Chapter 58: The Results of Training
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 58: The Results of Training
Three assailants came charging at me from the end of the alleyway.
Clad in black clothes and masks, they had been blended into the darkness, but now they lunged toward me like flickering shadows.
Instinctively, I pulled a shield from my subspace pocket and blocked the throwing daggers flying my way.
Clang!
The daggers thrown by the assailants slammed into the shield.
The impact was so great it made my arms thrum with pain, forcing me back several steps.
Their destructive power was considerable. If I hadn't raised my shield in time, those blades would have been buried in my head or chest.
'Crazy bastards.'
I immediately began to retreat.
Unconsciously, I ran to put distance between us.
I could feel a writhing murderous intent in the eyes of the men chasing me.
Along with a fierce determination to hunt me down and kill me, there was a chilling sense that they didn't even view humans as people.
Could these be the culprits behind the serial killings that had been occurring in the slums lately?
Stories and rumors of the various gruesome murders I’d heard recently flashed through my mind.
The exact reason hadn't been revealed, but there were tabloids claiming a group was murdering the poor at night.
Since there were quite a few victims for it to be just a rumor, I had vaguely assumed some faction from outside the Labyrinth City was making a move.
Seeing as Yuria had left the city on business...
Given the circumstances, I could only think that the Kingdom or Empire, who were eyeing the Labyrinth City, had unleashed assassins to stir up trouble.
However, facing them in person felt different. The vibe was completely different from the rumors.
They felt more alien, more grotesque.
To call them humans like me... there was something off.
In their blind bloodlust, I caught a glimpse of the same primal obsession I felt from the monsters in the Labyrinth.
A simple purpose: to kill.
A mechanical sensation of killing because they had to kill, regardless of personal pleasure or satisfaction.
The strangest part was what I saw just before I started running.
My Spiritual Eye caught a sense of incongruity wrapped around their bodies.
The three assailants chasing me smelled of the Labyrinth.
‘No way.’
The worst possibility crossed my mind.
Through my conversation with Olivia, I had heard that they were going to do something.
And through my conversation with Lafnel, I had heard that they might be able to come out of the Labyrinth.
These weren't spies or assassins sent by external factions to add to the city's chaos.
These were the malice that had crawled up from the Labyrinth.
Heretics who believed in an unholy existence and sacrificed their lives for that ancient malice.
They were things that had crawled up from beneath the layer division of the Labyrinth’s 5th Floor Underground City.
That meant they were at least Silver Badge-level combatants. And three of them were chasing me.
What would happen if I were caught?
I had a powerful premonition that I wouldn't die an easy death.
‘Three Silver Badge-levels. They’ll catch up soon. I have to make a move while there’s still distance.’
What could I do against enemies where such an insurmountable gap in power existed?
As I ran, I screamed for help, but no answer came.
Hardly anyone frequented this particular alleyway I favored.
Most of the buildings here were warehouses or empty structures yet to be filled with goods.
It might be different during the day, but at this hour, it was a place where no one had any reason to be.
Thus, there was no brave soul to appear upon hearing my plea for help.
But I couldn't keep running like this. They would catch up soon.
Their pace was faster than the Labyrinth’s wolves, and my stamina was steadily draining.
To begin with, this was a body that had been training with Gon until just moments ago.
My stamina was already at rock bottom.
Running wasn't going to solve this.
I had to face them. But could I handle these lunatics alone?
Dread and terror surged within me.
My chest felt tight, and I felt like I was suffocating.
'Get a grip. If you let fear take over, it’s the end.'
There were rumors that when people were killed by the heretics, no corpse was left behind.
There was a high possibility I wouldn't even be able to be resurrected. I absolutely could not let myself fall into their hands here.
Even if I died, I had to steer the situation so that others could recover my body.
In that case, let’s use my head.
Gon said the most important thing in combat is momentum, and the next is using every card in your hand.
‘Three Silver Badge-levels are coming to kill me. It’s hard to win alone. And if I’m caught, there’s a good chance not even my corpse will remain.’
Then, as expected, I had to call people who could fight in my stead or recover my body.
However, this was a world without cell phones or emergency buzzers.
Furthermore, no matter how much I shouted here, my voice wouldn't reach the people outside the alley.
Therefore, I had to signal that a problem had occurred here as flamboyantly as possible to catch others' eyes.
What would be the best way to draw people's attention on a night like this?
The answer wasn't hard to find.
To draw aggro in the dark of night, fireworks were the best.
I pulled oil bottles—which I had received as supplies for the strategy team last time and essentially stolen—from my subspace pocket and hurled them in all directions.
It was difficult to shout and let people know I was in danger, but it was easy to mindlessly set fires everywhere to gather a crowd.
A simple but fatal logic: if it’s hard to ask for help, commit arson.
Since this alley was full of warehouse buildings, wouldn't setting a fire minimize casualties?
Of course, the goods or construction materials inside the warehouses might all burn, but I had no choice.
There was no need to worry about the aftermath. I had to commit arson right now to survive. These heretic bastards could handle the compensation themselves.
Die without setting a fire VS Survive by setting a fire.
I chose the latter.
Once the decision was made, there was no more hesitation.
I didn't have time to strike a flint, so I decided to use a scroll for instant firepower.
I pulled out a scroll that Rien and Lady Leah had given me and tore it open recklessly. A ball of fire went flying toward the floor soaked in oil.
BOOM!!!
The fireball exploded perfectly.
As the fire spread, thick smoke rose into the night sky.
Arson successful.
The warehouses would burn brightly.
I felt truly sorry for the warehouse owners, but this wasn't my fault.
It was the fault of the heretics trying to ambush someone in the middle of the night, so I was innocent.
"Ugh...!!"
"A subspace pocket!?"
The heretics shouted in sheer bewilderment when I pulled oil bottles out of thin air and set them ablaze.
I had unintentionally heard the heretics' voices. Now they would try to kill me to the bitter end. This was driving me crazy.
Still, since I’d set the fire, people would swarm here in about three to five minutes. I just had to hold out until then.
If I hadn't set the fire, I would have been surrounded by these three and stabbed to death, but now that I had, I just needed to endure.
‘It would be great if they just gave up and left... but they definitely won't let me go, will they?’
The moment I heard their voices, a confrontation became unavoidable.
Alright, let’s stay truly calm from now on.
Gon said it. What really matters is momentum.
I was out of breath and couldn't run anymore.
If I was going to get caught and have a knife buried in my back anyway, my survival rate would be slightly higher if I stood my ground and fought head-on.
Fine. I won't back down from here on out.
Was I going to give up and die just because it was three against one?
‘I have to go pick up Olivia.’
To buy time, I had to dive in with a do-or-die attitude and carve out a path.
I couldn't let myself get caught up in the pace of enemies like these.
I had to keep my own pace.
I had to make the enemies get swept up in my momentum.
I had to charge toward them.
"Hah!!!"
Letting out a cry that was somewhere between a battle yell and a scream, I lunged toward the men charging at me.
It was better to charge at them and create variables rather than just waiting.
Leading with my shield, I pushed against the daggers aimed at my vitals.
Because of the flames roaring all around, they could no longer hide in the shadows, and they were flustered by the intensity of the rising smoke and fire.
There was no better opponent to hold out against in a head-on fight than a flustered assassin.
Since my primary goal was to ensure my body wasn't desecrated even if I died...
I just had to take the hits as painlessly as possible and endure with my body.
You might wonder what kind of crazy talk that is, but the way of the warrior I learned from Gon was mostly like this.
Getting hit without it hurting too much.
Enduring as much as possible.
Resisting until the very end.
The memories of being beaten to death by Gon were etched into my body.
My body would move as an automatic reflex to pain.
Just don't die before someone else comes.
I only had to protect my own corpse.
Because reinforcements would arrive soon.
‘Let’s hold out as long as possible.’
The blade of a black-clad heretic assassin aimed for my eyes.
I didn't dodge; I slammed into him.
Just as I had pushed against Gon, I threw my body toward the heretic with all my might, casting aside my fear.
Thud!
Did the charge work?
‘It did!’
It was a success. The heretic I collided with head-on was pushed back by my charge.
The pressure charge I had practiced dozens of times against Gon worked on the heretic.
"You little—!!!"
As I basked in a moment of joy after blowing one heretic away, another one struck from the side.
Clang!!
With almost animalistic instinct, I sensed the attack and parried it with my shield.
If I had been even a second late, a knife would have been buried in my neck.
‘Oh no! I’m screwed!’
However, as a price for parrying the dagger, my chest was left wide open.
Toward my exposed chest, yet another heretic lunged with a bizarre dagger.
If I allowed this, it would be a fatal wound.
A knife would be buried in my heart, and I would die.
People hadn't arrived yet.
I had to hold out longer. Cast aside the thought of dying and twist your body. Just don't let it hit your chest.
"Graaaah!!!"
Letting out a battle cry, I twisted my body as much as possible and lunged at the heretic.
Thanks to that, the dagger that should have pierced my chest hit my shoulder instead. Before my posture could collapse, I swung my axe toward the heretic assassin's neck with near-mindless abandon.
I remembered Gon’s words: that if you swing along the flow, you can cut through anything.
The flow—I still didn't quite understand what that flow was. But I felt as if the axe was being sucked into the heretic's neck.
A sensation that a critical hit was about to land.
With a satisfying grip, the axe buried itself accurately into the heretic assassin's neck.
Crunch!!!
The axe tore through the skin and half-shattered the neck bone.
As blood sprayed out, the assassin staggered, clutching the wound in his neck.
He collapsed after only a few steps.
Seeing as he didn't move, he seemed to be dead.
I didn't feel like I had committed murder.
In my mind, those things were already classified as monsters.
However, I didn't even have time to savor the joy of taking down a Silver Badge-level powerhouse with my own hands.
The axe was stuck in that guy's neck. I needed a new weapon.
My posture had crumbled and I’d lost my axe, but I had my subspace pocket.
I immediately pulled out a one-handed sword and parried the rest of the heretics' attacks.
My senses became extremely sharp.
As the fight dragged on, I could see their attacks.
The remaining two heretics poured out attacks relentlessly to kill me.
Blades bit into my body, tore my skin, and carved out flesh.
Ache, agony, excruciating pain.
I had to endure. This wasn't the time to savor the pain.
What was it that Rika had said?
That the pain which does not kill me makes me stronger?
Rather, this pain occasionally woke up my mind which was starting to feel hazy.
Because it hurt, I felt alive. I wasn't dead yet. My body was soaked in blood, but I was still holding out.
My body had already reached a state where it didn't move according to my will.
My vision was blurry. The sensation in my hands and feet was fading, and my footsteps were becoming strange due to the thick pool of blood on the ground.
Those strange footsteps dodged the heretics' attacks with uncanny precision.
It was a sensation as if Shaka were controlling my body. No, I was reading Shaka's memories.
Should I say my proficiency was rising?
I became half-unified with the remnant Shaka had left behind, sharing a single body.
Following instinct, I swung my shield to parry daggers and swung my sword to keep the heretics at bay as they delivered fatal blows. There was no awkwardness in these actions.
So, an ability was ultimately the manifestation of techniques someone else had built up.
The Warrior's Roar that made enemies cower, and the Horse-head Beheading that cut down both horse and rider.
All other skills called warrior abilities were, in the end, techniques that could be obtained through long training and effort.
An ability was a tool that made using such techniques easier.
I finally understood clearly what Lafnel meant when he said an ability was ultimately nothing more than a tool.
And I finally realized what an incredible ability Shaka's Remnant was.
This was a collection and the essence of the techniques that a warrior named Shaka had built up.
Yes, what was engraved inside me was the 'essence' of a warrior.
As my mind grew hazy, one of the techniques he had left behind was now manifesting through my body.
While dodging the heretics' attacks, I began my counterattack.
As I poured out my attacks, the two heretics retreated.
Ah. I think I know.
Only now do the things Gon tried to teach me come clearly into view.
So this is the flow.
This is what it means to endure.
I was getting a handle on what combat was.
A fight was ultimately dancing with your life on the line upon the melody of death.
I was no longer afraid of the approaching blades.
Their murderous intent was merely a small noise that had intruded upon my melody.
Shaka sang, and I continued the movements to his song.
The Warrior's Song was being engraved inside me. Was this the hum Gon used to whistle?
You danced to the song of the dancers.
Shaka, were you a barbarian too?
No answer came to my question.
I only realized that his traces engraved inside me had become a little closer to me.
Just then, the masks the heretics were wearing cracked and then shattered.
I saw the panicked looks in the heretics' eyes.
They must be desperate too.
From their perspective, I, who had seen their faces, was an opponent who absolutely had to be killed.
But they seemed anxious because they couldn't kill me easily.
How funny. These vulgar bastards.
They were dying to take my life.
Not a chance. I won't die easily for you.
Even after exchanging several blows, there was no problem. Rather, I was slightly overwhelming them.
Of course, I couldn't go any further because I’d lost too much blood, but I still held out without dying.
I could do this.
I’d taken one down and two were left, so it was easier than at first.
If I held out just a little longer, I would surely be able to get out of this alley alive.
"Fire!"
"There's a fire in the lumber yard!"
Only now did people realize there was a fire and come running.
Their urgent shouts were drawing closer.
You're late. Three minutes have long since passed.
Still, it was good.
It really wasn't much longer now.
The two guys in front of me looked like they were about to run away soon.
I felt like I could catch those two as well if I kept clinging to them like this.
Let’s muster a little more strength.
Thwack.
"Uh...? Gasp..."
In an instant, I was stabbed in the side by an enemy who had approached from behind.
No, I was impaled.
A sword protruded from my stomach. My vision spun at the sensation of my entrails being twisted.
My thoughts stopped at the unbelievable, excruciating pain.
My legs lost their strength. Damn it, I felt like I was going to throw up.
As I struggled with the pain, the enemy behind me twisted the sword that had pierced my side, tearing my insides.
I felt like my kidney had burst. My intestines spilled out from my ruptured belly.
I didn't even have the strength to try and tuck them back in.
From the extreme pain, I collapsed forward, my face slamming into the pool of my own blood on the ground.
No, there were definitely three of them.
I killed one, and two were in front of me.
When did this guy appear behind me?
Were there four from the beginning?
Where had he been hiding, only to crawl out now and do something so cowardly...
Something, I didn't know if it was saliva or blood, flowed from my mouth.
I couldn't do anything anymore. I felt like I was going to die.
Shaka's song was cut short.
I could no longer feel his power.
As I lay writhing on the ground, the heretics fled in a hurry.
"It hurts..."
It hurt so much I trembled.
When the knife was buried in my shoulder, it was bearable.
When the daggers tore my skin and left wounds, it was also bearable.
But I couldn't stand the wound in my side.
If someone could endure their kidney bursting from being impaled, they’d be a madman.
It hurt so much I could barely breathe.
A pain that felt like death.
It was a pain a hundred times worse than a kidney stone.
"Ugh...!!!"
As I lay there writhing, unable to stand, people approached me.
"Over here!!! There's a casualty!"
"What! Is he still alive!?"
"He's still alive! We have to move him to the relief station!"
Just as my consciousness was fading, I was carried away on a stretcher.
I had survived a fight where I had been prepared to die.
Although I had only caught one and three had escaped.
This was a clear victory.