Chapter 96
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 96
“You’ll regret this.”
I offered him some sincere advice. He might not care now, in the heat of his youth, but once he graduated from his chuunibyou phase, he’d be cringing so hard he’d kick his blankets to shreds every night.
“How incredibly thoughtful of you.”
Azazel sneered, completely oblivious to the fact that I was genuinely worried about his future self. Well… at that age, you don’t listen to anyone, no matter how much they try to warn you. His vertically slit, yellow eyes blinked with bravado.
“So, are you going to play with me?”
Azazel swung his sword. Unable to react in time, I could only stare blankly as someone yanked my shoulder, pulling me hard out of the blade’s path. The shock must have delayed my senses, because I only registered what had happened a beat later. Ah, it was Jelly who had saved me.
“Lady Evangeline!”
Pudding’s shrill shout sounded muffled, as if I were submerged underwater.
“Where does that crazy bastard get off swinging a blade at her…” Jelly muttered, stepping back to shield me as Pudding lunged at Azazel.
“Flauros. Would you mind not getting between us?”
“Disgusting. Don’t you dare lump yourself in with Lady Evangeline.”
“Someone like me? Bold words for someone who can’t even beat me.”
So he calls Pudding ‘Flauros.’ Is that his real name? I felt a strange sense of absurdity, calmly wondering about Pudding’s real name in a situation like this.
It had been the same just a moment ago. Even when Azazel swung a sword at me, I hadn’t been particularly scared. It made me wonder if I’d left my amygdala—the part of the brain that feels fear—back in my original world when I transmigrated.
Maybe it was because none of this felt real. This was, after all, a world inside a novel, and Evangeline was nothing more than a fictional character. The thought crossed my mind from time to time, even while eating, sleeping, and going about my daily life. Just because some chuunibyou villain pointed a sword at me didn't mean I would suddenly feel a mortal threat and be jolted back to reality. Yes, that had to be it.
Perhaps that was why, even as I watched the fight between Pudding and Azazel unfold, my only thought was that it looked like an action game. I was idly thinking, Our Pudding is a mage, but he’s holding his own pretty well in close combat against a warrior, when—
“Ugh…!”
Suddenly, Pudding staggered. Blood dripped from his tightly shut eyes. He had cried tears of blood from overexertion in the dungeon earlier, and it seemed his body hadn’t fully recovered.
Azazel was merciless, pressing his attack against the blinded Pudding. The tip of his sword, already stained red, aimed for Pudding’s chest. He’s going to get seriously hurt. Before the thought could even finish, my body moved on its own. I threw myself in front of Pudding, shielding him, and caught Azazel’s swinging blade with my bare hand. It was a purely impulsive act.
“…That hurts.”
It hurt like hell. And because it hurt, my mind snapped into sharp focus. So this is why people pinch their cheeks to see if they’re dreaming! Now that I thought about it, I could have just asked Jelly to save him. Why did I, of all people, jump in front of a blade? I was filled with immense regret.
Blood dripped onto the ground. Azazel’s eyes widened, shaking as if an earthquake had struck. He looked utterly bewildered, his expression a perfect match for the “Why are you coming out of there?” meme.
“Your blood is red, too.”
Even so, it was impressive how he stayed in character. What, did you expect it to be blue? At this point, I couldn’t tell if Azazel was spouting chuunibyou lines or if chuunibyou itself was spouting Azazel lines. No, Azazel had simply become one with chuunibyou.
When I let go of the blade, Azazel stumbled back.
“Blood…”
Pudding seemed deeply shocked that I had been hurt saving him. With blood streaming from his ruptured capillaries, his eyes flared with a rage that looked ready to tear Azazel’s throat out on the spot. Having lost all reason, Pudding stumbled forward.
As he approached Azazel, the atmosphere shifted, and the surroundings plunged into darkness. Thinking a cloud must have covered the moon, I looked up, only to lock eyes with a colossal eyeball.
Wondering if I was seeing things, I rubbed my eyes and looked again, but the massive orb floating in the air remained. Its bloodshot pupil stared intently down at Azazel. Am I still half-asleep? No, my hand hurts way too much for that. I briefly wondered if I was hallucinating from blood loss, but Jelly seemed to see it too, letting out a soft gasp of awe.
“Wow. Pudding is absolutely furious…”
Pudding? Ah. He must have cast illusion magic. He’d lost his mind, so his aim had slipped, dragging us into the illusion as well.
A pair of massive wings unfurled from Pudding’s back. If they had been made of white feathers, I would have gushed about my kitty being an angel. But since they had torn through his flesh and were composed of raw meat and countless eyeballs, it was all I could do to keep from gagging. If Azazel had trypophobia, this tactic was a resounding success.
But why wings? Did our Pudding have a thing for fallen angels? It seemed chuunibyou was contagious. A contagious case of chuunibyou—what a public menace.
If the eyeballs were just for atmosphere, the real show started now. Flames erupted from Azazel. Since they didn’t spread and produced no smoke, this too was an illusion. But Azazel couldn’t tell the difference; believing his body was burning to ash, he groaned in agony.
“It’s hot! It hurts, it hurts!”
He thrashed on the ground as the illusory fire became so convincing that his flesh appeared to melt and warp.
“How dare you hurt her. You will pay the price.”
Watching silently, still unsatisfied, Pudding ground his heel into Azazel’s hand.
A character awakening after a companion gets hurt is a classic cliché, but Pudding was taking it way too far. Thank goodness this was a novel; otherwise, he’d be arrested for excessive force.
“That ill-tempered cat bastard.”
I wasn’t the only one who felt that way; Jelly looked disgusted, too. So our Pudding was just acting cute for me all this time. He actually has a terrible personality. Jelly clicked his tongue and turned my head to face him.
“He won’t like it if you watch too closely. He tries so hard to show you only his best side, but right now, he’s completely lost it. Besides, Master should only look at beautiful things.”
He joked, flashing a bright smile as if to suggest his own face was the “beautiful thing” in question. He had a point; watching any longer would probably be bad for my mental health. I decided to ignore Azazel’s screams.
“Is your hand badly hurt?”
“No, I’m fine.”
For catching a blade barehanded, the wound wasn’t that severe. It bled a lot, but it felt like a deep paper cut. It seemed Azazel had pulled his strength back the moment he saw me step in.
Still, a cut was a cut. This was the second time I’d been injured since transmigrating. Even getting a splinter from the wooden floor while drawing a summoning circle had hurt enough to bring tears to my eyes, and that was nothing compared to this.
“I didn’t expect you to jump in like that, Master.”
I didn’t expect it either, I thought.
Jelly examined my hand. Perhaps due to the lingering illusion, the grass where my blood dripped began to rot. I quickly wrapped a handkerchief around the cut to stop the bleeding. Only after Jelly finished tying the knot did Azazel’s screams finally subside.
With the illusion gone, the giant eyeball and the grotesque wings vanished. Pudding’s clothes were torn at the back, right where the wings had burst out.
Azazel lay tattered on the ground, panting heavily.
Even after shattering Azazel’s psyche, Pudding wasn’t satisfied. He glared down at the boy, looking like he wanted to grind him into sand. But from the looks of it, Azazel’s mental state had already been reduced to dust.
“Azazel.”
“I… I hurt you. What do I do? My heart is racing with excitement, yet I feel like I’ve committed an unforgivable sin. Why? I feel so unworthy, so apologetic that I want to cut off my own head and offer it to you. What did you do to me?”
He cast illusion magic on you, you idiot, I thought. Azazel clutched his head, utterly lost in confusion.
“Have you reflected on your actions?” I asked, reaching out to stroke his cheek and help him snap out of it. I couldn’t bring myself to slap a kid who had clearly suffered extreme psychological damage.
“I’m scared. I feel so hideous for harming you… I’m terrified.”
He seemed traumatized, drowning in a deep pool of guilt.
Azazel looked horrified by my touch, yet instead of pulling away, he buried his face in my palm. Why is he doing this? Startled, I pulled my hand back. As if waiting for that exact moment, Pudding kicked Azazel squarely in the stomach. Using violence against an unresisting opponent was just venting… Sorry, my kitty is just very jealous.
I didn’t feel particularly guilty, since Azazel had brought this on himself. Besides, his sword had been stained with blood before he even attacked us, meaning he had already cut someone else down.
Wait. He didn’t kill someone, did he?
“Azazel. Whose blood is on your sword?”
Pudding stepped on Azazel’s head, as if to demand an answer. Ah, since he couldn’t grind him into sand, he decided to bury him in the dirt instead.
“Jeremia.”
“Jeremia?”
Not Tenebrae? Why would Jeremia be in the forest we entered to chase Tenebrae? When I questioned him with my gaze, Azazel corrected himself.
“No. Was it Tenebrae?” he cackled, his face still pressed into the ground.
“Did you kill her?”
“If she’s lucky, she might still be alive.”
Saying she might be alive if she was lucky meant he had inflicted a fatal wound.
Whether it was Tenebrae or Jeremia didn’t matter. The problem was that both were Gabriel’s nieces. I had chased after Tenebrae precisely because I was worried Gabriel, blinded by his desire to clear my name, might end up killing his own kin.
I hadn’t even told Gabriel the secret of his birth yet. If I had known this would happen, I would have told him during our last visit. This was a disaster born from my temporary neglect of a golden rule in novels: never postpone important conversations. Of course, I had also secretly hoped to smuggle the princess out to help uncover the truth of the incident.
“I need to go to the princess,” I said, standing up.
“I’ll play a little longer before I follow,” Pudding said.
His anger clearly hadn’t subsided. Azazel wasn’t just a chuunibyou poser; he was a genuine lunatic who swung real swords, so plenty of people must have suffered at his hands. Since those victims now included me and Pudding, it was understandable that he was so furious. Besides, Jelly had mentioned the two were bitter rivals. To think a guy like this was a paladin—the world was truly coming to an end.
“I’ll head out first. Have a thorough ‘conversation,’ and then come find us.”
“Yes. I will return to you, Lady Evangeline.”
Pudding smiled brightly, but his brow furrowed sorrowfully when his eyes fell on my injured hand. He took my wounded hand and rubbed his cheek against it affectionately. If his face had been clean, I would have pushed him away, but since he was already covered in blood, I let him be. His affection was incredibly potent, even with a blood-splattered face.
“And Lady Evangeline, you don’t need to get hurt to save someone like me.”
Pudding licked my wound, just like a cat. Was he trying to disinfect it?
“But you would have been hurt.”
Maybe if it were anyone else, but how could I stand by and watch my own kitty get stabbed? Pudding, however, countered my words.
“Then let me get hurt. I would rather die than let you be harmed, Lady Evangeline. Even that foul-smelling serpent lost his mind when he realized he’d hurt you, so how do you think I feel?”
Jelly nodded vigorously in agreement.
“You let Master get hurt,” he chimed in, glaring at Pudding. “Die and apologize.”
Pudding ignored him.
His words made me think of Gabriel. Was it the same for him? Had he taken the blow from that glass cup because he hated seeing me get hurt more than the thought of dying himself? The goodwill that had once felt so uncomfortable suddenly took on a new meaning. Sensing my thoughts had drifted, Pudding tapped my hand to get my attention.
“Remember. I exist for you.”
With those final words, he dismissed me. Usually, it was Jelly’s job to get shooed away by Pudding, so experiencing it firsthand left me feeling a bit empty, like a parent feeling deprived when their rebellious son hangs a “Do Not Disturb” sign on his door. If Pudding was the son, what did that make Jelly? Obviously, the unemployed uncle looking for a job.
“Jelly, let’s go. Can you find the princess?”
The job seeker nodded.
“Now that Astaroth’s influence is gone, I think I can.”