The Fallen Hero's Desperate Counterattack
The hero checked his physical condition while taking deep breaths.
It felt familiar—like before hunting a powerful boss monster in a dungeon, always steadying his body and mind like this.
But the enemy before him now wasn't some savage monster; it was human. And he was surely the ferocious monster in their eyes.
Just a few days ago, he'd been the hero dismantling monsters; now he was the one being hunted. The world was full of ironies.
The hero couldn't help but let out a wry chuckle—to loosen his tense muscles and toast his utterly ruined life.
I can't get caught and die here.
His eyes, bulging with blood vessels, burned with madness. He shook his head wildly, as if refusing to hear any outside voices, and clamped his hands over his ears. Instead, he focused on the whispers from within.
The more that filthy, sewer-rat feeling intensified, the sweeter the inner demon's murmurs became.
-Two figures visible through that window over there. Lucky break. Priest and mage—zero close-combat threat.
How should I handle them?
-Now that they've tracked you down, no letting them walk away clean. Lure them in first. Bounty fever's probably clouded their judgment. Pretend to flee and draw them to that rundown warehouse.
Rundown warehouse. Perfect spot for a murder.
This was the town's outskirts, packed with storage warehouses for logistics. Finding an abandoned one seemed easy enough. Places like that got used now and then by back-alley crews for deals, so a few bodies wouldn't get spotted by the guards right away.
His thoughts crystallized. Drugged and gripped by madness, the hero was dead serious about his murder plan. It was the desperate thrashing of a cornered rat.
The hero slipped out the inn's back door. One of his two hunters was watching it. Since he needed to lure them anyway, he made no effort to hide.
"Huh? That him?"
The guard at the back door—the priest—tilted her head and pointed at the suspicious figure emerging. A wanderer wrapped in a tattered sackcloth cloak, looking like an adventurer fresh from a near-death dungeon crawl.
Slipping out the inn's back door like a rat? Textbook criminal vibe.
"Hey, you!"
The priest called out, and the hero bolted without a glance back. Her fiery reaction confirmed it for her—this was their wanted man.
"Mage! Over here! He's running!"
"Tch! On it!"
The priest and mage gave chase. The hero glanced back to gauge their pace. Pretty good stamina for a standard priest and mage—physically prepped types.
Of course, even ignoring his wrecked condition, shaking them off was no sweat.
A rotten addict or not, he was still a hero. No way a mage and priest could match his physical specs.
But his goal was the lure. He zigzagged into a wide street clustered with warehouses, deserted enough for free movement.
"Damn! Slippery bastard like a flying squirrel! Perfect pickpocket material!"
"Keep after him!"
The priest and mage hounded him like rabbit hunters, oblivious they'd been led straight into the tiger's den.
The hero kicked down the rickety door of a warehouse ahead. Rotted wood bar snapped like dry twigs under one blow.
Long-abandoned, it reeked of mold—familiar to the hero from his back-alley days. Maybe a gang meetup spot once.
The space was huge, but barren—no crates or obstacles for cover. Not that he needed any. This giant shell would hide the bodies just fine.
"Huff! Huff! Filthy fast one!"
"Stupid rat! Walked right into a dead end! Nowhere left to hide!"
The mage and priest burst in almost together, panting but smug.
They'd cornered their prey. Grinning like triumphant hunters, they eyed the hero.
He turned to meet their gazes. No fear on his face—not a trace.
Seeing it, the priest and mage instinctively sensed things had gone south.
His pallid face showed nothing. Not the expression of someone in mortal peril. More like a finely carved wooden puppet. Instinctual dread hit them.
"W-what the hell is that guy…?"
The burly priest barely whispered it. The intangible pressure from him choked her breath.
"Priest, we need to fall b—"
The mage's words cut off as the hero moved. A booming boom! echoed, thick vibrations rippling out. He'd launched off the ground.
His one remaining arm thrust forward with the leap. Battle-honed reflexes forced the mage into a chantless spell.
Whoosh!
Circular flames erupted around the mage, forming a protective wall. A barrier shielding the caster.
The roaring blaze alone terrified, its searing heat amplifying the sense of unbreachable defense.
Bad matchup, though. The hero was blessed by fire too. It posed no threat.
"Tricks!"
The flames meant to guard the mage became a weapon in the hero's grasp instead. His stigma pulled them in, converting to his power.
"Danger, mage! Full Body Enchant!"
The priest buffed herself to clash with the hero. Her glowing holy fist met his straight punch head-on.
She planted her feet firm, lowering her center of gravity—purely to endure. Instinct told her his punch outmatched hers.
Like pressing a fist to a charging bull's horn. Burning pain shot through her knuckles, the illusion vivid.
Holy blessings should've blocked the heat, but his raw destructive force overwhelmed her. The impact jolted straight to her toes.
"Nngh!"
Her body bent like a bow and flew back. Blocking that strike had been too much.
"Priest!"
The mage screamed her name. The priest spat dark red blood from internal injuries.
"Tougher nuts than expected. Surviving that."
The hero was genuinely impressed. Even at his worst, that punch had real killing intent. Yet it failed.
No matter. Kill them now.
The fire mage was easy pickings anytime. The monk-like priest was wrecked from the last hit. Plan on track.
"It's over."
Short verdict. He raised his fist at the despairing mage.
Red flames roared from it—the power she'd wielded her whole life. Now it felt utterly alien. Sensing death, she shut her eyes.
"Stop!"
A thunderclap voice rang out, blinding light surging at the hero.
Needle-to-the-spine crisis sense hit. He ducked and backpedaled.
Crackle!
Lightning struck where he'd stood.
"Hero!"
Priest and mage cried for their hero—the real one, Vints. Smoke wisped from the hand that'd loosed the bolt as he appeared.
Vints had no clue what was unfolding.
Fortune-teller's warning led him here to find his comrades. Somehow, they were fighting some stranger. One-armed guy seemed the enemy, at least.
"Mage! Priest! What's this guy!?"
"Notorious wanted criminal from town! Careful—he's no pushover!"
"Details at the inn! You two, fall back!"
"Like hell!"
New foe appearing, the hero bit his lip and surged power. This one was no joke. No dragging it out. Death's time attack began.
He maxed his stigma. Like firewood blackening to feed flames, he burned his body fueling condensed power to the limit. Muscles writhed like worms.
Pushing his drug-ravaged body beyond limits. He knew this thrashing would devour his lifespan. No choice left, though.
"Flame Sword."
A blade of fire gripped in his lone hand.
No ordinary sword. A black-burning evil blade, oozing malevolent aura. More demon king's weapon than hero's.
"Lightning Enchant."
Vints prepped too, infusing thunder into his sword. Blue blade aura swirled like a storm, granting piercing destructive force.
Thunder enchant boosted penetration and power, but chewed sword durability—bad for long fights.
Good thing he doesn't seem up for one either.
The foe was burning his life force. Obvious even to Vints.
The hero swung first—not at Vints. At the fleeing priest and mage.
Crescent slash of blood-red flame arced at them. Swallow-wing speed made reaction impossible.
"Thunder Force!"
But thunder stigma's master owned speed battles.
Vints swung; will-o'-wisp lightning flashed midair. The red-black sword-qi shattered against it, vanishing.
Hero didn't quit—explosive ground launch. Prioritize the two slippery eels over the guy in front.
"Your opponent's me!"
Vints countered lightning-fast. Black flame sword clashed with blue thunder sword, again and again.
Each clash: crimson magma-flow flames, azure bulb-flicker bolts.
Speeds even. But power edged to the hero. Death's doorstep desperation, wagering lifespan for strength—even stigma-empowered Vints struggled.
"Tch!"
Vints yielded a step. Stormy assault cracked a gap.
Hero seized it, slashing—at priest and mage slipping out the warehouse.
Whoosh!
"Gaaah!"
Flame sword-qi gashed mage's side, severed priest's right arm. Black fire burned their wounds.
Without Vints' interference, clean torso cuts. Pity.
"Priest! Mage!"
Seeing comrades crumple seared Vints' brain like a lightning strike to the crown. Something snapped inside.