The Cursed Blind Woman (11)
A sudden burst of flames erupted along the outer wall of the inn, facing the entrance. The man caught in Beldra's Curse Rope at the doorway thrashed wildly, bellowing in rage.
"Fuck! I'm still here!"
The relentless rain had soaked the inn's exterior, snuffing out the fire almost instantly. But then came the sharp crack of glass bottles shattering one after another, flames flickering to life explosively in scattered spots. Through the dark windows, bright lights streaked through the air—molotov cocktails, clearly.
More bottles sailed in, and one finally ignited properly against the inn's wall. Fortunately, the countermeasures Bertrand had prepared for exactly this kicked in. The spreading blaze was abruptly blocked by surging black magic barriers. Sleek, obsidian-like walls sprang up, sealing the flames from every direction. Completely cut off from any air, the fire died out on its own.
"Bertrand...!"
Idi came bounding down the stairs, her ample chest bouncing with each step.
"The demon hunters are back. You handle the fire here. You got this, right?"
"Y-yeah... Don't worry..."
Idi conjured a few more black barriers as she replied. Bertrand bolted straight for the entrance.
The guy dangling mid-air in the center of the doorway, snared by the curse rope, took a shoulder charge straight on. His limbs tore clean off. Beldra's Curse Rope couldn't be severed by anything in this world—so instead, the bastard's arms and legs got ripped away. What was left of his torso rocketed straight across the courtyard, smashing into the opposite stone wall and crumbling it.
The man burst on impact, sending up a thick cloud of blood even in the pouring rain. The thunderous crash made the hunters clutching their molotovs freeze for a split second.
The one-eyed woman was the first to snap out of it.
"It's him! He's here!!"
"Douse the flames! Hide in the dark!"
At the man's shout, they plunged their bottles into puddles, extinguishing them. With every fire out, the courtyard plunged into pitch blackness. An autumn night with no moon, rain hammering down. The black-clad hunters melted into the shadows, cloaking themselves completely.
But they'd overlooked one thing. Bertrand activated night vision. His sight shifted to a hazy green tint, revealing the hunters creeping forward with their weapons in perfect clarity.
He advanced toward them slowly. That's when two glinting pinpoints caught his eye—Kali, teeth bared, body low to the ground, stalking the hunters.
Left him to guard the inn, and the mutt's actually earning his keep. But it's too damn risky.
"Kali. Here."
Both Kali and the hunters jolted, whipping their heads around.
"Wh—who the fuck's calling my boy's name?!"
"Me, you piece of shit."
Bertrand smashed his fist into the face of the nearest one. The skull caved inward completely, and the man toppled backward. No sound, no twitch—instant death.
"It's the innkeeper! He's somewhere around here!"
Kali pressed tight against Bertrand's side, still growling low, ready to lunge at any moment. Thought he was just a playful pup, but damn if he doesn't look like a proper hound right now. Hunting dog Kali, going after hunters who serve the god of the hunt.
"Kali. Go inside. You'll get hurt."
Kali glanced up at him briefly, then darted across the courtyard and slipped back into the inn. The hunters groped blindly ahead, arms outstretched, desperate to find him.
Bertrand circled sideways to disorient them, calling out.
"I told you, didn't I? If you came back, I'd make it real fun."
"Over there!"
He drove his foot hard between the legs of one twisting toward him. Something small and soft burst with a sickening squelch, and the man pitched forward, collapsing.
"G-guuuuhhh..."
"Living as a girl from now on wouldn't be so bad. Oh, wait—today's your last anyway."
Bertrand stomped the downed man's skull into pulp, then strode right into the midst of them. They couldn't see shit, but with his night vision, it was broad daylight to him.
"So why the fuck did you try to torch my inn?"
"Aaaagh! Right next—gurk!"
As he yanked another hunter's arm clean off, lightning flashed, bathing the area in sudden light.
"There!"
"Kill him!!"
A dozen blades hurtled toward him. Bertrand grabbed the nearest hunter and shoved him forward as a shield. Swords and axes sank mercilessly into the man's chest.
"Got him! We hit him!"
"Tear him apart!"
Blind to the fact they'd skewered their own comrade, they hacked away gleefully. Bertrand had already tossed the corpse aside and slipped backward. Only when the second thunderclap rolled did they realize.
"Wha—?!"
Bertrand seized a panicking hunter from behind, clamping both hands on his jaw and cheek, snapping the neck sideways. The head spun a full turn before ripping free and hitting the ground.
"Uwaaaah! Where is he?! Fuck! Where?!"
"Light the molotovs again!"
"Everything's soaked—they won't catch!"
Terror gripped the hunters fully now, plunging them into panic. Prey turned predator—it'd drive anyone mad.
Wielding the severed arm like a club, Bertrand tore through them until he spotted his target: the one-eyed woman, uncoiling a chain sickle from her waist, eyes wild with fear as she scanned frantically.
He stepped right in front of her and spoke.
"I'll make sure you can't open that other eye either."
"KyaAAAAH!!"
Her bravado from facing Pelle earlier was gone; she shrieked like a banshee, flinging the chain sickle wildly. Bertrand snatched it mid-air, whirled it once, and slammed the blade deep into her good eye.
"GRAAAAK!"
With her remaining eye ruined, the hunters broke. Weapons clattered to the ground as they fled.
"R-run...!"
"Don't run! Deserters will be branded traitors!"
The man with the curse-blackened hand bellowed, trying to rally them.
"The captain's coming soon! Once he arrives, he'll blow this whole inn to hell!"
Bertrand circled behind him and cracked his skull with the severed arm still in hand.
"Khek!"
A few stomps to the waist snapped the spine with a sharp crack.
"Why... why are you doing this... we can talk... KIIIAAAAH!!"
Grinding his heel into the broken back elicited a shrill, womanly scream. Seeing their leader broken, the rest bolted without looking back. But fleeing blind in the dark only bred chaos: crashing into each other, slicing themselves on weapons, smashing faces into walls, tripping, trampling...
Bertrand had no intention of letting them go. They'd tried to burn his inn—and succeeded in spots. He planted himself at the courtyard entrance. The panicked hunters, souls scared witless, couldn't even scale a knee-high wall; they funneled straight toward him.
So he dismantled them one by one as they came, methodically wrecking limbs and torsos. Broken hunters piled up before him, bodies mangled in every way.
"Ngh... If only the captain had come..."
One groaned in regret from the heap. What's this captain guy that everyone's pining for him like this?
Soon, silence fell. Bertrand scanned the courtyard. Nearly a dozen men lay dead, each in their own gruesome pose.
Killed 'em all... Should've gone easier, but I was too pissed...Hmm, now how to clean this up. Protocol says report to the guards. But Lambert seeing this? Guy's a stickler. Might call it excessive for just teaching arsonists a lesson. From my view, it's not excessive at all—legally speaking, though. Without laws, I'd have ground these fucks into chicken feed...
"Are you the innkeeper?"
Heat rising again, a chilling voice came from behind. He turned. Another dozen hunters encircled him. In the center stood one in a black hood.
That must be the captain.
"I've heard the stories. You faced us with real guts..."
"Your goons trashed my inn, disrupted business, and tried to burn it down."
"It was necessary. To purge the evils rampant in this world..."
"You owe compensation for that."
The man clenched his jaw, falling silent as Bertrand kept cutting him off.
"Hand over the white-haired woman. We'll pay ample reparations and hold you blameless for harming my men."
Bertrand wiped rain from his face and sighed deeply. Through night vision, the captain looked like an ordinary middle-aged man. Sharp eyes, stern mouth—like all zealots.
Guy's too convicted for words. No point talking. Things are tangled anyway—might as well handle it my usual way.
Lightning cracked overhead as Bertrand stepped forward, illuminating their faces. The captain's eyes widened in shock at the sight of him.
"T-teacher... why are you here...?!"