Chapter 13
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: Unbowed
-----------------------------------------------------------------
*…Feels like I’m about to kick the bucket.*
I forced myself to hold on to my fading consciousness. Spitting out the blood that had welled up in my throat, I could finally breathe a little easier.
My left arm was broken, dangling uselessly. When I tried to exert some force, even the slightest movement sent a wave of excruciating pain through me, but it moved.
*Ptui.* To avoid looking weak, I spat out the blood like it was saliva. I might have looked like a thug, but a fight was a battle of wills. Even if the opponent was a demon.
It was just a small-fry demon, corrupted in only its left arm, but a demon nonetheless—a tough opponent for someone like me who couldn't use Aura. I tried to attack its uncorrupted parts, but that left arm was just too fast.
If I could just buy some time, maybe the knight would get back up. But seeing him on his knees, continuously coughing up blood, it looked like he would need a lot of time.
*That bastard looks like he's at his limit, too.*
The demon's emaciated, mummy-like body was trembling. Seeing that it no longer opened its mouth, it seemed to lack even the strength to speak.
Now, it was a fight to see who would collapse first.
And not collapsing was one of the things I was good at.
I rolled my stiff right wrist. My muscles screamed in protest, but they still moved. And that was enough.
*Gurgle.*
With a sickening sound, its left arm swelled. Seeing its face grow paler by the second, I knew its end was near.
*Hoo…*
Exhaling a breath as hot as fire, I kicked off the ground.
*CRASH!*
The impact was like being hit by a truck, and for a moment, my mind went blank. When I opened my eyes, I was flying through the air. Every part of my body screamed, each vying to be the most painful.
Even as I flew, I forced strength into my unfocused eyes and glared at the demon. The creature staggered and fell to its knees. Yellow fluid, like stomach acid, trickled from the corner of its mouth. It was clearly pushing itself too hard.
*As long as I don't collapse, I win.*
*THUD.* I slammed hard into the damp, solid ground, a horrific, back-breaking pain coursing through my entire body.
Whether from the shock of the impact, my body refused to obey. My body was refusing to move.
*Plink. Plonk.*
Fat raindrops began to patter against my face.
Parched with a burning thirst, I opened my mouth to catch the rainwater.
Drinking the mouthful of rain, I felt my senses return slightly.
“B… Boss.”
A small voice came from my side. I creakily turned my head and saw the weasel lying among the zombies.
*Did he think he'd be safe lying there?*
He was even using a zombie's arm as a pillow and had another's legs draped over him like a blanket. He was peeking at me, only the top part of his face visible. If he hadn't called out to me, I wouldn't have even known he was there. It was perfect camouflage.
In a way, he was one of a kind. No matter how much you wanted to live, lying down among corpses wasn't something a normal person could do.
Separately, I was so dumbfounded that I let out a dry cough. The blood I spat out quickly mixed with the rain and faded.
“K… Keep it up, Boss! I'm cheering for you! It's truly regrettable that I can't help you because I injured my leg and can't move. Ugh… Just know that I'm with you in spirit… Let go! You bastard! I have to help my boss!”
He must have been embarrassed, as he averted his eyes and rambled on. He grabbed a zombie's arm, acting as if it had him by the collar. The performance was quite impressive. He was putting up a struggle against the corpse of a headless zombie.
*Injured his leg, my ass.*
As someone who had watched him bring the mercenaries here, only to scuffle with a single zombie before sneaking away, I was utterly speechless.
I laughed, dumbfounded at his act of being choked by a headless zombie. As a small laugh escaped me, my body started to move.
The pain was still terribly vivid, but my body was moving again. That was enough.
“B… Boss. Are you possessed? Guh… guwoooaaar… guwoooaaar…”
Thinking I'd gone mad, the weasel mumbled to himself and made a clumsy attempt at imitating a zombie. The sound was surprisingly similar; it seemed he'd been practicing while lying among the zombies.
*That guy… he's really something.*
I laughed even louder at that and slowly got to my feet. My body swayed, but I didn't fall. The muscles in my legs screamed as if they were tearing, but they still moved.
Just then, I saw an axe lying next to the weasel.
*That's probably better than a sword for this.*
An axe was more fitting than a sword for dealing with something so brutishly large.
“Th… That's… My family is a family of woodcutters, it's been passed down as an heirloom since my grandfather's time…”
As I reached for the axe handle, the weasel stuck out a hand from among the zombies and grabbed it too. The weasel looked up at me, his face on the verge of tears.
*I thought it looked like a pretty well-made axe. So he's from a family of woodcutters.*
If he'd just stuck to being a woodcutter, he'd probably be lying in bed right now, patting a full stomach after a warm stew. Instead, a wrong choice led him to be hacking at zombies.
He must have had his own story, but his situation was truly pathetic.
“I'll give it back when I'm done.”
“B… But…”
“I said I'll give it back.”
“Y… You really have to…”
I was barely holding onto my consciousness, and his constant chatter was making me sick of it. I scowled.
At that, the weasel quickly offered me the axe. If we couldn't take down that demon now, it was over for everyone in this village anyway. A demon wasn't the kind of being you could fool with a simple trick.
*Good grip.*
I spat into my palm—*ptui*—and readjusted my grip on the axe. This would be enough to split a demon's head open.
“Uwegh!”
The demon kept dry-heaving, trying to vomit what wasn't there. The yellow eyes on its grotesque left arm stared at the demon's own body as if it were a delicious meal.
I took a deep breath. I felt a stabbing pain, as if my ribs were broken, but I forced the corners of my mouth into a smile.
*Not much longer now.*
There was no way I'd collapse before a scarecrow like that. Steeling my resolve, I started to run.
With every step, a distant pain made my mind hazy, but it was bearable. My feet were still moving. That was enough.
I could see the horror in the demon's eyes. Its brow furrowed. Having reached its limit, its left arm didn't swell.
Soon, I was close enough to strike with the axe. Its left arm only twitched; it didn't move.
In the final moment, the demon leaves the choice to its host. There was no other reason. It was the only way to create a deeper, more horribly foul-smelling despair.
“Double… no, I'll give you triple! Fulfill the contract!”
The host shouted.
I dismissed it as bullshit and was about to go for its neck when I saw its eyes staring at something over my shoulder.
At that, my dizzy head forced itself to think. My blood pumped furiously as I tried to find what I had missed.
And then I remembered what it was.
I pulled back the axe I was about to bring down on its head and swung it wide behind me. My stance broke and the swing lacked power, but it was enough to block the sword aimed at me.
“Quick on the uptake, aren't you.”
Beyond our crossed blades, the old mercenary, John, was glaring at me with his wrinkled eyes.
It turned out there was one more person besides me and the weasel who hadn't eaten that amazing stew.
*I thought it was too common a name. Must have been an alias.*
John's eyes, fixed on me, gleamed menacingly.
John's wrinkled eyes scanned me over.
A man like John, who wore hidden steel plates under his clothes and carefully concealed the seams, was certainly a tricky opponent.
But that trickiness stemmed from not knowing when he'd stab me in the back. Conversely, it meant that as long as I watched my back, there was no way I could lose.
“...Hmph?!”
I forced my broken left arm to move and slammed my elbow into the back of the axe. *THUMP.* Excruciating pain followed, but it was bearable. The balance of power shifted, and the axe pushed John's sword aside. The axe bit into the chest plate of John's armor.
Knowing John had something padded underneath his armor, I didn't relax just because I'd embedded the axe in his chest.
Gritting my teeth, I slammed my left elbow into the back of the axe again. *CLANG!* Sparks flew from the axe blade as John's body shuddered.
John, perhaps thinking it was too late, didn't try to block the axe. Instead, he thrust his right hand toward my abdomen. A gleaming skewer shot out from inside his right palm.
A trump card befitting a man who'd lived by the sword long enough to get wrinkles around his eyes. But it also lacked the power that those wrinkles implied.
John's skewer stabbed my abdomen. But that was where I had stuffed the book. The skewer could pierce my leather armor, but it couldn't get through the well-worn book underneath.
John's eyes widened. Vivid emotions surfaced in them. Fear, regret, despair, pleading. I met his gaze without flinching and brought my elbow down again.
*CRUNCH.* With a sickening sound, the axe sank into John's chest. Red blood spurted out like a fountain, drenching my face. The blood was hot, not cold. It was red, not black. The taste of iron from the blood that entered my mouth heightened my senses.
John collapsed backward, and I followed him down.
I struck again.
More than half the axe blade sank in.
The gushing red blood stung my eyes, but I didn't close them, keeping my gaze fixed on John.
The light went out of John's eyes.
I brought my elbow down again.
Now, only the back of the axe was barely visible.
“Ah… ah… ah…”
A sound like air escaping a balloon came from John's mouth. He seemed to want to say something, but his breaths failed to form words and scattered into the sound of the rain.
I didn't bother asking for John's real name.
I just planted my foot on his face and pulled out the axe.
Hot blood drenched my body. The cold rain tried to wash it away, but there was so much that bloodstains remained here and there.
My legs gave out and I staggered for a moment, but I didn't fall. That was enough.
There was still something left to do.
“…Horn, Roman.”
Every word I spoke sent a throb of pain through my chest, but I finished saying them. There was power in words. And that power would make me move.
“So… who the hell are they…?”
The demon-host mumbled, kneeling with a dazed look on his face as he stared up at the sky. A truly shameless bastard, just like a demon.
Every single step was agony, but I still moved. ‘That's enough,’ I kept muttering.
The creature, who had been watching me with a horrified look, finally bit its lip hard. Its previously still left arm began to squirm.
In that instant, my legs gave out and I fell forward.
I slammed my face into the ground, but strangely, it didn't hurt.
The damp earth seemed to pull me down.
I stabbed the axe into the ground to push myself up and crawled toward the creature.
It was now staring at the sky with eyes that were completely black, the whites gone.
I managed to reach it somehow.
But its face was already completely consumed by that hideous thing.
I didn't think too hard.
I raised the axe and brought it down.
*CRASH!* My grip tore, and the axe flew out of my hand.
The yellow eye covering its face stared at me. It felt like the eye was asking me. *What can you do?*
I didn't know how to do much, so the deliberation was short.
I punched the displeasing yellow eye with all my might. A sharp pain, like I'd struck hard steel, shot up my right arm.
But it still moved.
Looking at the eye, I brought my fist down again.
A groan escaped me from the terrible pain.
Now, my right hand wouldn't move.
*What can I do now?*
My back and neck could still move.
I fell forward, opened my mouth wide, and bit down on the hideous thing.
- *I am pleased.*
A magnificent, low voice echoed in my head, and the thing that had been as hard as iron turned soft. It shrank in size.
Without hesitation, I tore off a mouthful and spat it out to the side. Its taste was so horrible it made Brick's mother's fish bread seem delicious.
I swallowed the rising nausea, bit down again, and spat. I repeated this until spitting became too much of a hassle, and I just swallowed.
I didn't stop until the ugly bastard's face was revealed.
At last, the pathetic creature hidden beneath the hideous fried batter was exposed.
The ugly bastard looked up at me with terrified eyes.
He was trembling uncontrollably.
I looked him in the eye and smiled brightly.
A sour smell wafted up from below.
His unfocused eyes darted around wildly.
“…Who the hell are they?! I told you I don't know, you crazy bastard!”
Watching him convulse, I laughed out loud.
*Yeah, you don't need to know.*
I threw my head back with all my strength.
It throbbed with pain, but my back and neck still moved, and that was enough.
“W… Wait!”
*CRACK!* The pain in my head made me dizzy for a moment, but I didn't lose consciousness.
I threw my head back again.
*CRACK.*
I could still move.
I threw my head back again.
*CRACK.*
Blood splattered from his face.
*Or is that my blood?*
It didn't matter.
*CRACK.*
My vision turned red and blurry.
I couldn't see anything anymore.
*CRACK.*
I heard the sound of something breaking.
*CRACK.*
My body wouldn't move anymore.
In my blurry, red vision, I could see his faint outline. The place where his head had been was now a pulp, a grotesque mess of mixed colors.
*Looks just like pie dough.*
The kind of pie Brick's mother, a terrible cook, would make.
[Survive.]
A whisper that now sounded like a curse.
*I tried hard enough.*
My heavy eyelids slowly closed. I had neither the strength nor the will to stop them.
*Plink…*
The rain tapped on my shoulder.
- *Truly, I am sincerely pleased. It will require considerable power, but I shall gladly bestow it. For you seem as though you will be quite delicious.*
A fucking voice whispered.