Chapter 125
Chapter 125
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 125
Chapter Title: Storming In (4)
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[ *Hic-! *]
A sudden hiccup echoed from within the holy sword.
[......]
"......"
Even in this breathless, urgent situation, Carlyle stood still, staring at the holy sword.
Something about this very human reaction.
It was a thought so irreverent it bordered on terrifying, but it was also oddly cute.
'Why are you doing this all of a sudden...?'
[Uh, no, suddenly this weird feeling—]
The holy sword mumbled those words in a daze, then fell silent for a long while.
[-merging? Me and that guy?]
Then it began muttering again.
[...Synchronization? From all that mana contact we've had? No way, that couldn't happen—regression just twists the timeline, there's no way a perfect union with a past existence could—]
'Hero, you're distracting me—later!'
[Uh, c-can you hear me?]
When Carlyle spoke, the sword responded in a voice thick with panic.
The most uncomfortable part of sharing consciousness with this person was that unless you firmly guarded your mind, even your inner thoughts rang out as clearly as if whispered in your ear.
Carlyle had experienced the same thing multiple times early on while living with the Hero, and they'd promised each other to control it.
......But.
How far gone was this person's mental state that they couldn't even manage this basic restraint?
'Something must have happened again.'
Unless it was directly relevant to the current situation, it could wait.
Carlyle glanced down at his wristwatch.
Barely five minutes left.
If they couldn't stop the rocket launch in that time, the entire capital would be obliterated.
"Hey!"
Fortunately, even in this chaos, Rachel's 'foresight' shone through.
Guided precisely to the room housing the rocket, everyone dashed forward without hesitation.
The moment they reached the target location, they kicked the door open.
"-!"
Carlyle thrust out his arm, pulling Vespa and Panhaima—who were following behind—into an embrace and tumbling into the room.
Before anyone could scream, they rolled together in a spinning cluster into the vast chamber.
A massive green beam streaked toward the spot where they had just stood.
It wasn't really a beam—it was fluids spewed from the creature's body.
Seeing everything in its path melt away sent chills down the spine.
"......Oh my. Did you dodge it?"
"I may lack precognition, but my instincts are still sharp."
Casually brushing it off, Carlyle sighed and eyed the enormous moth-like demon before them.
Compared to before, it had far more wings sprouting from its back, and its body was covered in even more clusters of compound eyes—an utterly grotesque sight.
The remaining fatal companion: Cornelius.
It still bore the wounds inflicted by the Dean outside—not just beaten, but thoroughly pummeled—yet as a viscount-class demon...
'We can't beat it.'
It was clearly an enemy beyond what the humans here could handle.
Like Alistair, it was probably enhanced.
That meant it could likely match the Hero outside right now blow for blow. No matter how weakened, an underdeveloped Hero Party couldn't take it.
Yes.
Impossible.
But.
"......That doesn't mean we can just sit on our hands."
Panhima brushed off her clothes and stood.
Her hand gripped the hilt of her sheathed sword. A motion brimming with resolve.
"Even if these people mean nothing to me, they're innocent folk just trying to live ordinary lives. I can't stand by and watch them die at the hands of these lunatics."
"......"
Carlyle nodded quietly.
Yes, even without this Eastern swordswoman's chivalrous words.
Retreating here was out of the question.
"Get ready—we're going in!"
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By nature.
Everything spawned from Hell—every phenomenon, every substance—is lethal to living beings.
And since demons are forged in such places from the start, they don't even need to try hard to inflict harm.
The moth's signature powder, toxic enough to rot lungs just by breathing it, sprayed everywhere.
"-Haaa-"
Dodging incoming swords and spells, it vibrated its wings at high speed.
It looked like white snow falling, but the horror within defied description.
Even the strongest superhuman couldn't temper their internals or respiratory system. Exposure meant instant death.
Against these humans, it was overkill—like using a meteor strike to kill a chicken.
This wasn't about response or counter—it was beyond human capability.
But.
"Please-!"
With that short cry, mana exploded from all directions simultaneously.
Like purifying the entire atmosphere, pure white flames rained down, incinerating every trace of powder in the air.
Each of those flames was a high incantation that would fry an ordinary caster's brain just for attempting it.
Of course, it still didn't land a hit. Cornelius was merely dispersing substances naturally produced by its body.
The fact that such advanced magic was required just to cope proved what a monster she was.
But for now, it created an 'opening.'
And in that fleeting instant, the Eastern girl—who had drawn her blade at some point—closed in right before her.
Its power and speed fell short of the Hero's, but the killing intent in targeting her vital in that split second was spine-chilling.
"*Sss*, haaaa-"
With a breath, the Eastern blade pierced toward Cornelius's heart at supersonic speed.
Haima Clan Ancient Swordsmanship, Second Form: Obverse-Reverse Reversal.
Not a surface cut, but a point.
A thrust maximized for penetration speared through Cornelius's position.
But.
"-!"
Taking the strike head-on, Cornelius winked at Panhaima.
As the Sword Saint's face twisted, it aimed its wings at her.
Flesh-rending powder storm. As if deciding to take her along as a companion in death.
Soon, the storm of particles engulfed Panhaima.
Had Carlyle not intervened mid-way, severing Cornelius's arm and pulling her out, it would have been gruesome.
"......"
A stalemate settled between the combatants after the exchange.
......Not easy.
Carlyle mulled it over himself, but Cornelius—standing there now—surely thought the same.
"......Impressive."
Cornelius spoke first, her tone purely admiring.
"It's like there's another Hero here. For humans to hold their own against a viscount-class demon to this extent—it's beyond our expectations. Aren't you proud?"
The leisure in her voice wasn't imagined.
Even if they were evenly matched now.
Time was on her side.
Carlyle checked his watch.
......Two minutes left.
"......Everyone. I hate to say this."
Carlyle muttered.
"But getting through without any sacrifices seems impossible."
The moment he spoke, Vespa's head snapped toward him.
"-No!"
A firm refusal.
It was the first time seeing this usually gentle, amiable woman react so fiercely.
"Carlyle, don't get hurt! Don't... get hurt-!"
Her voice broke twice, her body trembling. Tears welled in her eyes.
That alone made it clear.
She hadn't shown it amid the chaos.
But the sight of Carlyle collapsing earlier had shaken her at least as much as the Hero—maybe more.
She had been there too.
......Unlike the Hero, who had carried him away, she hadn't been able to help at all.
Guilt over that, no doubt.
"......"
So.
Carlyle nodded quietly.
"Vespa."
He pushed through the apology.
"I'm sorry, but let me die once!"
"......?"
"No, it might not be just once this time, but anyway—let me die once!"
"......"
Vespa stopped crying.
......As always, the sheer absurdity was the reason.
[Don't you already know what I'm about to tell you?]
He knew he looked like a madman.
But duty called.
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