“SOULS! SOULS! SOULS!”
“Muramasaaa,” I whined, “Can you please stop it with the whole ‘sprinting at full speed’ thing?”
“SILENCE!”
“Whaaat?!”
A day after I’d become a knight, I was running through the woods in the inner zone, in tears.
Rather, I was being made to run—which, I mean, nothing unusual, fine, whatever.
(It wasn’t really fine, nor was it really whatever.)
So this is the inner zone, I thought. It’s so big it’s hard to believe this is on the other side of the wall...
Iris had told me that, on horseback, it took a week to travel from end to end.
It was said that, long ago, people walled off an extensive area and exterminated the aetherborn within, thus making it secure for people to live in—the so-called “safe zone.” Impressive!
And that’s where I was! The safe zone! Except, you know, for one minor detail.
“Grrrrr...”
I could feel it. Within the dimly lit forest, between the trees, many aetherborn stared at me.
So much for the myth of safety.
Aetherborn had rushed in through the destroyed cities and were now lurking everywhere.
“Those creatures do like killing people,” I mused out loud. “They probably wasted no time once they realized they could cross into the inner zone, where humans are plentiful.”
In many myths and legends, monstrous creatures played the part of villains and the scourge of humanity. When they’d manifested in reality, it hadn’t been just their physical forms—their roles in the stories had too, turning them into extremely dangerous beings which killed humans for fun.
Pain in the ass.
“Sure is nice to not have to feel guilty about killing these things. Now then, you guys, do your thing!”
My body went into battle mode and I leaped into the air, pulling out several knives from my coat’s inside pocket and flinging them at the aetherborn lurking nearby!
“Awoo?!” echoed a confused, doglike cry.
A group of wolflike creatures—werewolves—emerged from the bushes. Clever and physically capable, they were nasty, nasty things. They were also covered in thick fur, so my knives weren’t enough to bring them down.
“Grooooar!”
The pain only made them falter momentarily. Enraged, they tried to pounce on me.
Keyword: “tried.”
“You’ve been stabbed, dudes. It’s over. Hey, Dáinsleif? Feast away!”
“BLOOD!”
✦ ✦ ✦
The next second, the werewolves collapsed to their knees, the color draining from their bloodshot eyes as their movements slowed.
In contrast, strength surged through my body.
“These are all part of Dáinsleif, the Crimson Thirst, see. It’s a bloodsucking, chaotic arm that leeches blood from its prey to strengthen its wielder. That is, me.”
Although, well, given that for various reasons it was now black instead of red, maybe I should’ve renamed it “Dáinsleif, the Black Thirst” or something.
After the once-huge sword had gotten bisected, Hypno had fashioned half of it into forty-seven knives.
That swordswoman, Karen, had taken the other half—the hilt end—and so Dáinsleif was smaller and weaker than in its original form. But its ability to drain blood and strengthen me was still convenient.
I pulled out Muramasa and hacked away at the werewolves at superspeed. Merciless as always.
Pained howls echoed as I cut them down. Those that had managed to avoid being stabbed realized they didn’t stand a chance and turned tail, kicking at the ground with their powerful legs and retreating blindingly fast.
“You’re not going to let them get away, right, Aethon?”
“LIVEEEEER!”
The next moment, a black chain shot out from my left sleeve, its sharp, beak-like tip flying through the air. It pierced through the fleeing werewolves’ abdomens one after the other, and loud cries echoed throughout the forest.
“And this is Aethon, the Sable Tormenter. The story goes that it captures its prey and tortures it by pecking at its liver. It’s kind of creepy, honestly...”
Apparently, the chain had originally been formed from a set of punishments given to some god named Prometheus.
Usually, it looked like an ordinary chain bracelet, but when it saw prey, it did this. And for some reason, it could stretch like crazy and liked to charge straight for its target’s liver. I mean, I like offal too, so I get it.
“Now, what next— Huh?!”
Next thing I knew, my body was moving of its own accord.
Focusing the energy I’d gotten from Dáinsleif’s blood meal, I yanked the chain back, pulling all the skewered werewolves toward me!
“Graaaah?!” a werewolf roared in confusion.
“Guh!” I groaned in pain.
They were so heavy that my lower back cracked (ow!), but the rest of me gave zero shits and flung the chain upwards. Like fish being reeled in, the werewolves whipped through the air, unable to escape.
“Do the honors, Arash!”
“SCATTER LIKE BLOSSOMS!”
Pulling the chain back into my sleeve, I drew a large-caliber, pitch-black gun. Dark energy gathered at its muzzle—which totally creeped me out—and I pointed it at the werewolves.
“Please, please die in one shot, you guys!” I pleaded as I pulled the trigger.
A tremendous blast of destructive energy shot into the air, engulfing the werewolves in an instant and reducing them to smithereens.
Such incredible power made it seem like a supremely powerful weapon, but it came with a tiny little caveat.
“This is Arash, the Death Shot! Its powers are uh, annihilation, and— Eugh?!”
The hand I held the gun with twisted, and the muzzle slowly turned toward me as I began to pull the trigger.
And that was Arash’s second thing. Annihilation, then self-destruction. Originally a bow, this weapon demanded the user’s life in exchange for its high power, the damn thing! What a bastard!
“FEAR ME, ARCHER! DESPAIR IN SUICIDE!”
“Eat shit and die, asshole!” Dammit! This stupid-ass gun’s gonna kill me!
I was within one millimeter of actually pulling the trigger and biting the dust when—
“ARASH. MY UNDERLING. DO NOT. KILL. THE VESSEL.”
Muramasa intervened. My already-twisted hand twisted even more (oww!) but at least the gun wasn’t aiming at me anymore.
Trembling, my arm holstered the gun again, and finally, my body was free to move once more.
“I-I seriously thought I was toast!”
Sighing in relief, I collapsed to my knees. Being killed by enemies was one thing, but being done in by my own damn weapons? Fuck me, dude.
Worst. Job. Ever.
“Ugh... Anyway, at least that’s one thing out of the way, I guess...”
I pulled a piece of paper out of my breast pocket that read “100/100.” It was a mission file sent by the captain of the knights that said, “Intelligent humanoid species are dangerous if left unchecked. Defeat 100 of them.”
It seemed to have been made using the same technology as those talismans Iris had, and the words would wriggle and automatically count the number of enemies I defeated. Pretty impressive.
“I still have a lot of missions to work on, though,” I said with a nervous sigh. “Why do I have to do them while lugging around all this cursed garbage?”
That demon of a sword, Muramasa, vibrated at me in encouragement, which was kind of unusual.
“I. LEAD. UNDERLINGS. RELAX!”
“Sure! Except for the part where they almost killed me just now!” I retorted, not feeling reassured in the slightest.
I was so pissed I wanted to stab Muramasa into a nearby pile of werewolf dung, but I didn’t. The thing had tried to cut off my head that one time I’d tried to flush it down the toilet, after all.
Also, yeah, I’d almost been made to kill myself a moment ago, but Muramasa hadn’t really taken over my mind or anything. I could still hear it yakking about wanting this and that, but that was it. It had protected me, sort of. But man...
“Now listen here, Muramasa! Sure, it’s thanks to you I can keep these problem children in line, but you do realize that it’s your fault I got them in the first place, right?” I snapped, scolding the sword.
It didn’t even react, ignoring me completely.
Annoyed, I found my thoughts reflecting back on what had happened the other day...