Wolf Fang (Nanga) (4)
“Uh…?”
It happened while I was grabbing a quick bite from some food bought at a nearby shop. Hardi, still rubbing sleep from her drowsy eyes, waddled over and spoke up.
“I was worried sick after you holed up in there for two days straight, muttering all sorts of weird stuff. But seeing you out here like this… looks like you tamed it successfully.”
“Yeah, but what do you mean by ‘weird stuff’? I never said anything like that.”
“You know… that…”
Just as Hardi started to reply, Otar, who’d been listening quietly from the side, cleared his throat loudly to cut her off.
“Khem…!! Enough of that useless chatter. Don’t we have more important matters?”
“Oh, right. Now that you’re here too, it’s time to handle that postponed business.”
I woke one of the death row prisoners I’d knocked out earlier after my Battōjutsu rampage in my mind went too far.
“Ugh… uuuugh…”
“Awake now?”
“Uuuugh!! Mmph-mmph…!!! Ubbuh-mmph…!!!”
The prisoner spasmed out the moment he heard my voice, like a retired soldier hit with PTSD.
“…What the hell did you do to him? He was kinda like this a few days ago, but not this bad.”
“He kept flinging killing intent at me while I was waiting for you, out of boredom. Deserves to die a thousand times over, but even I felt a twinge of pity.”
“Killing intent… So that’s why you woke this one up just now too?”
Hardi asked curiously, and I answered kindly.
“Yep. Curious what it feels like? Want me to hit you with some?”
“N-No thanks… I’ll pass. More importantly, show me that tamed demon sword already.”
I drew the katana—still rubbing against my hand like a cat in love—with its scabbard intact and showed it to Hardi.
“Here, what do you think?”
“Hmm… Yeah, I can definitely see the connection between you and the katana. It hasn’t been named yet, but it’s already recognized you as its master.”
Demon swords with names form a master-servant contract upon recognition.
But unnamed ones require taming first, then naming to solidify their existence and establish dominance.
Not urgent, so I’ll think on it slowly.
Once named, it’s permanent, so I had to choose carefully.
Something elegant like Battōmaru was reserved for Silence, so maybe Battōtara or Battōjirō.
“Tough call either way…”
“Huh? What’re you mumbling about outta nowhere?”
“Nothing, sir.”
I swallowed my slip-up and turned to the prisoner rolling on the ground.
“You could stay lying down, but kneeling’s probably easier. Mind doing that?”
“Mmph!! Mmph-mmph…!!!”
Whether final defiance or not, he refused to kneel, so I sighed and whispered in his ear.
“Think carefully. Stay prone like that, and I’ll have no choice but to slice your waist or chest. But kneel, and my katana aims for your head.”
Writhing in agony from a waist cut versus instant death from a head chop.
No need to explain which hurt less.
“……”
After a silent pause, the prisoner trembled in resignation, adjusting to kneel.
“Good choice. Death’s death—might as well go painless.”
I circled behind the teary-eyed prisoner and quietly assumed position.
Sensing his doom, he shook violently, making his target crown bob wildly.
What’s this? It’s kinda fun!!
Shaking his head to up the difficulty felt like a game.
Not that it hindered the cut at all.
“Zenith 5:5 Cut Battōjutsu!!”
The katana sliced his head like tofu—not a skull.
Left and right brain parted sadly, IQ halved, and he crumpled to the dirt.
“…Huh?”
Staring at the corpse, I froze at the unexpected split.
The vertical cross-section looked sawed, not katana-sliced—ragged and dirty.
“Why’s it cut like that? Did the head-shaking throw you off?”
Hardi and Otar, standing back to avoid blood, touched the mangled edges.
I joined, touching the cut, and noticed something else odd.
“Wasn’t his nose always that small? The blood loss seems way too low.”
Testing, I pressed the halves together—sure enough, nose and sliced parts were gone, no fit.
“Hmm… Looks like the cut vanished. Or better—eaten.”
“Eaten?”
Now that Otar mentioned it, the edges resembled beast bites.
Beast—fitting, given the materials for this katana.
“Gonna need more tests to gauge its full power.”
Hearing flesh and blood were consumed, I drew the katana again, pressing it to the pooled blood and corpse.
Like iron scraps to a magnet, blood and severed body surged toward the blade.
The moment they touched, a vacuum cleaner whirred—sucking it all in.
It devoured everything in under three seconds—maybe less.
“All absorbed.”
“What happens to the blood and flesh? Must have more abilities left.”
“Dunno… But does it only work on fresh spills?”
Testing a jacket stain from earlier, the blemish slurped into the katana.
“Whoa!! Cleaning and laundry function!! Super convenient!”
“As if. More functions remain, but how to uncover them…”
“No point theorizing. Why not just ask?”
“Ask? Who…”
Their eyes followed mine to the freshly fed katana.
[Woof!!]
The katana barked energetically at their stares, leaving them dumbfounded.
“…Think it understands us?”
“Just ‘cause you spout dogshit daily doesn’t mean you can chat with dogs.”
“It barks like one, but it’s no pup. It communicates fine.”
I sat on the now-spotless ground, katana on my lap, focusing my mind.
Our spirits linked—its desire for skilled handling flowed to me.
[Grrr…!! Woof!!]
Ah, so that’s it…
Fully briefed on its powers, I opened my eyes and stood—unlike the initial taming struggle.
Hardi asked flatly, low expectations.
“Learn anything?”
“Yeah, everything!!”
Showing beats explaining. I extended the blade before them.
“…It grew?”
One power: elongate the blade using consumed blood and flesh—for instant repairs if chipped or broken.
Also reshape freely, like I just did.
“And that’s not all!!”
I dragged another prisoner from the forge.
“Mmph!!”
Ignoring his muffled pleas—probably begging for a quick death—I tossed him airborne.
“Uuuuugh!!!”
As he flailed midair, I unleashed Battōjutsu—his waist buttered off.
No blood or guts rained on Otar and Hardi.
Not absorbed by the blade—but by the scabbard at my waist.
“As you saw, the scabbard devours flesh too. Naturally, it reshapes freely!”
Scabbard cleans corpses too! What a homemaker katana!
Beyond that, it converts absorbed flesh to aura or magic for both owner and sword.
Kill more, grow stronger—together.
“A blade that powers up per kill… Chilling, but undeniably potent. Though reshaping feels mundane by comparison.”
“What?”
“…Aye, true enough. Handy, but pales next to the growth effect.”
What’re they on about? Reshaping blade and scabbard enables infinite Battōjutsu variations—mundane?
“You two know zilch about swordsmanship. Let me demonstrate.”
I hauled all remaining prisoners out, unbound them.
Hardi and Otar frowned.
“What now? Another mad stunt…?”
“You’ll see. Hey, you lot!!”
My booming voice made the sun-blinded prisoners squint at me.
“I’ll give you a shot at life!! Count to ten, then die—run!! One!!”
Starved and stiff for days, hope sprang them up.
They bolted.
No hostage grabs—knew I’d chop ‘em.
“Five!! Six!!”
Steps quickened near ten, but futile against this katana.
“Ten…”
Red flash, flesh-rending whoosh—desperate runners vanished.
Seemed so.
“Wh-What?! Where’d they go?! No word of mage prisoners?!”
“Hah… What’d you do?”
“Nothing fancy.”
Just extended blade on draw, cleaving all at once.
“Th-Then where’re the bodies? Should be chunks…”
“Aura accelerates devouring. That was a mere fraction.”
True value: tighten blade-scabbard for max friction.
More friction, more kinetic energy—turning basic draws into lethal strikes.
“Thus, Battōjutsu with this katana yields the ultimate draw!!”
“…What nonsense? Friction to kinetic energy…?”
“Enough!! Drop it…”
Otar cut Hardi off, asking:
“Friction aside, we grasp its power now. Got a name? A sword this grand needs one fitting.”
“Yes. Meant to ponder later, but draws inspired the perfect one.”
“Hmph… Expecting drivel, but let’s hear it.”
“Wolf Fang (Nanga).”
Tempting as Battōtara or Battōjirō, this razor edge evoked lifetime foe Robo.
Misused as Pongpong’s pet, its might deserved respect.
“To honor Robo, the Lauded Wolf King, I name it Wolf Fang (Nanga).”
“…Unexpected. Thought it’d be some brain-dead nonsense.”
“What… Master, what do you take me for? No brag, but naming’s my second pride after swordsmanship.”
Else how could I dream up Battōtara or Battōjirō?