down in seconds.
"Gek...! Gek!"
Not instant kills—they clutched necks, foaming blood. Futile; no survival.
"Wh-what?"
The remaining three stared shocked at their dying pals.
"What 'what,' you bandit fucks. Hey, Kobson. Kill 'em all. Sell their gear for a nice cut."
"Heh heh heh. True barbarian. Raging like a beast even half-dead!"
—Dash!
We charged the last three. Seized initiative, showed power. Their clumsy reactions? Cakewalk.
"Uwaaah!!"
One berserk swordsman raised high for a straight overhead slash.
"Unbelievable. That's not how you swing, idiot."
—Swipe!
Extended my blade, parried with crossguard, pierced throat. Predictable trajectory, weak power and speed. Bandit average.
These shits? Mana or not, three moves to sashimi. Why bother learning swordplay?
"Kuhek!"
Kobson gutted another. One left. Four down fast.
Our meeting short; their lives shorter.
"Hah! Mercy! I ain't tight with these guys! Take all the money!"
—Clang.
Last dropped sword, begged.
Drop weapon mid-fight?
Doomed fool.
"Money's whatever. Kill you and take it."
"Wh-what?!"
How to handle... Right.
Ask directions.
"Tell me this, and you're free. Be honest."
"Anything! I'll spill!"
"Good attitude. We're lost. Which way out?"
—Point.
He jabbed at the bushes beyond.
"That way! That way!"
"For real? No bullshit?"
"Swear! We came from there! Believe me!"
"Nah, trust issues. For honesty, lose a finger first. Heh heh heh."
"Aaaah!!!! It's true!!!!!!"
Threat worked; he screamed, foaming.
Not lying.
"Thanks for the info."
"So you'll let me—"
"—Strike first, strike true!"
Lightning slash severed his head.
Why spare you, psycho?
"All dead. Feels like we're famous serial killers."
"Just you. Loot 'em quick."
We stripped their sacks and loot clean.
People drop loot on death. They had sacks—easy haul. Bag it all.
Cash, gear, weapons, boots... Everything. They ended naked. Nice profit; mood lifted.
No need to hide bodies.
Back to nature.
"Kuh...!"
Ah.
Moving hard worsened the pain.
Better than bandit blades, though.
"Heh heh heh, look at this haul."
"Worth the trouble."
"Heh heh heh!"
"Kekeke! Cough! Fuck, hurts bad."
We wiped them out clean, pocketed everything, escaped the jungle. Injuries deeper, but good deed consoled me.
Heading his direction, hacking brush forever—finally, welcome sight: Isbrandt's walls.
Out.
Jungle behind us at last.
Euphoric relief washed over; Kobson and I hugged, laughing as we passed the gates.
Sunset glowed.
We survived.