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Dead End
“That’s how it is, huh? Turns out I’m stronger than you,” Mary said, wearing a confident smile as she calmly asserted, “In other words, the tables have turned. I went from being the weakling who could be killed to becoming the one who kills.” With composed determination, she walked towards Magrat.
“Well, isn’t that just delightful? Because right now… my mind is consumed by a seething hatred, and all I can think about is revenge!” she declared, each step carrying a sense of purpose, her eyes reflecting a dark fire.
“How should I go about killing you, the one who snatched my sister away from me? How can I make you pay? Kill you, kill you, I will kill you! Those words resonate perfectly in my mind. They unify with the surging power coursing through me, and my emotions soar!” Her cheeks flushed, lips curling upwards, revealing the growing intensity within her.
“That’s why I have to kill you. I have no choice but to snuff out your pathetic existence, Magrat! You, and only you, I will never forgive. I will avenge my sister’s and my own grudges! I will kill you, no matter what, using any means necessary, and I will keep killing you until there’s nothing left!” Mary exclaimed, her eyes captivated yet filled with hatred.
In a moment of emotional instability, she raised her clenched skeletal fist behind her back and swung it down towards Magrat’s head with all her force. But he swiftly sidestepped and rolled, assuming a defensive stance. The iron hammer struck the ground with a resounding thud, causing it to tremble.
That’s an incredible force, almost like a joke. Did she awaken an Arcana from the depths of that abyss? Among the missing numbers… the Arcana that likely corresponds to her ability is Death. It should involve powers related to corpses.
Magrat possessed knowledge about Arcanas, allowing him to deduce the nature of Mary’s power.
“So you devoured them all?! All of the corpses beneath the cliff!”
“Yes, thanks for the feast!”
The Death Arcana, governing death, bestows magical power upon every present corpse. Consuming the corpses nourishes the physical body, resulting in unparalleled improvements in physical abilities and durability.
Swinging his fist, Magrat evaded, releasing hermit-like entities that she swiftly cut down while relentlessly attacking Magrat. Dodging, escaping, counterattacking, but no damage was inflicted—Mary continued to press him into a corner.
Finally, Mary’s outstretched arm reached out and grabbed his shoulder. “Pain… I’ll return it to you!”
Magrat’s arm was torn off. “HAh, AAAAGGHHH!!” he screamed, tumbling forward.
“And now, we’re even… Though I’ve already healed,” Mary remarked. Her broken arm had completely regenerated.
Meanwhile, with his arm severed, Magrat crawled on the ground, bleeding, gritting his teeth. “I won’t die… I can’t die… until I see the future of this beautiful world!”
“Such a selfish sense of duty. Are those who die for it simply discarded as ugly? But to me, you appear far more repulsive,” Mary replied.
“What’s wrong with pursuing my desires? In this world, there are still plenty of trash that needs to be eliminated! So, Hermit, I beg you, keep me alive…!” Magrat pleaded, squeezing out his words as if in prayer.
Then, he vanished, disappearing from the ground up.
“He’s gone? The Hermit’s ability allows him to freely manipulate invisible objects, right? But to pull off something like this… Did he wrap his own body with his ability?” Mary wondered, her eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of Magrat’s whereabouts. There was no answer, and even if there were, his words would no longer reach her ears.
“No presence, no sound, not even footprints. How clever… What an amazing ability! It seems very convenient for an assassin.” Mary looked around anxiously, her gaze searching for any trace of Magrat’s disappearance.
For now, she still couldn’t sense where he had vanished to. “However, devoting magical energy to conceal oneself means having less to allocate for attacks. It’s as if you couldn’t even pierce through my bones. Hey, Sir Magrat, are you listening? You wouldn’t… have run away, right?”
◇◇◇
Magrat turned his back to Mary and fled, his heavily bleeding wound pressing against his abdomen. His face contorted in pain as he sprinted through the nighttime forest, the flowing blood rendered invisible by the Hermit’s ability.
“Huff… huff… the mission was a failure… Damn it! I thought it was all over and got rid of my phone! Ahahaha, I’m done for! How am I supposed to explain this to the client… to the boss… Maybe I should throw a pity party…”
If only kneeling in submission would suffice… He wouldn’t kill an Arcana user, but Magrat wondered what fate awaited him at the hands of those tyrants. Magrat was actually looking forward to it. Because if he didn’t find it enjoyable, he wouldn’t be able to keep going.
“Haha, but as long as I’m alive, anything is possible. With just life, I can find enjoyment. Even today’s retreat is a source of nourishment. Yes, as long as I’m alive, I can kill. Life is happy, life is genocide! Ahahaha!”
If he succeeded in convincing himself of that, it wouldn’t be a retreat anymore. It would be a victory lap. All he had to do now was head towards the exit, laughing cheerfully as he ran.
“Ahahaha! Haha, haha, ha―”
However, to his surprise, Mary had somehow overtaken him, standing right in front of him. She stared directly at the seemingly invisible Magrat, holding her palm out. Piercing through the skin of her palm, a mass of sharp bones emerged from within her body.
“Ten Corpses Burial Cannon!”
Blam!
With a recoil that made her stagger, she released the bone projectile from her hand. Her aim was Magrat. The mass of bones flew accurately, swiftly, straight towards him—slicing, gouging, and piercing through his abdomen.
Magrat looked down in bewilderment at the large hole in his own abdomen. “Haaa… Guh… Ugh…” Blood gushed from his mouth, and the Hermit’s power was undone.
Approaching him, Mary spoke with icy words. “There’s no escaping for you. After killing my sister, your only choice is to die while lamenting your actions in agony.”
“Why… my… pride… it’s… completely… shattered…”
“You killed my sister, and you were the one who carried her body to the Valley of Death. That’s why your clothes had traces of her hair.”
It was just a few strands, at most. But it was enough.
“And now, my sister resides within me, becoming one with me. We are connected!”
“Such… a method… Guh… Pfft… After working so hard to become an Arcana user… to end up like this…” Magrat expressed regret as if he had led a respectable life.
Mary remained utterly cold-hearted. “It’s unpleasant for scum like you to die while feigning remorse. Just die already!”
With a squelching sound without even allowing him the anguish of death, she crushed Magrat’s head using both hands, ending his life. His body, stained with vile blood, was discarded onto the ground, and the creatures that emerged from Mary’s chest swiftly devoured the remains.
If asked whether this completely satisfied her thirst for vengeance over Francis’ death, the answer would be no.
“A wretch’s life like his can never equal what I have lost.”
Nevertheless, killing him brought some solace to her tormented soul. Moreover, there were still others who needed to pay for their sins. Her father, mother, brother, and the Slaver family—those who had taken away her and her sister’s lives bore equal guilt.
“Well then, shall we move on to the next revenge?” Mary spoke with a chilling determination, her eyes filled with an unwavering resolve.
Having finished her gruesome meal, she swayed her skirt and confidently made her way toward the exit. The arms that had grown from her back vanished, and the torn sections of her dress were magically restored. After all, that gothic dress was created by the power of Death itself.
“I wonder what kind of expression Romeo will have when I return.”
Will he be surprised, his face contorted with shock and fear? Just imagining that sight made Mary’s cheeks relax into a twisted smile.