Lost But Fought Well
The moment his body suffered fatal damage, black ice enveloped his entire form and shattered outward in all directions. Dodging the storm of scattering ice shards, the Hero released the head she gripped and fell back.
Whether due to his innate beastkin regeneration or simply because he was a transcendent being after all, Lucas didn't die from that. Tough bastard—he twisted his own head back into place.
[How... how can a Saint possess this much power...? Right, you're no Saint.]
[We never claimed to be one even once?]
[I should have realized it when I saw that sword.]
Lucas glanced sideways at the space behind us. There stood the Holy Sword, the Hero's symbol, radiating light and shielding the adventurers.
[That's right—you're the Hero! I don't know why you're not using your sword, but this works out even better.]
Putting distance between them, Lucas let out a roar that echoed through the entire dungeon. As the ice shattered away, revealing his bare flesh, a new layer of pitch-black armor encased him once more—more grotesque, sharper ice than before. He charged again.
But the direction was different this time.
[I'll kill you—and become this era's Demon King myself—!]
In Lucas's hand gleamed a pitch-black stone tablet. As he rushed forward and slashed at the empty air with it, the darkness of space cracked open, revealing a rift.
I'd wondered how he controlled the dungeon without relevant traits—turns out it was the item. Leaping through the widening gap, Lucas reappeared behind the Hero.
Grabbing her from behind for an attack? No—his charge was aimed not at the Hero, but at the huddled cluster of adventurers.
"Eek!"
[It was fun while it lasted, even if only briefly.]
As I bid them farewell—lacking both the ability and desire to save them—Lucas reached out. But toward...
[A so-called Hero who can't even wield her own weapon! That thing's too good for you—I'll take it!]
No, this idiot for real. Shockingly, Lucas's target wasn't the adventurers—it was the Holy Sword. His fur-covered hand clamped down on it.
His hand sizzled on contact with the ultra-holy entity. But Lucas ignored it, trying to corrupt the Holy Sword with his cursed holy power.
A corrupted Holy Sword. Yeah, if he pulled it off, it'd be one hell of a demonic artifact.
If he could.
[How DARE YOU!]
With a girlish shriek, cracks spiderwebbed through the black ice encasing the Holy Sword. A terrifying radiance exploded, blasting away the beast who'd dared touch it.
The Holy Sword held only pure source holy power—no special abilities. Holy power untouched by any of the three gods had no destructive force... except against ultra-holy beings like him.
The black ice melted from his body, his skin boiling as if scorched by hellfire. And behind the screaming wretch, the Hero softly landed.
She hadn't just been spectating his flailing. She'd waited for the perfect opening.
Slash.
The Hero raised her hand like a blade and swung lightly. That simple motion sliced through hide no famed sword could breach, splitting the soft, frail flesh in two.
She withdrew her hand from Lucas's bisected body. Not a single drop of blood stained her pale, delicate skin.
The ruined corpse collapsed limply.
[You fool...]
That was his last.
The Dark Cult's high priest and master of this massive dungeon—the old beastkin—met his end just like that.
Silence fell.
He looked so vicious I was worried, but it ended anticlimactically. As I sighed in relief and opened my mouth—
"Did... we get him...?"
The mage, who'd passed out from Lucas's pressure and just woken, cautiously lifted his head and asked us in a frail, reed-like voice.
And the bisected body, motionless until now, began to twitch.
[I can't go out like this. How could I face Him in such an unsightly state...?]
The flesh was dead, but his soul still burned with will. His soul was too mighty for my sealed state to absorb recklessly.
[Stop him!]
Man, this is frustrating. No matter how I yelled, the Hero just watched Lucas's death throes with curious eyes, showing no intent to interfere.
Meanwhile, his body began to change. The bisected halves lost form and collapsed, gathering around the black stone tablet to reshape.
It was no longer human—no, not even beastkin.
The dungeon's wandering souls cried out faintly as they were sucked into him. A new monster rose tall.
"I've... never even seen that in the bestiaries."
A hulking brute half again the size of an ogre. Writhing black tentacles like fur covered its bulging muscles, dull glows leaking from uncovered spots. Its black goat head sported ornate triple horns like a crown. Its three-pronged tail ended in hissing snake heads dancing wildly.
I sensed it instinctively. This was Lucas's true power. The strength he paid death for—a force even he couldn't wield freely, far short of true transcendent might.
[Grraaah...]
It could no longer speak human words. It just broadcast raw, bestial killing intent and rage in mental waves everywhere.
But the aura pouring from it was real. Even the Hero would have to unleash her hidden power now.
She drew her sword.
...Wait, me?
[Hold up. What are you doing? Isn't this the serious fight?]
I've said it a million times: we're ultra-holy. Hero plus cursed sword doesn't boost power—it halves it at best. We're straight-up a liability to each other.
She didn't even beg to use me this time, so why now?! I'm not thrilled about tangling with that thing either!
"Gonna fight. Seriously."
Yeah, her expression was dead serious, more than ever. But no matter the look, holding me means this fight stays playful at best!
If she swung with her full power while gripping me, I'd shatter. She seems to cherish me—surely she won't, right? Please.
"You keep. Eyeing. Others."
[Sorry! My bad! Spare me!]
But she ignored me clean, aiming me at the black goat monster. Her lips slowly curved into a smile.
"I'll show you."
Yeah, transformed Lucas's ugly mug was in plain view. Ugly enough to eclipse any scenery or cosmic mystery—terrifying.
"What kind. Of person. Your master is."
Looking from that face to the Hero's beauty felt purifying... no, don't!
Ignoring my silent scream, she kicked off. The instant her tiny toes pushed the ground, we were at Lucas's nose.
Unlike before, transformed Lucas reacted instantly. Just as she'd grabbed his head earlier, now his fingers clamped my blade.
Her raw strength could sever fingers, but handling me? Tough. Her faith powers were unusable, and others weakened drastically.
[Hero! Danger!]
[Drop me and grab the shiny one!]
Ignoring our desperate cries, she twisted the blade. My dull edge tore into the black goat's tough hide with a screech.
Insane pressure crushed in as muscles clamped down forcibly. It felt like the world itself was a press grinding me.
I screamed.
[Gaaaaah!]
Mental waves beyond a threshold carry physical force—my near-explosion cracked the muscles open a sliver. She withdrew leisurely.
Not actually broken, but body and mind were shredded.
As she retreated, the three snake tails bared fangs to bite.
"Hup."
Short kiai, breath held. In that instant, three precise slashes beheaded all three.
The snakes wailed pitifully as they fell. Severing mere parts fed souls to me.
The goat monster's core soul was likely Lucas, but the body was a soul aggregate. Each limb twitched variably under different souls, cornering her.
The Holy Sword screamed.
[Hero!]
Intense battle. But linked closer than ever to the Hero, I felt no fear or tension in her heart.
Only leisure, joy, a touch of thrill.
She twisted shoulders to dodge spear-like fur, caught boulder-smashing fists with open palms, pierced armor-tough hide, wedging the blade again.
As a former warrior human and soul-reaper cursed sword, I had to admire the skill. Her martial arts held experience beyond mere talent—unconscious mastery, like thousands of swings etched in muscle memory.
Even playful thrusts traced perfect arcs.
[Graaaah!]
I didn't forget my role. When she thrust me through assault gaps, I carved flesh and sucked souls.
The halo-like murky soul-light faded from the black goat. Regeneration slowed despite endless severing.
The end neared.
[Why, why?!]
Regaining speech from beatings? The monster helplessly took her strikes, wailing.
[Why do you vile god-spawn always take?! Stealing our god, our name, and now—!]
Foam and blood dripped from its rolled-back eyes.
It screamed, despaired, squeezed every ounce to annihilate her.
But missed. Like chasing a white butterfly beyond a dream—grasping only air.
[Foolish sheep who can't recognize their own shepherd! I curse you! You...]
Like a rising butterfly, she leaped gracefully and severed the monster's neck. A scene worthy of epic tapestry: the hero fells the beast, its foul blood flooding the maze.
Yet even twisted head, split body, severed neck—it lived.
Lost souls turned feral, devouring Lucas amid chaos, yet he endured.
"...I curse you."
As the grotesque mask crumbled, only an old, ragged face remained. Even as his original flesh failed, collapsing, he spat curses.
Enemy or not, that tenacity was impressive. Of course, I only praise because I won. Generous victor, that's me. Technically her win, but I contributed—claim some credit.
To the still-hostile Lucas, I intoned solemnly.
[You fought well, even though you lost.]
"...What?"
[Lost but fought well.]
I'm the type who doesn't trash-talk in games—a good player—so I purely praised his struggle.
Lucas's face twisted.
Before he could curse again, her sword fell once more.
Meaning my blade smashed the black stone tablet on his chest.
The light in his stubborn eyes flickered out.
[I hope... my rebellion amused Him enough...]
Flesh dead, soul clung foolishly. But that was final.
Soon, his soul was shredded by the very souls he'd summoned.
Total annihilation—even my powers couldn't reap it.
Knowing he couldn't hear, some inexplicable urge made me whisper.
[Good job.]