Chapter 138
Chapter 138
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 138
Chapter Title: You'll Lose Even to My Fists
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His vision warped dramatically. It wasn't the distortion caused by his Mana Eye. The actual landscape itself was changing.
The hazy fog he'd been staring at just moments ago transformed in the blink of an eye into a cave drenched in black light. The once-dark surroundings brightened as if someone had flipped on a soft lamp.
Shadows like black ink dripped from above. Created using his own mana as the foundation, fueled by Benia's power.
His personal Dragon Lair.
During that sewer fight, when he'd used Dimensional Refraction, he'd figured it out. He could draw on the mana of those listed under the [Retainers] category.
Benia was asleep, but her mana was overflowing anyway. It'd recharge in a minute or so.
If she woke up, that was on her. Go back to sleep or whatever.
"Come to think of it, this is thanks to you."
He grinned and released the finger he'd been gripping. Even after letting go, she didn't pull away in panic, so he kicked her. She went flying with ridiculous ease—hard to believe she was a pureblood-demon hybrid.
Blood poured from her dislocated shoulder, but it knit itself back together almost immediately. That was the privilege of the lair.
An absolute domain where the owner was guaranteed victory. Injuries healed on their own. She was completely cut off from all the lair's effects.
The high-density mana didn't crush his body, his abilities weren't suppressed, and breathing came easy.
It was a dragon's nest, after all, so that much was obvious—but he was human. It had been that way since the 11th isle.
For whatever reason, he was immune to the lair's effects.
[Me too nya. I think my body just got used to it because there's a lair right next door nya.]
Yeah? That make sense? He'd been thinking the same. Probably it. Yup.
He looked down at the fallen vampire. She wasn't even looking at him, her dazed eyes scanning the surroundings over and over. Her lips trembled.
She clutched one arm with the other, muttering nonstop like a madwoman.
"A l-lair? A Dragon Lair...?"
Incredulous, her hollow gaze finally turned to him.
"Th-then how are you fine? You're just a human!"
In response to her question, he opened his Inventory and stowed the Death Reaper inside. Levatein, caught off guard, tumbled into his arms in her human form.
He gave her little blonde head a pat, then leered at the green-haired woman before him and answered.
"Why should a guy who's about to die know that?"
She'd get it if he told her, right? Vitality returned to her vacant eyes. As she charged at him with sharpened glare—
He kicked her. She crumpled limply.
"A r-real lair...?"
"What, you think it's fake?"
This wasn't like the fake lair on the 11th isle. Even demonic energy couldn't free you from this mana density. Sure, her base physical abilities were superior, but the mana crushed flesh all the same.
It didn't even let you breathe properly. Trained superhumans were helpless in a Dragon Lair—fat chance for a pureblood.
Purebloods didn't train their bodies anyway. Just look at Sophia: she lounged around eating snacks, yet she was strong.
Born with physical prowess beyond human comparison, why bother training?
He wouldn't either. But this was a lair.
Innate powers were useless here. Superior flesh even more so. Magic? Forget it.
All you had left were the skills honed over a lifetime.
"Mm. So, to sum it up."
He flashed a beaming smile. Levatein looked up at him and mimicked it with innocent cheer. He opened his mouth amid his sly grin and her pure one.
"Even if I fight you with my bare fists, you'll lose."
Levia couldn't comprehend her situation. The earlier fight had caught her off guard a bit, but she'd managed to respond somehow.
But now, her body truly wouldn't move. Maybe it was the crushing mana pressure. Or the seal on powers she'd wielded her whole life.
But Levia knew. The biggest reason was standing right in front of her.
"This. Yeah. Like this."
The man chatted with a child right over her prone form. She didn't care where the kid came from or what she was.
Only one question filled her mind.
What the hell is that man's deal?
A human with the mana to deploy a Dragon Lair, guts or no. Unaffected by the Dragon Lair.
He should be suffering like her. Unable to convert mana to demonic energy or mana.
Mana crushing his flesh, forcing him to crawl. Yet there he sat, casually talking with the kid.
What the hell did I mess with?
Too late to think about it now. She'd known he wasn't normal when he used demons as minions, but not this level.
She'd assumed his strength came from the demons.
Wrong. He had something else.
"Okay. Here I go."
The man approached. Without thinking, Levia scrambled backward. No idea why.
Pure instinct. Not her will. The raw urge to survive yanked her body back.
An indescribable pressure emanated from him. Maybe the lair's doing, but that wasn't the point.
He drew closer. The kid in his arms vanished, replaced by a burning pistol in his hand.
"Bang!!"
He pulled the trigger right against Levia's shoulder—but no bullet fired.
The man's baffled expression turned to the gun. He blinked.
"What? I know!! I know it's just pistol-shaped, okay?!"
And now he was muttering to himself. Levia edged away from the man yelling at thin air and racked her brain.
For the first time in her life, she was thinking furiously.
How to survive. How to escape the lair.
No answers, no matter how she turned it over. Just hollow despair.
She didn't stop. Inching back her distance—
"Ugh, damn. Shooting the head with a gun's got that romance to it."
Before she could pray, he closed in again. Barefaced now, no mask. Finger on the trigger, spinning the gun playfully.
"Next up."
The gun transformed. From a blazing red pistol to a flashy sword. Indescribable. Ornate, yet perfectly balanced.
"Excalibur!"
With the shout, Levia's arm flew off. Sliced clean through by the razor edge in one stroke.
"Ah."
She stared at her severed arm. A sound escaped unbidden. From lips that wouldn't even groan at a throat slash.
Black shadows should have surged to reattach it. They didn't.
Blood she'd never shed since becoming a demon contractor gushed out, staining the severed limb red. Levia's pupils shook nonstop.
"Next."
The man approached, nonchalant after lopping off a human arm. The sword—Excalibur for short—shifted forms again.
This time, a blade on a spear shaft.
"Ah, you know, the Green Dragon Crescent Blade."
Her leg came off.
"Mm. Now this time—"
Next came spear, frozen sword, blazing sword, even a spear that engulfed her entire arm.
Each time, chunks of Levia's body parted ways. Legs severed, shoulders pierced.
One ear gone, fingers hacked off in clumps. At first, she let out small whimpers.
Eventually, she screamed ear-shatteringly.
And she realized.
This black-haired man. This trash. He was experimenting.
With her pinned down, slicing her body apart piece by piece.
"Yeah. Nice. Everything works. Time to wrap it up."
A scythe appeared in the man's hand. The weapon that had just butchered her morphed into a child and nestled in his arms.
The scythe emanated pure white light. Ominous, it closed in.
No.
She felt it instinctively. The previous strikes lacked killing intent. He'd targeted non-vital spots.
Not this time. That white light slew purebloods.
Even without it, purebloods died easy in this space. No different from humans.
Inevitable death approached. She wanted to thrash, but no limbs remained.
The white light traced a path in Levia's eyes.
Her pupils followed the blade. She saw the afterimage it left.
Then it rang out.
Time seemed to halt. The light's afterimage hung frozen like a path of white.
The scythe hovered at her throat. Pure white, yet black tendrils crept up it.
She didn't hesitate. Levia knew that voice. The demon she'd contracted with.
Didn't matter how it spoke in the lair or how it'd save her. She didn't care.
She just wanted to live. Escape that palpable death.
Didn't even think of the price for the demon. Levia nodded.
Time resumed. The scythe swung.
Levia's head came off.
Demons.
Transcendent beings dwelling in hell. Hell's sole intelligent lifeforms.
If dragons fed on mana, demons fed on demonic energy.
They consumed it in myriad ways, but their favorite was through contracted demon contractors.
They'd extract demonic energy via contracts. Plenty satisfying, but they craved something else.
Human souls. Mana's purest essence, essential for manifesting in the mortal realm.
That's why demons loved deals with humans. And they deceived.
Whispering they could grant impossible wishes.
In inescapable plights, inescapable temptations, in honeyed tones.
A racial trait, highborn or low, without exception.
Levia's head rolled across the floor in that same vein. It lost vitality and went still.
This was a Dragon Lair, guts or no. No miracles without limbs, not for a mere pureblood's life.
But the contract formed. Levia wished to live and paid the price. The demon refused.
Insufficient power.
Her severed head twitched. She'd offered her soul.
An impossible wish meant total forfeiture.
A soul leagues beyond human quality. Centuries of condensed mana.
That wasn't all. Countless ragged souls from the darkness within.
Her head twitched. Darkness leaked from her fallen body.
If only that, it'd be fine. Demon takes soul and done.
But.
In the moment of death, Levia wished.
—I want that man dead.
—More painfully than anyone.
Demons prized contracts. They honored them once made. Deceived, but never broke.
That built trust in deals.
Demonic energy surged from Levia's corpse. It took form.
The makeshift Dragon Lair collapsed.