Chapter 761: Cloudy Night Sky: A Sudden Ray of Light
Author's Preface
The author wrote this while pulling an all-nighter, so honestly, it's an update where I'm just endlessly anxious about whether the consistency and such are really okay.
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Among all the white snakes hanging their heads, only one snake had its head raised.
".........you."
Please, please, I beg of you.
It knew the hourglass of its life was approaching zero; it could no longer witness the conclusion of its master's vengeance. But if that was the case, then at the very least.
"......stop it, why did you come to me? just leave me alone."
Words cannot be conveyed from a small snake to a grieving white snake. That is only possible between kin who share a close connection; for a small snake that had already lost its master, there was no longer anyone anywhere it could convey its will to.
"just because you have something like that, so what? no one can win, you know? we have no choice but to give up now."
Things like that didn't matter.
It hadn't whittled down its own life to come all this way just to debate whether they could win or not.
Ah, the sound of a massive crack forming in the life sustaining it echoed. The strength supporting its body vanished, and it weakly struck its head against the floor while still holding that in its mouth..
"Ugh, ghhhhhh......!"
───Please, please, I beg of you.
I'm not asking you to save my life. I'm not asking you to bring me the enemy's head right this instant.
Please, connect it.
Before I die, please accept the feelings of this small snake.
If only someone would accept this regret, I could at least die satisfied.
The hourglass of its life was just moments away. From outside the window that had begun to grow faintly bright, light was trying to shine in.
"i can't take it anymore, no, no, no, no, no...... i don't want being scared...... don't mind me anymore, don't look at me............ save, me........."
No one tried to raise their head. And so, just as time alone was about to pass by───
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Hit. Miss. You die first.
Even if you try to express this battlefield with hundreds or thousands of words, everything ultimately condenses down to these three things.
"DIEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!"
Even after the perceived weight was reduced enough to be handled with one hand, the Memento Mori, gripped with both hands and slammed with a full swing, dealt massive damage—enough to be called a severe wound—to the face of "Scar-red's" left head.
But even though one of its heads—itself and its brother—took damage that blew off half its face, the other two...... no, all the heads, including the directly hit left head, simply bit at me with their fighting spirit boiling over, intent only on killing me.
"Hah! Hah!"
The trick to staying alive effectively is not being needlessly greedy. Having already initiated evasive maneuvers the moment the strike landed, I escaped the three-headed forceful assault and readied Memento Mori once more.
I knew it, I knew it, but still...... these past one or two hours are far more grueling than the several hours before I handled the Mob Train. Because I can't heal? That's part of it. Because I could die in one hit? That's also part of it. But the biggest reason that's grinding down my psyche isn't that.
What is the most terrifying aspect of the Draculus Dinocerberus "Scar-red"? Those who only know of its existence through word of mouth would mention the number of heads or the napalm attacks, but anyone who has actually fought it...... and put up a decent fight, would all answer with the same thing.
"Defense reinforcement inversely proportional to remaining HP......!!"
Just as the name suggests, there are scarlet scars carved into its entire body, looking as if blood might seep out at any moment. Those scars shine redder, more crimson, more scarlet the closer it gets to death. As if to say that life truly shines brightest only on the verge of death, both its scales and muscles increase in toughness.
To break it down extremely simply: out of 100 HP, if you whittle away 90, its defense multiplies by ten, meaning the remaining 10 HP effectively equals 100.
Perhaps the Holy Spear possessing ShanFro's strongest class of armor-piercing capabilities, held by that fiend who loves self-destructing, could pierce even these scales.
But there is no such convenient spear here, and even if I could call Pencilgon right now...... I declare this firmly: I absolutely will not call her.
"What a fun time...... right, brother, ain't that right!!"
Ah, that's right. In this moment, I'm having the absolute time of my life.
Yeah...... it reminds me of Saba-Gan. On that isolated island, there were shitty enemies who thought of humans as nothing but food or toys. Butchering those beasts who seem to live purely off the advantages they were born with entirely solo is way, way more fun than assassinating ten players!!
Optimizing yourself through killing and being killed, like challenging the Crystal Scorpions or the bugs in Sigmonia, is certainly one of the best parts of gaming, but...... as expected, the allure of a blind clear surpasses all. Since both endorphins and adrenaline are flooding out, I'd say I'm running on 200% pure concentrate. Hahaha, what am I even saying.
"This is great...... my head's getting messed up."
It's the high tension unique to an all-nighter. If I lose now, I'll spend the next three days living a life of kicking trash cans in frustration, but if I win in this state, I'll be grinning for the next week just remembering it. Actually, when I wiped out twenty of the shitty gorilla army led by Survival, I was grinning at every little thing.
"Die!!"
Explosive advance. Supplementing my acceleration by activating a skill I don't even know how many times I've used by now, I dive right into "Scar-red's" chest in one breath. This acceleration, this evasiveness is the thin thread tethering my life to this world.
Die already, die right now, just die for crying out loud. Infusing thoughts bordering on curses into the gravestone sword, I just relentlessly hammer in attacks. But it still won't fall; considering it's stumbled a few times, it's certain I've pushed it into a corner. But...... the distance until that remaining HP hits zero is simply far too vast.
Could it be that this is actually impossible? If the cap on the defense increase is really something like tenfold, it would mean I have to recreate the damage I dealt over five hours all over again.
"Fuh, fukukukuku, fuhaha, ahahahahahaha!!"
This is bad. More than that, the fact that my own voice is completely a woman's voice has finally struck me as hilarious. A smile is important, get through this with a smile! The difference between sanity and insanity is just one single letter!!
If it doesn't die in one hit, I just have to punch it a hundred times. If damage can go through, gamers can kill even gods. It no longer matters whether it's a weak spot or a tough spot; while premising on hit-and-away tactics, I'll attack "Scar-red" anywhere as long as there's an opening.
The sky began to brighten, a cool breeze brushing against my cheek. No, surely this might actually be a freezing north wind. Endlessly heated white air wavered like mist from "Scar-red's" entire body, and when a particularly strong gust of wind blew───
"Heeeeeeereee iiit isssssss!!!!"
The culmination of a night-long mortal struggle. The seemingly invincible, massive body of the Draculus Dinocerberus "Scar-red" had now, truly, collapsed, unable to support its own weight.
Did it die? No, it's dying!! Now, it's only now! I'll kill it here! Die here! I win here!!
Raising Memento Mori high overhead, no longer needing any petty tricks, I sprinted in a straight line toward "Scar-red" while praying with an unreasonable, useless demand for my fading skills to hold out just two more seconds.
"My......... w-i, n!!?"
Gebo, it sounded.
"Scar-red" spat something out. Blood? Or puke?
It was too dark for blood, too sticky for puke. Carried by the north wind, an overwhelming stench of oil pierced my nasal cavity......... th-this guy, pulling out a new move at the very end──────
Gachin!!
If the previous mucus lumps were flammable oil.
The black lump spat out just now was those previous mucus lumps compressed to the absolute limit...... a Heavy Oil Lump.
Even on the verge of death, it was a point-blank detonation anticipating self-destruction that couldn't be done without the resolve to grasp life even if it meant plunging further toward death.
Evasion wouldn't make it in time anymore; even if I back-stepped.........
There, the pitch-black heavy oil lump swelled white, the sound vanished, and───
It exploded.
......
............
..................
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Silence.
The Draculus Dinocerberus "Scar-red", a peculiar, one-of-a-kind entity possessing the art of manipulating "fire" that could even be called an atavism.
Its unique internal structure: within the organ that stored flammable mucus substances in its body, the more it accumulated the fat and other substances ingested from devouring prey, a heavy oil lump would be accumulated and compressed separately from the source material of the mucus lump.
Only when it was truly cornered to the absolute limit would "Scar-red" unleash its final and greatest firepower.
Its power was equivalent to a meteorite impact.
The shockwave—enough to blow away any players who noticed the sounds of the night-long mortal struggle between Sunraku and "Scar-red" and approached as collateral damage—and the heat created a gaping, scorched wasteland in a corner of the sea of trees.
"Garorororororo........."
"Scar-red" was alive. While the left head was completely silenced and the right head was nearly non-functional, the terrifying crimson three-headed dragon was undeniably holding its ground on the edge of death.
Then what about the single human who engaged in the mortal struggle against "Scar-red"?
Normally, there's no way he could be alive. Taking a massive explosion of a scale that snaps giant trees, gouges the earth, and kills people as collateral damage...... there's no way a life could survive that.
In addition, the heavy oil lump also shares the same properties as the normal mucus lumps. Namely, flames like napalm that absolutely will not extinguish just by rolling on the ground once they stick. Assuming, just assuming he managed to withstand the shock and heat, the flames assaulting his body would immediately incinerate his already half-dead flesh.
But even so, "Scar-red" was not letting its guard down in the slightest.
Until it saw a corpse, its fighting spirit and murderous intent would absolutely not subside, glaring into the cloud of dust.........
And then, faster than the vigilantly cautious "Scar-red" could react.
"AAAAAAAGH!!"
Even faster than a thrown projectile, a "sword" flew through the dust cloud and pierced right between the eyes, dead center of "Scar-red's" middle head.
"With thiiiiiiiiis.........!"
A single human burst through the dust cloud. The woman clad in mourning dress ignored her terrible state, glaring at only one spot as she ran.
Why was he alive? Why wasn't he dead? Why wasn't he burned? "Scar-red's" intelligence could not deduce the answer in this moment───that he had driven Memento Mori into the ground as a shield against the impact, recklessly smashed the absolute top-tier potions that even Sunraku only had one or two of against his forehead, smashed the bottles together, and even bit them apart with his mouth to bathe his entire body in everything he had, completely resisting the flames.
Not vanishing from heat, but having poured recovery medicine onto the Black Death Garb that rejects the concept of healing, causing the mourning dress to melt away nearly sixty percent of its function as clothing, he ran, wound up, and swung, aiming at only one point.
Clad in death, wielding death, piercing through the pitch-black explosive heat...... his entire body and soul, loaded into the gravestone blade, was slammed into the Dragon Slayer driven into "Scar-red's" brow.
"DIEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!"
What happens if you swing a hammer down onto a nail driven into a tree?
The Bunker Strike, executed having forgotten even the concern that the Dragon-Slaying Sword might shatter to pieces, drove the blade of Areadbhair even deeper.
That was the period struck upon this long-lasting battle.
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No matter how far you distance yourself from death, you can never fully escape it.
A million HP, regen that brings healing surpassing the wounds, completely invincible attack resistance......... if HP hits zero, you die. That is what life is; no matter how strong you become, you cannot resist nothingness. Once it's gone, that's the end.
"Goodbye, 'Scar-red'."
I completely used up the Elixirs to survive that explosion. I can't help you anymore, and I won't help you anymore.
Perhaps a second or third Draculus Dinocerberus "Scar-red" might be born in the future.
Even so, this guy who fought alongside me against the Devouring Great Crimson Clad ends here. I wished for his death far too much to mourn our parting...... yet, what came out before a shout of victory were words of farewell.
It let out a faint, groaning growl, trembled greatly once, and the strength left its massive body......... illuminated by the pre-dawn twilight peeking slightly from the breaks in the clouds carried by the north wind, it shattered into pieces.
That was the end of this mortal struggle...... and the final moments of the Draculus Dinocerberus "Scar-red".
Author's Afterword
・Recovery Items
Naturally, in the world setting of ShanFro, recovery items are not chemicals that can be explained scientifically.
"How to define" the phenomenon of recovery is what differentiates the countless recovery items. For example, some "repair the damage to be the same as its original state," others "rewind to the state before being damaged," and finally, some even "erase the fact of 'damage' from the user's body."
There are far too many things you can't understand just by reading the item text. The liquid that soaked into the black garments did not resist the flames...... it resisted and endured the very "concept" that brings damage.
All that was left was to curl up, close his eyes and mouth, and endure.
A cool breakthrough method that couldn't be done without the madness to cling to life even if it meant biting into the ground, in an instant where one couldn't even recognize death.
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