Ch.859What’s Going on Here?

Hersella had no luxury to be picky about her methods anymore.

She was driven into a situation where her deceased mother—Imelia de Median’s honor would be dragged through the mud if she didn’t subdue the “enemy” as quickly as possible.

She understood intellectually. The body of the living corpse belonged to Amin, and the soul dwelling within was not her mother but Rotholandus.

However, regardless of the completely different entity inside, the appearance was undeniably that of Aimelа Median from her memories.

Hersella simply could not tolerate such a being exposing their naked body in front of others.

That’s why she made her decision.

– Swish…!

She dispersed the nebula of Karma of Murder that had been covering her body like armor and skin, deciding to summon enough power to subdue the living corpse wielding spatial severance as quickly as possible.

‘…Can you hear me? Answer if you can. I… I need your help…!’

She called to her companion who had been silent as if completely disconnected since she manifested her monstrous form.

[…What’s this situation? And who is that?]

An incredulous voice echoed in her mind immediately after.

======[Haschal]======

An unpleasant awakening, like injecting medicine into an unconscious soldier’s heart to revive them—my consciousness was forcibly dragged up from the depths of unconsciousness.

Led by this unwelcome sensation, the sight that greeted my awakened eyes was, literally, bewilderment itself.

‘What’s going on here…?’

Just moments ago, wasn’t Hersella struggling like a child denied New Year’s money as she tried to break free from Meiharin’s sorcery while roaring in frustration?

She was so furious about being subdued by three spells that her face turned red—no, her entire body had turned crimson like some kind of human torch…

…so how did we end up in this situation?

I had no idea what was happening.

I remember Hersella turning so red that even Marx or Lenin would have bowed down seeking her guidance, but after that, it’s as if I fell unconscious because I have absolutely no memory of what followed.

‘And who is that?’

I dozed off for a moment, and when I opened my eyes, everything around was in ruins, and in front of me was a blind woman who looked similar to me, swinging her half-naked body with her chest fully exposed.

Moreover, her face resembled mine—no, Hersella’s—so closely that I wondered if I was looking in a mirror.

My chest was slightly bigger than hers, though.

…Well, not that I felt any sense of victory about that. I was just objectively stating the difference.

Hers was quite substantial too, but clearly not enough to surpass mine… in other words, she was weaker than me.

…What nonsense am I talking about?

You don’t understand. For a female warrior, a large chest is a symbol of pride and a kind of medal.

It means you’ve survived well until now without losing your life despite carrying heavy, large flesh like shackles that are completely useless in battle.

No female warrior with a large chest is weak. If one had poor skills while burdened with flesh like shackles, they would have long since entered a coffin, leaving only flat ribs as remains.

Do you understand?

A massive chest is itself proof of one’s martial prowess.

…My thoughts have wandered off.

Anyway, the sight I faced upon opening my eyes was a half-naked woman who looked like me swinging her exposed chest. How could I not be bewildered?

Had she not been holding a sword in her hand that was clearly emanating an ominous energy, I might have suspected this was some kind of erotic dream.

You know, sorcerers must have such spells.

Like dream-killing—no, dream-state killing—where they bestow both physical and social death simultaneously like a succubus-type demon, cursing the target by trapping them in erotic fantasies to extract their vital energy and kill them.

So at first, I wondered if I was seeing a hallucination trying to seduce me sexually after being cursed.

“Graaah!”

…But I could immediately tell that wasn’t the case.

—-

What she offered me—strictly speaking, Hersella—was not a pleasant embrace but violence perfect for dying.

The half-naked beauty charging with animal-like growls. Described in words, it might sound like receiving some kind of reward, but…

“Goaaaaaaa!”

Reward? No way. This was an emergency situation where allowing a single hit would result in severe injury.

The sword she wielded was surprisingly fast and contained frighteningly powerful strength.

So much so that Hersella, who was controlling the body, couldn’t even attempt to counterattack and hastily retreated.

‘Who is this woman?!’

[It’s Rotholandus dwelling in Amin who’s wearing my mother’s disguise!]

Hersella tried to explain the situation urgently.

‘What crazy talk is this?’

However, from my perspective, I wondered if this could even be called an explanation, or if perhaps I had been hit in the head while I was asleep—it was such a bizarre answer.

‘Amin? Rotholandus? Why are these names suddenly popping up…?’

– Kwagagagak!

‘…Huh?’

I stopped mid-sentence and let out a sound of shock.

The sword wielded by the half-naked woman was roughly tearing space itself, carving distinct scars in the empty air.

It was a sight that gave me déjà vu.

The Sword of Severance.

A slash that was infinitely similar to Durandal’s power, one that could be called its origin.

[Do you understand now?]

‘…It really is Rotholandus.’

Seeing is believing, as they say. After witnessing it directly, I could immediately understand the meaning of what had sounded like nonsense just moments ago.

Did they use Aimela’s remains as a medium to summon Aimela’s ancestor, Rotholandus, into Amin’s body? It was the kind of thing sorcerers typically do.

I don’t understand why the appearance became similar to Aimela when they only used the remains as a medium… but well, perhaps Meiharin deliberately changed it that way to agitate Hersella.

‘Come to think of it, where did Meiharin go? She doesn’t seem to be here. Did you already kill her?’

[I don’t know. I left her in a critical condition, but right now I don’t have the luxury to check… No, you need to do something about this situation first! I have no way to defend against this!]

So she didn’t kill her.

Hah, really. She insisted on taking revenge with her own strength so I left her alone… and this is the result? I felt like both laughing and sighing at the same time.

‘Alright, I understand enough.’

So first we need to take down this… Aminmeladus? I’m not sure what to call it. Anyway, we need to defeat this thing first.

It won’t be easy, but… it’s not impossible either.

‘Step aside. I’ll finish this in 5 minutes.’

[…Are you sure? That sounds like something someone who underestimates their enemy would say before being defeated… it makes you seem weak instead.]

Makes me seem weak?

Well, I suppose it could sound that way…

‘You’re not the only one with skills.’

Better than someone who earnestly begs not to interfere because they can handle it themselves, only to ask for help when they realize they can’t win.

Don’t you agree?

[…]

No answer came back.

It seems Hersella did possess some sense of shame or conscience. Though probably only the size of an ant’s tear.

—-

And the next moment.

“Huu….”

I exhaled a light sigh as I felt a sense of reality filling my entire body from the tips of my toes to the crown of my head.

The condition of my body could hardly be described as good, even as a white lie.

Whatever battle had been fought while I was asleep had left my entire musculoskeletal system aching and throbbing, and the power of Karma of Murder was nearly depleted.

Should I consider it fortunate that there were no visible wounds?

…Well, it wasn’t bad enough to complain about.

With so little Karma power remaining, it would be difficult to fly through the sky with Karma flames or unleash Karma techniques, but was that my only strength?

The armor was intact except for a few scratches, my hands and feet moved without issue, and the power of the achievements I had accumulated remained intact.

That was enough.

“Alright, let’s do this, ancestor.”

I kicked off the ground violently, widening the distance, and drew Durandal, gripping it with both hands.

“I’ll send you to heaven within 5 minutes.”

The blue-silver blade vibrated frantically.

—-

“…Hmm?”

I glanced at Durandal’s blade and tilted my head.

It wasn’t unusual for this sword to vibrate like a phone with its ringer turned off, but this vibration was literally record-breaking.

To the point where I couldn’t tell if I was holding a sword hilt or a massager.

…What’s going on with this thing?

Surely it’s not suggesting I use the vibrating hilt to send Rotholandus to heaven…

– Wooooong!

…Ah, I see.

It seemed Durandal was mourning the reunion with its former master who had changed beyond recognition.

Yes, it would be sad.

How could it not feel devastated when its legendary heroic, manly owner had literally become a female fallen?

It was like meeting a tragically separated lover who had returned with a changed gender.

In such a situation, anyone would kneel in shock and wail in all directions before rejoicing at the reunion.

Of course, it wasn’t my concern.

For me, Rotholandus’s image wasn’t that of a legendary hero with great achievements, but closer to a madman who ran around naked on the battlefield. There was essentially no difference between now and then.

What used to dangle below had just moved up.

…Or is that actually a big difference?