Chapter 82
Seeing her husband bleeding, an odd surge of competitiveness flared up inside Sylvia.
She began inching her way toward her husband and the monster from a distance, careful not to draw attention. Both were so focused on each other that neither paid any mind to Sylvia’s movements.
Only the lesser monsters seemed to notice her slipping toward the weapons, and they let out a chorus of anxious cries.
Startled, Sylvia froze and glanced quickly at her husband and the hulking monster—but, still caught up in their fight, they didn’t notice her at all. Realizing this, Sylvia resumed her stealthy advance.
Her hand had just reached for a bow and some arrows buried deep in the mud when, out of nowhere, a small monster darted behind her like a flying squirrel, wrapping its hand tightly around her wrist.
Almost immediately, the monster’s head exploded with a loud pop.
It really did sound like an explosion. Sylvia stood rooted to the spot, staring down at the blackish blood now spattered across her cheek, neck, and chest. The sharp, metallic scent of blood hit her nose.
“God, this is pissing me off.”
Kuinan muttered.
He’d hurled a rock, larger than his own fist, with such force that it shattered the small monster’s skull. Then, as if the dead monster was the one at fault, Kuinan glared down and cursed it.
Hector, who had briefly lowered his guard and arms to see what Kuinan was up to, could only let out a dry, incredulous laugh.
And then, Hector released a suffocating wave of demonic energy in fury.
[You must really have a death wish. Or maybe you’d rather be ripped to shreds and spend years crawling around like a worm?]
Hector had, in fact, done exactly that to Kuinan before. Monsters healed quickly, but even they needed ages to recover if they were crushed beneath such toxic rage.
Fending off the wave of demonic energy with a scowl, Kuinan muttered.
“Where’s this nasty stink coming from?”
He compared Hector’s ancient, almost sacred musk to nothing more than a bad case of body odor. Then, running a hand through his damp, tangled hair, Kuinan revealed a strikingly handsome human face and smirked.
“Oh, now I get it. That smell must be because you haven’t bathed in ages, huh?”
Hector couldn’t inflict a fatal wound on Kuinan—not with an important mission riding on Kuinan’s survival. Likewise, Kuinan couldn’t really go all out against Hector either; if he seriously injured the de facto leader of the swamp, the other monsters might retaliate unpredictably.
Supposedly, everyone had been waiting for Kuinan. But judging from the prickly glares he was getting, it seemed they all deeply resented his fondness for Sylvia.
Fickle bastards. Kuinan inwardly cursed all the monsters of the western swamp.
[….]
The blood-splattered Sylvia was still frozen in place. Kuinan glanced at her for a moment, then tightened his grip on the dagger.
He couldn’t kill Hector—not outright. He couldn’t even really let loose. But causing just enough injury to fulfill their ‘agreement’ was fair game.
After checking his mostly staunched wound, Kuinan aimed the tip of the dagger straight at Hector’s right shoulder.
“That arm. I’m taking it.”
Hector always used his right arm to create his crow familiars. Monsters, just like humans, favored certain limbs. Sure, he could use his left, but the results were always ugly, grotesque creatures.
Hector’s pride alone would keep him from summoning any more for a while.
[You bastard.]
“Cooperate. I can’t die in front of that woman, so you’ll have to die for me instead.”
Kuinan’s cryptic words were nothing new—he was always saying things that left Sylvia more confused. As long as she didn’t think he was any stranger than usual, it was fine.
He could feel her stinging gaze on his wound as he steadied his breathing, his mind gradually clearing.
‘What was Hector’s weakness again…? Oh, right.’
The answer came back to him quickly. Flashing a sharp smile, Kuinan rushed at Hector as if to embrace him.
Startled by the ominous grin, Hector instinctively went into a defensive stance—just as Kuinan ducked low and dove beneath his arm.
Thunk—!
The blunt edge of the dagger plunged up under Hector’s ribcage, right into the heart.
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