Esherburn Mansion (4)

I don't even remember how I stabbed it with the dagger. All I recall is protecting my right arm and the dagger. For this one strike, that is. Oh, right—I protected Rosalyn too.

Ordering the maximum-size Blood Slaughter Cannon was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my ploy to drain every last drop of blood from the flesh golem. That blood was its most dangerous part. For me, using a dagger as a weapon and diving in at point-blank range was like jumping into a sack of hydrochloric acid.

It... worked, right? That's why I'm still alive, isn't it?

I vaguely remember the Avenger alarm and Rosalyn's faint words that it was almost done. What did I choose? Probably option 1. I was aiming for the death reprieve effect.

I can't turn my head. I barely roll my eyes. In my blurry vision, far off, the flesh golem's body was scattering into pieces.

How's that, you fucker? I won.

Heh heh heh... I can't even laugh. The air isn't whistling through my throat—it's leaking straight from my lungs. My lungs are rags now.

Berga's instincts are truly something else. To sever the neck with this battered body. Was it my obsession? I did think I had to shatter the guillotine.

I see Rosalyn. Why's she crying like that? But how can I even see her? Earlier, the flesh golem was just a hazy shape.

Hey, if you've got any brains left...

"...In my left pocket, the red stuff... dump it in my mouth."

Words come out. Why? Air was leaking from my lungs before.

Now that I'm aware, it seems to have stopped.

"...Y-Yes! Just hold on! I'll do it right now!"

I hear her voice too. That can't be right. I definitely felt my right ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ear melting away.

Avenger's effect? Or some last burst of clarity before death?

Either way, good. It succeeded. A gamble where I staked my life as the ante. Though with Avenger, potions, and two buffers layered on, is it really a gamble?

Now, if Rosalyn just pours the potion into my mouth...

She said she'd hurry. She won't spill it, will she?

Her trembling hands hold a red liquid...

"Gahk!"

The familiar agony engulfs my body as the liquid hits my mouth. Luckily, Rosalyn grabbed the right potion.

With my whole body wrecked, the pain doesn't stay in one spot.

"Grrraaagh! Flesh... the flesh golem isn't... dead yet...? Am I... still covered in that fucking blood...?"

That's the level of pain. Melting flesh or new skin growing—equally excruciating.

Even amid this extreme torment, the Cold-Blooded skill lets me monologue ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠normally. Hats off to it.

"Huh? It's dead! And..."

Rosalyn, switching from sobs to a smiling face in her reply. And the unrelenting pain. But it doesn't matter. I have words for Rosalyn.

"Guhk! What I wanted to say! Sales! Possible... items!"

I barely string the words together. She must've understood. I'll just listen with my ears...

Damn. White light floods my vision. The Management Bureau is finally dragging me back to the Waiting Room.

No. No way. I need to hear it. How she got the Cron. What she could sell. What Cron means outside the Waiting Room!

As my vision whites out, the alarm window taunts me, shaking in front of my eyes. I can't move from the pain.

No, fuck... I open my eyes—I'm back in the room. Instead of a timeout alarm, the settlement floats there.

The only silver lining in this worst-case scenario is that the room isn't messed up. Dirt and filth vanished on return. Somehow, my melted shirt regenerated too. Because it was what I originally wore?

The steel scale wolf leather on my forearm is just dangling scraps. Armor bought here doesn't reset.

My body is back to normal. Healed during return. No bloodbath, thankfully. Though with my flesh melted off, there wasn't much blood to spill anyway.

"Fuck."

The curse slips out naturally. Most injured ever, most exhausted ever. And all I get for that ordeal is one step closer to the secret.

Info on Cron. That's what it was...

Feels like the reward got stolen. Rosalyn was just about to tell me...

One more minute...

《Did you call me?》

Huh?

A sudden voice. Not exactly hearing... more like...

Contract? Not consulting or sponsorship?

No alarm for this...?

Huh? Vassal? What the...?

《What did you do to me?》

Is this how it works? Feels different from messages. Closer to conversation, like telepathy?

《Whoa! A response! That's you... You looked like you were dying, so... I fed you some of my blood... Sorry...》

Her hand holding the potion was red with blood, huh. More importantly, vassal?

《So... I'm your vassal?》

《Yeah... That's how it's supposed to be, right? Dad definitely taught me that way... It should be...》

《Don't dodge.》

《Berga, do you have a tattoo on your neck or something? Like a collar... no, necklace shape.》

I get up and head to the bathroom. Mirror check—no tattoo on my neck. No scars thanks to the healing potion. Lift my shirt—nothing.

《None.》

《I figured... Hng... Normally, the vassal gets a contract mark, like a tattoo... But it... appeared on me...》

"What?"

No. 《What?》

《How to put it... Vassal contracts place one in a lower hierarchy... Different worlds or something? Us two?》

Literally different worlds. Rosalyn in Astellan. Me in the Waiting Room. Is the Waiting Room a world?

Anyway. Seems like some fantasy hierarchy concept kicked in.

Whatever. She's not my vassal, and we get message-like comms now. Ignore Rosalyn for now.

《Oh! Contracts normally share power with the vassal! That's why I can use Shadow Step now!》

It does that too? A hikikomori avoiding the world is bragging about a skill? But gaining an ability is good.

What about me then?

Blood Slaughter Cannon I know. Lord's Blood..?

Vampire racial trait manifested as a skill...? She fed me blood fearing I'd die— that's what it meant.

Good to have more survival options. Natural recovery in situations where I can't use potions myself, like today.

Blood Slaughter Cannon is a big gain too. Felt it sorely at Gravenfelt and Esherburn Mansion. Limits of a point-blank physical character.

Even treating the first-kiss addict as a disposable AoE, my multi-target firepower is weak. Dagger next to mercenaries blasting magic and bombs looks pathetic.

Of course, single-target power is extreme as trade-off. But getting stronger whenever possible is good.

Skills sorted. 《Tell me about Rosalyn.》

《Huh? What about?》

《Everything.》

《Well... I was in the room... and an alarm popped up saying I was selected as commander.》

From there? Even better. 《Bewildered, then what? Tutorial? Dumped straight into my head... Anyway... I got Cron.》

《...Not Astellan's currency?》

《No! Astellan uses gold coins! Unit is gold!》

《Anyway. Continue.》

《Then a mercenary summon list? Popped up... You looked strong, so I tried... But not enough Cron... Then a sellable items window appeared.》

《So you sold Father's relics. What else was there?》

《Only Dad's relics. Nothing valuable in the house but those.》

《Never checked all items? Check now.》

《Okay! Got it!》

After that, talk shifted to future waves. Ability enhancements, vassal summons. How to spend Cron, defend waves. Every little detail.

Least she survives. 《Berga! Can't you just summon Berga again?》

Scratch that. 《Summon me pointlessly next time, and you're first to die.》

《Hng... Got it... Oh! ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠New sellable item appeared. That diary we found!》

Sellable for Cron: all Aldric's relics. Precisely, Aldric-related. More precisely, traces of dead Aldric.

What does it mean? 《Rosalyn. Any unchecked sellables?》

《Looking now! One page le— Huh?》

Her words cut off. Found something new?

《Rosalyn? Something wrong?》

《N-No... Haha... Just weird... Haha, a glitch?》

《What do you mean?》

《Sellables list... No idea why, but my dad's name is there.》

《What?》

《Aldric Esherburn. Dad's name on sellables.》