Chapter 23 – The Terrible Master and Disciple (6)

The Terrible Master and Disciple (6)

Two centuries—a span both long and short.
Born early, she had nothing to possess. That’s why she yearned to protect the little that was hers.

Food, clothes, a place to sleep. She swung her fists to guard them.
It was a time of war. Because of that, she killed too many.

Rampaging demons, uncontrollable forces, the demons and fiends conspiring for the resurrection of the Demon King. Without shedding useless blood, nothing could be safeguarded.
She swung her fists in defense, but all that clung to her hands were not words of gratitude, but loathsome clots of blood. She abhorred that sticky sensation.

But it was inescapable. If she didn’t kill, she would be the next day’s corpse.
It was an era when being able to die that way was a blessing in itself. Typically, women would be dismembered and sold to brothels, and if captured by demonkind, they’d be blinded and used as livestock until death.

After repeating this slaughter for about 50 years, she earned the title of ‘Fist King.’ It was a bloodstained dishonor, but all revered it.

Thus, she became a murderer and encountered the monster.

A bizarre entity in human skin.
A deity of war.

And only after being miserably defeated by him did she finally realize the path she was meant to follow.

* * *

Everyone dies if they lose a vital organ. It’s a fact,
Whether an old man, a child, a muscle man from the gym, or an underweight public service worker from the subway. Regardless of gender or age, the only difference is whether they die instantly or later.
And the demons rushing at me are no different.

I gripped the dagger tightly. Using the holy sword on a single demon would be a waste. I don’t know how many more are behind it, and what if Nerati is there? Then it’s a dead end anyway.

First, I extend my right hand. Dogs have the instinct to bite what’s in front of them, so it will rush there.

As expected, it lunged for my right hand.
Now there’s nothing to worry about. Its eyes are on my right hand. With the dagger hidden in my left hand, I’ll pierce its brain. There’s nothing theoretically wrong with that.

I shove the holy sword into its mouth. It’s a cumbersome thing with only a handle, but it still fits in the wolf’s mouth.
I raise my right hand. And I thrust the dagger towards its jaw.
Between the jaw and the throat, in that ambiguous area, I insert the blade. It feels like cutting through rubber. Tearing through the skin, passing through the throat, to the brain. Yes, to the brain.
The blade of the dagger is only as long as my hand. Of course, it would reach.
With the dagger in place, I twist it in all directions, scrambling the brain into a tofu mush.

With a gagging sound, a short cry, the body slumps.
I pull out the dagger, but contrary to my expectations, blood doesn’t spurt out. A few red droplets slide down the blade, and a small puddle forms around the fallen corpse.

One down.
Killed.

How long has it been since I’ve last killed a beast? It’s been quite a while since I’ve killed anything at all.

I carelessly wipe the blood off my dagger onto my clothes, leaving a strange mark. Looking outside, I see nothing; it seems like my Mind’s Eye has faded. Suppressing the sensation that my eyes might pop out, I let my magical power flow. Only then do things start to become visible.

Three beasts are positioned in the courtyard. The one I just killed must have been an young; the ones I see now seem to be at least twice its size.

But that’s not a problem.

I have the holy sword that has been charging diligently ever since Nerati pierced my shoulder. I can kill them all with two strikes if my calculations are correct.

If not, well, there’s no other choice. I’ll have to die.

I kick off the ground as I swing open the door. My body reacts faster than I thought. Is this also the power of that inheritance?

Two of the beasts look at me. The other one… is it near my master?

I focus on the two closest to me first. A clean straight line from left to right. The beast that opened its mouth to charge at me had its jaw sliced off and was sent flying into the air, while the one that hesitated had all four legs sprawled out on the ground.

With a “Crack! Cough!” I roll on the ground. It was because I swung my sword without assuming a proper stance while running.

It’s a ridiculous sight, covered in dust, but there’s no time to complain. The last beast is watching me.

Three horns. It’s clearly the largest. Its hide looks tougher than the others’. This one must be the leader.

A deep, resonant growl. To safely ensure its death, an approach and strike with the holy sword. Of course, it’s not me who should approach, but the beast.

As soon as I think this, the creature charges at me.
It’s instantaneous. Its speed is such that I can’t follow it with my eyes.
A speed that can’t be consciously reacted to. At least not consciously.
But my experience is enough to cope with it. If I hadn’t been able to see, it would have been impossible, but fortunately, Mind’s Eye showed me everything that I wouldn’t have been able to see otherwise. My body naturally extends its arm.

My left hand is out in front.
The left hand holding the dagger, not the holy sword. No matter how sharp the dagger is, it’s difficult to pierce through a beast of that size in one go. Yet my body extends the left hand.

It was the best I could do.

The only surefire way to kill that thing without any backlash is to obliterate it with the holy sword. Killing it with just the dagger is too risky.
That’s why my body threw the left hand. Just like I extended my right hand as bait when I killed the first invisible beast. This time, I use my left hand as bait to kill it. It was instinct.

The beast bites the dagger. It was harder than I thought, as it didn’t shatter. Perhaps thinking it was a futile struggle, the beast opens its mouth again, not to bite the dagger, but to tear off my arm.

The Holy Sword had already kindly separated the bastard’s body from its head.
Thud. Without even a chance to utter a single cry, the giant head tore through the sky and embedded itself in the wall.

It was quite dangerous. Had I not reacted, I would have been left with another large scar on my arm.

I flung the dagger, now smeared with chunks of flesh, to the ground. I wiped off the bloodstains using the hem of my clothes as best as I could. It wasn’t over yet. These transparent demons usually hunt in packs of at least ten.

That means, at the very least, six more remain.

The Holy Sword has been prematurely consumed. Now that it’s come to this, do I have to resort to my second secret technique? I really don’t want to use that.

I wiped my mouth with the hand holding the dagger. A metallic taste spread through my mouth. Despite this, I couldn’t relax my stance. The rest of the pack is coming. When I think like that, the fatigue from maintaining Mind’s Eye and the discomfort from the awkward position doesn’t register.

But even after about ten minutes, none of pack appeared.
I waited double that time with a just-in-case mindset, but not even a bug, let alone a demon, showed up.

Could it be that these three were a pack?
Normally, a pack consists of about ten. The number is suspiciously small.

Well, it could be an unusual pack… Let’s just let it go for now. The priority is to check the opened letter. Read the content and figure out why my master hid the fact that the letter had been opened.

With that, I entered my master’s room again. If you disregard the corpses of the demons, the room hadn’t changed at all since I had fled from it.

“Fuck, what is this.”

The letter was sealed again. Firmly, as if it had never been opened. Its eerily perfect preservation seemed to scream that I must have been hallucinating.

Wondering if I had seen it wrong, I examined it with Mind’s Eye, but nothing had changed.

The letter was not opened.

Did I see a hallucination? No. The letter had definitely been open. The paper containing the content had even been poking outside. That couldn’t have been a delusion.
It must have been open.
Unless I’m going crazy, such a hallucination…

No.
I haven’t gone mad.

I forcefully tear at the letter. The letter resists with electric force. Crackling, snapping! My fingertips blacken and burn, but it doesn’t open. Not even a scratch.

Of course, this is what should happen.

It’s normal for the letter not to open.

Yes, I am normal.
The letter must have sealed itself while I was fighting the demon.

In a space where only my master and I exist. A third party, other than my collapsed master and I, opened the letter and resealed it while I was out of the room?
It’s an absurd story, but there’s no other way to explain this situation.

Unless the goddess herself is playing tricks.

…………

There are too many unknowns. Damn it, I have no information at all.

If I’m not hallucinating, what could possibly be connected from where to till when?

Why had the letter been briefly unsealed?
Above all, how did Troka manage to seal the letter with the power of a goddess, and why? Only the upper echelons of the order can wield the goddess’s power. What was their reason for sealing the letter?
From the start, why did Troka seal the letter?

The letter itself is suspicious, and the reason it’s sealed with the goddess’s power is why, exactly?

Suppressing the rising questions, I tucked the letter back into my bosom. After all, opening the letter and speculating on its contents is nothing but a sham dressed as the truth. For now.

The blood covering my body feels sticky. The blood of the transparent demons seems to be a bit denser. The blood that had thickly coated my hand touched the letter. Crackle, the blood-stained letter was wiped clean, returning to its pristine orange color.

Yes. For now, this will do.

My top priority is still to open the letter and return home.
After all, there’s nothing else I need to finish in this world, aside from my duties to my master.

I picked up the herbs I had placed on the table and headed towards master. Her face was clean, no longer bleeding, it seemed.

I haphazardly stuffed the herbs into her mouth. There was no particular way to prepare them, so this was the best I could do. They would be absorbed once in the mouth, after all.

“Rise, master.”

“Ugh, Troka…”

The person who would call out for Troka in their sleep-talk, said that.
When emotions reach their peak, one can become eerily calm. I had no thoughts at all. Really.

With that one phrase, the previously motionless lips began to move. Chew, chew, it wasn’t long before my master began to feel around with her arms.
And her hands included me in their search.

“Tr… Ah, it’s you, Flan.”

Mumbling with a mouth full of herbs, she used me as a pillar to stand up. Despite having lost a lot of blood, her complexion had improved significantly.

Master’s eyes looking at me were empty. Literally a gaze that held nothing. Yes. Eyes that could see nothing.

Could it be?
No, it can’t be.

“…So, there is a price to pay after all.”

With a pitiful gesture, Master caressed her face. She prodded her eyeballs with his fingers, but the eyelids showed no response.

Could the meaning of succession be, not just martial arts.

“Let’s finish this. There isn’t much time left, we must hurry… cough.”

Ah, this is why I didn’t want to come.

Clots of blood spilled from Master’s mouth. Is that what they call a blood clot? The surging shape was like an unpleasant jelly.

There was no time left.