Chapter 19
Chapter 19
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: Gardener Langbie (2)
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Langbie, the truth is...
I don't want to die.
I hate flowers. I don't get blessings at all.
But...
If my sacrifice makes this world beautiful...
Then I guess I have no choice.
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The gardener Langbie cried out.
“Miss! I'm right here by your side—Agh!”
His lowly voice could never hope to reach the heavens, but he bellowed it to the entire world, thrusting forth his body and throat that had swollen to a terrifying size.
“No matter what it takes, I will protect you!”
Then he dropped his blazing gaze back down. Near his feet, a small, pathetic intruder was causing a ruckus.
The Executioner, who had defeated Knight Captain Belmont and finally crawled his way into the garden.
He kept swinging that greatsword. It was a blade that exuded an ominous aura, far too much for a mere mortal to wield.
But Langbie had no idea who it belonged to or what mission this mortal carried when he came here.
No, he didn't want to know.
There was only one thing on his mind right now.
Capture that mortal, rip off his limbs, and rebirth him beautifully as a flower. So the miss could escape her harsh duties and burdens, he'd create countless flowers to take her place.
The Executioner and Doren were nothing more than offerings for that purpose. Langbie thought only of the miss and was determined to fulfill his mission, come hell or high water.
“Groooargh!”
He clasped his hands together like interlocking fingers and slammed them down onto the ground. No mere mortal could survive such a brutal strike.
The earth quaked, the castle walls shuddered. Flowers, blood, and flesh sprayed wildly, staining the garden.
“Become flowers! Become flowers in the miss's stead, you bastards!”
Langbie began groping the garden floor with his hands, searching for the Executioner's sprawled body. The thick clouds of dust made it impossible to see the ground clearly.
“Where'd you go? Where—”
So he swept away the dust with his hands and awkwardly crouched his massive frame to bring his face close to the floor. He wanted to spot the Executioner with his own eyes, but...
Paht!
“What!?”
Right in front of his enormous face, the Executioner suddenly appeared. He'd already finished preparing his swing, so Langbie flinched back in shock—but
Bwak!
The greatsword plunged straight into his face.
“Gaaahhh!”
The overwhelming difference in size between them.
A gap in raw power that frail mortals, who could die from just a few hits, could never overcome by nature of their birth.
Yet the Executioner showed no fear before Langbie. If anything, his greatsword seemed to sharpen its timing even more.
“Mortal... You damn mortal...”
Langbie spat out shards of broken teeth and pooled blood, seething with rage. Contempt and hatred were all that remained on his twisted face.
“How dare you stand in the way of the miss and me, you piece of trash!”
Langbie had devoted everything to the beautiful miss who never got to bloom.
Now that he had nothing left, he wanted to offer up every visible being for her sake.
“Miss! Just wait a little longer! Langbie won't fall!”
But separate from his resolve, Langbie's fists simply couldn't reach the Executioner.
Attacks that shook the earth, yet the mortal dodged them as if it were nothing. Langbie couldn't comprehend how that pathetic tumbling could evade his punches.
“You son of a bitch...!”
So he swung his arms even harder. Not satisfied, he even started smashing his own forehead into the ground.
Still, the Executioner's greatsword didn't stop, slamming hard into Langbie's temple.
Kwaduk!
“Gaaahhh...!”
An unbelievable moment. A strange emotion began to flicker in Langbie's eyes, which had burned with fury.
Bewilderment and fear.
There was something off about this mortal. Not only did he dodge attacks in bizarre ways, but he gazed at Langbie with cold eyes, as if Langbie were the prey.
Despite the vast gap in stamina and strength that couldn't even be compared.
Yet the Executioner didn't retreat.
He slowly closed the gap with one or two strikes at a time.
Langbie was gradually tiring from the pain in his feet, legs, and face, but the Executioner only gained momentum as the fight dragged on.
“Th-this...!”
So Langbie used his massive bulk to roll across the entire garden.
He planned to crush the bastard flat first, then pick him up and peel off his flesh and skin.
Dududuk—
“Eek! Hic! Eeeeek!”
But only Doren screamed. While the giant rampaged, smashing everything in the garden, the Executioner slipped into the corridor for a moment to hide...
And the instant Langbie stopped rolling, he burst out again, swinging his greatsword. This time, he kicked off the ground and brought the full weight and momentum crashing down.
Kwaduk!
“Kuhuk...!”
Langbie barely swallowed his scream and clung to his senses.
If he lost here, it was all over. He had to survive somehow, lift the [curse] placed on the miss, and repay her grace.
Just once.
Even just one more time, he wanted to see the miss.
He couldn't bear the aching longing for her gentle smile and soft voice. Not even the whole world could compare to the tip of her toe.
That's why Langbie wouldn't yield.
For the one small miss who had been kind to him, he had to cling to life desperately...
Kwajik!
Even so, the Executioner's greatsword didn't stop. Langbie's flesh and muscle were pulverized by the mercilessly swung blade.
“Stop...!”
The gardener Langbie wailed loudly, flailing his arms wildly. Strikes powerful enough to burst an enemy just from grazing them.
“Stop rolling around, damn it! What the hell are you doing!?”
For swings so desperate, you'd think at least one would land.
Regrettably, the Executioner took no damage and prepared to swing again. The attacks that couldn't even graze his red scarf left Langbie feeling empty.
“This... This makes no sense...”
Even the filthy curse coursing through his veins couldn't kill one puny mortal? After sacrificing so much? He had to stay by her side until the miss revived.
“Enough games! You won't lay a finger on the miss!”
So he glared with bulging eyes, chasing the mortal. He flailed desperately with his giant hands to grab his torso.
It was maddening. He almost had him, but the so-called Executioner always rolled away, slipping from his grasp.
“Die! Die already!”
Even the obsession to turn him into a flower and take on the miss's duties had faded. Now Langbie had to duel for their lives.
Lose here, and it was death. Even those blessed with eternal life couldn't survive the swords of mortals dragged in from the outside world.
Of course, death itself didn't scare him.
Langbie had abandoned his humanity the day the miss became a flower. That day, the hunchbacked gardener Langbie died, leaving only the monster that carved humans into flowers.
Perhaps he was little more than a walking corpse. A pitiful man twisting his old gardener duties grotesquely, making flowers from humans to gather at the miss's side.
“Just die! Die! Die already!”
Kwang! Kwang! Kwaang!
Yet Langbie desperately fled from death.
If he died, who would water the miss?
“Hic, hup... Hnng...”
Thick, filthy tears welled up beside his blood-dripping forehead. Today, the miss's face felt especially...
No, honestly, he could barely remember now. How lovely she was, how kindly she treated lowly slaves like him.
Now the garden held only the scent of the roses she loved, blessed and lingering.
A thick aroma that enveloped the bloodstained castle interior.
“You die! You die, you bastard! I will never die!”
Langbie thrashed in his final frenzy. His voice was more scream than shout.
He, who had turned countless beings—old fiefdom folk—into floral decorations that screamed, now looked utterly pathetic facing his own turn.
His fists didn't stop. The relentless vibrations crumbling the garden floor.
He had to keep attacking until the mortal died. The bastard rolled every which way to dodge, but he couldn't evade dozens, hundreds of punches forever.
He had to.
...Otherwise, it was just too unfair.
Paht!
But the mortal burst through the red dust again.
The man still wouldn't die.
An unreasonably tenacious existence. Like a mad clown, he tumbled about before charging with his greatsword, as large as his body, wielded with skill.
Bwoong!
Langbie saw not the blade, but the Executioner's red scarf.
In that red brighter than roses, he saw death...
Pagak!