After using what was, in hindsight, best kept as a secret weapon, I was blown back by the impact and violently collided with one of the towering pillars.
Since it was essentially an impromptu trial, I couldn’t accurately predict how much of the shock from the isolation barrier would leak out; as a result, I couldn’t hold back, nor could I gradually decelerate with the <Invisible Hand> as I had during my initial dodge.
Still, it seemed my dice luck for today’s battle wasn’t that bad.
Fortunately, I rolled in at an angle that likely minimized the impact with the pillar, allowing me to bounce dozens of meters away until the force of the attack weakened enough for a final collision with another column, finally stopping me. A worst-case scenario might have seen me slamming into the pillar with such force that I’d be reduced to a squished pomegranate.
“Ugh… hacked… choked…”
But it seems I’ve suffered more than just minor injuries.
“Nngh… are… are these ribs…”
Each breath feels like my abdomen is being wrenched, with pain as though a foreign object has been plunged into my body. There’s no clever trick to instantly figure out which ribs are broken, nor any dark humor to laugh at them being “off” as a survival mechanism. Gasp after gasp, I struggle to contain the screams of pain wrenching through my body.
Alright, calm down, stay steady. I don’t have time right now to writhe around in agony. That one blow may have been excessively powerful, and now it’s clear that the barrier’s structure had flaws too, but clearly it’s not something that could outright kill.
An attack like I just used, one that even obliterated that colossal three-headed hunting hound into seizures lying sprawled on its back, should pulverize any normal member of the Human Race—not unless they’re an exceptionally high-level character who’s nearly transcended humanity itself.
But I’m not that naïve to think that the same applies to those referred to as the Undead — especially the Vampire Species among them, those especially resistant to external harm.
No matter how devastating the attack I delivered was, it’s far from enough to completely extinguish such beings. The kind of explosive attack that I unleashed, followed by a hopeful “Did it hit!?” or “Surely, they couldn’t endure,” isn’t just about surviving; it’s almost a survival flag.
Sure, some Long-lived Species are called Undead too, but those are pretty normal creatures by comparison—just sever their heads or mess with their entrails, and they’re gone. Well, aside from Lady Agrippina, whose head might not be easy to sever, as that remains a distant mystery.
The real problem comes with those who, unless specific conditions are met, regenerate endlessly as long as their resources hold out.
Especially the Vampire Species—it’s difficult.
The most effective way to destroy them involves either exposing them to sunlight for prolonged periods or driving a consecrated stake through their hearts to disrupt their regeneration; even so, none of these methods kill them outright. If this process is interrupted, after quite some time they may regenerate from ash—a fact absurd enough to evoke laughter.
Beyond that, there’s the strong anti-evil blessing of the Sun God who loathes vampires, or the silver weapons crafted as deadly restraints given by the God of Night Shadow to hinder their regeneration. Otherwise, they persistently reconstruct their bodies and rise again.
“Extraordinary…”
Of course, they are still alive.
As the aftereffects of the explosion begin to subside, a shadow emerged from the swirling dust. I expected them not to be dead, sure, but why do they still retain their human shape?
It seems they’re still in the regeneration process based on the restrained movements, offering a brief window of opportunity—a window which swiftly closes if left unutilized. There’s no time to hesitate.
I pressed my “hands” to the painful areas—essentially acting as a makeshift corset. While not perfect, it’s better than nothing—and called for the Sword of Desire that had been cast away in the tumble. It instantly returned to my outstretched palm, behaving much like a tamed dog, though imagining the blade as an overly eager, violent hound eliminates all traces of cuteness.
Shouldering the sword, I overpowered the agony with sheer willpower and surged forward. Every step brought tears to my eyes, but I endured. To falter here would mean far worse outcomes than mere pain.
While advancing, I prepared the third part of the compound technique designed specifically for dealing with high-regeneration foes—an experiment never concluded on that fateful day. These three fairly reasonable techniques are the main fruits of the expertise earned from my experiences in the Demon Palace, and it is a common trait among players (PL) to reinforce an opponent who’s already received a painful lesson with an additional gambit.
Though, it’s quite common for spiteful Game Masters (GM) to ensure that enemies of this type never reappear.
The cylindrical object filled with a catalyst, its shape marked to avoid confusion, floated through the air toward the enemy. Similar to the catalyst of the fuel-air bomb technique, it explodes mid-air as designed.
But this time, one side explodes, forcefully ejecting its contents forward.
This wasn’t an accident. Through a well-controlled spell—courtesy of the ongoing collaboration of Lady Agrippina—it ensures that the substance is efficiently dispensed over the designated targets.
Its concept is simple. Instead of the long-term incandescence associated with thermite techniques, this spell uses “burning grease agent technology” to create prolonged obstructions to the Undead’s regenerative processes.
As roaring flames danced, encircling the regenerating noble, they writhed in the searing heat. The concoction of refined oils mixed with thickening agents derived from animal extracts was highly effective, clinging to surfaces and burning without reprieve thanks to the magical enhancements.
Being lipophilic, once it sticks, it’s not easily removed, and despite the oxygen deprivation, continues to relentlessly burn. Although this oil mixed with enhancers falls short of gasoline, it still achieves the intended effect with the help of the spell support.
No matter how rapidly they try to regenerate, burning endlessly will inevitably leave them behind. It wasn’t easy to achieve the required heat flux and speed; a significant amount of effort went into its realization.
Desperate to extinguish the clinging flames, the noble could only scorch off whatever caught fire, the very reason why such techniques were favored by both armies and guerrillas worldwide. Once ignited, it usually leads to certain doom.
That said, in this world, “normal” is anything but standard, and individuals frequently hurdle over it with carefree ease…
A sharp burst of sound. Amidst an agonizing, wet reverberation, the noble, ablaze as a human torch, exploded. Flames dispersed in all directions with such velocity that nearby heat fragments singed my hair.
Impossible! Did they extinguish the flames merely by shedding every surface layer of their burning flesh!?
As muscle layers and entrails became visible, I panicked at the rapid regeneration. My ace had already been played, and I had no catalyst-based magical attacks left to deploy.
I still carried weapons, and they could fell the target, but that wouldn’t suffice to end it completely. It’s an atrocious monster, capable of retaliating even while being slain, then effortlessly reconstructing their body afterward.
With a child-like analogy—it’s like a professional playing continuously in an arcade game against an elementary school kid who can’t keep up. It’s infuriatingly unfair!
Suddenly, inspiration struck like divine intervention. While reflecting on the unfairness, I realized I had something—silver that was fairly pure.
Quickly plunging my hand into my pouch, I retrieved a slim wallet and the precious silver coin I had kept in case of emergency, one that was, to me, quite valuable. That day, when Lady Cecilia was saved, the silver coin given by Archbishop Lampel as an information fee was known for its high silver content, thus highly valuable.
I never expected that I’d use this money, set aside for emergencies, as a literal silver bullet.
With this, there’s a possibility. If I split open the chest with the Sword of Desire, expose the regenerating heart, and directly embed the coin there, even an Undead vampire like this could be brought down.
Because the gods that rule the world have decreed it thus.
Every battle offers one fleeting opportunity. The gambling arena of combat deals each player one hand. So I gambled it all with the final call of that coin, lifting the sword for the last decisive strike.
Now, we’ll see the contents of our hands.
“～～～～～～～～～～～～！！”
The Sword of Desire wailed. Its typical pleading, childlike thoughts demanding blood weren’t this. It wasn’t eager but forceful, compelling something indescribable. Incomprehensible warnings surged within my brain, though too late to act upon.
“Guh…!?”
With a grinding sound akin to twisting glass, the space warped and exploded. During my final lunge, the airborne body was violently repelled. Impossible sights unfolded within my drifting vision—the sight of my limbs severing and flying away.
So close, yet so far—my body, which I’d cared for since my earliest self-awareness, was now disintegrating. Thanks to the <Lightning Reflex> characteristic, undesirable scenes played in slow motion before my eyes, leaving an indelible impression.
The elbow down to the left hand, and the upper thigh down to the left foot were severed. While unable to speculate the cause, strangely, there was no pain. Was it due to the high adrenaline, or because my brain couldn’t process the surreal visuals? All I could recognize was being blown back, with increasing strain bearing down on the remainder of my body and limbs.
The sword suddenly in front of my chest groaned. Ah, my left arm and leg flew off earlier because this saved me. It seems it shielded me, deciding that I couldn’t withstand the force.
But it seems this only delayed death for mere moments.
Of course, how could I expect anything less? Even with the most playful demeanor, this character was deadly serious from the start. The first glimpse of true death was followed by the merciless execution. Of course, they wouldn’t hesitate to unleash some unfair, first-time killer technique.
But I can’t die alone. Facing imminent death, I can still weave spells. If nothing else, I’ll use the <Invisible Hand> to stretch forth and have a fairy knife pierce the chest to deliver the silver coin.
This is beyond resistance, intuitively. It’s not a direct hit blocked by the barriers of space but rather an attack targeting the space around me. For someone like me, built for swordsmanship, there’s no avoiding it. A tank, armed with their inherent durability, might withstand it through sheer health capacity, but this frail human form has slim odds.
At least I won’t go down without a fight. I’ve lived carrying many promises and my sister’s future. I can’t end like this, just crushed arbitrarily like a bug by some strong rival!
Sure, this place is infamous. On the streets, you might encounter a dragon, meet high-leveled wanderers in the bustling town, or even have a hunting hound attack you in sleep due to bad dice rolls. But does that mean I should be wiped out so effortlessly and leave it at that?
Surely not! Just you wait…
“Oh, this is excessive, my impatient one.”
Just as I prepared a final counterblow, the grinding sound was overpowered by a soft, feminine voice, vanishing the burdens all at once.
“Act with prudence. Restrain their chaos—that is thy task.”
A crimson mist filled the chamber, enveloping the regenerating noble before a catastrophic explosion boomed. Resembling the snapping of sturdy objects, the sound was bone-crushing, abrasive like a coarse file against the mind. Deafened and mentally drained, I helplessly rolled to the ground.
“Hmm? Perhaps we were a mite tardy.”
A part of the ear-piercing mist—the sound of wailing and pleading within—began to wriggle, shaping itself.
From the swirling mass emerged a regal, aristocratic woman.
Her attire, a long, outdated style of toga that exuded classical elegance amidst modern trends, was unmistakably high-class. Dressed in imperial purple, a color only achieved through the rarest of dyes and exclusive to the Emperor and those who once held the title, its extravagance signaled her noble rank. Contrasting with this was her nude form, a striking combination that seemed peculiar yet fascinating.
Her crimson eyes and obsidian hair complemented the imperial purple of her clothes, creating an alluring glow, while her milky-white skin shone with a moist, radiant sheen, almost perfume-like.
A face reminiscent of someone I’ve seen. As the vision blurred under the loss of blood and spreading pain, I caught a striking resemblance within the mist that dispersed into the form of a monk’s robe-clad girl who emerged earlier.
Ah, right, Lady Cecilia’s features…
Crying and approaching, I found this peculiar connection oddly amusing as my vision faded, and I closed my eyes with a faint smile…
【Tips】 The imperial purple. In the Threefold Empire, it is the supreme forbidden color, reserved solely for the Emperor and former Emperors. This custom dates back due to the color’s requirement of rare dyes and complex processing, thus symbolizing unparalleled nobility. It remains enshrined in the Imperial Rules of the Threefold Empire as a restricted color.
However, because of its flashy nature, even Emperors or former ones tend to avoid it during informal occasions in recent years.
A Toga: A Roman-inspired garment layered over a tunic and trousers. It’s akin to a stylish sheet wrapped around, giving a certain flair as one freely moves about.
Furthermore, the eccentric behavior of such high-born individuals often gets passed off with phrases like “Isn’t it fashionable?” or “New research suggests…” These quirks sometimes become trends, garnering mixed reactions from foreign observers, who often refer to them as “those perverts over there.”
