Ch.48And the Dragon (1)

Grim Darker is a game based on the rules of a famous TRPG.

The maximum level a player can reach is 20, and enemies don’t exceed that level either.

This had significance within the game’s worldview, as level 15 was where one began to touch the realm of legends.

And I thought that was quite reasonable.

The inhaled breath, expanded lungs, the aura of death concentrating in my mouth.

The moment it was fired as a breath attack, I realized it. The enemy before me was a formidable being against whom no lucky breaks would work.

The irritating noise disappeared in an instant, and the energy concentrated in my mouth was released, carving through the thick barrier that had suddenly appeared.

Death seethed everywhere.

Despite the barrier, several soldiers turned to dust and vanished, and an acrid air swirled around.

Unlike the first two attacks, no dust rose. I merely watched as the barrier crafted from magical energy was torn apart like paper.

It was superior even to the barrier that had blocked the intense stellar power used by the Star Blade.

In other words, that breath was something more intense than stellar flames.

“Isla!”

As the seething breath attack ceased, and the collapsed barrier revealed the suddenly haggard figure of the girl.

I stepped forward and drew the Star Blade.

Clang!

Following the faintly visible trajectory with my eyes, I moved the sword, deflecting something that had struck the blade.

It was a javelin. With a slight twist of my wrist, the javelin flew off in a strange direction along the flat of the blade.

Isla had assessed the situation just from my shout. She quickly aimed and fired her crossbow, then caught with her tail a javelin that was about to pass behind her, placing it on top of her crossbow.

Could she even fire javelins? Before that thought could fully form, someone shouted from across the way.

“Form ranks!”

Though not detailed, I understood the intent. As the soldiers scattered, the mad dragon raised its head and roared.

A sight of uncontrollable madness. In the violently trembling space, hundreds of undead ran toward them, followed by the dragon’s cry.

The procession of undead poured past me on both sides like fierce waves. Despite the death approaching them, the soldiers quickly formed ranks.

At the center was a Blood Knight. She gripped a heavy executioner’s sword with both hands.

Just as there’s no way to persuade a madman, what was needed was proof.

Knowing this well, she swung her sword to break through the dragon’s interference and shouted.

“Behead him! Kill the pretender and prove it!”

Without even saying they would obey, the soldiers charged forward. Against them, I gripped the Star Blade with both hands and sprang forward.

It was chaos.

*

The moment I entered the melee, I realized it was more manageable than I’d thought.

Of course, many enemies targeted me. Even now, a soldier in the distance stretched his hand toward me and fired something.

An attack shaped like a horizontal blade.

It was meant to sever my neck, but the attack was blocked and disappeared before I could even defend against it.

Instead, a massive, fat skeleton that had intercepted the trajectory crumpled with a crunch.

Yet it didn’t die, rushing forward to confront the soldier, who clicked his tongue and met the skeleton with fists and feet.

A martial artist, perhaps.

While I was thinking, another soldier who tried to intervene couldn’t withdraw the axe swung at me and was pushed back by the undead.

This made it impossible not to think this was easy.

And for good reason.

First, undead scattered all around were moving to protect me.

“Right side.”

Behind me, Isla fired her crossbow while indicating the direction of the next attack, and each bolt either hit a soldier or pushed one back.

And as for the old man…

“Move aside, Mourner!”

He was single-handedly holding off the Blood Knight.

It was an impressive display. If I had tried to fight with overflowing righteousness back then, I probably would have died.

His usually limping right leg seemed no hindrance as he occasionally delivered kicks, and his two fists and massive body demonstrated powerful strikes and precise attacks.

Each red trajectory of the executioner’s sword missed its mark, either being deflected or cutting through empty air, and most wounds on his body were mere scratches.

Even those seemed to be taken deliberately to activate Mourning. Wounds less severe than the scars already etched on his body.

Screeeech! Gwaaang!

However, all this help would not have been meaningful without the dragon roaring and swinging its forelegs above.

The Blood Knight, who had been pushed back by allowing the Mourner’s front kick, was struck by a foreleg and sent flying. A crimson sphere deployed just in time reduced the impact, but undead surged into the space she had vacated.

It was truly horrifying.

Grooooooooar!

The aura of death mixed with the dragon’s roar was enough to drain vitality and life, and the seemingly endless surge of undead moved steadily, enduring their master’s madness.

That’s why the soldiers couldn’t easily approach me.

Additionally, the different victory conditions for each side played a role.

My victory required the annihilation of all of them.

Their victory, on the other hand, required beheading me and proving it.

At first glance, our side seemed to have the harder task while theirs seemed much easier, but that wasn’t the case.

The stark difference in combat power drove the situation that way.

Arrows shot at me. Attacks deliberately aimed at my neck, eyes, or face.

Some could have precisely penetrated the gaps in my helmet, but I moved my sword nimbly.

Arrows that hit the blade’s surface with a clatter and bounced away.

This was the power granted by my newly learned skill, Deflection.

My proficiency was +2. My armor, Crimson Shade, unlike typical magical plate armor, was 18.

True to its performance of being treated as part of my body, it was imbued with my power of Mourning.

So together, 24. When deflecting, it rises to 26.

This is enough that even in the game, few could penetrate this defensive ability. At least not the random encounters on the road.

The enemies were all at the level of the Owlbear shapeshifters I had fought before, but not enough to decisively overcome me through interference and the dragon’s threat.

Even if they got close, there was no problem.

“—!”

A soldier who accelerated toward me after uttering an incantation I couldn’t understand.

A martial artist with a bald head, bronze skin, and impressively trained limbs.

A martial artist who also used magic. With a swift sound like “swish,” the martial artist closed in and tried to extend a fist toward me, but my hand extended toward him first.

And I didn’t need to chant anything.

Crack!

As something breaking sounded.

Crumble!

Fragments of blood essence and armor that formed my vambrace shot forward.

“—!”

A cone-shaped death reminiscent of a shotgun in a game. The martial artist’s eyes widened, then he whispered something, and in response, a transparent sphere enveloped his body.

The sphere distorted and bounced away. It was an excellent Abjuration spell, but the power was too much for such magic to block.

Of course, there was considerable recoil. My arm became like a rag. Blood seeped from the tattered flesh and leather.

But that was nothing compared to the destructive power I had created.

Tssss…!

Because I possessed regenerative abilities, and my armor and blood essence could also regenerate.

I clenched my fist as I felt new flesh and armor quickly adhering.

In a corner of my vision, as if pleased I had finally used it, the status window displayed a small item description.

[Iron Man]

[This surcoat once belonged to a man called the Iron Man. He was a martial artist with a body harder than any weapon and strength that could shatter even such weapons. When he grew old and could no longer maintain this, he wore armor. Those who knew him in his prime never forgot the sight until their dying day. The metal fragments that scattered as weapons broke when he swung his limbs. In the end, the old Iron Man shattered his own armor and scattered it.]

[You can destroy the armor worn over this garment and fire it as fragments, allowing you to attack multiple targets at once. Attack power is proportional to defense.]

The ability of the surcoat worn under my armor. It turned me into a human shotgun or bomb.

It provided the area and ranged attack capabilities I had been lacking, and at the same time, it was an item only I could use, allowing me to tear apart opponents in emergencies by relying on my regenerative abilities.

In the game, it was an item that even homunculi would be reluctant to use. You couldn’t precisely control the explosion, it didn’t distinguish between friend and foe, and it always blew up all parts of the armor.

But now that it had become reality, it was different. I could designate which parts to explode according to my will. I could specify the impact area just by my posture.

It was essentially no different from a shotgun. The martial artist’s shocked face proved it.

I wrapped the hilt of the Star Blade with my regenerated hand and deflected the weapon of a soldier who was just about to rush at me.

Clang, thud!

A thrust so quick that there was no time to return the weapon that had been deflected in an arc.

I didn’t manage to pierce the neck I was aiming for, but I stabbed the chin, inflicting an injury. The soldier who had rushed at me was eventually pushed back by the undead closing in.

The advantage is mine. At this rate, I can win.

I could easily overcome an encounter that I had wondered if I could win at all.

It was all thanks to that dragon.

She might be a bit crazy and a necromancer, which makes me uncomfortable.

But at this point, wouldn’t it be fine to accept her as a companion?

I don’t know why she thinks of me as her father, and I have thoughts of just using her.

But as in the game, parties need to maintain a certain quota of madmen.

Especially if they’re capable madmen, all the better.

Then wouldn’t things go well from now on?

I had such expectations, but.

Unfortunately, expectations are always betrayed when they’re most inflated.

[Mourning]

[Time remaining: 1 second]

As time passes, a sense of exhaustion comes over my body.

An irresistible fatigue and an unpleasant stillness throughout my muscles.

The sensation of losing the feeling of omnipotence in an instant. It was the feeling when Mourning ended.

But I thought it would be fine. Even if Mourning had turned off, our forces were stronger than the enemy’s.

I seriously thought so until all the undead filling the cavern stopped.

Suddenly, silence fell over the cavern that had been full of battle sounds.

Everyone froze, trying to assess the situation.

From the Blood Knight and her soldiers, to the old Mourner who had been exchanging blows with the Blood Knight, to me and Isla.

Only one massive body moved under some pressure.

Split pupils were now directed at me.

“Who are you?”

It’s eerie. A dragon’s vocal cords were not made for human speech.

Yet it forces out human words, squeezing its vocal cords.

Blood flows from its vocal cords due to the strain, falling like a waterfall from its mouth, but the dragon didn’t care.

As always, physical pain could not overcome mental pain.

I felt the sticky killing intent directed at me.

“Liar.”

How? Why? Before I could even think about it, the air filling the cavern distorted.

Something enormous moved. In an instant, the cavern was filled with sound.

The sound of countless undead rushing toward me all at once. But even that was nothing compared to the sound that would follow.

I saw the dragon’s foreleg filling my entire field of vision.