novelraw Chapter 51 : City of Fanatics (12)
Chapter 51 : City of Fanatics (12)
Chapter 51: City of Fanatics (12)
A single sweep of the pitch-black scythe erased every blood-spawned monster.
With nothing but an extremely enhanced body, Vigo produced effects like magic.
Snap—
Tendons snapped, muscles scorched. It was the price of unleashing force beyond human limits. Yet Vigo felt no pain.
Feeling pain before the enemy was annihilated would’ve been a luxury.
Vigo kept swinging the great scythe.
Monsters fell like autumn leaves before a cold wind.
“Remarkable….”
Magis trailed off, clearly unsettled. Vigo’s bloodshot eyes widened, and he swung the scythe straight at Magis. The black blade carved a half-circle.
Magis thrust out her hand. An invisible mana field collided with the black blade.
Crack! The blast, as if the air itself shattered, made Rowen’s ears burst with blood. Blood trickled from Vigo’s ears too, but he didn’t feel pain and kept hammering away.
Magis looked fine, yet her face wasn’t. Even her fingertips tingled. Vigo’s power exceeded anything she’d projected.
The moment a gap appeared, Rowen joined in.
“I’ll help!”
Sprinting, Rowen slammed her swordstick against the floor.
Chwarururur!
The swordstick split into iron segments and became a whip.
Swish!
The iron links coiled around Magis. She hastily slashed them away with mana, and Vigo’s follow-up slash came hard on its heels. Magis traced a small circle with a finger, and the slash got sucked into a tiny hole.
Vigo dashed in and swung the great scythe at a speed the eye couldn’t track. The black blades cleaved everything along their paths. Magis flung out her palm. A blue mana field formed a ward.
Boom, boom, boom, boom!
Four layers of mana fields smashed against the blades of darkness and shattered. The broken mana fragments whipped like shards of glass and pelted Vigo.
He spun the great scythe in heavy arcs and batted the fragments away. He wasn’t able to block all of them, so his body split open in several places. His right eye was fully pierced by a shard and went blind.
“Master!”
“Don’t mind me! Stay focused to the end!”
Bleeding, Vigo shouted. Rowen didn’t slow as she drove in at Magis. The iron links ripped strips of skin from Magis’s body.
The two Hunters’ assault turned into acrobatic fury.
Magis began to give ground.
Vigo vaulted and appeared above Magis’s head. Just before the iron links could coil around Magis’s neck, she flicked her fingers without even looking.
Clang— The links shattered and Vigo was blasted away with them.
Even as he flew, he slashed. But when Magis pressed her palm down as if to push, the floor sank into a circular crater and swallowed the slash.
Pssss— Sparks crackled as Vigo knocked aside the counter with his pitch-black scythe.
“Ugh. Damn it!”
Rowen was hurled far away. The blow to her organs made it hard to move. For a moment, she could only watch the two fight.
A colossal clash raged on, too fast for the eye to follow.
Vigo, far beyond the human frame, and Sin, the pinnacle among witches, fought on a level that defied perception.
“Huaaa!”
Vigo’s three-stroke flurry, packed with desperation.
The first shattered the mana field.
The second split an arm.
The third nearly severed a neck.
Magis barely crushed the third stroke with magic.
“…Ha. You’re a rougher man than I thought.”
Magis licked her lips. He wasn’t going down easily. She was the one being pressed instead.
With nothing but a human body, Vigo began to overwhelm a witch.
Anger at the unexpected struggle made Magis’s face dangerously alluring. In the next instant, her severed arm regenerated.
‘As expected, she recovers. I can’t even give her time to—’
Slash! Vigo gritted his teeth, spun the great scythe in a blazing flourish, then set his stance. The long, trailing blade flashed.
For an instant, Magis felt as if her neck had fallen.
With killing intent alone, Vigo projected causality.
The ultimate of a human who had reached the supreme domain.
“Die, witch.”
—!
There was no blind spot in the pitch-black chain strikes. The black blades ruled every inch of space. Anything that tried to block was cut to ribbons.
“It’s useless—”
Waves of black fury surged from every direction.
To block it, she would need a powerful mana field that covered every angle.
Magis formed seals. Layer upon layer of gapless mana fields wrapped around her.
Shing—!
Even her fields, which neutralized powerful magic, split like paper. Like parting water, there was not the slightest resistance.
The blades of darkness, pressing in without a single gap, shredded Magis’s body to pieces.
“Ugh….”
Limbs torn off, Magis tumbled across the floor like a chopped-up doll.
Vigo dropped to one knee as well. The more power he used, the harsher the backlash was. His heart was about to burst, his muscles ruined across his whole body and were barely functional.
His fatigue had already surpassed its limits. It wouldn’t have been strange if he blacked out at any moment.
Even so, the old soldier forced himself up and ran.
Even if the run was slow, he moved his legs with one thought, to kill every witch in this world.
Skin tearing, cells burning with agony down to the smallest unit.
One step, then another….
He finally reached Sin.
Vigo leveled the great scythe.
Magis smiled, as if stung with humiliation.
“As expected, a witch is most beautiful with her limbs in pieces. I’d almost like to bottle them in glass jars and admire them one by one.”
“Vile taste… you have.”
Slowly knitting herself back together, Magis answered through gritted teeth. No human had ever driven her this far.
“I waited for this day. This is for my old comrades.”
Vigo raised the scythe, aiming to finish her head and heart so she could never heal again.
“Die now. Sin.”
Flash—
In that instant, a shriek like tearing filled Vigo’s ears.
A woman appeared before his eyes.
A woman with lovely hair like a field of wheat, dyed gold.
She smiled kindly at Vigo. A smile that warmed the heart and eased all tension.
‘…!’
Vigo started and faltered.
It was his wife.
His now former wife, now estranged.
Now the infamous villainess known as the Witch of Illusions.
She had even offered up the children born between them as sacrifices to an evil god before she left.
That beloved smile, that face, turned red with blood. Her expression twisted into pure malice, tears of blood flowed, and with words of curse she defiled Vigo.
The shocking shift snapped Vigo out of the hallucination.
“Huff—”
As he struggled to draw breath, Magis, now more than half recovered, stood before him.
Wearing a mean smile, Magis reached out and tapped Vigo lightly in the chest.
Smash!
From that light touch, a grotesque wave of mana exploded, and Vigo shot away like a shell.
He crashed down, cracking the wall, and coughed blood as he sprawled.
His guts twisted, bones crushed. Muscles torn, he had no way to stand.
“Master!!!”
“Kgh… damn… I let my guard down. That bitch….”
Magis could strike at a foe’s trauma. Every witch hunter became one because they had lost someone, or lost something. Sin possessed a matchup that could never truly be overcome.
“Are you all right? Grab onto me—”
“Rowen, run….”
“No! We have to find a way out and…!”
“Now!”
Vigo pushed Rowen away with the last of his strength.
There was no way left. Vigo had spent himself, and the drugs’ effects had faded. Against the Witch of Sin, all they could do was wait for death.
Ssss.
The hairs on Rowen’s arm stood up as she turned her head. Magis was smiling.
“…!”
“How was the feast?”
* * *
Five blades surged in.
Nike thrust out his arm and stirred space.
The blades stretched like taffy and smeared apart.
“What the?”
Count Simas muttered in surprise. He couldn’t understand the trick the sacrifice had pulled.
Swish!
Nike slipped straight to the Count’s flank. A driving punch. Faster than expected, the Count twisted his body at the last instant to avoid it.
Swoosh!
Wind roared in the punch’s wake. A clean hit would’ve broken ribs even after demonization.
‘That stunned face looks dumb!’
Nike smirked. Fighting while using magic was definitely effective. The Boss’s teaching had been right.
That bizarre ability threw the Count badly off balance.
‘This brat is using… the Lord’s magic?’
It was hard to believe. A mere sacrifice couldn’t possibly comprehend the wisdom the Witch of Distortion had amassed.
“Where did you learn such a cheap trick!”
The Count roared and swept his blades.
They stretched out like tentacles.
Nike had no other weapon, so he focused on dodging. Swoosh, swoosh! The blades skimmed past, snipping strands of his hair over and over.
‘Fast!’
The Count’s swordsmanship was superb. Aside from Vigo, Nike hadn’t seen anyone that skilled even at the training camp. The rumor that he’d pursued the ultimate of martial truth hadn’t been just bluster.
“Huaaa!”
Clap!
Gritting his teeth, Nike caught one surging blade in his palm. The remaining four shot for his neck, flank, and thigh.
Thud!
Nike kicked off the floor and planted his foot in the Count’s chest. In that instant, the sword in the Count’s hand slipped into Nike’s. He’d gained a weapon.
“You bas….”
Creating distance, Nike gripped the stolen saber and examined it.
“Oh.”
It fit his hand perfectly for some reason.
It felt both familiar, and chilling at the same time.
Nike’s eyes changed.
It was like a child who’d gotten a fascinating new toy.
Swish!
Nike appeared right in front of the Count. His speed was as if he’d warped.
‘When did he!?’
The Count thrust out the four remaining blades to block.
Kkagak!
Steel bit and locked. Even with the strength of demonization, the Count couldn’t push Nike back. It was a monstrous power for such a small frame.
Nike spun, shed the locked blades aside, and blitzed to the flank. The Count whipped his arm fast to respond. Nike went “whoa!” and stumbled back.
‘He looks that clumsy, yet….’
Blood ran from the Count’s side. In that tiny window, Nike had cut him. His skin wasn’t something a novice could slice open.
‘How!’
Rage flared in the Count. The supreme realm of martial truth he had pursued all his life, the years of training, were denied in a single instant.
With that awkward grip and stance, the sacrifice looked like someone who’d never held a sword.
Because he bore the stigmata of the stars, the sacrifice had slipped past human limits with ridiculous ease.
Futility reverberated through their clashing blades.
‘I can’t lose. The sacrifice must be retrieved.’
The Count shook his head and cleared his thoughts. This wasn’t the time to envy, or to wallow in inferiority.
He erased everything and focused only on cutting down the sacrifice.
The Order’s service was sacred.
He would simply obey the will of the great star.
The Count lifted his head and fixed on Nike. Nike looked playful, but his eyes didn’t let his prey out of their sights for a heartbeat.
Drop your guard and die. Any warrior would know it in their bones.
—!
Nike’s hair bristled. He was nothing like before.
The moment he stepped into the Count’s reach, a danger he hadn’t sensed earlier speared through him. Instinctively, Nike pulled back.
Splatter!
Even if only shallowly, blood sprayed from all over him. In that brief instant, the Count had swung the blade dozens of times. He steadied his breath, focused wholly on Nike.
“You have good instincts.”
“Hah? Thanks for the compliment.”
“…”
The Count raised four blades. It was time to finish it. The mana backlash was getting severe. By now, the preparations for the seal should’ve been complete.
“Let’s end this.”
“Hah? You gotta take a dump or something!”
Nike wanted that too. He worried about the comrades beyond. The longer the fight dragged on, the lower their chances of survival.
‘Kill him fast.’
Nike clenched the curved blade and glared at the Count.
From the start, Count Simas had been Golden Dawn, lying that he wasn’t, duping them to bring them into the keep.
Judging by the circumstances, he’d gone to some trouble to draw them naturally down into this underground. The longer they stayed here, the more things would go his way.
Now the right answer was to forget the aftermath and go all out.
—!
Nike moved first. His footsteps made no sound.
To the Count’s eyes, he vanished like mist. Even without blinking, with total focus, he lost him. Startled, the Count swung on reflex.
Slash!
“Gah!”
Having slipped behind him with a slash, Nike’s chest bloomed blood.
‘Did I win…?’
Bewildered, the Count glanced back at Nike. He’d swung with a single thought, to cut his foe. The result was only that a cut existed. A sensation he’d never felt.
‘Could this be…?’
Had he reached martial truth’s supreme realm at last?
The instant he thought it—
His upper body slid off on a diagonal and fell.
Eyes wide, he stared at his lower half still standing. The severed cross-section was charred. The magical fire stopped any regeneration.
“H-Huh?”
Nike scowled and looked over his shoulder. Blood still poured. The gash was deep, the wound closed slowly.
“Kghhh… I’m gonna die! It hurts!”
“What did you… you’ll die too.”
The Count coughed blood and asked. Nike tilted his head.
“Me? Why?”
A human could never understand it, not even in the moment of death.
The realm of the transcendent.
It was a strike possible only for someone who didn’t entertain the thought that he might die.
Perhaps that fearlessness was the very ultimate the Count had sought.
“…”
With a hollow smile, the Count breathed his last. Nike didn’t have time to feel betrayal or relief. He fixed his gaze on the far side. A dangerous aura still lurked.
He was a bit tired, but he had to help the Boss and the Vice Boss, fast.
‘I can still fight.’
Clutching the blade, he started to run.