Ch.12Blood Bag (1)

Isla seemed to want me to comfort her, but I had no time for that.

I had to abandon my original plan as well.

My initial goal was to ask Isla about other unoccupied dungeons in the area and explore them.

But now I couldn’t execute that plan as intended. With someone pursuing me, that simply wasn’t possible.

If only my life were at stake, I might consider it, but causing someone else’s death wasn’t something I welcomed.

If it meant dying alone, I might even charge headlong into death…

But I couldn’t do that when considering the possibility of Isla dying.

Though our relationship wasn’t one where she had completely entrusted her life to me, even if it were, I couldn’t simply throw away a life so casually.

“What’s wrong?”

But I didn’t know how to explain all of this.

If my eloquence were fantastic, that would be great, but unlike my social skills, my way with words wasn’t particularly good.

Being direct was easy, but whether someone believed me or not was a different matter from persuasion.

So as I hesitated, Isla tilted her head while gently swishing her tail.

Should I part ways with her here?

But letting Isla go like this would be regrettable.

I couldn’t say personal feelings were completely absent, but even without them, Isla was a useful person.

She had excellent stealth abilities and was skilled in ranged combat. Not only did she possess these two abilities that I lacked, but she was also competent in other areas.

As a hunter, she would be good at hunting, and also at tracking or erasing traces.

Setting up and managing a camp would be natural for her, and having lived in this new continent longer than me, she would know the geography much better.

What about information on exiles or outcasts we might encounter in this new continent?

Since Isla could fulfill the roles of several people, I knew that persuading her would be cost-effective, but…

Would that be better than deceiving her and letting her die?

As my concerns deepened, Isla had already approached right in front of me and was staring up at me. Due to our height difference, her upward gaze felt quite direct.

“What are you thinking about?”

Ah, fuck it.

Whatever happens, happens.

“Do you know about vampires?”

“Vampires… I’m not unfamiliar with them.”

“There’s a knight who’s a vampire and can use magic chasing after me.”

“…Huh?”

If I lacked social skills, I might hide things here, struggle internally, or say something vague that would cause misunderstandings and self-inflicted wounds.

But I was a person with too bold a character to live so crudely.

I had a sense of propriety, was intelligent, and disliked suffering alone.

“Do you know about homunculi?”

“Homun…culi?”

She probably didn’t know. Even though they should have become quite famous after the Grand Duke was murdered, the fact that she didn’t know meant that Isla must have come from the north.

“It’s a term for my kind. And all homunculi are created by three clans, including vampires.”

Isla’s eyes, which had been listening blankly, gradually widened. Particularly at the mention of “three clans,” her eyes narrowed slightly, revealing subtle anger.

Well, beastkin were the remnants of the shapeshifters, one of the three clans, and also the race that suffered the most because of them.

Her antipathy was natural. Despite a strange intuition rising somewhere within me, I ignored it and spoke honestly.

“Among them, a vampire is chasing me. He’s their knight, can use magic, and is strong.”

“Then.”

“My falling from the sky was also because of them.”

Isla’s tail stopped moving, and with her tail standing straight up, her eyes slowly turned toward the ground.

Her eyes scanned the dungeon’s stone floor, words left unspoken.

So you were in the sky. I placed my hand on Isla’s shoulder as I listened to her words.

Isla stiffened. I met the snow leopard’s eyes and spoke honestly once more.

“He’s really strong. I haven’t seen many of them, but even if that mage from earlier had been with us, we’d all die if we met him now.”

“What about the cannibals?”

“Unless they’re used in reverse, I doubt they’d be of any help.”

In truth, I don’t know much either. I’d never even heard of Blood Knights as a profession before.

I could guess they might be a profession that coats blades with blood and makes it explode or something, but I couldn’t be sure.

I wouldn’t know exactly what kind of beings they were without properly confronting them.

The important thing here is “properly confronting them.”

I had already fought them and was defeated so badly that I had to throw myself from a sky fortress and pray for survival.

I can’t defeat them now. It would be the same even with Isla.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Isla’s question had much omitted, but I understood the implication.

A question that seemed to ask why I was telling her instead of just deceiving her and taking her along. It meant she knew it would be more practical to do so, and wondered why a monster who should know that wasn’t doing it.

Instead of answering such a question, I raised the corner of my mouth.

“I don’t like deceiving, lying, and using others in such a petty way. It’s beneath me.”

That’s the kind of person I was. Strong-willed, and often messing things up because of that pride.

But that’s who I am, so what can I do?

Although I was a monster, I couldn’t let my soul and mind remain monstrous. I wanted to try to live as humanly as possible.

“Above all, you’re too competent.”

“Even if you suddenly compliment me.”

“No, it’s not empty words, so listen carefully.”

Isla swished her tail while remaining cautious. I looked her in the eyes and spoke sincerely.

“You’re a hunter. And a competent one that these cannibals are actively trying to recruit.”

Isla wasn’t the type to react to statements of fact.

“On the other hand, I’m not particularly good at anything except fighting dungeons. In fact, I’m a fucking useless bastard. Even in fighting, it’s just physical, I can’t say I’m skilled in technique.”

“That’s true.”

As a competent hunter, Isla would know well. Even the Cannibal Baron couldn’t hide his frustration when defeated by me.

Homunculi were that kind of race. Artificial humans surpassing humans. But in exchange, they lacked the humanity and qualifications that humans possessed—mere imitations.

That’s why they can surpass, push back, and kill humans like beasts with pure physical abilities alone. As such a being, I couldn’t claim to be particularly skilled in technique.

“So I need you.”

Isla knew how to do things I couldn’t, and knew many things.

It was certain that Isla’s presence would make an enormous difference in my journey.

So I should hide things and distance myself because she might die?

Leave camp at dawn?

The picture looks nice, but I wasn’t a monster in some romance game.

This is Grim Darker. A magical realm overflowing with cannibals, monstrosities, and humans who’ve abandoned being human.

The New Continent was such a magical realm among magical realms.

I couldn’t afford to do foolish things for the sake of a pretty picture. Take the benefits you can, but maintain your dignity.

That’s why I honestly told Isla everything.

Except for useless things that wouldn’t help even if she knew.

“But if you follow me, you might die. No, if we’re caught, we’ll definitely die.”

As I slightly bent my waist, Isla’s blue-gray eyes stared at me intently.

Where our eyes met, in her pupils, the homunculus with classical handsome features spoke.

“Still, I’d like you to come with me.”

“Do you have a solution?”

“I do.”

Even in the game, homunculi aren’t always attacked.

Once they reach a certain level, the three clans don’t come after them.

The reason was simple.

For them, the most important thing wasn’t their property, possessions, or experimental subjects, but the lives of their clan members.

If there’s a possibility of losing clan members, they would conservatively stick to defense.

That’s why I spoke with confidence.

“For me to become strong enough that they find it difficult to mess with me.”

Directly, it meant either reaching a certain level or demonstrating that I could respond to their threats.

In other words, leveling up and repelling pursuit.

I spoke to Isla, who was perking up her ears with an expressionless face.

“Are there other dungeons around here?”

Her tail swished, and I added:

“Preferably one that’s already occupied by someone.”

*

It was a completely ruined street.

The scattered streetlights were crushed flat against the ground, and the paving stones were overturned, scattering dirt.

The beautiful houses lined up on both sides of the road had become debris beyond recognition.

It truly matched the description of being utterly destroyed. In the ruins where overwhelming destruction had occurred, only dark red bloodstains remained as traces of what had happened.

A vast amount of blood splattered toward the ground and the remaining walls of the houses.

There was a man staring blankly at such blood.

A knight holding a massive beheading sword in his left hand.

The plate armor he wore was a deep red, and the plates gleamed with a blood-like stickiness.

Clank.

The knight moved. With his right hand, he scooped up blood from the wall.

The blood seemed to float along where the knight had traced, then easily came under the knight’s control, and the floating blood hovered above the knight’s hand like a droplet.

It was thick blood. Fuel that would allow any vampire to move for a year if consumed.

Not the kind of blood that a mere blood bag could possess. Perhaps because of this, the knight could recall several strange circumstances.

In the direction his head turned, where the street ended, there was an unnatural hole in the air.

The horizon, which should have been connected and repaired by magic, had a hole in it.

Beyond it was the disgusting ground. A land where filth, waste, and inferior hybrids lived.

A land they had tried to purify many times but failed and eventually gave up. The knight stared at that hole with a frowning expression of displeasure.

“Sir.”

“The losses?”

He ignored the call and asked. The pale-skinned man who was suddenly standing beside him had an expression that suggested he might break into a cold sweat.

“Don’t summarize. Everything.”

Only then did the servant make a gesture of wiping away cold sweat and opened his mouth.

“Sixty-seven escaped blood bags were damaged. In the process, the damage to the prison and creation room is severe, so we’ll have to survive on stored blood for at least half a year…”

“Is there nothing else?”

There was, of course. There couldn’t not be. In fact, it was obvious just by looking around, but the vampire knight seemed to want to hear it specifically.

Perhaps he was trying to consciously provoke anger with it, or maybe he wanted to assign responsibility.

Either way, there was no retreat.

“Two clan members were seriously injured, and thirty borrowed undead workers were destroyed. So… I predict it will take considerable time to repair the damage to residential areas, commercial districts, assembly halls, workshops, and other major facilities…”

“The necromancers will be pleased.”

Indeed, that was true. Undead workers didn’t require much effort to create but were a means to exert great influence on other clans.

Just the order to create new ones would make them jump with joy.

Or.

“What about the shapeshifters?”

“Huh? Ah, their damage isn’t that significant, so…”

“Request their aid.”

“B-but the price we’ll have to pay…!”

“Before it becomes unsalvageable.”

The servant had no way to respond to the knight’s resolute words and gaze. He closed his mouth tightly and retreated.

And only the knight remained on the abandoned street as night fell.

He was feeling the failure.

The clan’s cradle, always warm and peaceful, was shattered to pieces.

It was all due to his lack of virtue.

He thought about how it had come to this. He closed his eyes lightly and rewound his memories.

It was still vivid.

The blood bag that appeared before him while escaping.

The homunculus who boldly clenched his fist in front of him.

He hadn’t lost in combat. That much was certain.

Even with the homunculus’s overflowing strength, body, and regenerative ability, it couldn’t overwhelm the knight.

But would those sacrificed in the process of subduing that being think the same?

The knight didn’t think so.

It was his duty to protect the cradle and safeguard the blood clan.

This was his defeat. He had failed in his duty.

But on the other hand, he couldn’t help but wonder.

If he had fought to the end, would he really have won with all limbs intact?

Beyond his closed eyes, a vague memory floated.

The aggression of rushing in and swinging fists with such ferocity that even blood would dry up.

The boldness of charging in and kicking his leg even as an arm was severed by the knight’s beheading sword.

The madness of biting down on a dagger thrust at close quarters to block it and then delivering a punch.

Just measuring that image and the impact engraved on his armor made him shudder.

An indescribable thrill, expectation, and a kind of excitement were floating around him.

He was feeling some emotion that couldn’t be simply described.

For a knight who had stood here beyond a time that mere vermin couldn’t endure, that emotion was welcome.

It was fighting spirit.

A sensation long dead, one he had inwardly believed would never revive.

His head turned toward the end of the street.

It was the hole through which the escaped blood bag had jumped to flee.

With injuries that would have killed an ordinary homunculus, from a height that would have been fatal to anyone not wearing the enhancement armor permitted only to clan members.

That blood bag had chosen to escape.

Though he had been told several times that it must have died, the knight didn’t think so.

It would be alive.

So the deliberation wasn’t long.

He had created a reason. A reason for himself. He told himself that reason as he turned his body.

As his hand, which hadn’t yet left, moved, droplets of blood drawn from the wall painted letters on the wall.

By the time the knight’s servant returned, all that remained was a large hole in the wall and letters painted in blood.

“I will fulfill my duty and return”

It was an unprecedented solo expedition in the history of the blood clan.