The Transmigrated Villain Claims the Heroines!

Chapter 46: Blood For Stone

I could feel my pulse hammering in my throat as the Stone Sentinel’s hollow gaze swept across the chamber. Its eyes were empty sockets, but somehow, I knew it was looking at me.

The machine stepped forward, one arm still raised to keep me back, its posture shifting into something more defensive. It was assessing the threat, calculating the best approach.

But there were seven alcoves.

And more statues were beginning to move.

I couldn’t let it carry the entire burden. If I did, it would only be a matter of time before the Sentinels overwhelmed and destroyed it. And without it, I was as good as dead.

I had to help this time.

"Machine," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "Prioritize the ones on the left. I’ll take the one that’s already out."

For a moment, nothing happened. Then the machine’s head turned toward me, its blue eyes flickering once, twice, like it was processing what I’d said. Or maybe it was just surprised.

Maybe that thing’s AI had more personality than I initially thought...

[Command Acknowledged]

It stepped away from me, moving toward the awakening statues with a speed that betrayed its durability. Its blade was held tightly, but I doubt that thing could even slice through stone.

That left me alone with the first Sentinel.

It was nine feet of solid rock, its limbs thick and blocky, its fists the size of my chest. When it walked, the ground trembled. When it raised its arm to strike, I could feel the air displace.

I ducked.

The fist sailed over my head, close enough that I felt the breeze of it ruffle my hair. The impact against the stone floor behind me sent chips of rock flying, one of them cutting a shallow gash across my cheek.

"Fuck," I yelled out, scrambling backward. "Too close."

I didn’t have a proper weapon. Just the broken hilt of my sword, maybe six inches of actual blade still attached. Absolutely useless against solid stone.

But I had my body.

The original Cassian had built this vessel through years of brutal training. Even without a sword, I was stronger, faster, tougher than any normal human. The question was whether I was strong enough to crack stone.

Only one way to find out.

The Sentinel pulled its fist free from the floor, chunks of rock falling from its knuckles. It turned to face me, slow and methodical, and raised both arms for a double-handed smash.

I didn’t dodge this time.

I stepped into its range, planted my feet, and punched it in the chest.

The impact sent a shockwave up my arm, pain lancing through my knuckles, my wrist, my elbow. But I felt something else too. The give of stone cracking beneath my fist.

CRACK!

The Sentinel staggered back a step, a spiderweb of fractures spreading across its torso.

I looked at my hand. Bloodied knuckles, bruised, but the bones were intact.

"Huh."

[Noctierre’s Swordstyle: 5.6%]

"That counted!?"

I barely had time to register the number before the Sentinel attacked again, its enraged fist once more trying to tear my head from my shoulders.

FWOOSH!

I dodged to the side at the right moment and, without another moment of hesitation, planted my fist on its elbow.

CRACK!

The stone shuddered, then completely shattered from my blow, the Sentinel’s entire arm crashing uselessly to the ground as I stared at it in stunned surprise.

So the stone in its arms was far weaker... good to know.

THUD!

THUD!

The other Sentinels were closing in faster than I’d like, two more charging straight at me before I could even finish off the first one.

And the machine was already dealing with four of them at once, dodging cleanly and efficiently without taking a single hit. But I could tell it wasn’t doing any damage; it didn’t even try to punch the stone.

It knew it would break the moment it tried.

It looked like I was the only one who could deal damage this time.

"Damn it!"

I spat the words out and immediately rushed the staggered Sentinel before it could recover, driving two blows into its legs and shattering them again. Pain ripped through my body, but adrenaline kept me moving...

The thing was still alive, but it was fairly useless now.

"Two more..."

I spun around to face the incoming Sentinels, my knuckles throbbing, blood dripping down my fingers. The first disabled Sentinel lay in a heap behind me, still twitching, still trying to drag itself toward me with its one remaining arm.

I didn’t have time to finish it off.

The two new ones moved faster than the first, their stone bodies grinding against each other as they closed the distance. They flanked instinctively, one circling left, the other right, trying to trap me between them.

Smart. Too smart for mindless constructs.

I backpedaled toward the machine, putting distance between myself and the pincer movement. The machine was still dancing around its four Sentinels, elegant and untouchable, but it wasn’t hurting them. Every time it struck with its sword, it just bounced off the stone with a dull clang. Every time it dodged, another chunk of floor got pulverized.

"Switch with me!" I shouted.

The machine’s head snapped toward me. Then it disengaged from its four Sentinels in a single fluid motion, sliding past them like water, and placed itself directly in front of the two that had been coming for me.

And its blade came up to block.

A nine-foot stone fist crashed against the flat of the blade, driving the machine back as its feet skidded across the floor. Its arm jolted from the impact, and the blade chipped under the force.

"Okay," I muttered.

Then I turned to face my new problem.

Four Sentinels. All of them turning toward me now, their hollow eyes tracking my movement, their massive fists clenching and unclenching.

"I’m not going to die here," I said under my breath, "Not after finally living a fun goddamn life!"

The first Sentinel lunged.

I stepped into its swing, felt the wind of its passing, and drove my fist into its wrist. The stone shattered on impact, a spray of debris flying past my face. The Sentinel reeled, its hand dangling by a thread, and I followed through, slamming my other fist into its elbow.

CRACK.

Its forearm tore free entirely.

The second Sentinel came from my blind spot, silent despite its size, its fist already mid-swing toward my ribs. I twisted at the last second, the blow glancing off my side instead of landing clean.

Pain exploded through my torso. I felt something shift that shouldn’t have shifted. But I didn’t fall.

I grabbed its arm before it could retract, locked my fingers around its stone wrist, and pulled.

The Sentinel stumbled forward off-balance.

I planted my foot in its chest.

CRACK.

Spiderwebs spread across its torso, and it crashed backward into the third Sentinel, sending both of them tumbling to the ground in a heap of grinding stone.

[Noctierre’s Swordstyle: 7.2%]