Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon? On the Side: Sword Oratoria, Vol. 8

by Fujino Omori, Kiyotaka Haimura

  “True that. The only time we’ve seen it is when he first converted.”

  Gareth turned away from his bewildered companions and back toward the southeastern corner of the city, where even now the inferno had started to dissipate. “This magic of his…it feeds on magic power.”

  “Feeds on…magic power? Then, you don’t mean…?”

  “Aye…A type of magic drain, it is.”

  Bete’s spell: Hati.

  While the four enchantments on his arms and legs boasted firepower of their own, its true strength lay in its ability to drain other magic. Any magic-based attack it touched was absorbed, boosting its magic output and destructive power.

  “Bete’s Frosvirt is actually a downgraded version of the spell. Stubborn lad as he was, refusin’ to use his own magic, he had Tsubaki make ’em for ’im to use in its stead,” Gareth explained. Raul and Anakity gulped at this new piece of information. Not even they, for as long as they’d known Bete, knew any of this.

  “But…but why wouldn’t Mister Bete use his magic if it’s this crazy powerful…? Wouldn’t that make him even stronger…?”

  “His scars.” Loki answered Raul’s confused question.

  “Huh?”

  “Usin’ that magic…forces Bete to face the scars of his past,” she murmured almost sadly, looking down at her own palm as though picturing the Status on Bete’s back. “You see, it’s got one more attribute to it, as well. Its true feature, you might say.”

  “True feature…?”

  “It’s a damage drain…Meanin’ that the more Bete gets hurt, the stronger it becomes.”

  “…!”

  “It ain’t like Tiona and Tione’s Berserk magic. This thing basically has no limits on how strong it can get. It can even become the sort of column-like pyre we just saw earlier.”

  This news left Raul and the other’s utterly speechless.

  That was the true nature of Bete’s magic, Hati.

  As it absorbed more and more magic, the enchantment properties of the spell made it impossible for Bete to avoid burning himself in the flames. And as Bete took more and more damage, the spell would grow even stronger, the wounds on his body acting as kindling for the growing inferno.

  His own pain and suffering would make the fang of that colossal wolf stronger, more powerful than ever.

  “And that is the true form of Bete’s fang…or its origins, I suppose,” Loki finished sadly.

  “He’s only ever used it once in front of us,” Gareth continued. “During an expedition. When the tail end of the party got ’emselves caught up with an Irregular. You remember, don’tcha? Raul? Aki?”

  “You mean that one time five years ago?”

  “I remember we were with the front line…but that a number of people on the back line got killed. Is that what you’re talking about?”

  “Aye…One after another, they were gettin’ wiped out. So Bete cast his spell…and incinerated all. Aggro’d everything and wiped ’em all out. The lot of us were takin’ care of our own enemies an’ could do nothin’ but watch…”

  The only one who’d made it out alive from the group, and who’d seen firsthand the werewolf’s rampage, had been Leene, Gareth further explained. The old soldier dwarf’s voice was laced with regret.

  The room grew silent, no one saying a word, as Gareth turned his gaze toward the door and the sky beyond. The earlier clouds were gone, almost as though frightened away by the flaming wolf, revealing the golden light of the moon.

  “That lad…Once he shows ’is true colors, he’s stronger than anyone I know,” Gareth muttered as he narrowed his eyes. “Those blokes really stepped on the wrong wolf’s tail this time.”

  “What the…hell…?!”

  Everything was in flames.

  Tossing aside the colleague she’d used as a shield, his body now slumped and charred to a crisp, Valletta rose to her feet, her eyes practically trembling as she took in the sight of the blazing red hall around her. From the collapsed columns to every nook and cranny of the grand chamber, everything was alight with crackling cinders as wave after wave of heat rose from the floor. It looked like the inside of a broiling-hot oven.

  Valletta’s cheek twitched. The sheer overwhelming power of the flames had scalded her skin. The rest of her troops, too, having quickly darted beneath the safety of the columns and barely hanging on to their lives, had lost all will to fight.

  She turned her gaze skyward to where the blast had carved through the thick crust of the earth, leaving a gaping hole overhead. The dark sky was now connected to the hellish world below the ground.

  Shit.

  She mentally cursed, sweat running down her face. And almost as if answering her fears, the visage of the fire starter himself, now standing in the middle of the chamber, had begun to change.

  Clouds parting, the light of the moon spilled down into the underground chamber.

  Almost instantly, Bete’s gray fur stood on end, his muscles rippling.

  Then, the pupils of his amber eyes turned to slits.

  He was transforming.

  Making him not only more aggressive but insanely more powerful, to boot.

  The second Valletta realized what was happening, she screamed. “Kill him! Kill hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiim! It’s not too late! Take him dooooooooooooooown!!”

  The maddened screech of her voice spurred what minions of hers remained into desperate action. The Thanatos Familia puppets didn’t fear death—not with the promise of resurrection that their god had given them. Though fearful of the pain that would come, they would do anything to fulfill their life’s greatest desire, and so they launched themselves at the wolf, shaky war cries tearing at their throats and blood, tears, and snot flying, almost like suicidal warriors dying for their cause.

  But—

  “GNGGGH!”

  Before they could even reach him, the wolf was gone, leaving behind a cracked floor in his wake and taking out two of them before they’d even realized what had happened. He seized them by the face, the flame on his right arm still increasing in fervor, and slammed them straight into the ground. Their bodies shattered instantly into flying, flaming chunks. At the same time, he lashed out with his legs, the scorching blades slicing through the upper halves of another set of assailants, turning them into nothing more than clouds of black dust. The Inferno Stones they’d equipped themselves with in case they needed to self-destruct began going off en masse, the resulting blasts acting as further fuel for Bete’s Hati.

  “Guh…wah…?!”

  The supposedly death-accepting followers of the God of Death went white with terror.

  Nothing they’d ever witnessed before could hold a candle to the brutality taking place before them now.

  Bete had truly become one with his fang.

  On his arms, on his legs, on his every limb.

  Four fangs, forming the top and bottom of a fiery jaw, that would consume them whole.

  His hands were the upper fangs, ripping apart the flesh of his enemies, and his feet were the lower fangs, crushing their limbs.

  The merciless amber eyes of the werewolf shot straight through his terrified prey.

  And then he opened his jaw, prepared to swallow the sun, the moon, the entire world.

  “G​-​G​U​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​G​H​!​!”

  The few Evils who remained screamed, half-crazed, as they saw their final battle looming before them. Even as they quaked with fear, they rushed forward, a veritable army of the dead as they attacked the wolf. Bete sidestepped them easily, his instincts now as sharp and wild as a beast’s, his fists turning his enemies’ entrails to ash and his heels coming straight down on their heads in a vertical line of scorching fire that charred their bodies, cursed weapons, and everything. His flames swallowed what incoming magic attacks yet flew at him, growing ever larger as he annihilated every one of the God of Death’s followers.

  It
was a dance of embers, a nigh uncountable amount, his punches and kicks leaving trails of fire in the air. It was a scene not of this world, truly reminiscent of the end of days, and as Valletta watched from a distance, her hands and feet shaking, she murmured in awe.

  “It…can’t be…”

  Before she knew it, her companions were gone, and the giant wolf turned his sights on her.

  Every single hair on her body stood on end, but in that split second…

  A shadow suddenly descended from the hole overhead.

  “S-Sword Princess…?!” Valletta’s voice cracked at the progressively worsening state of affairs, while meanwhile, Aiz herself could only look around her in bewilderment.

  “What’s going on…?!”

  Shit, you’ve gotta be kiddin’ me!

  As Valletta’s thoughts became a whirl of obscenities, the golden-haired, golden-eyed swordswoman’s gaze fell on the last remaining enemy left in the chamber.

  She made to unsheathe her sword. Only…

  “Don’t touch her!!” came the sudden incensed order.

  “Mister…Bete…?” Aiz stopped, stunned.

  “You touch her and I swear…I’ll kill you, too!!” Bete howled threateningly before turning his eyes back to the woman in question. Leaving Aiz to stand there in shocked silence, he took first one step, then two, then more and more as he slowly crossed the world of hellfire and approached Valletta.

  “Th-this is insane…This is insane…This is insane…!!” Valletta began to see red as she watched the wolf chuck aside the bodies of her former comrades, leaving nothing between the two of them. Somehow that rage had washed away the fear and the dread, leaving her almost, just the tiniest bit calm.

  Gimme a break, Vanargand! You’re really gonna come at me when your own body’s about ready to fall apart…?!

  It didn’t matter how much damage and magic his Hati had drained at this point—the wounds plaguing his body weren’t about to heal anytime soon. He’d kick the bucket far before Valletta even got close.

  Plus, my Shaldo’s still workin’ its stuff! So what if he’s transformed, huh? He keeps flailin’ around like that and it’ll suck ’im dry, back to the exact way he was before, she calmly told herself, glancing down at the still-glowing reddish-purple patterns beneath her feet. She smiled despite the anxiety tugging at the back of her mind.

  Yeah, bring it on.

  Let me cut you down to size.

  With a sadistic grin worthy of the name “Arachnia,” she readied her cursed shortsword.

  “Huh—?”

  Until her wandering gaze froze in an instant.

  The patterns underfoot, the ones spanning the entire length of the chamber, and Valletta’s carefully woven barrier…

  Were beginning to flicker, almost as though giving up a dying wail, their power being sucked into the ravenous wolf’s fangs.

  Magic drain.

  With those two words, Valletta felt an overwhelming despair wash over her.

  This is insane…This is insane…THIS IS INSANE…!!

  Because Bete’s Hati had one thing different about it from the weaker Frosvirt he normally employed.

  It could eat anything. Attacks. Curses. Even barriers.

  Anything that used magic power.

  “B-but it’s not even attack magiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiic!!”

  Bete’s fang, his scar, was one even Leene, as a healer, couldn’t mend.

  This time, the color really did leave Valletta’s face.

  If Bete sucked up her barrier and broke the Status Down binding him…

  As Valletta grew more and more panicked, Bete lunged forward at lightning speed.

  “RRRUUAAAAAGH!!”

  “Gnnaagh?!”

  He hurled his fist of flame upward, a sweeping uppercut right into her belly.

  Valletta’s body curled in on itself as spit went flying from her mouth. Before she could even recover, Bete was spinning on his heel, delivering a flying kick as powerful as a raging river that sent flames across the side of her face as she was launched across the room.

  Still, the hungry wolf kept up the attack, the tremendous force of his fang pounding into her again and again and again for a multi-punch salvo that left her body a crippled mess.

  “GNGH…G​R​R​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​U​U​U​U​U​U​U​U​U​U​U​U​U​U​U​U​U​U​U​U​U​U​U​U​U​U​G​G​G​G​G​G​G​G​G​G​H​H​H​H​H​H​!!”

  The scream of agony was enough to make even Aiz, with her years of experience on the battlefield, plug her ears.

  Her bones snapping, her skin searing, even her tears themselves evaporating into mist, Valletta was beaten to a pulp. Bete’s strikes carved through the very air itself, his left fist, his left fang delivering a resounding blow that sent her hurtling straight into one of the columns in the middle of the chamber.

  “Bete!” Aiz suddenly cried, having come to herself, but not even her desperate plea could get through to him now. His fury had taken control.

  He walked toward Valletta, now writhing on the ground, as his every step sent the stone below him up in flames.

  “A-aggghhhhh…?!”

  “On your feet,” Bete ordered coldly.

  He was doing everything in his power to keep from turning her into ash right then and there, his slit eyes simply staring at the woman on the floor.

  Valletta did as she was told, pushing her trembling, half-charred body to its feet.

  “E-enough already, Vanargand…I—I can’t take it anymore…It hurts too much…Too hot…I-I’m begging you…! L-look what you did to me! I’m not even th-thinking straight!!” she pleaded shamefully. “I—I don’t wanna die! I still haven’t…That pompous bastard Braver…Finn and I…I still need to…have my way with him…So let me go…please!!” She forced a smile in desperate appeal.

  “And what did you do, huh? When all those weaklings you killed looked up at you with those same words?!” Bete hissed back, the flames around him flaring up as her expression froze under his callous gaze.

  They were so close. A mere five meders away. With only a single step, Bete could swallow her whole. Valletta could almost see the giant flaming wolf, his fangs bared as he stared at her from over Bete’s shoulder.

  “S-seriously?” she sputtered. “You’re still mad about that Amazonian brat?! Or do you mean those friends of yours I killed down in Knossos? D-don’t you think you’re kinda barkin’ up the wrong tree here?”

  “…”

  “You guys are adventurers, aren’t you? Fully prepared to die at a moment’s notice! That’s just our way of life! Y-yours and mine!” Valletta stammered, already starting in on her high-handed excuses, while behind them both, Aiz’s fingers unconsciously curled into a fist.

  Bete remained silent until Valletta was finished, then answered softly.

  “…It’s true. You’re not wrong.”

  At this, Aiz couldn’t believe her ears.

  “They died because they’re weak. So perhaps my anger is misdirected…It’s the duty of the strong to take from the weak, after all. That’s just the way of this goddamn world,” he acknowledged. It was the same thing he’d said to Aiz back in the pub.

  That was right.

  The strong could do anything. Could take anything.

  While the weak were powerless. Constantly having the things important to them snatched away.

  The weak shouldn’t be allowed to live.

  That was simply the way of the world, since the day life came into being.

  “Th-then…?” Valletta started, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. But then…

  “—WHICH IS EXACTLY WHY!!” Bete suddenly howled, his eyes flashing with rage.

  “There’s nothing wrong with me ripping you to shreds!!”

  Valletta’s face went stark white at the werewolf’s outraged howl.
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  There was a loud crunch as Bete stepped forward, then Valletta turned tail and ran.

  “G-gaaaaaaaagh?!”

  That was enough for Bete. This piece of fish bait who couldn’t even howl, who was running away with her tail between her legs, didn’t deserve to live.

  “R​u​u​u​u​u​u​a​a​a​a​a​a​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​R​R​R​R​R​R​G​G​G​G​G​G​G​H​H​H​H​H!!”

  “G-G-G-Y​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​A​H!!”

  He was on her, fists flying, legs sailing, and finally, claws curling around her face in an iron grip. He lifted her off the ground, slamming her into the nearby pillar and causing the very flames surrounding his body to tremble.

  “W-wait?! I-if you kill me, you’ll never…never find the key!!”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  Nothing could stand in the way of the hungry wolf now.

  His fangs would systematically, impartially tear the flesh of his prey into thousands of tiny pieces.

  Valletta’s desperate appeal to the key was immediately quashed.

  “WAIT, BETE!!”

  Not even Aiz could stop him now. His fangs were bared.

  “BURN IN H​E​E​E​E​E​E​E​E​E​E​E​E​E​E​E​E​E​E​E​E​E​E​E​E​E​E​E​E​E​E​E​E​E​L​L!!”

  The world around them erupted.

  A​G​H​?!”

  The jaws of the inferno opened wide, and its tremendous roar completely masked Valletta’s scream of agony. Her body was engulfed in flames, turning her into blackened ash in mere moments and frying her alive. She made for an even more wretched sight than that of the many monsters he’d previously incinerated.

  And Aiz saw everything.

  The spectacle seared into her eyes.

  The world of death and destruction the werewolf had invoked.

  The terrifying spectacle of fire and brimstone his fury had set into motion.

  There, in that giant underground chamber of glowing red, Vanargand had writ the final page of the Evils’ saga.

  “A​W​O​O​O​O​O​O​O​O​O​O​O​O​O​O​O​O​O​O​O​O​O​O​O​O​O​O​O​O​O…”