Duergsini’s Avatar – (4)

“Step on it a bit faster, will you?”

“I, I’m already driving at 130 km/h! How can I go any faster?”

“Just drive at 200 km/h!”

“Which is exactly why I said you can’t drive, Lord Yi Haneul!”

The two bickering figures were Yi Haneul and Yi Ha-neul, heading towards the eye of the storm.

The closer they got to the epicenter, the stronger the winds became – so fierce that all sorts of crops were rolling across the road.

Yi Ha-neul bit his lip hard enough to draw blood as he spoke:

“Can you see, Lord Yi Haneul? This is at minimum a Level 1… no, perhaps an even higher-level yokai!”

“I have eyes too, you know?”

They were still several kilometers from the epicenter, yet already facing such impacts.

Even an exceptional Level 2 yokai couldn’t emanate this level of power.

One consolation was that thanks to the swift response from the Yokai Extermination Department and nearby offices, there were no casualties so far.

It was either sheer luck or someone was restraining the unidentified yokai or goblin.

Yi Ha-neul leaned towards the latter – that Miho was engaged in battle.

An assumption without evidence, a blind belief, yet Yi Ha-neul was convinced of his hunch.

Suddenly, Yi Ha-neul glanced sideways at Yi Haneul.

A Martial Force artist surpassing humanity, yet not particularly exceptional among her peers.

Her master, the Yokai Extermination Department Head Nam-hun, was assessed as capable of confronting even Level 1 yokai.

But Yi Haneul’s limit was Level 3 yokai.

As Principal of the Yokai Extermination Office, Yi Ha-neul couldn’t help but make a dispassionate judgment:

The opponent seemed a formidable Level 1 yokai.

Could Yi Haneul truly aid Miho in such an uneven battle, or would she only become a hindrance?

The former Yi Ha-neul would never have sent Yi Haneul to Miho – it would have been a futile sacrifice.

But after meeting Miho, Yi Ha-neul had changed, letting emotions cloud his judgment.

Miho had become a precious existence to Yi Ha-neul as well.

“…”

What was done was done.

He would just have to trust Yi Haneul’s confidence and her bond with Miho.

If things went awry, they would all die together – he had already resigned himself to that possibility.

Yes, Yi Ha-neul had brought Yi Haneul along fully prepared to meet his demise.

After composing himself, Yi Ha-neul closed his eyes and reminisced.

Ah, those had been such happy days.

Come to think of it, the Jirisan Yokai Extermination Office had changed after Miho’s arrival.

Because she was there…

“Watch the road ahead, you crazy bald geezer!”

“Aaaaaah!”

Screeeech.

A fallen tree lay across the road.

They had narrowly avoided it, nearly dying in a traffic accident before even reaching Miho.

…Best to focus on the present.

---

When I faced the ‘Blue Fox’, I had died once before.

Not biologically, but the emotion I felt then could only be described as the termination of life.

I felt that same emotion now.

Whoosh.

Fwashashashash.

The yaksha’s fist shattered the sandy beach.

Each of its attacks meant certain death for me.

‘If I hadn’t listened to Lord of the Mountain’s tale, I would already be dead.’

As he said, the yaksha was an incredibly foolish being that only targeted my head.

This fact alone made our exchange of blows possible.

The moment I scratched its spiral with my claws, it countered by aiming for my head.

Deeming it an unavoidable attack, I raised my left arm to block it – a gambit.

Despite blocking an attack capable of parting the sea, my left arm remained intact.

…Well, the bones were pulverized, leaving my left arm in tatters, but at least it didn’t get blown off entirely.

The gambit succeeded.

The instant its attack shifted from my head to my left arm, the yaksha adjusted its force, striking my arm with relatively diminished power.

…A limitation?

Yes, it seemed so.

It appeared I could block its attacks with body parts other than my head.

But I could not evade unscathed.

Excruciating pain assaulted my brain.

My tattered left arm flailed in the strong winds.

The previous attack had ruptured both my eardrums, robbing me of one sense.

As a yokai ling rather than a human, I could have instantly healed such wounds by using fox fires, but of course it did not give me that chance, relentlessly raining punches upon me.

Six fists.

Six trajectories.

Had it possessed even a shred of intelligence, I would already be dead.

Thanks to all six arms aiming for my head, I could narrowly evade them.

…But at this rate, I would lose.

In our exchange of blows, I realized one thing:

The yaksha seemed to possess limitless, near-infinite stamina.

No matter how many times I raked its spiral with my sharp claws, unconcerned with the damage to its face, it continued attacking me with its remaining five arms while using the sixth to heal its spiral.

…Damn it.

The spiral had healed completely.

The yaksha could endure our bloody melee while healing itself thanks to its six arms.

The vast spirit energy from my eight tails – what good was it against an opponent completely impervious to spirit energy?

Still, I did not give up.

I was the predator – the multi-tailed fox yokai that devoured goblins.

If I couldn’t even defeat this mere avatar body instead of Duergsini himself, what kind of predator was I?

Schaaaak!

I furiously raked its spiral with my right arm, over and over and over again.

Then, inevitably, another unavoidable attack came.

Ah.

With only one arm left…

…

…

…

I sacrificed my right arm as well.

I had lost any means of attacking.

But I still did not give up.

A fox’s fangs were razor-sharp.

I still had my fangs, didn’t I?

If I did well, could I not gnaw away at its spiral to emerge victorious?

…

Who was I kidding?

No chance.

I would lose.

Lose.

Lose.

Lose.

Die.

Couldn’t win.

Lost.

Died.

Couldn’t win.

I was no true predator.

A pathetic predator who allowed itself to be hunted by prey.

The moment I resigned myself from the position of predator.

Shiver shiver shiver shiver.

The instant such worthless thoughts entered my mind, my legs began trembling.

And this soon led to a fatal consequence.

Baam!

My brain rattled.

My thoughts ceased.

A single blow.

I had allowed one clean hit from its attack.

My skull didn’t shatter – my eight-tailed physique was sturdier than I imagined.

But this marked the end of this hopeless battle.

The remaining five arms unleashed consecutive attacks.

Attacks I could not evade even if I wanted to.

Dying.

Dying.

Dyi…

…

…

…

Cough Hack…

I spat out a thick, dark crimson blood from my mouth.

What had happened?

Fortunately, it seemed I was not dead yet.

I, I had to get up first.

Before the yaksha continued its assault, I needed to heal…

…Huh?

I couldn’t even muster the strength to lift a finger.

Why was that?

With blurred vision, I examined my body.

Legs – both still attached.

Tails – all eight, tattered arms – two.

Abdomen –

A hole.

…Ah.

There was a hole in my abdomen.

It had been an instinctive action.

‘The yaksha only targets the head.’

In that moment when its five fists aimed for my head in succession, I had violently twisted my body to shield my head.

And this was the result.

…Heh.

This hole was probably big enough for a baseball to pass through.

I could see the yaksha moving.

With both eardrums long ruptured, I couldn’t hear its footsteps.

The yaksha leapt high into the air.

I barely lifted my head to gaze at it numbly.

Ah.

The sunlight.

So dazzling.

The yaksha extended all six arms backwards.

The final decisive blow to end my life.

In movies and novels, wasn’t there supposed to be some cliché scenes during the protagonist’s final moments?

The villain kindly exchanging some banter, slowly approaching, that sort of thing.

Shouldn’t the protagonist at least get to see their life flash before their eyes?

But reality was no movie or novel, and I was no protagonist.

It was coming.

Death was coming.

Damn it.

I didn’t even know what I should be thinking in my final moments.

Tightly, I closed my eyes, resigning myself to death.

Unexpectedly, there was no pain.

Aheh.

So this was the anti-climactic nature of death.

I could only hope the afterlife would at least let me enjoy the delicacy of dog food soaked in milk as I slowly closed my eyes.

…

…

…

Tap.

Tap tap.

Oh come on.

Who was this rude person disturbing a sleeping fox?

Flut flut flut.

I mustered what little strength remained and opened my eyes.

Huh?

Not dead.

Alive.

What I saw was the ravaged beach of the uninhabited island and the yaksha defying physics, frozen in mid-air as if time had stopped.

And one human – Yi Haneul.

No, not Yi Haneul.

Ho-jun.

Through my ruptured eardrums, I could faintly make out his words:

“Big bro’s here, you dumb mutt.”

“You’re not dead yet, are you?”

His robe fluttered.

In an utterly casual tone, as if nothing was amiss, he asked me that question.

And I nodded with a smile.

…Yeah.

Seems I’m not dead yet.

You insufferable ritualist bastard.