1082. The Seven Nightmares
Whoa!
One Owlbear let out a terrifying roar. The others, too, raised their spirits instead of screaming. In an instant, a ferocious aura filled the air.
An army of over a hundred Owlbears faced the two mad knights.
Dunbakel, who had advanced first, drew her sword and swung it at the approaching creature. It was a charge designed to deceive the monster’s instinctive reaction by stopping abruptly and then accelerating again. Thanks to this, the one at the very front could not even raise a hand to block her.
And so, her blade, crimson, drew a bright red line.
Swoosh.
Dunbakel felt as though he had torn a piece of cloth. And not just any cloth, but old and worn-out fabric that could be torn apart at any moment. That is how sharp the blade was.
What do you think of me? Go ahead and run wild as much as you want. Do you think wearing something like that can stop me?
Ego, a sword with a consciousness speaks. Or perhaps it is actually a collection of beast-human intelligence sufficient to be called an ancestor.
Dunbakel heard the difficult concepts and forgot them. From then on, to her, Crimson was simply a talking sword.
‘uh.’
Dunbakel answered inwardly. With Jinhong helping, he forgot the stench and felt exhilarated.
He spun his body, splitting the head of the guy charging from the left vertically, stepped on the knees and shoulders of the guy whose head he had cut off, jumped up, fell down, and spun his body around, kicking the back of the head of the guy swinging the glaive from behind.
Bang! Crunch!
His head didn’t explode with a single blow, but his eyeballs popped out and his neck was broken.
However, instead of collapsing, the guy with the broken neck pulled back the glaive he had been swinging—even as his head dangled—and slashed through it. Was he in danger because he was airborne? Was it difficult to respond to an unexpected attack?
Not at all. She struck the approaching glaive with her own blade. She deliberately didn’t cut it, but swung it with the blade edge. Using that force, she launched herself to one side.
The guy with the broken neck pushed his own head with his spare hand, aligning his neck bone.
Crack. Amidst the faint sound of bones meshing together, a feather dagger flew right into the spot where Dunbakel had been. The Owlbears fought thoroughly utilizing the armor clad on their bodies, employing slashing, swinging, stabbing, and throwing. Several of them tried to push their way through her, but Dunbakel’s movements were even more agile than before.
Moreover, the three-dimensional maneuvers, which involved gliding through the air and moving as if crawling on the ground, easily defied the opponent’s expectations.
Thanks to this, those charging in headfirst were crashing into their comrades’ backs or flanks.
Feather-like daggers splattered into the black dirt ground.
The moment Dunbakel, having dodged the barrage of daggers, set his feet on the ground, an iron net fell over his head.
They’re doing all sorts of crazy things.
Apart from his thoughts, his body had already moved. Dunbakel tensed his thighs and pushed off the ground. He remained in his low stance. In other words, using the force of his thrust, he launched himself sideways rather than upward.
From above, he looked like a snake moving faster than the falling raindrops, scattering rainwater in all directions as it stirred through the monsters. And since it was a white snake, it was a white serpent. It was likely just because the raindrops left a longer afterimage, making it appear that way.
Bang!
The ground kicked by Dunbakel burst repeatedly. The black stones caught at his feet shattered, scattering raindrops in all directions. Thump. The weight caught at the end of the net struck the ground. Just
as he dodged, a sharp spearhead flew in from the side.
Unable to dodge this, he instantly tightened his grip on his left big toe, gripped the ground with his toes, and dispersed his energy by spinning half a turn to stop his body and swing his sword.
Ta-da-da-da-da-dang!
Sparks flew and the pounding raindrops scattered in all directions.
Crimson worked for its master’s safety by cutting through the spearhead itself as it passed. As the blade and shaft were severed, parts of the weapon wielded by the Owl Bear tumbled down onto the rain-soaked ground.
Dunbakel rolled forward again the moment she swung her sword. A portion of the monster army brought down broad-bladed blades on the spot where she had been standing.
Glaives, spears, swords, even nets—the weapons were diverse.
While she was rolling, a chain sickle came flying toward her this time.
Dunbakel’s eyes gleamed fiercely. She tried to accelerate one more time, even if it meant pushing herself a little, but the chain sickle aimed at her bounced off into thin air before she could. At the same time, the head of the one who swung it was split open.
It was a disc that had cut through the rainwater that struck the chain sickle, and it was a projectile thrown by swinging a sling that had blown the head apart.
“Look ahead, not behind. Form a battle line. We’re going to fight like two. I’m the center, you’re the blade! Go!”
It was Rem’s shout following behind.
As he briefly fought the horde of monsters, he realized that struggling to defeat them all alone wasn’t the best strategy. So why had he stepped forward?
Dunbakel simply felt that the entire group was his opponent.
“Do you think the captain will win? If not, we’ll have to take care of this quickly and go help.”
Dunbakel spoke up when he saw an opening. He had just leaped forward at the shout to go, severed the Owlbear’s head whole with crimson, and rolled it across the ground. When one was killed, four of them swung their weapons, and two of them either recoiled to block the sling bullets or were struck and rolled on the ground.
Don’t you die.
Rem chimed in from behind. Whatever the case, it was all the same thing. After all, they were both on the same page.
They decided to finish this quickly and either help the captain fight or go watch.
Their opponent was a demon. Could they win? They didn’t know. Just how great was the demon’s potential?
However, neither Rem nor Dunbakel thought they would lose, at least vaguely. Still, perhaps infected by Kreis, they felt a faint sense of unease.
In any case, Ragnar was tied down by a single knight, and Rem and Dunbakel faced off against the Owlbear Legion.
Even then, the demon did nothing but talk instead of stepping forward.
“You idiots. I’m the one waiting for you. It’s not that you hooked me.”
His tone had been erratic, but this time it was calm.
Feeling no need to wait any longer, Encrid drew his sword, *Olbul*. There was no noise as the blade emerged from its scabbard. His
posture was that refined. Amidst the pouring rain, which had grown heavier, a blue light flowed from Encrid’s eyes. Even the demon met his gaze.
At the same moment, Esther and Sinar faced seven men. They were all impeccably dressed, yet their appearances and attitudes were all different.
“It is you. The two flowers that have stepped onto this battlefield.”
The guy standing somewhere in the middle spoke first. The funny thing was, seven of them were standing in a row, all in order of height.
The man in the center was, of course, of a reasonable height. However, his face was not. His eyebrows were moderately thick, his nose bridge was high, and his lips were red.
Anyone looking at him would naturally call him handsome. It was an appearance that was bound to make one fall for him. The way his eyes curved at the corners was subtle, and his smile suited him perfectly. It was pleasant to look at.
He was wearing a white shirt, neatly buttoned so that no skin was visible underneath.
He had styled his hair tidily, but it was a bit disheveled from the rain. Shouldn’t I bring him something to shield him from the rain?
The man swept his black hair back and spoke.
It’s a shame that we met here.
But why is this bastard spouting so much nonsense?
As I watched him with the same mindset as Estena Sinarna, I felt a strange sense of familiarity.
I mean, he was someone I was seeing for the first time, but he didn’t seem like a stranger.
Wait, are these guys even human? That question crossed my mind but quickly faded away.
“What are you going to do if you’re disappointed? Then just walk out, right? Look, there’s no point in us fighting amongst ourselves.”
Then, a slightly taller man spoke right beside him. He was wearing a similar shirt, with two buttons undone, leaving the front open.
Well-toned muscles were visible, and his skin was bluish.
“Why? Is this your first time seeing a Mine? I am a Mine. And I’m not ashamed of that.”
He exuded a confident attitude and a somewhat rough aura. Should I say that if he had taken a liking to her and their eyes met, he would have grabbed the wrist of a noblewoman and eloped at night?
That noble family would certainly be thrown into turmoil if Main did so, but he gave off an atmosphere that clearly showed he wouldn’t care about such consequences.
“Is that right? We have just set out on a mission. Ha, how sad the world is.”
This time, it was the man opposite the one in the center. He was slightly shorter and had drooping eyes similar to the guy in the middle, but this one didn’t have a smiling face; instead, he looked somewhat pitiful. On top of that, his thin lips gave him a strong impression of melancholy.
He had a similar skin tone, but his hair was purple. Even as his rain-soaked hair clung to his face and rainwater got into his eyes, he merely blinked; he didn’t raise his hands but simply stood there, letting the rain fall on him, and opened his mouth.
So, he gave off an impression filled with sadness, yet that revealed a strange charm.
Next to him, an even shorter and thinner man opened his mouth.
“If you want to get messed up, you can hang out with me here. I mean, I won’t be the one regretting it.”
This time, he was a guy with hollow under-eyes and small pupils, making the whites of his eyes appear large on the left, right, and bottom. They were unusual eyes. The whites were visible on three sides.
He raised his thin, slender arm and swept his hair back. His deep blue hair deflected some of the rainwater. He also had a few tattoos on his forearm, all of which were geometric in shape.
I got soaked.
He spoke as if he didn’t particularly care about the fairy and the witch, yet his gaze remained fixed on them.
It was a look mixed with a subtle demand that since he had shown interest, they should show interest in return.
That look had a strange effect on one’s heart. It was the kind of look that made you want to just fall apart along with them.
Standing next to him again, a man who had now shrunk so much that he was about the height of a child spoke.
“Wow, both of your older sisters are really pretty.”
He spoke while blinking and wiping away the constantly flowing rain with his forearm.
It was an innocent feeling, devoid of any pretense in his tone.
He wasn’t quite a child, but since he wasn’t very old yet, there was a strong sense of freshness about him.
To put it in fairy terms, he was like an unripe fruit or a leaf that had turned green but hadn’t fully grown.
To put it more simply and intuitively, he was like a green apple.
With jet-black hair and blue eyes, he pointed at the witch and spoke.
We look alike.
One of the two remaining men seemed to be the quiet type, as he only uttered a single word. He was the tallest one.
It is an unnecessary fight.
Judging by the way he spoke, it seemed like he really didn’t want to come to a place like this but stepped forward out of necessity.
If pressed on why he had come all the way, he would naturally answer that it was for the sake of fairies and witches.
Then, the second tallest man calmly looked at Sinar and Esther, shook his head, and spoke.
“My brother is right. But if we absolutely have to fight, I’ll die in his place. In return, spare my brother.”
The Seven were chattering away as they pleased, even though Sinar and Esther hadn’t said a word.
Moreover, the one standing in the center even took a few steps closer. It was within striking distance if Sinar were to draw his sword.
His neck would have been severed just by drawing and swinging his sword without even taking a step. Yet, he fearlessly closed the distance.
“Lady, we can resolve anything through conversation for now. Fighting isn’t always the answer.”
These seven were succubi. The White Destroyer revered struggle yet collected the very things he despised.
If asked why, he would simply answer that it was a hobby.
A sadistic hobby. You could say they were collectibles he could kill, destroy, or smash at any time.
Well, he had enjoyed collecting such things long before he was called a demon.
That habit had simply continued to this day.
Consequently, he had effectively sent a part of his hobby to the battlefield.
Their objective was to approach women and win their favor with charming words and demeanor.
If asked if they were skilled fighters, they lacked the strength to take on a knight. However, if their sole objective was assassination, few were as skilled as them.
While Saxony was a typical assassin guild born of brute force, these individuals favored a slightly different approach.
Their primary weapons were enchantment spells and specially crafted perfumes.
Born with an innate ability to bewitch people, they were fully at ease even when dealing with witches and fairies.
Can you truly shake off all seven of these alluring succubi?
It is essentially a message sent by the Pure White Destroyer.
Should I do it?
Esther asked. Sinar answered, drawing his age.
“Let’s do it together. It’s a waste of time.”
“Yeah.”
The two did not even make eye contact. Esther reached out, letting her black robe drape, while Sinar slowly drew his sword.
It was a gesture that completely disregarded the efforts of the Seven Succubi. Yet, the Seven did not even think of dodging.
It was during the brief moment when the Seven Succubi’s attention was diverted by the chirping sound of the blade scraping against the scabbard.
Esther spread five fingers and summoned Demüller’s wind.
De Muller’s Arrow.
Just before she was about to lay a hand on them, Esther wondered if they had really committed a crime worthy of death.
Don’t kill him.
“Let’s just poke holes in their legs.”
That was her consideration and generosity. Just then, a wind arrow flew from the witch’s hand.
With a whooshing sound, just before holes were about to be pierced in the legs of the seven, all seven blocked the wind arrow with an invisible shield spell, as if by prearrangement.
“……Please don’t do this.”
The youngest and smallest of them spoke. His tone was pitiful. Esther felt sorry for him.
Sinar took advantage of the brief opening to swing his sword. He stepped back and brought it down diagonally, but the power in his strike was pathetic compared to his age.
Even Esther could see that it lacked murderous intent, hostility, and fighting spirit. The blade was blocked by the taciturn First One with his forearm, and silver scales had sprouted on his arm before he knew it; they looked like magical armor enveloping his skin.
bang.
The man who had blocked the old men gripped the blade with his bare hands. Dark red blood dripped from his palm.
Don’t demons usually have black blood? The liquid gushing from his body was as red as human blood. Though even that quickly faded, diluted by the rainwater.
“Why do we have to fight? Why do we have to kill each other?”
Maybe it’s because he’s a man of few words, but he spouts nonsensical things. However, that felt like a sincere and genuine way of communicating, filled with genuine emotion.
