Cut the Crap. (5)
Chapter 48.
My airways finally opened.
A fishy stench of blood washed over me, and I inhaled it with pure delight.
I had been holding back for far, far too long.
If I had lived alone—if the body had always been mine—I would have bathed in blood long ago.
The screams. The moans steeped in agony.
Blood spilled down to the floor with a soft, crisp patter, and that refreshing sound rang out.
The sigh I exhaled in rapture carried no particular thought within it.
Simply put—so many emotions I had suppressed until now came flooding out all at once, leaving no room for anything as useless as thinking.
[Hold on a second, Professor. You're getting way too worked up right now.]
I couldn't hear it.
No—I chose not to hear it.
Thinking, listening to others—those things could all wait until afterward.
Right now, I would focus on the slaughter.
"M-Madman…! Drop dead…!!"
The eyes of the man rushing at me with a raised blade were already drowning in terror.
And from the men charging in from behind me, from both flanks, I sensed nothing but fear as well.
I couldn't block them all.
But it didn't matter that I couldn't.
Slik—
I smiled as I felt that chilling blade pierce through the skin of my belly.
The corners of my mouth lifted at a pain I hadn't tasted in so long.
[Wow… you absolute lunatic of a murderer. You're smiling in the middle of this.]
"M-Madman… you're s-smiling even while getting stabbed…?"
The voice ringing in my skull and the words spat out before me both called me a madman.
Not an inaccurate description.
I had been insane for a very long time, so I didn't care to be bothered by it now.
Ignoring the pain swarming over me, I swung my Mace.
Rather, I seized the blade lodged in my gut so it couldn't be withdrawn—and took aim at their heads.
"…Repent through death."
Crunch—
One.
Crunch—
Two.
Thud-thud-thud—
Three, four.
People died so very easily.
Even a carelessly swung Mace could burst a skull, leaving its owner without even time to scream.
Blood sprayed in all directions, and the robe I wore was soaked through—my blood and the criminals' bleeding into one.
But bloodstains would all vanish with time anyway, so it didn't matter.
The robe had been made for killing people; I was simply using it as intended.
I gazed once at the corpses slumping to the ground, then pulled the knives embedded all over my body free. Placing my hands on my abdomen and thighs, I let Holy Power flow through.
Heal
The pain receded, and the deep wounds that had been gushing blood began to close, bit by bit.
I shuddered at the sensation, so unfamiliar in recent memory.
It was familiar, and yet awkward.
After an uninvited guest had moved into my body, I had squandered far too much time in idle comfort.
There were still so many who deserved death—so very many.
I couldn't allow myself to remain this uncharacteristically soft.
And so I turned my gaze.
Perhaps because I had smiled even while bleeding from blade wounds. Or perhaps because four men had died at once.
The criminals were staggering backward, frozen with fear.
"Hey, hey…! Everybody run, NOW!!"
Watching them scatter without so much as a glance back, I thought only one thing.
I will not let a single one escape. I will catch them all and make them die in agony.
And so I slammed my foot into the floor.
Three times, the ground caved in under the weight of layered reinforcement spells, and each place my foot fell shattered with a resounding BOOM.
"Through death—"
[No.]
CRUNCH—
I snapped the spines of the two criminals who hadn't even bothered to look back.
Blood arced through the air.
The stench of copper flooded in, and my vision stained crimson.
"Repent."
[You son of a—]
CRUNCH—
I crushed an ankle so no one could flee. I shattered the knuckles of their fingers, joint by joint.
"Kkuaaaaagh…!?!"
"Do not wail."
Rita, enforcer captain of the Khalifa crime syndicate.
Men with records as heavy as this one were never granted a clean death.
I did not know what thoughts led my brother to single these men out for death, but even without that, they were filth I would have had to dispose of sooner or later.
If anything, I was grateful.
With that thought, I turned my eyes forward.
Far in the distance.
I could see the back of Klein, leader of Khalifa, fleeing in a desperate scramble.
Completely terror-stricken, he kept glancing back at me as he ran, and I stared at that figure unblinkingly.
Our eyes met.
I lifted the corners of my mouth.
He only ran all the harder for it, shrieking away in the opposite direction.
I began walking in the direction he had fled.
Thud… thud…
Despite the rapture on my face, my steps were calm.
The building was large, yes—but it had no other entrance besides the door I had come in through.
Come to think of it, there was no need to run at all.
Better yet, in a situation like this, walking slowly would only deepen their terror all the more.
CRUNCH—
I crushed the heads of the criminals who had been shoved forward before me, the lowest of their ranks.
A bullet spat out with a BANG broke against my barrier and clattered to the floor, and the man firing wildly at me had his limbs pulverized by the Mace, howling as he fell.
"Kkuaaaaaagh…!!"
Crunch—
He was too loud, so I crushed his mouth.
Even then the sound leaked out, so I tore out his throat.
"Mmh…!! Ugh…!!"
And at last, he fell silent.
How long had I walked like that?
No one had managed to escape through the entrance behind me, and with every step I took, the corpses piled higher.
[…]
No more voices sounded in my head.
The quiet was a relief.
And finally, I saw him—Klein, on his knees, slumped against a blocked wall.
"P-Please spare me…! I'll do anything… anything at all…!"
He wailed.
"P-Please, spare—mmph?! Mmmph, mmmmmmph…!!"
And so I reached into that mouth and began pulling out his teeth, one by one.
Though I'll admit, the way he thrashed about with every tooth I extracted was becoming rather tiresome.
So I decided to sever his limbs first.
Sin must not be granted a gentle death.
Elohim would wish it so as well.
Ugh….
My life. Seriously.
The moment we slipped out of the criminals' hideout, Niger swapped the body back with an air of deep satisfaction.
"Huuuurk…."
[Are you quite all right?]
Does it look like I'm okay, you bastard?
The voice in my head had returned to normal, which meant he'd apparently finished slaughtering people and was feeling nice and refreshed now.
But I really wish he'd stop talking to me like nothing happened.
"Mmph… don't make me talk…. Just hearing your voice makes me want to hurl…, huurk, BLEGH…." The moment Niger's voice reached me, I saw them again—the corpses that must be filling that entire building.
I'd watched Niger's rampage the whole time, unable to stop him, since the body wasn't mine to control, and the instant I got it back, everything came up at once.
How long did I empty my stomach like that?
By the time some time had passed and I'd finally calmed down, sitting there heaving a long sigh, Niger's voice drifted in again.
[Brother, if murder does not yet sit easy with you, simply consider it another illusion from the Forest of Hallucinations.]
"Oh…, what a deeply helpful piece of advice, Professor."
Oh my, that would surely settle my stomach right down.
It was advice about as useful as telling someone to just take drugs instead—utterly meaningless.
[You're welcome.]
"…."
Did this son of a bitch just—?
Naturally, I didn't leave it at a thought. I spat it straight out of my mouth.
"Did this son of a bitch just—?"
[Spare me the pointless chatter and go home.]
I suppose even I could provoke him without consequence, seeing as he'd just entered a post-murder zen state.
Once I made it home, Niger and I settled into a private little round of banter.
[Going forward, you will need to kill more often.]
"Uh, I told you—cut the crap."
[We have already wasted far too much time on pointless delays. We are very late.]
No.
"Late? Late for what, exactly?"
Since when does murder have a schedule? Early or late?
If you just want to kill people that badly, have the honesty to say so.
I was still scowling over that thought when Niger continued in an oddly serious voice.
[This is no joke. The Empire holds far too many who deserve death. We must kill as many as we can, while we still can.]
"And if we don't kill them, what—the Empire falls or something?"
A country as vast as the Empire was bound to be crawling with criminals and bastards no matter what; the idea of killing them all one by one struck me as absurd.
The imperial throne's authority remained powerful, and the Elohim Order's strength was beyond comparison to any other faction in existence.
The Royal Knights, the Order's Heresy Inquisitors—the moment those people moved, criminals would be ripped out roots and all anyway.
So why on earth did I—and Niger—need to keep killing these bastards ourselves?
[Yes. Left as it is, the Empire will most likely fall. The Empire of today is not a healthy one—it may well prove incapable of bearing the flood of criminals pouring through it.]
"…And here we go again, old man. That's enough out of you, off to bed."
Honestly, had he cracked his own skull along with all those criminals'?
[Haah… I am telling you this in earnest. If you should ever find yourself cast out of my body, you had best be prepared for what follows.]
"Heh heh, how terrifying, Brother. Truly chilling words."
As if such a thing were even possible, you murderous lunatic.
I brushed off his words with a "quit the bullshit," then lay down flat.
Closing my eyes, I sank into sleep and thought.
My God.I'm the original author of the novel, you know.Even right up until just before the ending, the Empire was doing just fine, you killer.
Granted, the series was on hiatus so I never saw the actual conclusion, but even in the late chapters, the final boss was still you, Niger, my friend.
The urge to spit those words out made my mouth itch.
This final-boss serial killer bastard.
Every ounce of sympathy and pity I'd ever felt for you is hereby revoked.
Today, Niger, you were a completely insane son of a bitch.
And just as I was drifting off, my stomach heaved again and I stumbled to the bathroom.
I think I lost a good two kilograms.