Ch.86Demian Must Have a Hard Time

Black land.

Only thick fog was rising over the ebony wilderness that stretched beyond the horizon, stained pitch-black.

Not a single living creature remained.

Insects had suffocated from Dark Mana and perished, while every plant had withered, twisted, and crumbled.

Not even a single weed remained.

The only thing moving on the screen was a blond boy gripping a greatsword.

…A contaminated zone? Quite a harsh setting.

Dark Mana, the harbinger and trace of monsters, erodes the world.

Until it becomes barren land where no life can be born.

That’s why it was customary for priests capable of performing purification miracles to accompany monster subjugation missions.

Unlike insects or plants, humans could endure within contaminated zones for a while… but staying too long would eventually lead to death from Dark Mana erosion.

Therefore, to fight major monsters, one always needed to bring sufficient priests or possess the skill to end battles quickly.

Demian’s complexion was slightly paler than usual.

Understandable. With each breath, he must feel acrid Dark Mana seeping into his lungs.

Then, the fog converged toward one spot.

Like a drain opening to the underworld, a black spiral swirled downward.

Finally, the Dark Mana collided with the ground and exploded outward in all directions.

A black storm raged.

Demian covered his face with his left arm.

And then.

“Graaaaargh…!”

It rose to its feet.

About 2m tall. A form resembling a human, yet not human.

A monster with a skeletal body, using rotting entrails as tendons and clinging Dark Mana as muscles.

Its two legs were strangely bent, perhaps horse leg bones.

Where a pelvis should be, a human skull rested.

A spine and ribs connected to the skull extended behind it like a tail.

The forward-curved spine had small horns sprouting from each vertebra, and instead of ribs, six pairs of human arm bones with fingers constantly writhed.

A half-rotted horse skull where a head should be clattered, emitting blue eye-light.

Instead of arms, its shoulders had intestinal tentacles hanging down.

Rusty swords were entangled at the ends of these entrail tentacles.

An undead type? Disgustingly creepy.

Millia swallowed as she watched the screen.

“Everyone, pay attention. That is a monster. An undead type, ‘Mixed Remains.’ A small-class monster that mainly appears on old battlefields.”

Carlain continued her explanation calmly.

“Being a small-class, it could be subjugated with five or six knights… but due to the undead’s characteristics, it wouldn’t be easy without a priest’s assistance or appropriate countermeasures prepared in advance.”

And Demian doesn’t have such means right now.

…Doesn’t look like he can win. Of all things, an undead type. If it had been a hybrid type instead, he might have stood a chance.

Or was this deliberately chosen? To emphasize the danger of monsters?

Whatever the case, yes. This should be interesting to watch.

I looked with interest at the monster’s finally completed form.

“Graaaaaaaargh!”

The remains roared.

The human hands forming its ribs raised toward the sky as if in prayer.

The boy gripping the greatsword charged toward the monster.

—-

You must know the technique called variation.

A musical piece that endlessly repeats the same melody with slight modifications.

That was being performed now.

Using bone fragments, entrails, blood, and horrific screams as notes.

*CLANG!*

Demian dodged the sword that came down like a whip.

The rusty sword that struck the ground bounced back elastically and pursued him.

“Kuk…!”

Blocking with the flat of his blade, Demian dove in and swung his greatsword again.

The intestinal arm was severed in one stroke, spraying black liquid.

And then, it reconnected.

Black smoke rose from the cut section, restoring the severed arm.

Just as it had done before.

“Grrrr…”

The rusty whip swung again.

They say the tip of a whip can exceed the speed of sound even when wielded by a human.

After blocking several times, Demian was thrown backward and rolled across the ground.

He sprang up and charged again.

The right choice. He needed to maintain close distance at all costs.

If the monster’s attack method was to swing its arms like whips, then inside that range was the safest place.

He ducked to avoid the tentacle aiming for his head, then planted his hand on the ground and dove in with a flip.

The tentacle caught on the greatsword’s tip was severed, creating a momentary opening.

“Haaaaaaah!”

Demian brought down his greatsword vertically. Aiming for the monster’s head, the half-rotted horse skull.

And was blocked.

*CRACK-CRUNCH!*

Is this the sound of shoving a spade into gravel?

With overlapping crushing sounds, the greatsword’s movement stopped.

The twelve arms arranged like ribs had grabbed Demian’s sword.

Ten arms shattered like cookies, but by the last two arms, the sword strike had already lost its momentum.

And it regenerated.

Twelve arms firmly gripped the sword.

“Let… go!”

Demian released the handle and kicked the greatsword with his full weight.

The blade shot up from the recoil, breaking the entangled bones and freeing itself from constraint.

He grabbed the greatsword again and sliced through the neck. The horse head flew through the air.

Ah, that’s a misjudgment.

It’s different from a troll.

The next moment, the headless monster rammed straight into Demian.

With a groan, Demian was knocked away.

Right. Trolls are classified as living creatures, so if you cut off their heads, they can’t regenerate and soon die.

But undead types are already dead beings. For them, the head isn’t particularly a weak point.

Without means to prevent regeneration, the only way to kill an undead was to smash it again and again until it could no longer regenerate.

At least it’s not a ghost type.

Those wouldn’t even be affected by attacks.

The battle continued.

Demian’s greatsword shattered the monster’s leg bones, and the monster’s tail struck Demian.

The monster soon regenerated while Demian stood up again.

Wounds were gradually accumulating on his body.

Lacerations from the rusty sword, or rather, torn flesh.

Bruises from being struck by bones. Even abrasions from rolling on the ground.

His appearance was also stained with black fluid and Dark Mana.

“Demian…”

Millia murmured with concern.

Well, even if it’s an illusion, seeing someone suffer to that extent would worry anyone.

Though she didn’t react much when other students had their necks pulled out.

“As you can see, when facing an undead type without appropriate means… even with sufficient skill, one can easily find themselves in trouble.”

Professor Carlain continued her explanation calmly.

The students watched Demian’s struggle without blinking.

Watch carefully. That’s your future.

Demian, who had suddenly become teaching material, rolled around pitifully on the screen.

—-

Eighty minutes.

The battle continued for a full eighty minutes.

“Grrrrrr…”

The monster’s body collapsed.

Bone fragments that could no longer regenerate crumbled and spilled, and entrails rotted and flowed out.

The horse skull rolling on the ground let out a final groan as it split in two.

The blue flames in its eye sockets slowly faded.

After more than an hour of fierce battle, the victor was, surprisingly, Demian.

Though his appearance was hardly that of a victor.

Broken greatsword. Severed left arm. Shattered leg bones.

His entire body was stained black with Dark Mana, and one eye was torn out, with bloody tears streaming down.

“With injuries like that, most would wake up from fear and pain long ago… he’s a cadet with truly remarkable willpower, whenever I see him. His skills are beyond expectations too.”

Even Instructor Carlain couldn’t hide her admiration.

Yes, a future hero should show at least that much tenacity.

I was secretly pleased as well.

To achieve victory against an undead type already—it was quite an encouraging result.

It was worth having Frider beat him up.

Maybe I should ask Nigel later too.

As the monster vanished, the contaminated zone began to disappear. Starting from the edges, gradually.

Since this contamination wouldn’t normally disappear automatically, it must be changing to the next setting.

Sure enough, the screen began to darken.

—-

The setting for the fourth battle was an ordinary prairie.

A daytime landscape of shallow grass and weeds stretching out.

Demian, who had been kneeling and panting, stood up again.

As if the dream knew it was a dream, his broken sword and all his injuries had somehow been completely restored.

Though his depleted mental strength probably hadn’t returned.

“By the way, Professor, what’s the next opponent? We’ve already dealt with the monster. Is another monster appearing?”

A student asked Professor Carlain.

“No. I only prepared that one monster. I thought the ‘Mixed Remains’ alone would be sufficient for this lecture. This is, let’s say, an unexpected situation.”

Professor Carlain shook her head.

Indeed, it would have been difficult to expect a first-year student capable of fighting an undead type until it died from exhaustion.

“Then, the likely opponent would be… ah, yes. It will show the opponent he fears most. True to the nature of nightmares.”

The opponent he fears most?

I can’t even guess what might appear. Natalya?

If I had participated, would the final boss have appeared…?

Good thing I didn’t. Though I couldn’t have anyway.

And the enemy revealed itself.

“Huh…!”

The lecture hall stirred greatly.

Everyone was shocked beyond words. Even Professor Carlain and Millia.

And myself as well.

The enemy that appeared wasn’t a monster, nor a creature, not even a Werebeast.

A human enveloped in red killing intent, with blue ghostly flames pouring from both eyes.

A warrior wielding a blue-silver longsword in his right hand, dressed in scale armor.

With each step, the air distorted.

The surrounding weeds twisted and tore apart.

It revealed its fangs and smiled like a demon.

It was me.

……Wait, why am I appearing there?