Chapter 92
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 92
Chapter Title: Treasure of the Ruins
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Craaaack.
A massive crack had formed across the Tin Woodman's body.
I'd relentlessly hammered at him, widening that wound, and finished it off with a beak strike channeling everything I had.
Even if this weren't a tin golem but a steel one, it would've been pierced through.
Of course, my beak was buzzing with vibration—the recoil wasn't nothing.
Still, to achieve results like this, I couldn't exactly baby my body.
Craaaack.
A colossal fissure split open.
I didn't miss the chance, pressing the assault relentlessly.
A single full-power beak slam from a sprint was devastating up close, but it couldn't bring its full strength to bear in such tight quarters.
In other words, right now, focusing on wings over beak was best.
Even as its body crumbled, the Tin Woodman was still the Tin Woodman.
Engaging in close-quarters with a golem that size was sheer madness.
Just brushing one of those fists by mistake would spell instant death.
"Cawww…."
But it was fine.
Ever since getting trapped in this labyrinth, I'd done more than just peddle wares.
Whoosh!
The Tin Woodman's left fist shot out in an instant.
I flared my feathers and extended my wings at just the right angle.
Blocking wouldn't do much.
Shadowform was out of the question too.
More precisely, activating Shadowform right then would mean blowing the perfect opening to take him down.
So instead of dodging, I chose to parry—
No, deflect his strike.
I hadn't just focused on business; I'd deliberately thrown my body into fights with enemies.
Because I knew close-quarters brawling would come in handy someday.
Shwooo!
The Tin Woodman's fist naturally slid along my wing to another direction.
Clumsy, oh so clumsy technique.
I hadn't seriously practiced martial arts for long, so clumsiness was inevitable.
But no one would expect a crow to pull off moves like this, so the surprise factor made up for the lack of polish.
My wing flowed like water, gently nudging his wrist aside, and his fist smashed harmlessly into empty space.
Boooom!
That wide swing meant recovering would take time even if he missed.
In short, initiative was mine for those precious seconds.
I drew a deep breath and focused my mind.
A technique all my own—beak, talons,
and wings infused with twilight.
"Kekekeke!"
I dove in, unleashing a flurry of strikes.
Crunch!
Birds pulling off infighting like this was common sense to any gamer.
Crack!
I jammed my talons into a gaping hole and struck deep inside.
Shlick!
Not the feel of tin, but the flow of living blood.
More effective than any attack yet.
"Grk…."
The agonized Tin Woodman slammed his axe—still gripped in one hand—into the ground with massive force.
Booooom!
I swiftly retreated, regathering my energy.
"Kek…."
Still got that much power left?
What a tenacious bastard.
But I still had something left too.
[Afterglow descends.]
[Twilight descends.]
[Afterglow descends.]
[Twilight descends.]
I burned every last offering I had left.
Silver coins, trinkets—all of it.
That instant.
A sudden surge of immense power.
"Caaaaw!"
It felt comparable to what I'd gained offering up Bertolt's golden helm.
Had I grown mid-battle?
I'd offered them bit by bit instead of all at once, and it still packed this punch?
….
Something felt off.
Even battle growth shouldn't cause changes this drastic.
That was when I sensed the doubt.
A cherished item vanished in a flash of white light.
"Blech! Why's it suddenly disappearing?"
The treasure Black Wolf had snuck away with.
The pristine white garb I'd wrenched from Agwen after so much hassle.
"CAAAAAAAAW!"
I screamed.
No, why'd that vanish?
Was it treated as an offering?
And why's the effect so damn good?
Rage boiled up.
The Tin Woodman who'd cost me my precious treasure.
You are not getting forgiven.
Shrieeeek!
I was about to clash again, cloaked in Twilight Feathers—
Thud!
The Tin Woodman dropped his massive axe to the ground and raised both hands.
"That's enough. Further fighting is pointless."
"Caaaaw!"
Bullshit.
You touch my stuff, and now you wanna surrender?
"Hmm, little wind. Calm yourself. Unless you fancy sprouting fluff over feathers again. Though, I must say, I rather like that look on you."
Moona's quiet whisper in my ear snapped me back.
Kekeke.
I dug my legs into the ground, braking hard.
Only then did I see it.
The Tin Woodman, half-destroyed, his skeletal frame exposed.
"On my remaining honor, I admit defeat."
Words were cheap—he could still backstab.
This was the Host of the Eternal Night.
Lower my guard, and I'd pay big.
But he was different from the Scarecrow.
Those eyes peering through the shattered helm.
Clear intellect, maybe even conviction.
"You can trust him for now. I have a hunch why he's acting this way."
"Kek."
If the Sage said so, it was safe to pause.
I didn't want to burn through all my feathers like he said.
Losing the stockings stung, but I could snag new ones from Agwen later.
Thud!
The Tin Woodman slumped right there.
Not on a throne, but cold stone—yet he looked more natural somehow.
"Impressive. I never imagined you had such power. Nor that you'd wield it this way. You've exceeded my expectations."
I didn't drop my guard, of course.
Twilight still lingered, so I hovered nearby feathers, ready to intercept any funny business.
At this range and his state, one flap could deliver a fatal blow.
"Wary of me? Rightly so. Ultimately, you'll have to end me for good. But fear not—this husk isn't truly alive, and you needn't sully your wings."
The Tin Woodman wheezed ragged breaths.
Hmm, the mood felt weird.
Like he was about to drone on with some boring, pretentious tale.
Normally, I'd kick through the flashback, but not now.
The Tin Woodman was directly tied to Dorothy and the Eternal Night.
Even sleepy mutterings might hold key info—this was a golden opportunity.
Tremble.
Sure, my innate skip-syndrome talons twitched a bit, but I could endure.
"I was once a naive woodcutter. Donned tin armor and blindly followed Dorothy."
Dorothy's name lit my eyes up.
Yes.
Boring or not, I'd hear it all.
"Back then, the tin shielded me from physical pain. Attacks held no fear in that armor. But look at me now."
Drip.
Black blood oozed from the gaps.
"For me, cursed with emotion, this tin became a prison. I knew love, but it walled me off. I could never remove it again. That's why it's twisted—a curse."
He'd fused with the armor via alchemy, taking this freakish golem form.
"Remove it, and my body collapses. Even as my heart had crumbled, fear kept it on."
His gaze fixed on me.
"But now? Thanks to you, the armor binding me is broken. The day of freedom from sin and duty has come."
The Tin Woodman bowed his head.
"Thus, you are my benefactor. Savior who ended the Scarecrow's existence. Avenger who will judge Dorothy."
He bowed to me, the killer of his comrade.
He knew.
The Scarecrow wasn't truly alive either.
Far worse off than himself.
"I bequeath everything to you."
Then, he scooped up his fallen axe.
"…Kek!"
Ambush?
I prepped feathers to fire.
Any deviation in his aim, and I'd intercept.
Shwooom!
His axe swung with thunderous speed.
Not at me—but the opposite direction.
BOOOOM!
The massive blade cleaved his throne clean in two.
What the hell?
Venting grudge on his seat?
The question flickered, but as dust cleared, truth dawned.
Dust obscured vision, but not the glittering light.
There: an ornate box, richly decorated.
Small for his bulk, but no ordinary chest.
"You are worthy to claim this ruin's treasure."
Yeah.
Countless folks had swarmed this place.
Were they battle maniacs itching for the Tin Woodman?
No, they probably didn't even know he existed.
So why gather?
Simple.
Something worth risking life for was here.
The treasure drawing moths to the flame.
And now it sat before me.