Hero, Descends
“Ah······.”
The leader gripping the sword stared blankly, as if his soul had fled his body. The mage watched him anxiously, praying to the three gods. How much time passed in that state? As the countless remnants of holy power scattered around slowly faded, and the labyrinth—briefly illuminated—sank back into darkness.
“Gasp!”
“Jack!”
Focus returned to his dazed eyes, and he gulped down air violently, doubling over at the waist. The mage approached with a worried expression.
“You okay?”
The leader, head bowed, said nothing. Slowly, he lifted his gaze, revealing the eye hidden by his hair. The mage stared into it, breath catching in her throat.
That eye was······.
“I’m fine, Emily.”
“Jack! You’re safe!”
The mage threw her arms around the leader. Stuck awkwardly between the happy couple, I vented my discomfort, but shockingly, got zero attention.
“Thank goodness, thank goodness······. I thought something happened to you······.”
“Don’t worry. I beat it.”
“Jack······.”
Goddamn it. Watching the couple slip right back into their own little world soured my mood, so I cleared my throat. Loudly.
[Ahem!]
“Kyaaak!”
“Hup!”
A thunderous boom erupted from their chests, startling the leader and mage apart. The mage’s face turned uneasy again.
They’re such jokes. Even if my power’s weakened, I can still erode anyone in direct contact like this. The leader being fine? Pure mercy on my part. I’m just too damn nice to watch a lover’s tragedy unfold······.
Of course, that’s bullshit. Truth is, I’m terrified of the Hero.
The Hero reacted worse to me being held by someone else than me running away. And if I erode a host, traces linger. So, don’t make them a master or host—just let them hold me. Genius, right?
“No real backlash even gripping the sword. Looks like I’ve been acknowledged as the demonic sword’s master.”
But these idiots have no clue.
“You’re amazing, Jack!”
[Shut your mouths. Keep yapping, and every monster in the neighborhood will come running.]
I growled with killing intent, and they clammed up.
[No stupid ideas. You two couldn’t handle me from the start.]
But their eyes weren’t on me. A beat late, I heard heavy footsteps thudding closer from afar.
Tsk, too distracted by this moron couple’s chatter. Sharpening my senses, info on the approaching presence flooded my mind.
Like the first slime, its body swelled with pus and tumors, harboring decayed, festering souls—a murky fluorescent giantkin.
[What the hell is that?]
The accumulated souls formed visual images, so I couldn’t see it clearly. I asked, and the mage answered, puzzled.
“It’s twisted bad, but that’s gotta be an ogre······gasp!”
An ogre, yet stealthy, swift, and cunning—traits unseen in the apex predators of any ecosystem.
Meaning even ogres would cower here? Higher monsters overrun this dungeon?
I clicked my tongue as the approaching ogre lunged.
“Grakakak!”
Even as prey now, its aggression and ferocity remained. Boiling with diseased rage, its speed matched kin outside forests—too fast and strong for a silver-rank adventurer to dodge.
[Aw, for fuck’s sake.]
Grumbling, I lightly—very lightly—eroded the leader’s nervous system. Next instant, the dazed leader twisted his waist at an inhuman angle, evading the ogre’s hand.
“Keurgh!”
“J-Jack!”
He dodged the attack, but the recoil alone made him scream like he was dying. Modern adventurers got no grit.
[Get it together, asshole. You die, she’s next.]
Controlling his body for him since he couldn’t focus, the first dodge snapped his arm on landing. The second twisted his leg weirdly.
Damn. Handling such a frail body after so long feels off. Old hosts, even civilians, I’d squeeze life force to max their limits.
“You’re hurting him more than the ogre!”
The mage snapped to it faster. Screaming shrilly, she started chanting. Crude compared to the Hero’s, her hum echoed, followed by hand signs and stomps. Spell complete.
The ogre, stepping to grab the leader, unfortunately hit a slime remnant.
“Eukerek!”
Holy power lingered from the seal’s aftermath. Touching its opposite, the ogre leaped like stepping on Lego.
Meanwhile, the leader recovered, backing away without my control. Bloodshot eyes, gritted teeth oozing saliva. Yeah, thrashing his body like that? Gotta hurt. Mess up your back once, straight to hell.
“Urk, you said you’d lend power······!”
[Oh, right.]
I agreed lazily to his furious shout. These losers couldn’t overcome this alone. The ogre, hardboiled like my human days, just flinched at the Lego before exploding in greater rage. Respect.
“Round two, then.”
In a flash, I hijacked the leader’s body.
“Jack?”
“Don’t worry. Just borrowing it briefly.”
I grinned; the mage paled. But really, just a short borrow. Can’t risk Hero traces.
Best not to erode at all, but whatever.
“Even I don’t wanna end up in ogre hands!”
Playfully shouting, I gauged lifespan per slash. Generously, 10 years? Nah, Hero’d spot it. One year? Too weak. Compromise: five.
Facing the charging ogre, I thrust the sword. Reckless insanity. But.
Blade wounds first, darkness bares teeth, prying a gap. Souls inside the ogre pour out through it—absorbed by me without resistance.
Weird. Gainers of power usually master it instinctively. Yet this dungeon’s monsters just hoard souls, can’t wield them, don’t even notice live theft.
Whatever, works for me.
As wounds multiplied and bound souls escaped the twisted flesh, the ogre weakened. I grew livelier. Festering souls, mostly faded egos, but with the slime? Feast time. Tasteless junk food, but nourishing.
“Groooo······.”
Finally, a deflating groan, and it collapsed. Pus burst everywhere, muscles shriveled to a pathetic husk.
“Urp. Thanks for the meal.”
Slime souls went mostly to repairs; ogre’s I absorbed fully. Satisfying fullness filled my mind.
“Demonic sword? Jack’s······.”
“Call me Sir Demonic Sword! Hm.”
Meant to return him nicely, but her face changed my mind. I twisted the leader’s muscles into a smirk.
“Return him or not?”
“W-what?”
Not fully submerging his soul like a host—just took body control. He heard our chat crystal clear. But I held the reins.
Oh, right.
“Hold up. One more thing, then I’ll give him back.”
“What are you planning······?!”
I deliberately spewed thick, gloomy darkness. Pointless effect, but demonic as a Demon King summoning. The mage backed away in terror.
Darkness enveloped him; blue glow ignited in his eyes. My voice boomed heavily.
“Status Window.”
Name: Jack Tefer (Carbalt)
Race: Human
Abilities: Physique C+ (S) | Senses C (A+) | Mind D (F-)
Traits: ?? ?? (EX) | Life and Death Verdict (SS) | Phantom Dominion (SS-) | Soul Erosion (S-) | Swordsmanship Expert (B+) | Crisis Detection (B) | Prodigal Son Returns (E)
Status: Erosion (Terror)
Why? Like I’ve said a million times, showing this to the Hero—or leaving traces—spells disaster. No more actions in this body. But even with cheats, I’m an item at core. To check my status, gotta parasite someone’s.
Bonus: scare the mage.
Couldn’t check properly since leaving the Vatican—too busy fleeing, can’t erode Hero. Traits mixed messily, but easy to sort: his low B-grades, rest mine. Good—no decay after decades sealed.
Phew. As I sighed in relief, a pitiful voice echoed from the fog.
“Jack? Jack?”
No answer; her voice faded. Time to wrap up. extinguishing the glow, my body hairs stood on end.
Experience screamed: host’s Crisis Detection (B) triggered.
No way—she’s attacking her lover, thinking the demonic sword ate him?
Dispelling the vision-obscuring dark, a figure scattering radiance hurtled at terrifying speed.
“Ah, fuck.”
That short last word, then violence dwarfing the mage’s slammed me.
