Chapter 41 : Labyrinth (41)

Pfft!

At that moment, flames scattered.

Though it wasn’t enough to drive it to death, the firepower was at least sufficient to disrupt the trajectory of the hammering blow.

The one-winged angel’s head bent sharply as it put all its strength into a headbutt, causing the mimic monster to crash into the ground beside it.

Dust and screams blended together.

Even amidst the chaos, arrows drawing red trajectories flew precisely toward their target and struck true.

Multiple shots landed at once.

The terrible impact and heat struck the one-winged angel, pushing back its already unbalanced body.

[Tcheeeek!]

Even the half-incapacitated mimic monster was jolted awake by the impact.

Seizing the moment as the one-winged angel staggered, it violently shook its head.

The [mouth], which had been slowly digging into the one-winged angel’s body like a saw, was finally ripped out.

Its chrome-colored jaws gleamed unsettlingly, slick with fresh red blood.

In its desperate struggle for survival, it had left deep scars on the one-winged angel’s body.

Of course, if one were to compare the injuries, the one that had been crushed multiple times by the hammer had clearly taken the worse damage.

However, considering the unnatural vitality and regenerative abilities of these creatures, their battles were never ones that could be settled in a short time.

A meaningless, endless clash—like two oceans colliding, fighting to see which would dry up first.

If one were to think about how water does not reject water but instead merges, the fight seemed even more futile.

Crunch.

Crunch.

A brief lull.

Both monsters made the same decision simultaneously—consuming the flesh and blood scattered all around them, whether it was their own or their opponent’s.

The term [miasma] flowing through the monsters and the labyrinth was merely a human-centric expression.

To monsters, miasma was even more essential to life than air or water.

And the flesh of a large monster, soaked in it, provided them with benefits greater than any elixir.

What appeared as grotesque and barbaric self-cannibalism was, in reality, a natural and intelligent choice for survival.

However, the efficiency of such a method could never match simply not being injured in the first place.

The mimic monster, which was staggering as it tried to rise again, was still covered in crushed wounds.

In contrast, the one-winged angel seemed to be in much better shape.

Drip.

Drip.

The place where the [mouth] had dug in still bore lasting bloodstains, but the smaller wounds had mostly stopped bleeding.

With both sides warily watching each other, neither feeding nor regeneration could proceed properly.

Moreover, the one-winged angel had to be wary not only of the mimic monster but also of the fire blasts coming from the outside.

“Ruerueeeee…”

The attack wasn’t fatal, but it was too powerful to ignore.

Just moments ago, an unexpected interference had forced it to let go of its prey despite having it nearly secured.

And the intention behind the attack was clear—the mysterious bombardment was obviously aiding the mimic monster.

Realizing this instinctively, the mimic monster, despite its tattered body, launched an aggressive offensive.

The odds of victory were slim, but escape was not an option against the highly mobile one-winged angel.

If it wanted to survive, it had to fight.

That was a lesson the young monster had learned bitterly through relentless violence.

If it did not eat, it could not live.

If it did not kill, it could not eat.

Especially in the world of monsters.

Creak.

However, not everything in this world goes as one desires.

[Tche… tcheeeek…]

The mimic monster’s cry was as fragile as a snapped reed flute.

Though it had managed to avoid having its jaws sealed shut again, its very body structure was not suited for melee combat.

That was the price it had paid for its mysterious [mimicry] ability.

A typical mimic monster could have avoided even the gaze of other monsters.

If it had to fight, it would have led an expeditionary force in the form of a human.

It could have disguised itself as the supreme commander, leading with exceptional strategy and tactics.

As a vanguard captain, charging ahead to display valor.

Or even as a lowly hunter or gatherer.

In such a way, the one-winged angel would have fought and perished without ever realizing it was battling a mimic monster.

But this one was young, inexperienced, and lacking.

It was not cunning enough—it was too pure.

It was being utterly overpowered.

“And as if to punish its reliance on luck, no further bombardments came,Instead, what arrived was…”

Thud.

“…Damn it.”

Against a mere three-eyed hound, it would have easily pierced through.

But against the one-winged angel, the arrow was no better than a toothpick.

The sharp iron tip failed to penetrate the thick feathered barrier and fell away without even drawing a drop of blood.

The one-winged angel’s physical structure was fundamentally designed to resist long-range attacks more than melee assaults.

If its durability in melee combat was akin to an ancient tree that had stood for a thousand years, then against long-range attacks, it was even more fortified.

Rather than helping, the intruder’s arrow only served to reveal their location.

That bug it had let go earlier due to overestimating the legendary monster’s abilities and being overly cautious.

“I must have lost my damn mind… I really must have…”

Hans, holding his bow, muttered with a deep scowl on his face.

He was a human of the labyrinth.

For him, nothing was more important than his own survival.

So if he had been lucky enough to escape, he should have just run away.

What foolishness had led him to throw himself back into this fight, like a shrimp caught between battling whales?

And yet, the survival instinct that had saved him countless times since his rookie days told him otherwise.

If he ran away now, he might survive for the moment.

But surely, he would die before long.

“Uwaaaaaah!”

But even if Hans chose not to run, there was nothing he could actually do.

He had long since used up his stock of Gretel-brand firebombs, which had once given the one-winged angel a taste of pain.

The rest of his equipment was only meant for dealing with small to mid-sized monsters—none of it was effective against a colossal creature like this.

None of it was of any use.

All he could do was shoot a few arrows as useless as toothpicks and yell meaningless words to distract the monster for even a moment.

If he had run from the beginning, things might have been different.

But now that he had revealed his hostility, the one-winged angel would never let him live.

Hans knew that monster’s nature all too well.

But what he didn’t understand—was a woman’s heart.

He didn’t know that, for some people, just having someone by their side could be the greatest source of strength.

“[Aaaaaaaaah!]”

A sound too grand and immense to have come from a single life, resonating like the bells of a cathedral.

Neither a roar, nor a cheer, nor a scream—just a raw, unfiltered wail.

The true body of the mimic monster had no vocal organs.

Instead, the half-regenerated human form twisted upward, and the crushed girl’s head lifted itself, its hollow mouth opening to sing in its place.

And behind that, cracks spread all across the mimic monster’s body.

As its breath flowed in and out, the fragmented air merged and sharpened into an eerie harmony.

Hans felt a shudder crawl down his spine.

Because within that incomprehensible monster’s cry—he could hear a melody.

“Lu! Lulululu…”

“[😢😢😢😢😢😢-!]”

The reverberation struck not just the body, but the mind and soul, even overwhelming the belated cry of the one-winged angel as it opened its beak.

Hans’ body trembled violently.

That—that wasn’t just the ability of the mimic monster.

He wasn’t some expert on urban legends, but there was one thing he knew for certain.

His eardrums, which had already burst once from the one-winged angel’s roar, were healing again.

“Luaaaagh!”

The roar was slowly shifting into a scream.

Perhaps, to an exile of paradise, the song of heaven was nothing but a terrible reminder of its past.

Or—perhaps it was simply because it was a monster.

A monster that defied the laws of the world was, naturally, harmed by the miracle of a saintess who restored those laws.

Which meant that even the mimic monster—Alje, who was now singing the saintess’s song—was not an exception.

The iridescent feathers that had flourished across the one-winged angel’s body began to fall away in clumps.

Like a downpour, the cascading rainbow feathers scattered across the land, while the taut membranes of its wings, stretched to their limit, tore apart with a sharp snap.

At the same time, the mimic monster’s dozens of malformed legs stumbled drunkenly, crashing against one another in disorder.

Wounds that had only half-healed split open again, sending streams of blood flowing freely.

And the girl’s broken body—her neck and waist twisted at angles no human should be able to endure—continued to twitch and sing.

But even as all the monsters weakened—there was still one thing left untouched.

The [mouth], which consumed and devoured all, remained unbroken, unshaken.

So Alje—with all its strength—closed the door on time.