Chapter 18
Chapter 18
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: I'm Not That Kind of Person (6)
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In truth, my decision to keep my psychokinesis a secret until now was perhaps a perfectly sensible one, made for my own safety.
A power that belonged to neither science nor magic, in a world where both were commonplace.
Its very existence was a ticking bomb that could easily endanger my life.
Thus, thinking rationally,
the best course of action was to avoid getting involved and simply lie low.
Nighthaven was a chaotic maze where people like me were as common as pebbles on the street.
Even if I didn't step forward, this situation would eventually resolve itself.
If I acted recklessly and my psychokinesis was revealed to the world, the target could suddenly shift from the vampires to me.
Yes, I had to think rationally.
For the sake of my future...
‘I refuse. Why should I have to put up with this?’
But unfortunately, I wasn't a very patient person.
When I saw a delicious-looking deluxe chocolate cornet, I had to buy it to feel satisfied.
And I couldn't rest until people who did bad things received their due punishment.
All the more reason why I couldn't bear the thought of staying silent for the sake of my future,
while people I knew suffered.
Good grief. I was such a coward, yet so impulsive at times.
Even I had to admit it was a foolish personality.
‘Not that I'm just going to throw myself into a pit of fire without a plan.’
Of course, it wasn't as if I had no plan at all.
Let's see. Right now, I was just a ghost draped in a white sheet.
The only one who knew who was really underneath was Greg.
So, I could go on a rampage, let the ghost take all the heat, and then disappear forever.
A classic scarecrow tactic, you might say.
Until recently, my only identity had been that of the ghost.
But starting today, I was also Yuria, Greg's employee. It would probably be fine.
‘I have nothing but gratitude for Greg.’
He fed me, gave me a job, and even gave me a name.
He was practically a father figure to me in this life.
Of course, Greg was still in his late twenties, despite how he looked.
He'd probably freak out if he heard me call him 'Dad'...
but that might be fun in its own way.
Lost in these silly thoughts, I soon emerged from the alley onto a main street.
Perhaps because there weren't many bounty hunters around here,
the street was disgustingly packed with zombies.
“Groooan...”
“Kiik, kirrrk...”
And as if they had sensed my presence,
the horde of zombies swarmed toward me like moths to a flame.
The scene before me was straight out of a horror movie.
But I didn't bat an eye.
My psychokinesis had already spread across the entire street.
‘Neck crank.’
Snap!
I extended a hand from beneath the sheet and made a light twisting motion with my wrist.
In sync with the movement, the necks of the approaching zombie horde snapped to the side.
It wasn't a difficult feat.
I had simply grabbed the jaw of every zombie in sight with my psychokinesis and twisted.
Compared to forcefully grabbing and bursting a zombie's neck earlier,
this barely consumed twenty percent of my concentration.
But the result was quite impressive for such a simple gesture.
A spectacular scene unfolded as the zombies swarming the street collapsed to the ground in unison.
“What... what's with these guys all of a sudden!”
“Th-their heads are twisted?”
“Don't let your guard down! We have to confirm the kills! Zombies will still move like that!”
Of course, zombies were troublesome creatures that only died if their heads were smashed or their necks severed.
They weren't the type to die from a simple broken neck.
That's why the bounty hunters, though startled by the fallen zombies, didn't let their guard down.
They proceeded to finish them off, smashing heads and severing necks to confirm the kills.
They really didn't have to do that, though.
“Hey. Even without smashing their heads, these guys aren't moving?”
“What did you say?”
These were fake zombies, their bodies filled with some unidentified black substance instead of bone and flesh.
What set them apart from real zombies was their signal transmission structure.
To put it simply, as a detailed explanation would be complicated,
these fake zombies had magical circuits concentrated in their necks, which meant a proper twist was all it took to disable them.
In other words, this meant one thing:
Between the fake zombies with a clear weakness and myself—who, despite lacking firepower, excelled against large numbers—there was a clear hierarchy!
‘Time to cause a little commotion. So the mastermind of this incident can find me.’
Inhale, exhale...
After a light, deep breath, I propelled myself forward with psychokinesis, dashing ahead at high speed.
As I sped past, I twisted the jaws of zombies, felling them in an instant.
I left a mountain of neutralized zombies in my wake.
It was a stark contrast to the bounty hunters, who were locked in a struggle, taking down zombies one by one.
It was a fierce rampage, like a sports car tearing through an alleyway.
“It's the, the ghost!”
“It's real! Seven... seven hundred thousand credits... Ahem.”
“Huh, huuh... what am I seeing right now?”
“Maybe I'll just... collect zombie heads...”
Rampaging so openly, I suppose it was impossible not to draw attention.
As the zombie threat rapidly diminished, I could hear bewildered voices from the bounty hunters who had regained their composure.
I was too focused on taking down zombies to be sure,
but they were likely overwhelmed by the absurd rate at which the corpses were piling up.
Of course, I had to focus on running at full speed while precisely twisting zombie jaws, so I had no spare attention for them. It was a relief they weren't getting in my way.
How long had I been tearing through the streets like this?
Just as my head began to grow hot from overexerting my concentration,
someone—not a zombie—suddenly blocked my path and shouted.
“St-stop! Ghost! How dare you come here...!”
A pale face, a chin dripping with blood, sharp fangs.
There was no mistaking it: a real, live vampire.
My eyes narrowed as I made a split-second judgment.
‘The lore stated that vampires don't die as long as either their neck or heart remains intact. Right.’
No need to hold back, then.
I instantly slowed, stopping right in front of the female vampire. Then, with a surge of psychokinesis, I snapped her neck.
Most vampires were mages who used blood magic.
Thus, even if they used blood as a medium, their necks—needed for incantations—were a weak point.
She wasn't going to die from it anyway.
I didn't feel the least bit sorry for breaking it.
“Gik, gek...!”
I threw the vampire against a wall as she clutched her neck in pain.
I ripped a thin steel frame from the wall, pierced her limbs with it, and pinned her securely.
The metal embedded in her arms and legs would hinder her regeneration. She wouldn't be able to escape on her own until someone came to help.
I immediately lost interest in the now helpless vampire and resumed my reckless dash through the streets of the Western Labyrinth.
Zombies, zombies, ghouls, vampires. And more zombies.
How long had I been on this rampage?
As I raced frantically through the streets, I instinctively sensed danger.
A sharp killing intent, like a needle piercing my skin.
I recoiled, hastily wrapping myself in a shield of psychokinesis to protect my body from whatever was coming.
Almost simultaneously, a crimson stake shot toward me at incredible speed, jolting me on impact.
‘Ugh! This is...’
Fortunately, the hastily deployed shield of psychokinesis allowed me to deflect the crimson stake.
From the shape of the stake lying on the ground, I could tell it had been formed from coagulated blood.
Magic manifested through blood—blood magic.
I didn't have to think hard to know who the culprit was.
“Good reaction. I see you're not just some riffraff.”
My head naturally turned toward the voice.
There stood a tall, gaunt man.
He had a pale yet handsome face, and his cold red eyes held a glint of madness.
His hair was the dark, deep red of dried blood, and he wore a neat, tailcoat-like suit.
From these features alone, I knew he was the vampire noble, Drakel.
The culprit behind the zombie infestation in the Western Labyrinth.
Anger boiled within me, cutting through the headache caused by overusing my psychokinesis.
Could he sense my emotions through the sheet?
Drakel, surrounded by floating magic circles drawn in blood, spoke with a passionate intensity, as if to match my own feelings.
“I've been looking for you. Ghost. The one who ruined my great plan... you!”
“...”
“Khaha, it's ridiculous. To think that I, a vampire noble, would have to flee because of a single mistake by my worthless son!”
He expressed his fury so intensely that the veins in his eyes bulged.
As if his mana reacted to that emotion, his shout was accompanied by a crushing pressure, as if space itself were bearing down on me.
Ah, so the vampire I knocked out back then was Drakel's son.
That explained why he was so furious.
Drakel was one of the nobles of the vampire world.
He was much weaker now than in his prime, but the potency of his bloodline still ranked among the world's most dangerous.
So, whoever investigated Drakel's son must have learned of the noble Drakel's existence from him.
After a persistent investigation, they must have uncovered the preparations he was quietly making for the Night of Blood.
Any surprise attack is doomed the moment it's discovered.
Naturally, Drakel's plans would have been shattered, and I suppose he was now targeting me out of resentment.
‘Well, he should have kept a better leash on his son. He's reaping what he sowed. Idiot.’
Drakel had no right to feel wronged.
Even if I hadn't ruined his plan, the protagonist's party would have eventually crushed it.
And even if he had succeeded, all the factions in Nighthaven would have felt the threat and immediately launched a concentrated attack.
There was no way a washed-up vampire like Drakel could have withstood that.
The Night of Blood incident was a fundamentally flawed plan from the very beginning.
But whether he knew that or not, the agitated Drakel clenched his fist as if choking me and shouted with a maniacal laugh.
“I will kill you, turn you into a ghoul, and leave this city! A vampire's life is eternal anyway! Even if not this time, my cherished wish will surely be fulfilled someday! So die, Ghost!”
The blood vessels beneath Drakel's skin pulsed so visibly they could be seen even from a distance.
It was a vampiric trait—their blood literally boiled when their emotions intensified.
Magic circles made of blood materialized all around him.
Each one was a powerful spell, on par with the attack I had just barely deflected.
Their power was likely so great that my psychokinesis would struggle just to block them.
Indeed, this was the fearsome power of the monster who had once defeated the protagonist, however complacent he might have been.
He was a formidable foe, so much so that it was difficult to gauge my chances of victory with my psychokinesis alone, which specialized in crushing the weak.
And so, I had absolutely no confidence.
No confidence that I would lose, that is.
‘Well, if he were an opponent I couldn't beat, I wouldn't have come this far in the first place.’
I quietly closed my eyes and reviewed the plot of the original story in my mind.
Drakel's weaknesses, the environment and layout of the Western Labyrinth, and the unique nature of my own abilities.
A path to victory formed in my mind.