The Evil God of Darkness (9)
Ignoring the eldest son's warning, I took a step forward—and in response, the boy layered his energy over the tip of his wooden staff.
"If you won't stop, I will subdue you!"
It was a threat dripping with clear hostility, but even staring at the aura writhing before my eyes, I let a laugh slip out.
Because my eyes could see right through that aura. No—through the imitation of aura he was putting on.
He'd coated the outside with his own mana to make it look convincing, but what actually filled the inside to the brim was the evil god's power.
Thinking about it, of course. This whole dungeon was something the evil god created—there's no way its boss would go untouched by that influence, right?
And the pathetic young master who served as this dungeon's wedge was weak enough that even the freshly-enrolled version of me could've floored him, so naturally he'd soaked up plenty of the evil god's corruption.
"What's that?♡ Planning to give me a massage?♡ Wow~ how threatening~♡ Too bad I hate massages, they hurt~♡"
Beyond my snickering laughter came the sound of wind being torn apart, followed by a staff hurtling toward me.
Isn't he falling for the taunt a little too easily?
With a temper that thin, forget becoming a gentleman.
And on top of that, his trajectory was way too obvious.
At this point, he might as well have been begging me to block it.
I flashed a smug grin and caught the strike on my shield—and the moment I did, a searing pain shot up through my arm.
Even with a successful parry, this much?
The lingering damage from facing Duke Burrow was part of it, but the eldest son's raw power itself was nothing to scoff at.
If this dragged into a war of attrition, I'd fall apart on defense alone.
"I'll say it once more. Stand down."
"Putting on a tough act in front of your little sister?♡ You're actually scared out of your mind and want to run, but you're puffing yourself up instead~♡ What a coward♡"
Which meant my course of action was simple.
Turn this fight from a marathon into a sprint.
Shatter my opponent before I collapse from exhaustion.
It was the exact opposite of the lesson I'd learned fighting skeletons a few days ago, but just this once, that was fine.
Because I already knew exactly how this opponent would move.
"If you refuse to stand down, then subdue you I must!"
"Go ahead♡ If you think you can♡"
Voice brimming with confidence, I watched his every movement.
To confirm whether the guess I'd formed the instant I saw this boss room's scenery was correct.
And the moment I deflected the eldest son's staff, I knew for certain.
Just as I'd suspected—he was using the Burrow family spear arts.
If that was the case, this would be easy.
And it made perfect sense, because the Burrow spear arts had a terrible matchup against me.
Strike without being struck, and you can beat anyone!—the Burrow style was practically that philosophy forged into a martial art.
Using the spear's long reach to stack damage on the opponent, slowly widening the gap until the enemy simply withered away and died.
This spear art, passed down through a ducal house, was unquestionably a fine discipline.
Even Grandpa had watched it and praised its solid foundations.
But there was one fatal blind spot.
Withering your enemy away is only possible as long as you can stay calm at every moment.
Lose that composure, and the one withering away stops being your enemy—and becomes you.
"Weren't you supposed to be giving me a massage?♡ Why are you just swinging at empty air?♡ What, is there an invisible man standing there or something?♡"
Just like the eldest son, so consumed by his emotions that he flailed his staff wildly.
"Mister Invisible~♡ How's the massage?♡ What's that? Not enough strength?♡ Well, what can you do~♡ Your staff-swinging is utterly pathetic, you weakling~♡"
You see, back in the academy's sparring classes, I'd watched Jackal wield the Burrow spear arts until I was sick of it.
Observing his duels against others, I'd worked out exactly how to counter everything he did.
That craven little young master fled from every match, so I never got a live demonstration—but apparently my strategy had been spot on.
Look.
At full health, stamina completely intact, and with better physical specs than me, the Burrow eldest son couldn't do a thing—he was just being shoved around.
Well. I suppose it's a bit unfair to pin it all on him.
He genuinely tried to keep his composure. He did his absolute best to honor what the spear arts stood for.
It's just that every ounce of that effort was rendered meaningless in the face of the Mesugaki Skill.
What can I say? The Mesugaki Skill is a game-breaking, balance-shattering piece of garbage.
Even Tariki, the one who built this dungeon, would probably be trembling with rage after a few taunts, shrieking that damn brat!
"How's it feel, showing your little sister that you're getting clowned on by a girl?♡ Embarrassed?♡ Humiliated?♡ Angry?♡"
As the taunts piled up, the eldest son's movements grew steadily more chaotic.
Moves that abandoned the fundamentals of spear arts entirely, driven by nothing but the will to discipline the mesugaki standing in front of him.
Thanks to that, I was able to map out his weak points with ease.
He swung his weapon without thinking about what came after, leaving gaping holes in his rhythm.
He paid no attention to his footwork, leaving his center of gravity unstable.
And every so often, he forgot to manage distance altogether and just lunged forward.
"By now, I bet even your idiot little sister is thinking it. Wow, my big brother really was a pathetic hack all along♡ Something like that♡"
Beyond my shield, I saw the eldest son charge in, sanity completely gone.
This was the movement I'd been waiting for—so I deliberately lowered my shield and exposed my head.
A trap that all but shouted, aim here.
If the eldest son still had his wits, he'd have grown suspicious. But he had long since been devoured by his own emotions.
Driving the spear forward was faster than harboring doubt.
Twisting my head aside, I dodged the spear as if I'd been expecting it all along.
Then shoved him off balance with my shield and knocked him to the ground.
And finished it—planned to finish it—with a mace straight to the face.
Or I would have. I failed.
Because before my mace could kiss the floor, the eldest son's body scattered into mist.
Steadying my ragged breathing, I lifted my head—and watched the scenery around me change.
Trees sprouted across the ducal family's wide grassland, and in moments the boss room transformed into a forest of no place I could name.
"Monsters!"
At an enormous shout that could have shaken the leaves from the branches, I turned my head.
There stood a wrecked carriage.
Beside it lay people dead or dying.
And the figure standing guard before them, unlike moments ago fully armed and armored, was the eldest son.
"Your opponent is me!"
Phase two, is it?
For a boss, this death throes sure are stubborn.
You just got floored—stay down quietly, will you?
As long as you're using the Burrow spear arts, you'll get read just as easily. Do you really want to keep fighting?
Or did getting taunted by me awaken some weird fetish in you?
<Young lady. Do not let your guard down. Anything could happen.>
'I know, Grandpa.'
Tariki is the type to slither in through your blind spots, after all. I'm not careless.
It's not like I was rationing out my divinity in that last fight for nothing.
The moment I answered Grandpa and raised my shield—
Iron Wall suddenly screamed danger at me.
Even though the eldest son stood far out of reach.
Even though no sound came from anywhere around me.
I didn't doubt Iron Wall's voice for a second.
This skill had saved my life countless times, so I simply moved my shield along the path it demanded.
And the instant my shield reached the position Iron Wall had called out—
it was knocked backward.
Pain crawled up the bones of my arm.
And by the time I clawed my way out of that pain and barely regained my senses, my body was already floating in empty air.
Ah.
I am fucked.
When my mind, briefly drowned in black, regained its color, the first thing I felt was pain.
Pain so total that not a single spot on my body was unharmed—I couldn't even tell which part hurt the most.
Next came the smell of blood I'd grown sick of throughout this whole dungeon crawl.
And then, the sensation of someone grabbing hold of me.
By this point, I had a good idea of what was coming next—so I forced my heavy eyelids open.
Before me lay a knight's corpse. Then a maid's corpse. A valet's corpse. And another someone's—
"Hrk—!"
...
With none of my five senses working properly, I had no idea what had just happened.
All I could guess was that my face had been kicked in, judging by the ringing in my ears and the savage pain across it.
I staggered and tried to push myself up, but strength wouldn't come to my arms.
No—that I couldn't apply strength would be more accurate.
However hard I struggled, my body just kept collapsing back down onto the corpses.
Are my bones broken?
Yep. I am thoroughly, royally fu—
"Kuh—!"
Something kicked me squarely in the side.
Clearly intended to roll me over—the blow itself wasn't that hard. But to a wrecked body, even that was more than enough pain.
Fear began to seep up along my spine, slow and creeping.
It hadn't yet crested the dam of Fear Overcome.
But where this was headed if it kept up—of that, there was no doubt.
"Hnnghhaaaaargh!"
As I fought desperately to hold my mind together, someone ground their heel into my temple.
The heel of a shoe. With meticulous care, precisely to make it hurt.
"Did you think you'd won?"
Between my screams, Nakrad's voice drifted down.
"Did you think this pathetic little dungeon was nothing?"
A voice laced with laughter, utterly certain of his own victory.
"Then you should have questioned it. Why everything was going so smoothly, that is."
The clear run through the dungeon—it was all an act?
You've got to be kidding.
Ah. Aaahh.
Parading those enemies in front of me wasn't meant to attack my mind at all.
He pretended to assault my psyche while watching how I fought through the dungeon.
And then he figured it out.
That I rely on my hearing.
All this time I thought I was conquering the dungeon—and it turns out, from the other side, I was the human being conquered.
Right. Of course.
These things aren't game enemies.
They think. They reason. They judge, all on their own.
Naturally, they'd be brainstorming how to conquer me, too.
Haha. Stupid. I was so stupid.
"Well—enough of that talk. From now on, I need to decide how I'm going to break you in."
Still. I wasn't out of openings just yet.
The fear writhing around me hadn't yet spilled over the dam.
"Let me ask first—which do you prefer? Dying on the carving board, sliced alive into sashimi and healed back up at the last second, over and over? Or being thrown naked into the middle of a monster horde?"
"...You lanky scrub... I'm not playing with you?♡"
"Ha. Begging for your life with that attitu—"
"You're... nothing but a pathetic scrub♡... With you... even if I got raped, my virginity would be perfectly safe♡..."
It hurts.
It hurts.
It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts.
Consciousness, sunk deep into wherever I'd been shoved, floated back up to the surface.
Save me.
I don't want to die.
It hurts.
Somebody help me.
Hah. The bastard really kicked me hard, huh.
Papa.
Mama.
Who.
Someone.
Well. Either way, my original objective got accomplished.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
The last blow churned my divinity up and made it surge.
I was wrong. I was wrong. I was wrong.
Please. Please. Please.
Lady Armadi.
I hardly ever ask you for anything—but this time, my life is genuinely on the line.
I'll owe you one. A big one.
'O Great One who dwells among the countless gods—bestow your mercy upon this humble apostle.'
The instant I offered the prayer to invoke Mercy of Armadi, I felt divinity burrowing into my heart.
And in that moment, I knew for certain.
I still had one chance left.
One chance left to bury my mace in that bastard Nakrad's face.