Chapter 87
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 87
Chapter Title: Zombie Parade
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I stepped forward, sword already drawn. From their speech and vibe, these bastards were one hundred percent murderers.
They were definitely the scummy type who skipped killing undead during the festival and instead dragged people off to remote spots to rack up kills.
"What, do my big brothers have some business? Need directions or something? Head that way and you'll hit Isvant. They've got ice cream there too."
I babbled some nonsense to test the waters.
At the same time, I sized up their forces with a sidelong glance.
My sword was longer. They had three one-handers, two axes, and one mace. Aside from the two in leather vests, their armor was nothing special. No real threats besides sheer numbers.
Petty bandits scraping by, from the looks of it. Not well-off types.
Still, six of them made it feel dicey.
"What? Lost? What bullshit is this?"
Thud, thud.
I casually kicked a pebble with my boot heel, acting like I wasn't fazed at all. They burst out laughing.
"Heh heh heh, you clueless idiot? Drop the sword and get on your knees while we're being nice, punk. Might even let you live."
They seemed practiced at intimidation, but starting with polite words? Not pros.
A true bandit would've shot arrows first or talked to the corpses after. Bandits shouldn't run their mouths.
"Huh? Drop the sword?"
Now, timing for the first strike...
At least one had to die by my hand.
"Yeah, punk. Drop it now while I'm asking nice."
"Why? Mom gave me this sword. Can't just toss it."
"What?"
I feigned confusion to drag it out, curious how long this fool thought he could talk his way out.
"You mocking me?"
"Nah, nah. Just confused why you'd suddenly tell me to drop it."
"Cut the crap. Drop it or die. And you two hiding back there—come out."
I glanced at Kobson and Cloudy.
Eye contact.
I nodded, and they stepped out from behind the trees. Kobson looked tense, face stiff. Cloudy? Same as always. No, she looked thrilled.
"Hey, blondie. Drop your sword too. And a chick? Heh heh heh, lucky day. Cutie, ditch the hood and show us your face."
The bandit barked orders like a pro, then switched to hitting on Cloudy the second he clocked her as female.
This idiot had lost all sense of fear.
If he knew what Cloudy was, he'd never say that, dead or alive.
Cloudy whispered to me softly.
"Katt, should I take it off?"
"Don't."
Only I could see Cloudy's ears.
"Quit stalling? Told ya to ditch the hood, cutie. Nah, strip everything and flash those tits. Shake 'em for bonus points. Heh heh heh."
"Kuh ku ku, sis! We'll let sis live!"
"Hurry up and strip! Heh heh heh!"
Turns out these murderers doubled as rapists—zero filter, crude sexual harassment flying. Six against three? They felt cocky, no holds barred.
Daring to sexually harass Cloudy?
Something even I hadn't done!
These bastards were done.
"Sexual harassment! That was sexual harassment! How disgusting! Apologize right now!"
I roared in fury. No forgiving anyone who harassed my Cloudy.
"...You mocking me now?"
Stunned by my formal protest, he glanced at his buddies.
Time to start.
"Mocking? Your mom's the one with tits worth seeing. Go beg her."
"Wh-what?"
"Didn't hear? Your mom's tits are fucking huge."
"You son of a bitch, what'd you say?!"
No resistance to mom insults—he exploded. Gone was the swagger; he was pissed. Even bandits hold moms sacred. I subtly shifted stance, gripped my sword tight.
"Say it again? Your mom..."
"You fucking bastard! Boys! Kill 'em all!"
He screamed, veins bulging in his neck.
I'd been waiting for this.
Whoosh!
"Wha—"
I lunged blade-first. First strike wins, ambush is key. Confirmed murderers, harassed Cloudy—self-defense, no crime.
"Gahaaak!"
Aimed for his face. In under two seconds, he panicked, flailing—no counter, just bent at the waist.
"Moron!"
Bent over? Whatever. Mid-leap, I angled the blade down and stabbed his chest.
Squelch!
"Keurgh!"
Blade pierced his torso instantly. At least 40cm deep. Yanked it out, reset stance. Blood spurted. That alone's fatal. He clutched his gushing chest and toppled.
"Dumbass, your tongue's too fucking long."
"Urgh... hack!"
"Yo, bro. Advice: if you're robbing, shut your trap. See? Mouth ran, now you're dead. If you're gonna talk, time it like my ambush."
Thwack!
Soccer-kicked his gut. He vomited blood, eyes rolling back.
"Hey? Numbers don't mean shit if you're cocky, you dumb cunt."
Five left.
"K-kill that bastard!"
"Raaagh!"
Two aggressive ones charged me. The other three hesitated, smart but green. Come all at once or run all at once—properly.
"Kobson! Cloudy!"
I called my allies. Cloudy drew her curved sword and bolted. Kobson bellowed weirdly and charged. Three-on-three in a flash.
"Beee-yaaawk!"
"Bastard!"
Kobson clashed with a bandit. Wrist grabs, swings, backsteps—endless flailing, no clean hits likely.
Swish!
Cloudy? No worries.
"Dumb but brave. Block this. No running, yeah?"
"Bitch!"
She dodged and parried like testing him, swinging playfully. Her face said fun—didn't interfere.
"You fucking bastards! Help out!"
The one even with Kobson yelled at the spectators. Kobson signaled me for backup.
"Barbariaaan!"
Tracking the three, I zipped to Kobson's foe.
"U-urgh!"
Even matches can't handle two-on-one. He freaked mid-exchange, tried fleeing. Back turned? Done.
Thud!
"Gwaak!"
Slashed diagonally. Blade bit into his shoulder—pork-chop feel. Shoulder split, blood sprayed, he crashed like rotten wood.
"Thanks, Barbarian!"
Kobson finished with a nape stab, grateful. He's no stranger to killing.
"S-stop! Please!"
"Turn your back and die. Oh, Katt. Ignore me."
"Got it."
Cloudy, fully into it, toyed with her bandit. He eyed escape, but her pressure kept him pinned—like a cat batting a trapped mouse.
"Fuck!"
Seeing two drop, one bolted. No letting prey slip. Kobson and I roared pursuit.
"Kieeeek!!!"
"Zuuuaagh!!!"
One down, now two-on-two. Momentum rules life-or-death fights. Hesitate and lose. My bloodied sword gave me the edge.
Longer reach, breastplate for chest, gauntlets to block arms if needed—no fear here.
Experience taught: charge aggressively over overthinking. Foes fear reckless rushers more than cautious ones.
Karin's theory, practical swordplay, boosted skills, gear gap—made me a fearless warrior. Against weaker foes, I was unstoppable.
"F-fuck, fight back!"
"Screw that! You fight!"
"What?!"
One of the last two decided and fled. Bandit loyalty? Nah. Now two-on-one.
"Wait!"
His last words. Kobson and I chopped him down mercilessly—like demons. Rabble like them had a shot only rushing all six at once.
Mouthing off was their downfall.
"Yo, Clau... still playing?"
I ran to Cloudy. She was cooking her sweat-and-blood-soaked bandit.
"Huff... huff... st-stop... enough..."
"Oh, Katt. You're here?"
"Yeah. We got three. Two ran."
"Heh heh heh, two of us beat five? You guys rock."
Seeing me, her face lit up innocently—unthinkable for someone who'd just diced a man.
She'd marked one, so Kobson and I took five. Huge win.
"Keurgh..."
"Oh my."
Her bandit finally collapsed. Scratches everywhere, no lethal wounds—total plaything. He sprawled, gasping.
"Hmm, what to do..."
"Yo, Kobson, pin this fucker. Time for Kim Katt's beheading show."
"Heh heh heh, such a savage. Fine, justice demands execution for these killers."
Kobson stomped his chest. Tears streamed as he begged. But mercy's weakness here. Buddha in my heart said chop quick.
"P-please... anything... spare me..."
"Hold up."
"Huh? Why?"
Cloudy stopped my raised sword.
She stared intently.
"Katt, killing him now feels wasteful, right?"
"Wasteful? Yeah, but torture's not my thing."
"Torture? What're you talking about."
"Huh? Then?"
"A chance to build real combat experience."
"Real combat?"
She grinned sinisterly at the gasping bandit. Real combat? Sounded brutally insane...
"A duel for Hel-Kan. What do ya say? I'll ref."
"Duel? Seriously."
Reminded me of flattening Morris last time. She wants me dueling this guy?
"Nuh-uh, hate it?"
"Nah, sure. Cool."
"Heh heh heh, good call. You're my man."
No issue, so why not? She wants it, I deliver. Plus, I itched to test my swordsmanship properly.
Always sneaky kills. This exhausted foe? Perfect for a fair one-on-one.
"Get up. Giving you a shot."
Cloudy told the downed bandit.
"Win, and you're free."
"...Urk!"
"Get up. Or lose an ear?"
"I-I'll get up!"
Blade to his ear, he struggled upright. Sweat, blood, ragged breaths—losing was inevitable.
"Sword up. Run, and Hel-Kan curses you."
He slowly grabbed his sword, terrified. Cloudy had a cruel streak. Stone-cold to dismemberment.
Cloudy shouted skyward.
A prayer dedicating the duel to the Wild Heavenly War God Hel-Kan.
"Win, you're free. Katt, go get 'em."
"Yeah... I'll win and offer this glory to you."
"Heh heh heh, thanks. Begin?"
Duel started.
The bandit wailed bitterly.
"Y-you demonic bastards!"
"Pot calling the kettle, moron!"