Cult Suppression
Shuaaak!!
Papak!
"[Priest]!!"
"Who the hell are these bastards!?"
The ambush was a resounding success. Jack's arrow and Noah's dagger struck true — one into a target's head, the other into a chest. The old man in the flamboyant crimson robes, the one who had appeared to be presiding over the ritual, toppled backward where he stood.
"Die, you trash!!"
Tatatatatang!
Just as we had planned, the gunmen opened fire. The bullets punched clean through hoods that offered no protection whatsoever. Yet only a handful of cultists dropped with pierced skulls; the vast majority drew their weapons and came charging at us, shrieking grotesque howls as if their very personalities had been overwritten.
"Heeheehee—!"
"Fresh offerings!"
Chaechaechaeng!
The vanguard, myself included, met the cultists blade to blade. Their weapon skills were abysmal, but barely moments into the fight, I could already feel the strange power coursing through them. These people simply did not feel pain.
"Huh? These lunatics—!"
"Ughaaak!"
Because they hurled themselves into melee without a shred of regard for their own wounds, casualties began mounting across the line. Men who lost the hand gripping their sword would simply lunge forward on pure momentum and tear at their opponent's nape with their teeth — the kind of thing that prodded at primal human fear.
Reminds me of goblins.
Seogeok!
But no matter how many mutual-destruction gambits they pulled, there was no answer to an overwhelming gap in ability. I made full use of the difference in our physical prowess and my blade aura, carving them into pieces. The veteran Lovrick and his squad had no trouble either. And as for Noah...
Kwadeudeuk!
"Aheheh?"
"Trash is to be cleaned up."
The cultists must have judged Noah — a woman — the easy mark, because they'd swarmed her relying on sheer numbers. Against Noah's fists, literally fists of iron, their faces caved in and their heads outright exploded. However immune they were to pain, a pulverized brain wasn't going to do them any favors.
"Aim for the head!"
The mercenaries apparently figured out the countermeasure too, because their movements steadily grew more refined. Once the gunmen's support piled on, the momentum of the fight swung firmly our way. In less than a minute, the cultists' numbers were cut in half.
But I couldn't sit back and savor our advantage. That ominous mana... The cultists' mana radiating from the ritual site was steadily growing stronger. Spurred by a nameless unease, I tried to thin their ranks as fast as I could, but the ones huddling back and playing it safe were hard to finish off. They were stalling for time, no doubt about it. I had to deal with this now—
Kugugugung!
"Uuugh!"
"Ueeeck!"
"What the hell is...?"
I'd been pushing myself to kill them faster, but it seemed I was a little too late. The red-robed old man we had felled at the very start reappeared — wreathed in a churning, writhing mass of mana.
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There was a scene in the comics of my childhood I could never quite understand. Villains who would patiently wait for the hero's transformation sequence, or heroes who would stand there and listen to a villain's entire monologue. I suppose it was an unavoidable concession to page count, but it was unquestionably an irrational one.
Shuaaaak—!
Chaeng...
Which was why we, as reasonable people, immediately opened fire on the old man who so obviously looked like he was preparing something. But the mana around him had condensed to the point of near-materialization, deflecting every projectile or bleeding them of their force.
Geoooo—
An unimaginable density of mana. It erupted out of him so explosively that it was hard to believe it came from a single person; a few of the un-Awakened among us doubled over and vomited. The cultists abandoned the front line they'd been desperately holding and bolted toward the old man.
"Priest!"
"You held fast, my faithful..."
"Grant us your grace! The grace to condemn these blasphemers!"
"It shall be as you will."
[&$^%$!]
The old man they called the Priest slammed his grotesquely twisted staff into the ground and chanted words no one could understand. Crimson threads spooled out from his body and latched onto the surviving cultists — and as that enormous mana poured into them without reserve, their bodies ballooned into hulking, muscle-bound forms in the space of a heartbeat. The Priest smiled faintly, clearly pleased with the result, and stretched a hand toward us.
"Go! You are warriors executing holy war! Raise high the name of the solemn god!"
"Waghhhhh---!!!"
The mana-empowered cultists descended on us with movements incomparable to before. When our weapons clashed, a dramatically amplified strength transmitted down the length of my blade. The tide of battle, so opposite to a moment ago, had decisively tilted their way.
"These guys got strong!"
"Their wounds are regenerating!"
"Kkeuk!"
One cultist even reattached an arm my blade aura had taken off, right there on the spot. The head still seemed to be their weak point, but they now defended their heads so desperately that killing them was no easy matter.
I was moving to help allies in danger when a familiar scream made me turn my head. It was Lovrick.
"Help!"
Lovrick was rolling across the ground dodging a sword with the most desperate expression I'd seen on anyone yet. The one who'd driven a 7th-rank Guild member into such a corner was a figure encased head to toe in thick armor like a knight, swinging a longsword. A face I hadn't seen before... one of the Priest's inner circle, then?
I launched myself at the knight, who looked one strike away from cleaving Lovrick's neck.
Pain Sword
Having noticed me, the man swung his sword while shouting some bizarre skill name. For all his momentum, his technique was nothing remarkable. I blocked it, and then—
"Don't block it!"
Chaeng!
"Kkeuk!"
Agony — the blade's edge carving through the muscles of my forearm. I let out a pained groan and stumbled back several steps. But I had blocked it properly, hadn't I?
"Haha! Blocking is useless! This is the divine power of Lord Morr-dok!"
"It's a curse-type ability! Don't let his sword touch you!"
"Heh... is that so? Pain Diffusion!"
Jjirit!
"Keup...!"
As the knight stretched a hand toward me, a burning heat spread from my forearm — where the pain had first taken root — across my entire arm. What kind of BS overpowered ability was this?! The muscles were spasming as if gripped by cramps, making it hard to even hold my sword properly.
Degureureung...
In the end, I found myself rolling across the ground just like Lovrick, dodging the man's blade. We at least had a two-on-one situation going now, so somehow I managed to keep evading.
"Heh... groveling on the ground suits the faithless. But I won't kill you. You are valuable offe—"
Where's Noah?
Gratefully, the knight paused his attack to spout nonsense, and I ignored him entirely while pinpointing Noah's position. If Noah were here — someone who could switch her senses on and off at will — a guy like this would be nothing. But alas, I spotted Noah engaged with the Priest alongside Lovrick's squad. Everyone else was busy holding off the empowered cultists too.
I'll have to handle this one myself, then.
"...Lovrick, buy me some time. I have an idea."
"I'll manage somehow. Can't promise it'll be long."
Seureureuk... Hwik!
"Now, that woman there is decent-looking, so I'll keep her as a sla— kek!?"
Lovrick hurled a small pouch from his belt at the knight. The knight, quick despite his shameless babbling, sliced the pouch clean out of the air — but then choked and convulsed as a cloud of red powder burst out into his face.
"Your opponent is me!"
"...Decided. You get the skewer. I can keep you alive for a good week, so look forward to it."
Ultimately, the key to this fight came down to managing pain. Of course, an ordinary person isn't a machine and can't regulate their own pain. But I had something to believe in. Beast's Senses. That talent had granted me senses so acute they were frankly excessive — but I had already, in the lab, experienced taming those rampaging senses. If I hadn't, the constant coarse friction would have left me unable to even wear clothes properly.
Technically it wasn't me who controlled it back then — my subconscious handled it. But I can do this.
What I was after was a dampening of sensation. This was a difficulty on an entirely different level from simply amplifying one's senses through aura. Turning a 0 into a 1 was far easier than turning a 0 into a -1. And dampening only the pain, of all things? ...But somehow, I felt like I could do it.
"Ha! Your swordsmanship is pathetic!"
"You old geezer—!"
"If I'm old, what does that make your Priest? A corpse?"
"I'll make you neither alive nor dead!!! Pain Diffusion!"
"Kkeueueup... I can endure this much!"
Lovrick was drawing the knight's aggro magnificently, so I cut the broadcast. My mind sank inward.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
A talent is something you handle differently from aura.
Was it because someone who could kill me at any moment stood right in front of my nose? Or was it thanks to the meditation I'd practiced steadily all this while? With a concentration that startled even me, my mind plunged in one straight dive to the far edge of consciousness.
This place is...
A deep mental plane where even aura could not be felt. Something resembling Points, yet with a more orderly, systematic texture, wrapped itself around my body. So this was what composed a talent.
This is a first. I have no idea whether I could reach this state again. I'd love to stay here and study talents further... but I'm busy, so no help for it.
Steadying my impatience, I reached for Beast's Senses and adjusted. If you asked me how, exactly, I did it... I honestly couldn't say. As the saying goes, where there's a will, there's a way — and the talent carved into me moved according to my will. The moment I reached this state, the connection to my talents felt immeasurably tighter.
Careful, careful... pain perception only.
I didn't need to understand the precise mechanics. The moment I simply wished it, Beast's Senses followed my intent beautifully. Good. I think that did it. By feel alone, I knew the senses had been adjusted. There was no way to track time in this place, so I had to surface quickly. Like a submarine executing an emergency ascent, my consciousness shot toward the waking world.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Seugeung!
"Keuuuk!"
"Got you at last, you rat. I'm keeping you close so I can play with you forev—"
"Stop."
"You...?"
When I opened my eyes, Lovrick was dangling from the knight's grip by the collar, one arm already severed. Thankfully, not much time had passed. The torturing ache in my forearm was gone as well. My sense of touch felt slightly dulled, but it posed no problem in combat.
"Seems you lack sufficient pain. Pain Diffusion!"
Jji...rit...?
Despite the knight's triumphant shout, my forearm stayed quiet. There was the faintest sensation — about like being pricked with the tip of a needle. The convulsing muscles had settled, too.
"...How?"
Apparently nothing about me could have surprised him more; the knight released even Lovrick's collar and stared at me. The helm covering his face made it hard to see, but he seemed to be wearing an expression of pure shock.
"Beats me? Maybe I worked it out with mana."
"Impossible! The god's power contains no flaw!!! Blasphemy...!!!"
"Maybe your faith is the thing that's lacking?"
Pain Sword!!!
Chaeng!
I batted away the knight's sword, laden with ominous crimson mana. It was nothing to me now. Without pain, a guy like this was nothing.
Chachachachaeng!
"Impossible!!"
Dozens of exchanges. His physical abilities were superb, but — unlike his knightly appearance — his swordsmanship was abysmal. Perhaps because he'd relied solely on his divine power(?) all this time, once that ability was sealed away his combat strength plummeted. Full of openings.
"O god! Grant me strength— kek!?"
I swept his sword completely aside, and my flashing blade aura raked across the knight's head. His skull split with a jjeogeok. For all his regeneration, apparently he couldn't regrow a brain — the knight crumpled where he stood.
Ttaenggeurang...
Gureureureu...
The sound of his bisected helm rolling across the ground rang out like celebratory fireworks. A formidable opponent.
Waaaaah—!
A cheer erupted at the same moment. For an instant I thought it was the spectators of my duel, and turned my head — but the truth was different. Noah was pressing the Priest hard.
Kwangkwangkwang!
Noah, a morning star in one hand — borrowed from who knows whom — was mercilessly bringing it down on the Priest again and again. The Priest desperately conjured crimson barriers, but—
Wajangchang—!
"...Blade aura?"
Light gathered along Noah's morning star, and in a single stroke it shattered the Priest's barrier and sent his white-haired head flying.