Chapter 33

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The aged human face of the manticore couldn’t withstand the brute force of my strike. It tore off and flew through the air. Without its head, Scarr staggered back several steps, then collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud.

“Alright, that’s the end of it.”

I gave my war mace a quick shake to fling off the blood, letting out a small breath of relief. Just as I began to feel the weight lift—just as I thought the threat to Marhas was gone—“Yulg!”—Rolo shouted and shoved me aside.

“Wha—!?”

In that very instant, the scorpion tail pierced straight through Rolo, sending him flying.

—in place of where I had been standing a moment ago.

“Gah…!”
“Rolo!”

I ran to him and lifted him into my arms.

The sharp tip of the scorpion tail had pierced through his mithril chainmail and gouged a deep wound in his abdomen.

“Geez… Letting your guard down at a time like that… not like you, Yulg…”
“Don’t speak. Fimia!”
“I’m on it!”

Fimia leapt down from Gregre and held her hand out, casting sacred healing magic on Rolo. But the wound, now turning a faint purple, showed no signs of closing.

“A cursed poison…! No, I can heal this. Hold on just a little longer, Rolo.”
“Yulg… look forward. You can do this…”

Rolo, blood spilling from his mouth, raised a trembling hand and cast an enhancement spell on me. I nodded and hoisted my war mace once more, turning back to Scarr. Battered by Saran’s offensive magic, the beast was rising—despite being headless. I was certain that last blow landed. So why…!?

“You humans really are troublesome, resorting to violence like that.”

The severed head on the ground grinned wickedly. Its grotesque state stirred a twinge of fear in me, but I couldn’t let that stop me now.

“Damned monster…!”
“Be careful. Even I’m unfamiliar with what we’re witnessing here.”

If Saran doesn’t know… then this is the first time such a thing has ever been observed in the history of the kingdom. Which means there’s no countermeasure. No established way to deal with it. This is going to be a pain.

“I’ll go up front. You focus on what you always do—‘observe, analyze, and theorize.’”
“I’m honestly relieved to see how calm you are.”
“Calm? One second more and I’m gonna snap.”

And the moment I said it, anger overtook reason. With everything I had, I kicked off the ground and lunged at Scarr. It tore a hole through Rolo’s stomach. That was my fault. So now, I had a debt to repay—with interest.

“Don’t bother. I’m immortal.”
“That confidence of yours… Let’s see how true it is.”

I swung my mace down toward its head—somehow now reattached. The usual magical barrier blocked me—but Saran dispelled it with timely support. Looks like his “observe, analyze, and theorize” had already paid off.

“Ugh, you’re a pesky one…”

Annoyed, Scarr fired twin beams of searing magical heat from its eyes at Saran—but Gregre charged in, flinging Saran onto its back with a toss of the head, and galloped to safety.

Damn that Thomson, he trained him well. That move probably saved Saran’s life. We owe him one.

“Don’t look away—!”

A horizontal sweep. A spin. A crushing overhead. Then an uppercut. Four consecutive strikes, slamming into Scarr. Each hit from this absurdly heavy war mace was a one-hit kill under normal circumstances. No matter how immortal, that many in a row couldn’t leave it unscathed.

“Guh… aagh!”

Scarr stumbled backward, shaken. I’d dealt a solid blow—but it wasn’t dead.I see now… that immortal thing might not be total bullshit from his part.

“Pointless. You can’t kill me. I’m… soon to become Culling. I shall eat, and feast, and devour mankind—I am to be a Beast of the End.”
“Big talk for a beast that can’t even kill one guy.”
“Don’t mock me! You pathetic humans—!”

Scarr let out a deafening roar. And in that moment—my legs froze up.

Shit. I didn’t expect it to be able to use Dragon Roar.

A raised foreleg came crashing toward me, wind pressure trailing behind. Just before it landed, layers of protective magic—more than ten in total—wrapped around me.

“Yulg! Are you okay!?”
“Fimia! What about Rolo!?”
“Rolo’s stable now!”

Just as she replied, a massive bolt embedded itself in Scarr’s forehead. I glanced back—and saw Rolo, trembling as he cradled the Stinging Jaw I had thrown aside.

“This thing… is way too heavy.”
“Don’t push yourself! Your wound—”
“I’m fine…!”

With a snap of his fingers, the bolt in Scarr’s skull erupted in a bluish-white explosion.

“GRAAARGH!”

I’m pretty sure that’s a spell that turns magic stones into small explosive pellets, and to think he’d use it like that.

Yeah, Versatile Mystic is the perfect name for Rolo.

“Damn you… Damn you humans…! I’ll devour every last one of you…!”

Scarr, regenerating rapidly, swelled in size again. It was practically a small dragon now.

“Saran! Not yet!?”

Still riding Gregre, Saran was circling the area. At my shout, he shook his head.

“Unfortunately, I believe we’re at an impasse. If this creature really is part of the Culling, we don’t have the means to kill it.”
“Ah, someone here gets it. You’re the smart one. I’ll save you for last.”

Scarr grinned in that shriveled voice. What an infuriating face. Almost makes me want to beat it until it regrets not being able to die.

“What would it take to kill it?”
“A holy relic.”
“Figures. That’s a pain.”

Holy relics—legendary weapons once wielded by heroes chosen to combat Culling-level threats. I don’t know the details, but they’re weapons maintained by the Church for exactly these kinds of beyond-human entities.

Which means… we don’t have one here.

“Well, we’ll just have to beat it to death and see if it sticks.”
“You’re still reckless as ever, Yulg.”

As I raised my mace again, Rolo stepped beside me with her short sword drawn. He used to be such a scrawny kid, but now—he’s someone I can truly count on.

“With the both of us, we can do anything.”
“Of course. I can match your pace.”

Behind us, a small sigh reached our ears.

“Good grief. Why do I have such poor judgment in people? My pawns keep moving on their own.”
“Ha. You and Fimia fall back. We’ll handle it.”
“I’d love to do that, but… sigh, seems I’ve gone soft too.”

Saran dismounted Gregre and raised his staff. For once, the cold-blooded tactician actually looked different—and it caught me off guard.

“Whoa, what’s gotten into you?”
“Who knows? But something tells me I can’t leave you to die here.”
“You? Instinct? You eat too many monster dishes—you’ve gone soft in the head.”
“…Maybe spending too much time with you is to blame.”

Saran narrowed his eyes and gave a faint smile.

“Gregre, take Fimia to safety. Fimia, don’t forget to request the holy relic and a holy knight.”
“No. I will stay here.”

I knew she’d say it—but I didn’t want to hear it. That defeats the whole point of buying time.

“Humans really are stupid…”

Scarr sneered at us, baring its fangs. But Fimia shook her head and stared it down.

“No. You are the foolish one, Scarr. You underestimate us too greatly.”

With those firm words, she placed a hand on my back. Just like the day she whispered forgiveness to me.

“Do you remember, Yulg? The spell I cast that day?”
“…The one that gave me courage?”
“Even now—you still feel it, don’t you? That light burning inside your heart.”

As she asked, I recalled the fire of the heart that still flickered inside me. Just like she said—it was still there, quietly, but powerfully.

“Not everyone can carry that light. It resides in you because I deemed you worthy. That’s why I granted it to you.”

Her warm divine power surged into me, as if pushing me forward.

“A holy relic is not necessary. I, Saint Fimia Lakers, have chosen you — Yulg the Skysunder — a Hero. The Culling shall be shattered under your might.”

At those words, Scarr’s smug expression vanished from its face.