Chapter 37
Chapter 37
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 37
Chapter Title: The Crazed Damon
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"Heh heh."
The long road leading to the Washington Dome.
At its end strode a man holding a black sword low at his side, black haze billowing around him.
His head jerked irregularly, neck twitching, his long-torn mouth corners curved into a grin that screamed utter madness to anyone who saw it.
"Hee hee, no, no people here. As, as expected from GHO, heh heh."
It was no mere world hunter organization for nothing.
With swift action, they'd cleared this once-bustling road of every last soul.
Save for the soldiers and hunters lined up like a wall at the Dome's entrance.
"Did they think, th-they were the only ones who'd feel this thrill? Hunters are selfish, heh heh."
"Damon! Lower your weapon!"
Damon glanced at the black sword in his hand, his torn grin stretching even wider.
But a voice shattered his mood.
A line of hunters stood like a fortress at the Dome's entrance.
The man at the forefront grabbed a megaphone and bellowed at Damon.
"Damon! Drop it now, and I'll make sure you face legal punishment!"
"Hee hee."
His skin turned ashen gray by the so-called marquis-level weapon, Damon grinned back.
"What if I don't?"
"Urk..."
Damon's retort came light and casual.
Yet the black haze swirling around him rippled, amplifying his voice dozens of times over.
Every hunter at the Dome's entrance clutched their ears in agony.
"Th-this is Lion's Roar? Hee hee, fun, so fun, thrilling!"
Damon stared at his hands and burst into mad laughter at the sight of their suffering.
"Open fire! That's not Damon anymore. He's a demon!"
At the megaphone-wielding man's command, the eyes of those around him hardened.
A fire order was a kill order.
No need to protect Damon any longer—they had nothing holding them back.
Bang! Bang bang bang!
Gunfire erupted from all sides, invisible marksmen opening up.
Bang!
"Heh..."
Swish.
But the target was a demon estimated at viscount rank.
Damon's form vanished from the snipers' scopes, perfectly centered just a moment before.
Pew. Pew pew.
The trees around where Damon had stood splintered under bullets, sparks flying.
"Wh-what the—?"
The startled snipers pulled their eyes from the scopes to check.
But it was the biggest mistake of their lives.
"Clothesline! Presence!"
"...A-aaahhh!"
Squirt!
A fountain of blood erupted from the bushes beside one.
And with that, crimson geysers sprayed from every hidden sniper position.
"......"
The hunters guarding the Dome's entrance swallowed hard at the sight.
"A demon... it was real."
Twenty seconds, maybe?
Bathed in blood, Damon reappeared at his original spot.
The nearest was fifty meters away; the farthest, at least three hundred.
Yet in that blink, all twelve snipers went silent.
"Thrilling!"
"Crazy bastard."
Like a child, Damon clenched his fists tight and bounced on his toes in glee.
Had he truly forsaken his humanity?
The megaphone man's hand went slack at the sight—no guilt whatsoever for the lives he'd taken.
He turned slowly, glancing back.
"Damn it."
Dozens of hunters using him as a shield stared back, their eyes mirrors of his own.
Biting his lip, the commander turned back to Damon.
"I don't wanna die... please, hurry..."
Yes.
From the commander down to the rearmost hunter.
All had lost the will to fight against Damon's divine presence.
Or perhaps, beyond that, terror of encroaching death had already broken their minds.
His hands trembled; the megaphone slipped and clattered to the ground.
Screeeeech!
Damon's gleeful bouncing froze, his face turning icy cold at the shriek.
"Ah, shut up."
"Ugh..."
Their eyes met Damon's chilled gaze.
Shiver shiver.
"Please... hurry..."
His trembling spread from arms to legs.
And the once-confident hunters prayed inwardly.
Please.
Please come quick.
And stop that monster from reaching here.
"Hunters are selfish. That's why..."
Snap.
"Die."
In the blink of an eye, Damon's distant form closed the gap to stand before them.
Arm's reach away.
The black sword in Damon's hand pulled back wide, then snapped forward like a bowstring.
Fast enough to skewer the man in an instant.
= = =
"Wooooah!"
"Boooo!"
Cheers and jeers mingled in coexistence.
The voices of thousands drowned out every sound beyond the Dome.
The crowd could never know.
The nightmare unfolding outside, too horrific to imagine.
Thud!
Did gods truly exist?
Amid the erupting roar of cheers and boos.
A short, thunderous boom rang out.
"Ugh!"
Thwack!
The megaphone man flew back with the sound, slamming into the hunters blocking the entrance.
But true to form, they caught the fast-flying man.
"Wh-what happened?"
Propped up by the hunters, he urgently scanned Damon's position.
But where Damon—and he—had stood now loomed a two-meter-tall giant.
"If you're fine, stop playing guard dog at the door and bring more hands."
The giant turned his head smoothly, eyeing the hunters.
The moment their gazes locked.
The hunters bellowed louder than ever.
"Yes, sir, Fist King!"
"Hee hee, the h-handsome Fist King finally shows?"
The hunters fled inside like their lives depended on it.
Watching them go, the Fist King slowly turned back to Damon before him.
"This punk's a full monster now, huh?"
"Mon-monster? Heh heh hee hee, you calling me a monster? Hee hee hee!"
Ashen skin, head twitching irregularly.
Black haze rising around his body.
The Fist King grinned.
"No mirror? Should've peeked in a puddle on the way."
"More importantly, do you know who I am? Nah, you're the great Fist King, hee hee."
Even with the Fist King before him, Damon's grin wouldn't fade.
Damon's eyes drifted slowly downward from the Fist King.
"But more than that, you okay? Must hurt."
Damon's smile deepened.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The Fist King's bare hand gripped the black blade.
And the red blood dripping from it.
It all delighted Damon to no end.
"Nothing to worry about, Damon."
"On-only now do you look my way? As expected, selfish bastards. I'll kill you all to prove how strong I've become."
Damon tensed against the sword gripped in the Fist King's hand.
"Not as easy as you thought?"
"What?"
But the black sword stayed locked tight in the Fist King's grasp.
In response, the Fist King flashed a thick grin like Damon's and balled his free hand.
Then summoned his signature crimson mana.
"Never studied this? At this range, even royals yield to me."
Damon's eyes widened.
"Damn."
The Fist King's lid-like fist blazed red.
And.
Boom!
"Guh."
With Damon's short groan, the Fist King's fist smashed dead into his face.
= = =
The impact boomed; Damon's body tumbled dozens of rolls away.
Perfectly timed, someone landed lightly beside the Fist King.
"Over already?"
"Doesn't look like it."
The Fist King showed the Sword Dragon his open left palm.
A long gash wept blood, deep enough to sting just looking at it.
The Sword Dragon winced.
"Rest up."
"Nah."
"Drop that thing first. The world ends if you go feral."
The Sword Dragon eyed the black sword gripped upside-down in the Fist King's hand.
The culprit that turned a mere researcher into this hummed faintly, black haze wafting.
Sensing the alien energy, the Fist King chuckled dryly and released the blade.
Clang.
"Not interested."
The black sword hit the ground unceremoniously.
Yet holding it briefly had revealed its truth to the Fist King.
A vicious, horrific... demon sword.
"That look in your eyes—we can't let anyone touch it."
The Fist King's gaze left the sword at the Sword Dragon's words.
"Even a moment's temptation like this. No wonder it's a marquis demon's weapon."
He shook his bloodied hand.
He was about to order the waiting GHO agents to retrieve it when.
Twitch.
"...!!"
The untouched sword stirred faintly.
Sensing it, the Fist King lunged—but the sword sprang away like a coiled spring, faster.
"Damn it."
Shing.
The Fist King clicked his tongue, grasping at empty air. The Sword Dragon drew his blade, tracking the sword's path.
"Just separating it isn't enough, huh."
Thud.
Damon, lying still as death, snapped his eyes open and snatched the flying black sword.
He touched his broken nose, courtesy of the Fist King.
"Ow."
Angry, perhaps.
No manic grin lit his face now.
"Thought taking my treasure ended it? I'm the strongest now."
Damon's fixed head whipped around.
With cold eyes on the Fist King and Sword Dragon, he reached out.
"This kind of thing is possible now."
The black haze around Damon pulsed thump!
Suddenly, the Sword Dragon—who'd been prepping for battle at a distance—braced his whole body.
"What? What's happening?"
The Fist King blinked in confusion.
But only for a moment.
Screeech.
The straining Sword Dragon slid inexorably toward Damon under some unseen force.
The Fist King reached out, grabbing his collar.
The Sword Dragon halted; Damon's laughter followed.
"Hee hee, Air Grasp! It's called Air Grasp skill, hee hee!"
The Fist King and Sword Dragon scowled, glaring at the reaching Damon.
"Cool, right? Two S-rank hunters in the top brackets getting dragged by me, hee hee!"
Hummm.
Their gazes converged.
Not on Damon, but the true culprit.
The marquis demon's weapon—the black sword in his hand.
"Wh-where you looking! Look at me! It's not the sword—it's me doing this!"
Feeling their eyes off him, Damon erupted in rage mid-laugh, unleashing a massive surge of black mana unseen before.
Thick demonic mana that devoured the air around them.
"Damn."
In that instant, the Sword Dragon and Fist King shared a thought.
Damon.
Not someone to take lightly. Not at all.