Chapter 356: Dragons, O Dragons! Part Twenty-One

[Lesson learned this chapter: I really shouldn't write everything I want to write. It went past twenty...]

As expected of a percentage-based recovery item. It seems to have properly healed up "Scarred's" HP, who knows how many people's worth. Since it's a fifty-percent heal, he's still practically half-dead, but if I slam another Mystic Soma into him, that'll be a full heal.

Scarred: "Karorororo..."

Sunraku: "Whoa there. The Sunraku Trading Company's featured product, 'favors,' comes at rip-off prices. You can settle your bill with battle results."

Besides, dark is dark even if it's just dim. Lights on!

Sunraku: "Let's get back to the surface and pay that red bastard a little return visit..."

I secure a light source with Magic Torch. Even if the walls are glass, the scenery's all dirt so I figured there'd be nothing to see... but what's this now?

Sunraku: "Look at this, 'Scarred.' This your ancestor, maybe?"

A fossil. It's only got one head, but a tyranno-skeleton fossil is exposed just beyond the glass. The tip's a little blown off, but we'll call that a charming quirk. Come to think of it, fossils should be obtainable as items too. Yay, fossil hunting, wa— is where I'd like to go with that, but it can wait. Plus, there's something bugging me more.

Sunraku: "Unscathed, unscathed, huh..."

The eruption from inside — in other words, the space created by that Muscle Impact — should have turned everything facing it into glass. But there was one spot, just one single point, where that wasn't the case... no, one thing that wasn't.

Sunraku: "...A pillar? A thorn?"

Even though it's turned to glass, it's not transparent all the way to the bottom of the earth. That's why, beyond the glass and stretching up from even deeper than the dirt, this mysterious protrusion — unlike the soil and stone — maintained its original material. And that very obvious fact radiated an overwhelming sense of wrongness. It's not... rock. But it doesn't quite feel like ore either... More like steel? The pitch-black thorn, in stark contrast to everything around it that took the full brunt of the Muscle Impact, showed no sign of having been affected into its current form. Actually, how did I not notice something like this growing here... or did it only get exposed because the terrain changed?

Sunraku: "...But this blackness. Feels like I've seen it somewhere before."

Where was it...? Metallic, but somehow organic — exactly the kind of texture you'd expect from a monster's outer shell... Lycagon? No, not that. Lycagon's hard, but it's fur... Hm?

Sunraku: "Whoa!"

What the— sudden floating sensation... no, wait. This dangling feeling. More importantly, is my skirt getting lifted? Somehow, I manage to twist around in my dangling state, and there I see the lower jaw of a three-headed dinosaur holding the hem of R.I.P.'s skirt, and the face of the right head with its unreadable reptile eyes. And on the opposite side, the left head.

Sunraku: "Kyaa, 'Scarred'-san, you perv— no, wait, hold on, there's stuff I need to check first, like whether I can grab that item...!"

As if to say, "I don't understand human words," he stomps steadily toward the exit. Naturally, me, held in his mouth, is getting dragged along with him, pulled further and further from the black thorn... D-Does this guy think of me as an optional part!? What's with that "Just hurry up and follow me, jeez..." attitude!!

Ah, wait, at least the fossil—!!

The steady, testing gait gradually picks up momentum, and before I know it, it's accelerating into what you'd call a full-on charge.

Sunraku: "Wah, hey, gweh, ngh, nyee—"

And due to "Scarred's" physical structure, me, dangling by the skirt held in his mouth, gets jolted up and down in sync with the swaying of his head, reflexively letting out weird noises.

Scarred: "Gyaoooooooo!!"

Sunraku: "Shut uuuuuuuup!!"

What the hell is this absolute garbage-tier high-spec surround sound!? Huh? Is this some new kind of sonic attack? Turn down the volume— aagh, quit shaking me! You're doing this on purpose, aren't you, you lizard bastard!! Jolting and jostling in this goddamn VIP seat, the Super Express Scarred — with a stride you'd never believe was just charcoal minutes ago — charges up the tunnel stretching diagonally upward.

Sunraku: "Ngh, gweh, oof, ah—"

Gh... my vision's shaking... at least let me ride on your back or something... dammit, he's holding my skirt, so the centrifugal motion is brutal. Wait, at least let me change my equip— wait, with these stats... gwoh.

Sunraku: "Stop— I mean, this is way past a panty shot, you..."

Ah, the exit... gweh.

Given the time of night, stepping outside doesn't mean the light whites out my vision or anything. But even so, compared to the underground with no light at all, the surface filled with the light of stars and the moon is far, far brighter... and filled with screams.

I see. If he unleashed magic on that scale and only the Great Red Devourer crawled back up, of course their mental state would shatter. And on top of that, the Muscle Impact — visually, the kind of thing that stirs up despair — happened too. In other words, the elves' front line has collapsed. Honestly, the fact that there are still elves standing and fighting is, in a sense, more shocking.

Sunraku: "...That bastard."

And one more thing I can't overlook. There's the pervert pulling flashy moves but blatantly slacking off, and the hero trying to juggle both the elves and the Great Red Devourer and ending up half-assing both. What's this, you messing around? Well, the first one's definitely messing around. I'll punch him later.

Sunraku: "Hey, 'Scarred.' Understand through vibes and nuance."

Still dangling, I point to the sky. I'm not telling you to answer with words. Respond with actions...!! Did he actually understand what I meant? Or did he instinctively figure out how to use me, the optional part? The strength in "Scarred's" necks — enough to support the biological overload of three heads — swells with even more power. Then, at the same moment the left and right heads spit down that puke-oil for the incendiary attack from above to below, the center head scoops upward with its lower jaw and hurls me — hooked onto it — with an underhand throw.

Ah, there goes the mourning dress... Why is it that every single monster treats me like a piece of candy or a ball? Even if you're gonna kill me, show a little more... care? Dying as equipment stirs up this weird, hard-to-describe feeling... Alright. Falling trajectory.

Sunraku: "Showtime. This is your grave marker... Memento Mori!!"

If you put it in a player's inventory, its weight would just pile up. That's why I kept it stored in the extradimensional Inventoria — the monochrome greatsword gleams dully under the moonlight. My grip is strong, and into the arm that swings it, I pour the will to cut. A midair flip. The moment my head points straight down, I kick off the sky and accelerate downward. Taking another step, from above to below... I define a vertical path and sprint down it.

The golden team, evolved. Acceleration boost, action correction, midair walking, gravity direction control — an invincible "path" that tramples over every limit gained by pouring resources into mobility... This strike, not falling but sprinting from above to below—

Sunraku: "Wriggling around all gross and annoying. At least split in half, you bastard."

———could even split the moon.

Lethal Secret Art: Severing Divide. How ironic — to "sever" and "divide" with a blade into which you've poured the wish to never part again. But nevertheless, its edge splits the Great Red Devourer's four heads neatly into left and right pairs, and together with the giant mouth on its chest, cleaves its torso clean in two.

???: "Eek!"

And right as I land, flames with the force to gouge the earth roar and rage, crashing into the left and right pairs of heads on either side of me.

[It wasn't that some bond had formed between dinosaur and human or anything. The center head simply didn't join the attack, so Sunraku got lucky.]

[Using Severing Divide, a straight-sword-type Skill, with the grave sword is not a mistake; that's intentional.]