Chapter 355: O Dragon, O Dragon! Part 20

Philosophical Zombies, was it? Entities that outwardly display responses utterly indistinguishable from humans, yet possess absolutely no emotion whatsoever internally... Perhaps the Devouring Great Crimson Clad is that exact kind of existence.
However, even so, for that monster, the situation of being buried alive by the bedrock collapsing from above seemed to be something worth Panicking over.

As the source of its origin fell downward, the red tornado naturally followed the main body. And in the fleeting moments before this massive sinkhole was completely capped off and crushed them to death, the option the Devouring Great Crimson Clad selected was a brutally simple display of brute force.

"Ooiii"

The red tornado exhibited a wavering completely distinct from when it had generated clones previously. As if kneading clay, it gathered the vast majority of its mass into a single point and gave birth to It.

"What the hell is... that..."

Ignoring the fact that it was entirely crimson, if I had to describe what was just born in a single phrase... It looked like the corpse of a Cyclops constructed from completely mismatched body parts.

I don't know if that "Oioi" sound was supposed to be its cry or not, but that doesn't matter right now... From a mouth situated where a human's would normally be, teeth resembling completely lethal, evenly spaced blades peeked out. It lacked any facial features like a nose or eyebrows, and instead possessed a massive eyeball slapped right in the center.

But those traits were still things you could accept if told it was a "Cyclops." The real problem was that its body was already heavily damaged the moment it was born, and the other issue was... that "Arm."

"Kuh... Gotta get up first...!"

I shouldn't be taking my eyes off the immediate threat right now.
If I just sit here waiting obediently, I'll only end up buried alive. If so, I have no choice but to find a way out through the rapidly closing gap.
Climbing up the wall of the caved-in sinkhole faster than the approaching skill's expiration time, I continued to turn over my thoughts regarding the mysterious Cyclops I had just caught a glimpse of.

That Cyclops—created using the vast majority of the red tornado—had already lost both of its legs and its left arm the moment it was born. In other words, it only possessed a single right arm, making it a pathetic existence born on the brink of death... Or at least, it should have been.

However, as if the power of all its lost limbs had been entirely concentrated into that single right arm, the arm exhibited a bizarre hypertrophy that screamed "Dangerous" the moment you laid eyes on it.
After all, it was larger than the torso of its 75%-dismembered body. Actually, it would be far more accurate to say the torso was attached to the arm.

"Nu, ooooooh!!"

Dammit, was I too distracted by the Devouring Great Crimson Clad struggling against being buried alive? The mass of earth, stone, and boulders had already fallen close enough to effectively cap off the massive hole. Even sprinting at full speed to dive through the remaining sliver of moonlight filtering through the gap, I simply didn't have enough time.
Damn you, Deep Slaughter. I will absolutely inflict Divine Punishment on that bastard...!!

"I won't make i—"

Arm.

Situation.

Escape.

Trump Card.

Suddenly, a premonition struck me.
It was merely an intuition, a single hypothesis I arrived at amidst my thoughts. And ultimately, within this checkmate situation, it pushed me toward selecting the option of Intentionally Going Down.

"Kuh... The duration is...!"

There's no way the skill duration would last much longer... Scurrying back down the Wall (Path) I had just climbed, I saw that I still had a good dozen meters or so of height left. If I just fall from here, I'll definitely die, but......... Whatever, dieeeee!!

"Meteor Fall!"

I have to manually supply my own height, but I slammed the flying kick—which converts fall damage directly into attack damage—straight into the Devouring Great Crimson Clad's main body.

Eh, you're punching me now!? Right when I'm trying to pull off a super move!? It gave me a look like that, but don't act so spoiled, you bastard. Interrupting a major attack during its wind-up animation with a physical strike is a basic gamer skill. Ah, stop, please no counter-lasers. Save me, "Scar"!!

"But now, we're all in the same boat... I'm counting on you, Mr. Devouring Great Crimson Clad...!"

Escape was already impossible. Even though we were using murder as our primary communication tool just minutes ago, under these circumstances, we're sharing the same sinking ship. I wonder why, but I actually trust this thing more than Deep Slaughter, who is not only the same race but in my own party... I really wonder why...

"OooOOoooooo...!!"

The Arm Cyclops born from the Devouring Great Crimson Clad began to Focus its strength into its sole remaining, bizarrely hypertrophied right arm.
Because it was entirely red, I couldn't tell at first, but seeing the arm swell even further as kinetic energy pooled within it, I finally realized that it was composed of completely exposed muscles without any skin.

Yet that exposure wasn't the result of damage, but rather as if that state itself was its default.
Creak, crack... It looked exactly as if someone were violently wringing out a wet towel while somehow simultaneously increasing its mass. There was absolutely no other way to describe the fact that something was about to happen.

"Wait, no, don't tell me."

By whatever principle it was operating on, the Arm Cyclops's right arm—now visibly discharging electricity—had swelled to nearly twice the size of its torso. And the moment that hand curled into a fist, I realized exactly what this dying giant... what the Devouring Great Crimson Clad was planning to do.

Wait, wait, wait. I'm not knowledgeable about physics or anything like that, nor do I have a programmer's understanding of physical calculation engines, but... if it unleashes enough energy to counteract That in a confined space like this...!!

Whether it's realistic or not doesn't matter. This is a game world, so the sky and earth swapping places wouldn't be all that strange. But even still, Punching away the bedrock itself, which must weigh tens of thousands of tons or more...

Yet even knowing that, I haven't grown Dull enough to just stand there completely dumbfounded. The only time standing completely still is acceptable is during event cutscenes and the ending.

"Defense... No, that won't work. Inventoria!!"

The power was about to be unleashed. Even from an outside perspective, the grotesque arm—loaded with energy to its absolute critical limit—looked as though it were actively siphoning something from the very depths of the excavated earth.
Lines of light raced across the crimson muscles, looking exactly as if I were watching a machine being forced to operate at 120% capacity in some sci-fi series (Not ShanFro). A one-off cannon of destruction that entirely disregarded the aftermath, the consequences, and the future.

"iiiiiiIIIIII...!!"

A cry that might otherwise sound slightly goofy instantly wipes the smile off your face when a nuclear warhead is actively detonating right next to you. Or rather, it wipes away your physical body entirely.

"【Transfer: Storage Space】!!"

An extreme violence so utterly absurd it defies measurement by any standard was unleashed. A fragile human had absolutely no choice but to flee.

Which is exactly why.

Just a fraction of a second before the scenery in my vision changed, the figure of the "Strong," still fiercely charging at the Devouring Great Crimson Clad with unwavering faith purely in its own strength, burned itself remarkably clearly into my eyes.

Roughly three minutes in terms of time. Just about the time it takes for a cup of instant ramen to finish. That was the amount of time that had passed at the bottom of this hole while I was away.

"...Even if I died, it might have actually been better to see the actual spectacle with my own eyes."

The Devouring Great Crimson Clad was nowhere to be seen. Most likely, it had crawled its way up to the surface using this very "Path."

Clack, clack, the sound of my heels echoed through the underground space, which had become Vitrified—likely due to the sheer, overwhelming heat. Looking up, I saw a massive glass tunnel that had been completely blown open diagonally all the way to the surface.

With a wry smile at the game's balancing—wondering if this was originally an attack meant to be directed at the players—I walked across the glass floor until I caught sight of the Thing I was looking for.

"""......................"""

"...Charcoal, huh."

Or perhaps, what used to be "Scar."
To describe it accurately, this guy, who had tried to bite the Ground Zero of the explosion, took the brunt of an immense energy blast—capable of vitrifying the surroundings—at point-blank range.
Just how much heat and destructive power had been slammed into its body...? The crumbling, dilapidated form was so pathetic it was impossible to believe this was the same monster that had continuously inflicted death and defeat upon players.

"Even so, It's still here."

In this game, whether it's a player, an NPC, or a monster... those who meet their death equally "vanish" alongside an effect.

In short... I suppose you could say it's incredibly stubborn, or perhaps wonder how you're even supposed to kill it if it survived this. Either way, this thing is still alive.

"............"

Right here, right now, I have two options. Simply put, let it live or kill it. It's the straightforward right of life and death over it...

From what I hear, not only "Scar," but its entire species reigns over this great sea of trees as a type of Area Boss.
There's a prevailing theory among players that once you venture a certain distance into the sea of trees, an encounter with its species, the Draclus Dinocerberus, is practically guaranteed. And within that species, this "Scar" is specifically dispatched when the party size is large... In other words, it's rumored to be an exceptional Executioner (Monster) sent to absolutely annihilate any forced march relying purely on numbers.

That very monster is currently dying right before my eyes. The merits of landing the finishing blow are massive. The materials go without saying, and for my current self, the experience points certainly wouldn't go to waste either. And above all, it would remove an incredibly troublesome obstacle to pioneering the New Continent.

"........."

It's simple. It's essentially just a lump of charcoal now, so I could land the finishing blow even by punching it barehanded. While the vast majority of the damage was dealt by the Devouring Great Crimson Clad, if I'm the one who lands the finishing blow, the returns should be quite substantial.

Furthermore, precisely because I have acquired the Skills of an Avenger, I know that defeating this thing will allow me to accumulate achievements as an Avenger.
If I play my cards right, I might even get some words of praise from Loli Sensei. That's one more piece of material for the "Make Survival Die of Frustration" operation... Though honestly, I feel like I could land a fatal blow just with the screenshot of "Sensei eating a parfait in a school swimsuit."

"Well, I guess what I'm going to do hasn't changed."

What I pulled out was a percentage-based recovery item, unlike standard potions: the "Mystic Soma." Without a moment of hesitation, I splashed the item I received from Saint-chan as an advance payment all over "Scar."

"Stop sleeping and get up already. It's my treat. It's not like I need this thing in my current state anyway."

Maybe Tottori's vibe rubbed off on me. Well, either way, just stealing the finishing blow without actually contributing to the firepower isn't very Vorpal.
The Crystal Scorpions? Even landing the finishing blow on those things is a gamble with your life. Just fighting them is the absolute peak of Vorpal.

"If you drop dead here, the firepower is going to drastically decrease. It'd be really troublesome if you died like a dog in a place like this."

Watching the lump of charcoal gradually regain the color of its flesh, a smile naturally formed on my face.

Now then, exactly how should I go about provoking that pervert who caused this massive disaster, yet ultimately failed to score a single kill on "Scar," the Devouring Great Crimson Clad, or even me?

Author's Afterword
If I had to describe it, "Black"-san isn't just a muscle-brain; even his bones are made of muscle.