One Strike, Three Corpses (4)
Zeke ground his teeth.
'These Lost Hope bastards! Using black magic to turn humans into murder weapons!'
The enemies charging without a hint of fear looked just like zombies.
Five of them swarmed each member of the assassin squad.
Whoosh!
Splat!
Every time an assassin's sword swung, one foe crumpled.
At first, they'd targeted limbs or legs.
But with the enemies ignoring their own bodies and barreling forward,
they'd switched to vital points from the start.
"Oh, this... isn't half bad?"
For the first time since crashing into this world, Zeke watched someone else's swordplay without sighing.
Gazing at the assassin leader swinging his blade, Zeke gave his first verdict of 'ordinary'.
Of course, the speed, technique, power, stance, reflexes—every element of swordsmanship was utterly basic, nothing special.
Yet that very ordinariness felt refreshingly clean.
'Have my standards dropped too low?'
Compared to Zeke, it was still far below average.
'Still, they skip the idiotic bullshit they don't need to do and somehow get the essentials done.'
Just that adherence to fundamentals earned them major points in his book.
As professional killers, they'd clearly honed an efficient style.
Swinging that clean blade amid these ordinary idiots, the leader looked like a crane—no, a fairy—amongst chickens.
He even grasped not just his own position but the overall situation of his squad, intervening wherever needed.
'But this is actually a problem.'
Normally, even one rare character on a side tips the battlefield.
No one enjoys a one-sided beatdown.
It's like keyboard shotgun, then ragequit.
If the assassins racked up an easy win with minimal losses,
Yustia's gaze wouldn't stay fixed on the trash that was Lost Hope—it might shift to Zeke too.
He'd started this mess for a clean sweep, but it could backfire into extra hassle.
Of course, as the fight dragged on, the assassins wouldn't escape unscathed.
Facing lunatics who ignored wounds was more annoying than it sounded.
Already, Zeke spotted squad members taking an injury for every three kills.
'Time for a balance patch, after all.'
Zeke made a ruthless call, more fitting a former hero from hell.
Even if they followed orders from above, these were killers sent for his head.
No mercy required.
Without this setup, their blades would've been aimed at him.
Aiming for the enemy's life meant steeling yourself for death—no injustice there.
Mutual devastation.
Leave minimal survivors on both Lost Hope and the assassin squad—wipe the rest.
'Hmm, let's see if there's anyone useful...'
Scanning the blood-soaked battlefield, Zeke's eyes landed on the Lost Hope limb's ringleader.
The buck-toothed trashbag caught his attention.
'Oh, so the boss is the boss. Dodged berserker mode, huh?'
Zeke cracked a faint smile.
Honestly, for easy handling, grabbing any random mindless drone would've been simpler.
But for dramatic flair, Zeke chose the harder path over the easy one.
'Hmm, how to make natural contact with that guy...'
Right then, the bastard faced a knife from his own subordinate.
Mindless victims of the same spell didn't attack each other as kin.
The leader who'd evaded that now risked stabbing from his own men.
And Zeke spotted the dagger gripped in the guy's hand.
'That's a dagger engraved with a magic formula?'
Zeke narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the dagger's structure.
A crude blade with circuits and ground mana stone smeared over them.
'Location tracking function.'
It let the owner pinpoint the dagger's location anywhere.
Meaning, if you deciphered the formula, you could link to it.
Zeke's eyes rapidly read the formula.
And grasped it in an instant.
He pulled a mana stone from his pocket and etched the same formula.
The stone glowed, forging an invisible channel between dagger and stone.
'Connection successful. Hmm, overload it a bit here... It's one-use, but I could send a thought. Location function gets crippled after a few tries, but who cares.'
Zeke nearly burst out laughing.
A killer idea hit to amp up this play's quality.
He'd planned moderate, but adding scenario depth sounded fun.
Every axis of evil needs a standout boss amid the mindless minions, right?
Zeke sent a thought through the gripped dagger.
'Hmm, you're no match. This won't do. The sane one. You there—don't you want to become the black mage's true subordinate?'
The guy looked around in confusion.
Meanwhile, the blade inched closer to his body.
Drawing from past clashes with Lost Hope, Zeke picked his words.
'Pledge loyalty to me now, and I'll grant you eternal life unending, pleasures that never dry up, and overwhelming power.'
But the suspicious type, he didn't bite immediately.
His hand trembled.
The blade in his grip was moments from piercing him.
'Or die like a dog and rot in the dirt? Not bad. Then I'll make good use of your corpse. Ha. Ha. Ha.'
Sensing dog-death ahead, he slowly nodded.
Zeke's lips curled.
'Good. For Lost Hope. I bestow a name upon thee. Henceforth, thou art Tith.'
Hmm, made-up on the spot, but it fits perfectly. Teeth for a name suits the bucktoothed fuck.
'Uphold my will. Then power shall be thine.'
Zeke cracked open the tiniest lock on a box buried deep inside him.
Sealed emotions and sensations from his dark fantasy days.
Black, heavy aura leaked out, trying to devour his body.
Zeke clenched his jaw.
'Pass it now!'
He seized the aura and hurled it down the connected channel.
Sweat beaded on his forehead.
'Fuck, nearly got me too.'
Thankfully tossed to the bastard quick,
he held it back with just a smirk.
Zeke's past overlaid the man.
"Gaaahhhhhh!!!!!!!"
*
The instant he nodded to the black mage's offer,
Lorden had no choice but to regret it.
His head burned like it was aflame—a horrific migraine.
The world twisted before his eyes.
No clue what his face looked like, but probably crumpled.
Blood tears streamed down his cheeks.
"Gaaahhhhhh!!!!!"
Lorden screamed.
Just an instant, yet time splintered into eternity,
and he grasped the overwhelming world in a flash.
Understood it.
Knew it.
Anyone who'd seen this sight could never live in the same world as those who hadn't.
Madness soaked his mind slick.
'Ahhh...'
This overwhelming violence and malice.
Lorden wanted to smash his head on the ground and kiss His shoes right now.
'This is... black magic... this is... Lost Hope...'
Shivers raced across his skin.
A new world bloomed in his eyes.
Every world broken, demons rampaging.
Screams orchestrated over barren lands,
death as commonplace as breathing.
His heart pounded fiercely.
Odd to say, but death felt joyful.
Yes, this world was wrong.
So childish, peaceful, a joke of a place—how could it be called a world?
Blood must flow like rivers, humans slaughter humans as norm.
Only strength matters, proving yourself through power.
Yes, that should be the world.
Lorden now found the blade poised at him laughable.
What the hell had he been doing in this kids' playfight?
'Ruling the underworld...? That shit... what even matters?'
His heated life felt utterly negated.
But relief flooded in.
Grateful he could serve Him now,
awake from the dream at last.
'Thank goodness.'
He swallowed hard.
'Yes, I've been reborn. As Lost Hope's Tith.'
His lips split into a grin, laughter bubbling through his teeth.
"Heh heh heh heh..."
Lorden released his grip on the blade.
Squelch!
Blazing pain erupted in his shoulder.
But that agony screamed he was alive.
Lorden seized his stabber's throat and squeezed.
The face turned blue.
Crunch.
Bones shattered,
and the man collapsed like a puppet with cut strings.
"Hahaha ha!!!!!!!"
Lorden staggered to his feet.
Yanked the dagger from his shoulder.
A subordinate's nape loomed ahead.
He plunged the blade into the back.
Stab! Stabstabs tab!!
Stabstabstab!! Stabstab!
Red blood gushed from the wounds.
Dozens of stabs later,
light faded from the subordinate's eyes.
But Lorden kept stabbing.
Stabstabstab!! Stabstab!!!
Finally, the body went fully limp.
Blood bathed his face, but he didn't care.
Licked it from his lips,
Lorden sought his next prey.
Stabstab!! Squelch!!
Stab!!Stabstab!!!
A merciless dark fantasy demon had descended here.
Watching it unfold, Zeke's eyes widened.
'That damn bastard! He actually took the black mage's power!'
Zeke turned to the assassin leader and spoke.
"Lost's. Leader. Is. Moving. Assassin. Leader. That guy's. Dangerous."
Of course, sprawled as he was, Zeke hadn't twitched a finger.
"Ugh. Can't. Move. My body. Damn it."
He added a line for conscience's sake.