Chapter 105 Dead End

[Verma Village | Emilio]

“…Do you think this is going to be enough?” He asked.

There were about a dozen warriors of the Verma clan readied by Alekkai’s call, who seemed confident that this group would be capable of launching a successful attack on the Outriders.

“Having’ some doubts, kid?”

The one who asked this was one of the women in this elite group of Verma, who was built like a powerlifter, having her tanned, chiseled abs on display, which were shining from the rainfall.

“No, it’s just…”

“We know how dangerous the Outriders are already. We’ve all had battles with them in the past,” the dark-haired, muscular woman told him as her tail flicked behind her back, “Don’t worry. Just worry about weavin’ those spells.”

As they began to move out, already having their plan established after Alekkai went over it with the strategic mind of the group–a lanky, blue-haired Verma named Minstril–he was approached by a youthful, spiky-haired member of the assault group.

“Hey! Don’t worry about Yula–she can be feisty, but she means well!” The young man assured him with a smile.

“Yula? Oh, buff chick. I wasn’t worried, but thanks,” he nodded.

The young man with light-brown skin and tattoos smiled brightly, moving the spear he wielded to his other hand before extending his, “Anyway, I’m Bruman. Let’s do this right so none of us have to die, alright?”

He looked at Bruman’s hand for a moment before accepting it with a smile, “Emilio. Yeah, let’s do this right.”

Bruman didn’t seem any older than sixteen; the energetic Verma warrior was clearly the youngest of the dozen warriors gathered by Alekkai, but the confidence the group seemed to hold calmed him.

Still, he could feel tension in the air as they traveled through the dense forest with Alekkai leading them; using his demi-human traits, the champion was able to use his powerful sense of smell to track down the scent of Outriders in case of any stragglers on their way to the village.

I’m coming, Vandread. I’ll show you how reliable I can be, he thought.

[Outrider Village | Vandread]

Surrounded by a seemingly insurmountable wall of man-eating demi-humans in the rain-drenched forest, the man stood alone with nothing but an ax in his grip. The wet wood he gripped onto irritated the palm of his calloused hand as he looked on at the approaching demi-humans.

The Outriders held rage in their eyes for their fallen comrades, but all he did was laugh quietly to himself at their hypocrisy.

“Magala!”

“Ugala!”

Standing around him, the Outrider warriors slammed their weapons against their shields, drumming and letting out warcries.

“Stop yelling at me and attack,” he said, holding the ax in his hand as he glanced around, “–Slobbering and drooling all over yourselves isn’t going to make me piss my pants, so hurry it up.”

The first few Outrider warriors rushed towards him, possessing large builds all the same as they attempted to bash him with their weapons, but he evaded and countered.

Using the ax, he spun around in a spinning strike, amputating the arms from the three bear demi-humans that closed in on him.

“Graaagh!”

The icy-cold look in his platinum eyes was anything but fearful; there was a rock-solid conviction to kill laid in those irises as he swung his weapon, taking the heads of the Outrider warriors.

[“Godless Style”–it’s unrecognized as one of the Ten Divine Styles of Swordplay. That’s because of the very nature of it: it’s an art forged for the sole purpose of killing and surviving. Practitioners of the style are taught expertise with every type of weapon, even unconventional, everyday tools and perhaps sometimes their own body parts. Due to this unorthodox nature, the “Godless Style” is considered the black sheep among sword styles. In this regard, Vandread is one of its most seasoned and knowledgeable disciples.]

The rain poured down harder, mixing into the mud with the blood and entrails of the demi-human barbarians that confronted him.

Even with the axe he wielded, he had to make every swing purposeful and with intent to kill as the skin of the man-eating barbarians would scowl at any half-baked attack. Some of the more resilient warriors were only left with shallow cuts from his swings, forcing him to prioritize their heads and necks.

By now, there were a couple dozen bodies laid out around him as he stood in the rain, slick in blood both his and not, panting slightly.

Even all of that, and I still see just as many of these man-eating pricks, he thought.

Stepping out from the barrier of Outriders that surrounded him, one larger than the rest, wearing the cloak of a scaled beast on his back and bearskin armor around his limbs, a warrior unlike the others presented himself.

One look at the Outrider in front of him was enough to tell he was a step above the rest; the demi-human barbarian wielded battle-axes in both hands, standing twice his height and three times as wide with the behemoth cloak swaying in the rainy winds.

The unique Outrider spoke in a coarse, bellowing tone, “…Human…”

He can speak my language? He thought.

“Strong human. I challenge you–I am the Champion of the Outriders: Urganna!” The scale-cloaked Outrider challenged.

He smirked, seeing an opportunity in the seemingly unwinnable obstacle presented around him as he stood his ground.

“How about this? If I beat you one-on-one, you let me the hell out of this shithole,” he challenged, holding his ax forward.

“Accepted,” Champion Urganna responded.

It was difficult to decipher the facial features of the Outrider champion as it was a dark night and the large, beastly man wore the skinned head of a behemoth on his head like a hood.

Alright, just one mo–he thought.

His thoughts were interrupted as the towering foe in front of him disappeared from before his eyes.

He’s fa–he thought.

Again, his thoughts were too slow as suddenly–an unseen swing swept through his midsection, tearing through his skin, flesh, bone, and sinking through his entire body. In less than a second, he had been cleaved in half.

Flying off from his waist, his upper body was in the air in the moment as his eyes widened in surprise, looking forward again to see the champion finally reappear in his sight. There was no doubt about it; in that fraction of a second, the colossal man swung one of his axes and split him in half, but he couldn’t react to it.

What the hell is this guy? The Outriders had a warrior like this?–I’d say he’s at the level of a King class swordsman…This isn’t good, he thought.

He gritted his teeth as abyssal threads sprouted from his innards of both his torso and his waist that was still standing upright in the grass; these threads reunited both halves of his body in an instant, reattaching himself.

As he was reformed, he used the element of surprise in his regenerative, zombie-like abilities to swing his ax towards the large champion’s knee.

If I can limit his movement, then…! He planned.

–In an instant, once more, the slash came faster than he could perceive as both of his arms were torn off in a single attack.

“You can rebuild your body? Splendid. There will be an endless feast, then!” The Champion roared out.

The other Outriders roared out in celebration as well, taking his immortality as nothing more than a benefit for their man-eating selves.

Luckily for him, it seemed the Outriders were honoring the duel by staying to the side and watching, but it hardly felt to be something classified by honor.

They’re sitting back and watching because they know–I stand absolutely no chance against their champion, he realized.

But, this fact made him smile as his own blood squirted out from his amputated arms. He knew there were several advantages he had, things he’d taken note of from what little he was able to observe: the Outriders operated on a rule of strength–they now wanted to prove themselves individually by being the one to fell him. This led to a variety of one-on-one confrontations.

Most importantly, they were trying to capture him, not kill; it seemed putting him in the giant pot was part of their tradition.

Underestimate me, then. I’ve lived through everything this world has thrown at me–I’m the biggest cockroach of them all; even if I don’t want to be here…You’re stuck with me, till death do us part! He thought.

The black threads sprouted again, stitching his arms back together as he was still gripping onto the handle of the ax with an immovable hold, rushing forward again.

He rushed forward again, this time receiving an impact from the massive, fur-clad knuckles of the towering champion, which blew him back with a small shock wave that parted the descending rain.

“Grh…”

Blood spewed from his nose as he was sent back, but he flipped around onto his feet, catching himself. After receiving the powerful blow, the strength behind the punch didn’t just shatter his nose, but also left it nearly torn off of his face completely; bruised and leaking black blood.

He didn’t feel any of it as his nose rebuilt itself, allowing him to rush forward again without an ounce of fear in his blood.

Each time he charged, he was countered. Each time he was countered, he charged again.

“No matter how many times you come…” The Champion said, raising his axes, “…The result will not change.”

[One Hour Later]

The clearing within the forest was drenched in crimson; not even the rain could wash away the blood and guts that had spilled and painted the grass.

Held in the one hand up by the massive, scale-cloaked champion, the hardly conscious, torn-in-half body of Vandread was held as a trophy.

“Ready the pot! The undying human has been defeated!” The Champion declared.

Despite the victory, the colossal champion wasn’t unscathed; lacerations were etched across his body and blood mixed into the pelt he wore.

The Outrider warriors roared out in celebration, following the words of the victorious champion. Even reduced to but half of himself, the heart of the immortal man still thumped.

What a pain. Looks like I messed up, he thought.