Cut Off the Wolf's Tail (5)
People huddled together in one corner, far from the hole where bright moonlight streamed in. Rood was slammed into the opposite wall after taking an unexpected attack. Even though he reflexively raised his sword to deflect the impact, the unimaginable strength made him laugh.
"This is absurd."
After crossing blades once, Rood acknowledged the truth. Among the countless hardships he had overcome, the greatest crisis had finally arrived.
Rood sprang to his feet and spat out blood while muttering under his breath.
Clack! Clack!
As the creature moved again, people screamed in terror. Some wanted to run, but they feared being attacked if they moved rashly. Everyone froze in fear.
Rood hesitated. Should he tell them to flee while he bought time, or keep them gathered here?
Sniff. Sniff.
The monster caught their scent and turned its gaze toward the group.
"Kyaaaaah!"
"R-run away!"
As the monster raised its arm to strike, the gathered people panicked and searched for an exit. But the corner they occupied was a windowless wall, farthest from the door. In the end, they would have to pass the monster to escape, so most trembled or clasped their hands in desperate prayer.
"I-it's over……."
Stock, as sheriff, stood at the front, but with no way to block the attack, he simply spread his arms wide.
The monster lightly thrust its raised arm toward him.
Clang!
Rood dashed forward in an instant and blocked the blow. Gripping the hilt with one hand and clutching the flat of the blade with the other, he held the attack at bay, but the trembling in his arms grew violent.
"Now! Take the patients outside…… Gah!"
Stock opened his tightly shut eyes and quickly assessed the situation.
"Everyone! Run to the door right now!"
At his command, people rushed toward the exit in unison. They lifted the patients' beds from both sides and carried them out. Only Rood remained in the corner, having blocked the monster's attack, and he quickly put distance between them once more.
"Now I understand everything. I never imagined it would be a Yukryeong."
He realized the peculiar wounds on the wooden fence came from nails made of ground human bones combined with the superhuman strength granted by Uiche enhancement. He also understood why one body part had been taken from each victim—to serve as components for the Yukryeong.
Rood, who had stood at the forefront of battlefields and crossed swords with enemies, knew of Yukryeong. Yet the chance of one existing in this southern region was extremely low.
Rood scanned the creature before him.
"Maybe because I've never seen one this hideous."
Most Yukryeong he had faced were humanoid and far weaker than humans, though they could move even with fatal wounds and were often used as meat shields. Even with Uiche enhancement, battlefield versions were only slightly stronger than ordinary people. This form was new to him.
Drip. Plop.
Countless eyes embedded in its flesh looked at Rood and shed bloody tears.
Rood felt a chill as he guessed what those tears meant.
"Quite the twisted taste."
If this monster was a shaman's creation, why had they not ground entire bodies into parts? Why take only one limb from each victim?
Rood tightly closed his eyes. The shaman had forcibly bound the grudges of the dead to this Yukryeong, granting it power beyond mere Uiche enhancement.
"A, uuuuuh!"
With a wolf-like roar, the creature charged. Rood spun aside, dodged, and slashed its back.
Slash!
Crunch!
"W-what is this!"
Blood and countless pink chunks of flesh burst from the wound. The flesh wrapped around his sword like octopus tentacles.
Rood twisted his wrist and swung repeatedly, severing every tentacle.
"So I have to cut the Uiche!"
Thud!
He struck the exposed Uiche at the joint with all his strength, but only a faint scratch appeared.
"They even used Anix steel?"
Anix steel was harder than Ispero but far too heavy for weapons. It was used for siege rams and ballistae.
Rood was horrified as he calculated the fortune and lives spent to create this monster. Clear malice. This was no weapon of war. It was a tool for civilian slaughter, built so its creator could kill whatever they pleased.
'Can't cut it.'
A monster impervious to blades, flesh and Uiche alike. Rood considered fleeing, but abandoned the thought. The slow-moving villagers would still be in danger. Fortunately, while each attack was powerful, it took time to prepare. If he stayed calm, he could dodge.
'Buy time until they escape far enough, then run myself.'
Wiiing!
Clatter!
'Here it comes.'
Boom!
The once-quiet hospital erupted into chaos once more.
***
Isabelle raced through the streets aboard a three-headed carriage. Pete handled the reins while Moneck rode alongside as escort. The support troops followed in triangular formation behind them.
When Isabelle insisted on going, both Pete and Moneck had protested, fearing for her safety, but they soon yielded.
"Would Boenac be safer without you, or would the village be safer with you present?"
The combat carriage rode differently from her personal one—rougher, with no roof to block the wind. Isabelle's hair whipped endlessly.
"How many minutes to Boeub Village?"
"Probably three more minutes."
Three minutes. Faster than expected, yet Isabelle's tension refused to ease. If the shaman was the person she suspected, three minutes was more than enough to tear Rood apart with a Yukryeong.
'I was too hypocritical.'
Isabelle regretted it. She had swiftly and ruthlessly purged those within the family who sought to exploit Boenac's scattered power—sometimes by execution, sometimes disguised as sudden death. Whether her actions were justified remained debatable. Still, she herself believed those schemes to seize power were unforgivable.
Now, riding in the carriage, she regretted something else. She regretted punishing only those who had been eating away at Boenac. Since the act was unforgivable anyway, she should have left no seeds behind. Yet she had not. She saw her decision to punish only the guilty as nothing but hypocrisy born of a weak heart—an excuse to rationalize her own actions.
'This is the result coming back to me.'
Isabelle thought of her half-sister, the youngest daughter of Boenac's second wife. The girl had talent in shamanism and had gone to study in the Empire. Isabelle had been unable to kill her. This was the karma of that mercy.
At the end of the dark street, she saw a village lit by scattered lights. The thought that Rood might already be dead and everyone massacred made her body tremble.
Isabelle shook her head. If it was Rood—the Rood she had seen in Muject ten years ago—he would survive.
***
Rood had lost count of how many attacks he had dodged. As time passed, the old wound from blocking an assassination throbbed sharply. The bone that had been jammed after being slammed into the wall days ago had likely cracked again.
The hospital had become a complete wreck. Rood dodged while memorizing the positions of obstacles underfoot. He had not fled outside for a simple reason: fighting in the narrow space let him barely evade the monster's strikes. If he opened the door and ran into open ground, the creature would charge its Uiche, leap, and pierce his stomach before he could dodge.
Rood thought, 'I can't hold out in this hospital any longer.'
One of the supporting pillars had broken. He could feel the wall tilting. As the building faced imminent collapse, Rood had no choice but to wait for the next attack.
'It's at least a Pseudo-Knight—probably just stepped into the ranks of a full Knight.'
The monster's attacks were crude, like those of a combat novice, yet its strength could match most knights. Rood had to dodge when possible and deflect when he could not, even at the cost of injury.
Clang!
"Gah! Get away!"
Rood blocked the attack with both hands, but his face went pale. The monster's other hand had taken an attack stance, ready to strike in succession.
Thud!
"Guh!"
He barely dove between the creature's legs to dodge, but one arm was badly raked. If the monster had turned its head and attacked, Rood would have been unable to evade. He sensed death closing in.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
"What?"
The Yukryeong, which had never bothered dodging before, suddenly widened the distance—as if it could not allow Rood near.
Only then did Rood understand.
'Don't tell me…… the tail?'
He stared at the tail. Something the size of a human head hung from its tip like a tumor. A mysterious green light flickered within the lump. It was so suspicious he felt foolish for noticing only now.
Crackle.
At the sound of the building about to collapse, Rood calmly surveyed his surroundings. The door was blocked. The structure was falling. Then—
Rood charged toward the hole the creature had made.
"Krwaaaar!"
The monster lunged at the opening, but Rood changed direction and threw himself over it. Distracted, the creature tripped over a bed on the floor. Rood hurled himself toward the half-open door.
Crack!
Boom!
The hospital collapsed. Clutching his torn arm, Rood walked across the rubble.
Rumble!
Part of the debris began to rise. Rood stood before it, gripping his sword with both hands.
"Don't block thoughts with thoughts. Let them flow away."
Rood attempted the meditation method Isabelle had taught him. Complete immersion was required. He had only one chance.
"Kweeeek!"
"Be cut."
He leaped in an instant toward the monster's back as it tried to rise through the rubble.
Shing!
The monster stared at him, its waist bent 180 degrees—an impossible movement possible only through Uiche. Rood did not falter. As the bone-made claws from its face descended—
Slash.
"Wehk?"
The attack stopped right before Rood's nose. The monster's tail twitched alone, then rotted away by itself.
'Cut off the wolf's tail.'
Confirming the meaning of Isabelle's letter, Rood chuckled. Strength drained from his legs. He knelt and exhaled in relief.
"Hah…… I did it……."
"Y-you did it. Amazing."
At the familiar yet chilling voice, Rood's body froze.
"Why……"
"T-this side has two, you know?"
Rood had not asked that. He already knew he would have to face both the monster and its shaman controller. Yet seeing the face of the person who appeared, his mind reeled.
"It was you? The shaman?"
"W-were you surprised?"
The shaman's identity was none other than the woman from the laundry area—the one who had introduced herself as the older sister of the first victim.