Chapter 11
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: A Cheap Sword
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A Cheap Sword
‘...Is that even human?’
Dylan forgot all about running and just stared, dumbfounded.
At first, he thought the man was just a lunatic with a death wish. Instead of trying to escape, he was shouting to draw their attention, a sight that nearly made Dylan faint.
He knew the man was strong—he'd been on the receiving end of his fists—but he was facing dozens of cursed corpses. With the others all passed out cold, the two of them had to face the horde alone. Running was the obvious choice.
No, if Dylan had seen a way out the moment he first saw those cursed corpses, he would have fled by himself. There just hadn't been an escape route.
But that madman drew his sword and charged forward instead. At that, Dylan planned to run while the maniac drew their attention.
He only called the man 'boss' to avoid getting hit; he had no fond feelings for him. The man was the type to throw a punch at the slightest opportunity. If he felt anything, it was a bitter resentment bordering on hatred.
Just then, the madman took down a zombie.
In the span of a single breath, the man who had just cleaved a corpse in two plunged deeper into the zombie horde.
“Huh...?”
A groan escaped Dylan's lips before he even realized it. No matter how crazy he was, to think of jumping into the middle of that... He must have lost his mind to fear.
*Crack.*
At that moment, two bluish heads flew into the air at the same time. At the same time, the man and the zombies became a tangled mess.
He kept swinging his sword. When a corpse clung to him, he would rip it off with his bare hands and smash it to pieces, one by one.
Sometimes he shattered skulls with his fists, other times with a headbutt. The madman used any means necessary, and the fight was so brutal you couldn't look away.
Before this brutish lunatic, the corpses fell one after another. White steam rose from his body, which was drenched in black blood.
Watching this, Dylan found the monster before him more terrifying than the dozens of corpses.
Then, when the number of fallen corpses surpassed ten, Dylan began to wonder.
‘...What if that son of a bitch actually wins?’
Dylan narrowed his eyes, weighing his options.
If that man won, the Pulpuchu family would surely never forgive him. No, that bastard himself wouldn't forgive me for starters. A chill ran down his spine.
Seeing that knight-like guy earlier meant victory wasn't entirely out of the question. The man's prowess was just that exceptional.
‘Can he win?’
The thought of his unpaid commission fee came to mind, and the balanced scales tilted. He'd been as poor as a beggar ever since that guy had unjustly shaken him down for money.
‘...Damn it.’
Dylan bit his lip, watching the man's broad back as he continued to advance through the corpses.
He was reminded of the dice games at the tavern. Dylan had always been the one to lose.
*When it's actually time to roll, you chicken out. That's why you lose every day.* He remembered the guy next to him sneering.
In any case, it was time to roll the dice again. This time, his life was the stake, not money, so he had to win.
Having made his decision, Dylan quickly ducked back into the house where the mercenaries were gathered. Despite the situation outside, these lazy bastards were still sprawled out asleep!
Truly a bunch of disloyal sons of bitches. Dylan approached the nearest son of a bitch, planning to wake him first.
‘Why's this bastard's face look like that?’
Dylan tilted his head, looking at the man's swollen face. No, this was no time for that.
“Get up, you motherfucker!”
Dylan slammed his fist into the man's face with all his might. *Thwack!* The man's head snapped to the side, but he was still snoring.
“This motherfucker?!”
How deeply was he sleeping to not wake up even after taking a fist of steel to the face! There was no more time to waste. Dylan quickly drew his dagger.
‘Not the hands, he needs those to fight. This spot should be good. He won't be able to run away either.’
And without a moment's hesitation, he plunged the dagger into the man's thigh. Did I stab him too deep?
“...Nngh. Ugh... Aaaargh!! What the hell, you bastard!!”
After a brief groan, the man's eyes flew open as he shot upright. Seeing him move, it seemed the stab was just right. Dylan quickly moved to the next one.
‘If I'm late, that bastard might kill me.’
Recalling the horrifying image of a corpse's head being smashed by a massive hand, Dylan raised his dagger again.
“Get up, you motherfucker!!”
Dylan realized a dagger was a very effective way to wake up a goddamn slacker.
***
*Cra-ack.*
The emaciated middle-aged female zombie's neck snapped into an L-shape. The zombie lost its balance and collapsed sideways. The sword couldn't even cut through bone anymore.
‘Is the blade ruined?’
*Tch.* A cheap sword. Clicking his tongue, he tightened his grip on the sword and twisted, crushing and tearing the neck. *Crunch.* A sickening sound echoed as black blood sprayed again. Feeling a chill from behind, he ducked forward.
*Huuu...*
He let out a ragged breath and swung the sword wide behind him.
*Thwack.*
A dull impact traveled up the hilt.
‘Too shallow.’
The sword was caught in the zombie's ribs, unable to go further.
‘...Was leaving even my sword behind going too far?’
A regret he thought he'd left behind reared its head. He gave a bitter smile and pulled the sword free. What was past was past.
*Thump.*
An impact near his shoulder made him stagger. A zombie was biting his leather pauldron. As if it had no sense of taste, it chewed on the leather pauldron as if it were flesh. It was almost a shame to interrupt.
Switching the sword to his other hand, he grabbed the zombie's head with his right. *Rip.* With a bizarre sound, the zombie was lifted into the air. Its teeth must have been exceptionally strong, as my leather pauldron was torn off.
“Fine. You can have it.”
He slammed it into the ground. *Slam!* He must not have used enough force; blood splattered, but the thing was still twitching. He balled his fist and brought it down hard on its head.
*Squelch.*
With a disgusting noise, an eyeball popped out and rolled across the ground. The rolling eyeball stopped when it hit a stone. He stared at the pupil, as large as his fist, before crushing it under his boot. A sticky sensation clung to his foot.
*Huuu...*
His body was hot. The euphoria of battle forcibly suppressed his frail fear and numbed the pain. His vision blurred and sharpened.
The sounds around him droned. The cries of zombies mixed with the harsh sound of rain. He focused and located the nearest cry.
*Thwack.*
He thrust the cheap sword—now more of a steel club with its ruined edge—forward. *Crunch.* It crushed the zombie's throat as he advanced. The zombies behind it piled up.
‘The knight?’
Taking a deep breath, he swung his sword in a circle, forcibly clearing a space around him.
*BOOM!!*
A blue light erupted from the house where the young lady was. Thankfully, it seemed the knight hadn't eaten that amazing stew.
‘Was he a vegan knight?’
He shook his head, deliberately muttering a terrible joke.
*KRAKOOM!*
A louder clap of thunder than before lit up the surroundings once again. Because he had drawn their attention and charged in, he was surrounded by zombies. Their numbers were still great, but fewer than before.
‘...I'm getting tired.’
Was it because it had been so long since he'd been in a messy brawl like this? He felt like he'd only cleared half of them, but the sword was heavy. The cheap sword made it even more tiring.
“To hell with it!!! Charge!! Go, you motherfuckers!!”
Just then, a venomous shout rang out. He turned his head to see the weasel running toward him, swinging an axe wildly. His voice was brave, but his face was on the verge of tears. The sight was so ridiculous that for a moment, he forgot the pain and laughed.
Behind him, mercenaries ran with blood streaming from their thighs.
‘What's with their legs? More importantly, how did he wake them up?’
They wouldn't get up even when I beat them.
“Boooooss!! Your little brother! Dylan is here to help!! I'm a little late from waking these lazy bastards!! Back off!! Get away from the boss!!”
The weasel's boisterous shouting and axe-swinging was so absurd he had to laugh. He knew the man had been watching while biting his nails earlier. So shameless.
‘...Well, better late than never.’
He knew how sweet the taste of escape was, so he couldn't blame the weasel. After all, he had made a better choice than I did.
*BOOM! BOOM!*
Loud explosions erupted from the young lady's house.
As the mercenaries clashed with the zombies, the ones focused on him scattered. The fight became easier than before. The mercenaries, despite limping, fought the zombies well enough.
This was the life of a sellsword. A moment comes when you either kill or be killed. Hesitate then, and you'll get a big new wrinkle on your neck. They all knew this, which was why they kept swinging their steel even as blood flowed from their thighs.
‘I have to end this as quickly as possible. I don't know what's happening with the knight.’
He swung his sword again. Not to cut, but to crush and smash. Cold blood splattered, lukewarm raindrops washed it away, and he was covered in blood again... It felt like his body was being tempered.
The number of zombies gradually decreased. Mercenaries fell, too.
Black blood and red blood mixed, rotten flesh and fresh flesh mingled.
He thrust his sword deep. Two of them were skewered at once and fell backward. He tried to pull the sword out, but only the hilt came free.
‘Fuck, this cheap sword.’
As he muttered a curse and tossed the hilt aside.
A particularly small zombie stood before him.
[Knight!]
*If you're going to call me Knight, you should at least add 'Sir'.*
[But that would make us sound distant! You're my best friend, Mister!]
*Pick one, Mister or Knight.*
[Then... Mister Knight!]
“Grwoooar...”
A child, not yet old enough for puberty, its growl still youthful, was gaping its mouth at me.
‘...You've grown a bit.’
A bitter taste filled his mouth, and he smiled grimly.
And that sight reminded him of her, of Udra.
***
That was the day I first saw real combat.
It was also the day I first met her.
“P... Please...”
My hands trembled at the sight of the man begging, snot and tears streaming down his face. The man was trying to stuff his spilling intestines back into his torn-open abdomen with shaking hands. The horrific sight made me want to vomit.
*Wouldn't he die even if I didn't kill him?* A weak thought reared its head.
It was then. The man holding his guts suddenly moved his right hand.
Something flashed in the man's right hand. My head screamed at me to swing my sword, but my body was frozen in fear.
As the palm-sized blade neared, I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Well now, rookie. Did you just close your eyes? You want to die?”
The pain I expected never came. I opened my eyes at the familiar voice.
Fiery red hair, wild like a lion's mane. Lips as red as blood and eyes that seemed slightly out of focus. She was beautiful, but she was a madwoman whose uniquely dangerous aura made you instinctively avoid her.
It was Vice-commander Udra. Udra smiled, licking the red blood from her hand.
“There, there. It's your first battle, so it's understandable. Looks like you swing a sword well enough. But if you do this again... I'll rip that thing off and sew it to your mouth.”
It might have been meant as a threat, but coming from Udra, it didn't sound like one at all. That crazy bitch was more than capable of actually tearing my junk off and sewing it to my face.
“Ah... the commander told me to be nice to the rookie... Hmm, then I'll do you a favor and sew it in a heart shape.”
The sight of Udra clapping her hands with a bright smile snapped me to my senses.
It was famous that Udra's sewing skills were the absolute worst.
I quickly forced a smile at Udra's furrowed brow, and only then did she grin back, satisfied.
***
Udra made a gurgling sound as she crawled tenaciously toward me. Everything below her waist was gone, eaten away. Instead, her intestines trailed behind her. Every time she moved, her entrails squirmed, spilling their contents.
This was a taunt sent by *him*. He didn't use such low-level zombies, and he knew I wouldn't die to something like this.
It was just his sick joke for the loser, the deserter. My escape in the first place was only possible because he'd allowed it.
Where did it all go wrong? How did he know we were coming?
Finally reaching my feet, she reached out her hand. The fine nails she manicured every day were missing in places.
*Cough.*
A mouthful of blood spilled from my lips. I forced my eyes to focus, trying to hold onto my fading consciousness. This time, my vision blurred.
I forced myself to stay conscious and reached for her as she tried to gnaw on my foot. She grabbed my arm and leaped.
For a moment, it was so similar to her habit of jumping into my bed, earning her a scolding, that a tiny sliver of hope arose, but it vanished the instant I saw her intestines dangling in the air.
[Hold me. I had a nightmare. I'm scared. Hold me. I said, hold me. Hold me!]
‘...I wish this was a nightmare.’
It might have been raining, or my vision was just blurry.
I held her tight as she drooled, trying to bite my neck. Her body, always so warm, was as cold as ice.
She bit my neck and clawed at me, but I just squeezed my eyes shut and held her tighter.
Flesh was torn away and blood flowed freely, but I couldn't feel a thing.
I just held her tight until she stopped moving.
So she wouldn't be lonely.
So that she, who was more of a coward than she let on, would have no more nightmares.
I prayed earnestly.
[Protect your face. That handsome mug is your only good quality, rookie.]
I pulled the fingernail embedded in my face out and buried it with her.
***
I held the child just as I had held Udra that day.
*Why do you keep calling me Knight?*
[Because you always save me, Mister!]
The child struggled in my arms.
I applied pressure and broke its neck.
The child's movements stopped.
A fingernail was embedded in my forearm.
An invisible leash.
The child was right.
Everyone was wearing an invisible leash.
I had dozens of them.
And now, a small one was added to the collection.
I gently set down the still child and stood up.
Four are born, two will die.
It was just like flipping a coin and getting tails.
‘This fucked-up other world.’
A place I could never bring myself to like.
[Let's agree that whoever survives lives a long, long life for the rest of us. On that note, should we all share where we've hidden our money? No, I'm not trying to steal it... What, a thief?! Thieeeef?!]
The foul taste of that damned sandwich still lingered in my mouth.
‘Right. A long, long life... for the rest of them.’
I closed my eyes and prayed.
That the child would not fall into this hell next time.
The rain was coming down hard, but it was damnably, utterly silent.