Take Up the Cross – Chapter 101: A Knight’s Promised Victory!

(Nobody can defeat Me.)

 

A human with unruly red hair, one who always tries to do that, stands above Her grinning at the Knight.

Before the momentum is stolen by him, She brings Her perfect weapon to bear on the enemy ahead.

 

(You’re the one I have to beat!)

 

Like always, this human says a lot of words that he thinks sound confident and endearing. The smell of his mostly uncovered body, so different from his normal one in Her memories, even holds the scent of warmed root. Earthy and flavorful, his scent reminds Her that he’s both mouthwatering and bitter.

Nice muscles with definition and a large mating tool draw Her eyes, while rough protection over his chest and groin leaves Her snorting at defenses which fall short of her [Perfect Armor].

Though Her saliva gathers while briefly taking him in, that cunning smile he uses leaves Her recalling how She always trails him.

 

(Nothing changed! Still the same!)

 

His monologues, ones that use too many words, only need attention to one idea out of ten. Rather than let him begin with one, She embraces the call pulling upon Her taut muscles.

 

(Time to let loose! Where should I be!?)

 

Storming blood compels Her to charge, but a glorious moon’s orders are firm.

 

 

 

(“See the larger picture, because you paint the canvas”, right, Violet Moon?)

 

 

 

Her Minion holds the left, while the blue bag of shit claims the right.

The weakest warrior among them now has a twirling man that resembles a familiar boy slashing at large tentacles.

 

When his robe comes free upon loosening it, She grinds her teeth.

 

(He’s a knight!?)

 

Revealing a suit of form-fitting, bluish-white ringed mail over which a moss-green tabard rests, his emblem is far more eye-catching than Hers. With the sewn image of a fully-grown gargantuan tree and roots wrapping around it, at various strata rest shining cities of gleaming wood and seamless stone, reminding Her of the forest images that Her Minion had chattered about in the place with the shining bird clad in glass.

 

(So “elegant”! Why are all knights but Me so strong to the eyes!?)

 

Even the way he moves separates Her from his world of knightly perfection that She craves to set conquest upon. Without so much as a jangle, how She can only sense the slight man and his presence through smelling his spicy, wooden flavor aroma proves the Minion’s safety.

 

(Not as hot-blooded as Me, nor as terrifying, but passes! I want to fight him…)

 

On the other side, the thing standing in front of the backstabber is far worse.

 

Its own green robe comes free of its tall body, leaving Her humming in approval of the shock beneath.

Another robe and cowl of blackish-blue, tightly sewn and close to its arms and waist while being loose elsewhere, are the clothes that hide the monster. Though “magic” users are usually terribly unimposing, She feels Her own muscles flex against the subtle warning of this thing’s true capabilities.

 

(And smells like death!)

 

A thin hand wearing a scaled gauntlet lifts a crystal skull toward crackling green energies that it sucks up with a shrieking whistle. Its strength might crush Her own skull if She gave a chance. Though slender, its figure seems capable of weathering many blows from Her hammer-end.

 

(Strong with cowardly “magic”, though…)

 

Like the sneak’s evil hexing, the skull that eagerly consumes the tingling green flaring all around it, a glowing color that She begs to stand against to prove Her valor, is only the beginning of its depraved secrets.

 

 

 

(More for Me to crush in glory, after finishing with…!)

 

To both of these flanks, men are sent to their doom.

 

(… the enemy?)

 

 

 

The two men from the Slayer’s Call, the slayers that She both despises and cherishes meeting in combat, split off. One chooses to perish by Her weapon, while the other runs to the lesser danger of Her Minion.

A sworn foe She must conquer, the bird man with a saber, darts away to the aid of the beast-smelling woman with the strange rod.

 

(Disappointing! But all is equal, now, so I just have to…!)

 

 

 

With the places on the “stage” decided, She starts forward.

Annoyingly, the giant behind Her sprints at the same pace.

 

(The Minion can have the towering squidman!)

 

That foe barks out orders energetically while calling for the surrender of Her followers for safety’s sake. She laughs once at this invitation, while ignoring the two cowards in robes and the puddle that fight for scraps without honor.

 

 

 

(I WANT TO CRUSH THIS ONE.)

 

The giant wolf, licking its wounds at the back of its pack, is ready to be minced.

Its blood-shot eyes take in the death jogging toward it, before it grunts.

 

 

 

Its spawn spring to action all together, lobbing every weapon they possess.

 

Her helmet clatters with an axe-head’s impact, yet it merely glances off as She cracks Her neck.

Javelins striking Her mid-section blunt and break, leaving no imperfection upon Her.

 

“KAKAKA!”

 

Whistling arrows from the mass’ back lack the impassioned strength of the bird’s, and are therefore easily ignored.

She swats them away while cackling, growing hungrier with each foot traveled toward Her feast.

 

 

 

(THE PLAN IS EASY: ALL OF YOU ARE MINE.)

 

 

 

But of all the threats nearby that have earned Her attention, the one that is chief among them finally acts.

 

 

 

A figure bursting into the conflict from her side catches Her gaze.

 

It’s short, but fast and strong.

Just like Her, its smell challenges and unnerves all when it enters a room. Before any can notice its true presence, they’ve already succumbed.

 

(He speaks like a god and walks like a king!)

 

A god called like the shining things above in the black sky, he has talent and grace that She longs for.

 

(He is a star, so I must shine like one, too!)

 

Unlike the others, She can always understand his words.

He never misunderstands Her deepest intentions and wisest thoughts.

 

When he speaks of power, ambition, desire, and supremacy over others…

 

 

 

(If I am a “tyrant knight”, then you are “devil king”!)

 

 

 

“[Obscuring Sonjil]!”

 

That devilish ruler swings his arm, allowing the scentless mist that reeks of the darkest night to flood ahead of Her path.

When the cloud bank strikes the enemy, they recoil at the harmless, but disturbing, phenomenon. Separating all of those assembled in a moment, She is left sure of his brilliance.

 

 

 

(Evil burns in him! The evil to conquer!)

 

Sometimes, this boy-man tastes like the long-hunted Creature.

She punishes Her loyal weapon with a dire squeeze, drinking of how his soul bleeds the blackness She can no longer feel herself, only digest when stolen from others.

 

This evil is a fire that compels Her to kneel, so that She can sup from it and continue to scale a height She can’t see the top of.

Though he speaks smoothly, behind the innocence of his smile is a madness that unleashes carnage with his unknowable plans.

 

Sometimes, She wonders if his evil, as the Violet Moon calls the desire to bring harm to all life, burns within Her, too.

 

 

 

(If it does, stand away from me! I will never give it up so long as there is more for Me, and I will never fail!)

 

 

 

From deep within Her, the heat always bursts out.

Her Boss had told Her to sleep when not using it, so that the flames won’t hurt others.

 

“BLOODY STEEL TAKE YOU!

FOR THE GLORY OF A FALSE GOD!”

 

The sleeping ends when the enemy’s hazy spirits, the floating puffs of smoke that lift off of all such creatures that can talk to Her, begin to inflame with her presence.

These flaming spirits fill the air with an enticing glow, smelling of fresh piss and curdling bravery, and begging her to open Her mouth and chomp.

 

(I only become strongest when you people WITNESS ME.)

 

 

 

Into Her gullet their horror begins to suck, invited in when She breathes deeply.

The land itself begins to incinerate from Her color, reaching out to snap at even the red-haired bitch who is at the back of the others.

“Hmm? Strong brat…!”

“YES! I AM THE STRONGEST! Now… bow to me.”

 

 

 

Breaking free from the vain rooster that hounds Her steps, She levels Her perfect weapon and commits to the endless charge straight down the center of their numbers half-hidden by the white fog of Her Boss’ plot.

 

But, even as She commits, the waft of true power reaches Her nose.

 

“Nnn!?”

 

 

 

The second figure, the one shadowing Her Boss, unveils its true spirit now after hiding it from Her.

 

Fog flees from the flashing metal blade she holds aloft. The lights reflected from it turn only the color milky red, saturating the blue of her foreign-looking robe.

Like a demon from the depths of Her worst dreams from the past, this woman throws her entire body spiraling into a two-handed swing.

 

An impossible force flows through her arms to feed the rainbow blade.

 

(WHO ARE YOU?)

 

 

 

Screaming air takes on a reddish howl as pure destruction surges like a tide.

It cracks the already destroyed garden ground.

Upon meeting flesh, those at the front of the enemy’s mass scream in unendurable pain as their flesh cracks and cooks.

 

 

 

(Feels like My flame!? But it’s not!)

 

 

 

The swordwoman’s strength is possibly too much to usurp, just like Her Boss’.

Against her flesh this hidden reservoir strains, dying to explode from beating vessels at the command of a heart that She can hear race.

 

(Your body smells like MY MATE.)

 

A smell that familiar matches both spirit and scent.

Despite the brutality shown, the woman vanishing back into the returning fog doesn’t move on. Instead, Her Boss leans in and stares through the fog at the opponents’ who react to the ensuing chaos, nodding once before tapping his feet and shaking his hand.

 

She watches the woman with shining black hair and a killer’s stare return the gesture, before the swooping fog devours them both.

 

 

 

(She is… the [real thing]. Just like him: she knows what it means to take lives.)

 

It’s an act She’s only seen committed against Her.

Never, not even once, has She stolen such a precious treasure from another.

 

 

 

This sobering realization falters Her charge for a moment, before she lifts a descending poleaxe to scream in rage.

 

“RAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

 

The shout cows the yowling enemy while rousing Her soul.

 

(Don’t think if you have the advantage! DIVE STRAIGHT IN!)

 

Toward one of the ill-smelling men, a scale-armor clad militia footman, She clashes, sliding off the clattering shield of the armored foe. As always when She entrusts Herself to battle, She’s rewarded when the sweetest impact spot of the deforming shield sends the spiked tip screeching off directly into the man’s chest.

 

 

 

(STRIKE THEM DOWN! LIKE ME!)

 

 

 

The perfect weapon’s point draws a splash of sweet-smelling life blood, coating Her wolf-head helmet with it as a delicious scream of pain comes in its wake.

 

(YES! Scream for Me! Exult in My power! For when you do…!)

 

Her mouth opens to match his scream, drinking in the horror of the man’s packmates.

Knowing, that in their eyes, She has grown another foot in stature, causes Her to feel warm deep within her abdomen.

 

 

 

(LOSE FOR MY GLORY!)

 

For the glory of preserving another, She drives ever onward into the enemy that wants to take Her Moon.

 

(DOOM TO THE THIEVES THAT TRY TO TAKE MY TEACHER WITHOUT MY PERMISSION!)

 

 

 

Without resorting to any trickery, She thrusts forward again with feet firmly planted.

 

Before it’s unleashed, a gold-trimmed armor-wearing soldier at the back of the horde yells an order.

 

Instead of blocking the poleaxe, the wounded wolf man roars out from beneath a black-visored helm, showing his open, canine-toothed mouth.

 

His savage eyes and not-human smell notwithstanding, a suddenly clever smile causes Her to feel a tingle up Her back.

It passes by, though, for She is already committed.

As his body surrenders to the impaling blow, She scowls at the result.

 

“NNN!? Let go of it!”

 

Yelling over the splashing of more lifeblood, She demands a release of the perfect weapon. The man dropped his weakling sword to hold Her poleaxe clenched in place, leaving him too large to lift outright.

His weight and strength keeps Her occupied long enough for the blurs at the man’s side to join in.

 

 

 

Another tinge flows up Her spine, coming from Her right arm.

To its well-worn call, She obeys.

 

“[FLAT GIFT]!”

 

A shining spiked hammer that’s about to cave in a shoulder instead lodges on the shaft of Her longer weapon. She intercepts the bare-chested barbarian’s own wooden haft, narrowly bleeding away the force of an activated skill.

 

“Nah!?”

 

The unimpressive force transferring through somehow momentarily grounds Her to the destroyed garden floor, stealing away the punch She intended for the hunched skulker who stretches in from Her left.

Black sashes trail from his arms and legs as his wickedly narrowed blades aim for armpit and neck. Targeting the worst spots that She has unguarded while being unable to twist to block them, sure harm will be delivered by the green-coated edges that reek of backstabbing danger to Her.

 

 

 

“[Viscerality].”

 

A horrific whisper sends Her guts churning.

Like always, this word brings a sudden redness to Her visible world. Lifeblood splashes upon everyone in view, clinging to their bodies and causing the glowing garden bathed in crimson to feel fragile.

Sweet iron is all She can smell, too blinding for someone as sensitive as She.

 

(Shit! Rooster is gonna steal…!)

 

The illusion vanishes, replaced by a feeling of a lingering titan at Her back as the quiet man finally joins in.

 

 

 

“RAAAGHH!?”

 

Sudden billowing smoke and shattering sound both sting Her senses; but, the one who keenly experiences its brutality screams as the shot flaming bullet explodes inside of his gut.

To the sound of a sharp gong, his abdomen spews fire as he collapses to his knees in front of Her, frozen briefly in the delicious pain inflicted. Dull eyes are full of shock, but soon follow a white claw that rears back.

 

“Dance fast, You.”

 

(SHUT UP, rooster dunce!)

 

 

 

Like always with the rooster man’s shots, the sweet defenselessness after is too much for Her to resist sinking into. The coward heaves as Her hand enters the inescapable vacuum of the sneak’s weakness.

 

“UGHK!”

 

She crushes his throat instantly, lifting him skyward as he collapses into the strangling.

 

Before She claws her fist and rips with all of Her might.

 

 

 

Pints of vitality coat white fur as She pulls into a relaxed posture, drinking in the satisfaction of the carnage as the other two watch.

The man’s body flings away with the explosive cruelty released from Her ripping strike; but, his friends show bravery, or stupidity, exceeding the fearsomeness of the savagery as they lift weapons to futilely strike.

 

(Give me back my…!)

 

 

 

“[Alchemical Mix: Attractive Repulsion].”

 

Rooster cheerfully murmurs this when two objects are tossed in front of Her.

Looking and smelling like compressed balls of fire and water, when they swirl together after bouncing off the ground, She instinctively grabs onto Her weapon while shielding Her eyes from the growing, screaming light.

 

 

 

The compressed waves from the blinding white explosion leave Her gasping as She wrenches her poleaxe free of the man’s chest.

Shock roils through her whole body, leaving her numb while She lingers in the arms of another.

 

“Old times, same, huh? Still think, take all at once, alone?”

“… Ugh, idiots like you always think that I want to do things like the old times, where you hog all My glory!”

 

Rightly insulting him, She quickly knocks him back and reasserts Her posture, leaning into the next potential rush. At Her side now, the unscathed man pops barrels open from the back, slamming new metallic cylinders into them before placing the annoying guns back into his holsters.

 

(Evil rooster used me as a barrier!)

 

“Come on, You, still think all about, only You?”

 

(Of course it’s about Me! Have you not seen Me lately!?)

 

Better than the old days, the Her of now is someone who can stand with the rooster against enemies that She would’ve never taken on before.

No matter how hazy the distant past is, the She of back then hid in the shadows and never trusted that She could take anything in the light.

 

(With Boss’ power, I’ve become someone that can rival and even defeat a rooster man like you! I can beat up all the people who try to hurt others! I can make them act decent!)

 

 

 

Even if She claims to worry about nothing, there’s a creeping scent of spring at Her back now that makes Her wonder about the power of the other new figures.

The garden with orange leaves fills with wind, drawing attention to the left flank of their defense.

 

 

 

A glowing green forest grows like steam, hiding all things from view with its dense foliage.

Into the fog it spreads. Everywhere its pulsing, invisible lines of life cross, brush and great elms burst forth like seedlings to become transcendent canopy in mere moments.

 

(Oh!? My Minion did this!?)

 

Even the presence of the other great foes vanishes, leaving Her pondering the nature of the isolation that has sprung up.

 

(Not important! I have a new trick, too!)

 

 

 

But, even if She speaks of tricks, such things are still not enough to thrust Her into the stuff of legends.

 

The feeling ahead proves that as it spreads.

For the growing waves of tightening darkness perk up ears crammed into Her helmet, drowning out Her hearing with their whispering ravings.

 

(What form of power is this!?)

 

 

 

At the flank of the enemy now despite careful watch by them, Her cunning Boss finally strikes with the fog revealing at the black-haired woman’s growing concentration.

 

“Behind! Get them!”

The angry wolf woman screams out in her wicked voice, pointing like a coward at the two figures that fly toward her honor guard.

The spearman wearing Castilian guard gear, of the blindingly bright kind that She knows indicates huge stature and authority with humans, stops screaming orders at the others so he can accept the threat.

 

 

 

When he stops shouting, the tight cohesion of the smelly men vanishes.

 

(MMM!? Boss is also fighting smart for My benefit!?)

 

 

 

Despite being evil, he is not the Creature, because he smiles at Her and rubs Her ears.

His name is not the same, either.

 

For it’s always [Boss].

 

Boss is someone who She wants to stomp his face in every time he grins when he does something better than Her.

Boss is someone she also, strangely, wants to show Her butt to when She kneels over, so that he can possibly touch it.

 

Every time She thinks She can win, he does something maddeningly brave like this.

 

 

 

The boy charges with a death-seeking spirit, holding his coveted cross like a stick against the bottom of his arm.

When the old Castilian guardsman flings his spear forward, the head bursts into streaming yellow radiance that cooks the ground.

 

But the cross intercepts its point, knocking it to his right with a thundering peal and snuffing its bothersome light without injury.

With inhuman alacrity, the enraged man retracts and stabs once more straight for his face, dripping green venom from its now serrated tip.

 

As if it were folly to commit to this strike, the boy hooks the weapon with his cross. Not only is the poison evaporated by the glowing black cross, but the weapon becomes the boy’s when he grabs onto its shaft with his free hand and whips his entire body around to cling to it.

 

It falls to the ground, locked there when the boy hooks his cross into a crevice in the broken turf. Using his entire body as a lasso, Her Boss risks life and limb to provide the perfect distraction for the slow build up of another.

 

(… Nnn? Strong… and…)

 

 

 

A sea is contained within the lifted sword She follows with.

Its enormous volume shouldn’t be possible to raise, but the woman with eyes black as night doesn’t break a sweat when she begins to twirl her body.

 

Like the boy, she is capable of incredible precision with the spin she puts into her strike. Only at the last moment does she plant her feet at the culmination of a jump, plunging the flowing blade through the soldier’s head.

 

“[Oceanic Might].” A voice without inflection names his demise.

Her spine stiffens at the name, instinctively comprehending the depths of its cataclysmic force.

 

A worn helmet glows blindingly bright when the blue-edge touches, but then shatters when it deforms. The man collapses like a smashed mushroom to this telegraphed blow, with “fruit” and liquid splattering all nearby before the ocean’s collapse scatters the spectators.

 

 

 

Its booming clap strikes Her, though without unsettling Her feet like it does the other men’s.

 

In the moment after, a whistling sound takes advantage of the confusion to clock the screaming giant at their core.

 

“GYAAAAAAHHHH!?!?!?”

 

The one She remembers is named Ylva trembles while clutching her head.

A black weapon boomerangs back into the returning fog, claiming its target before its owner melds into the soft white with a quick kick off.

 

Trailing after him, the recovering murderess stalks back.

She takes her time with her own escape. Her seemingly soulless eyes turn and stare straight into the core of Her being.

 

Just like Her Boss can, this woman takes a measure of the Knight in a moment.

Where no anger existed beforehand in her outward placidity, it exists ever after upon marking Her.

 

 

 

(I understand. You are the one I have to beat most of all.)

 

Almost ready to abandon Her Sacred Duty, She shakes in outrage while watching the ghostly woman in a blue robe fall backward into the fog.

An evil smirk is on her lips, the soullessness of her black eyes filled with dark humor as her lightly swung blade vanishes.

 

 

 

Her Boss is someone She cannot understand at all.

No matter how wise he is; no matter how powerful.

Only a few things about him has She understood.

 

She feels conflicting inclinations that tell Her legs to grow weak instead of strong when he commands Her; they tell Her mouth to water when She sees his small, but muscular, chest and arms; command Her to lick his stomach when it’s exposed to sight.

 

Everything powerful about him makes Her want to scream in anger, while also drinking in the dark light that shines from that cross he holds.

That such a Boss knows a human like this is acceptable, for now, because he is stronger than even…

 

 

 

(… One day, though, I will be stronger than you! On that day, you will call Me ‘Boss’, and then I will mount you!

And on that day… she will not exist anymore.)

 

That thought brings a grin to Her, even as warmth deep inside and below her stomach comes from remembering how he fills Her most pleasurable space up with his wide tool…

 

 

 

“Odd that You get distracted.”

“Shut up, rooster!”

The man pats her helmet, causing Her to growl angrily at the improper gesture.

 

With Her Boss vanishing from the battlefield She controls and heading toward Her Minion, She alone will win this struggle against the wolf he left Her in charge of defeating.

 

(Boss trusts Me to handle this alone!)

 

Freed of all further concerns like allies or convoluted plans, the unleashed monster lurches forward.

 

 

 

“COME, FOOLS!

CRUSH YOURSELVES AGAINST ME!”

 

 

 

Her ear-piercing howl rouses the weakling enemies.

With the deceivingly large wolf woman still stunned and the “bosses” of the pack defeated, all She must contend with of worth is the sole slayer.

 

(COME AND GET ME! ONLY ONE OF YOU HAS EVER SURVIVED ME, AND HE’S BEHIND ME!)

 

“Nice job, You! Smart, use help!”

“SHUT UP, ROOSTER! I DON’T NEED HELP TO WIN!”

 

 

 

A whirring sound starts up when the man in a catsuit leaps forward to halt her charge.

Wearing only this black, skintight wear and banded straps of pointy steel spikes, the pervert’s true power lies in the dual bucklers strapped to him. The teeth along their rims spark as they circle faster.

 

(Fast, like always! And such a shitty weapon to fight!)

 

Spinning blades gnash off Her poleaxe when the man parries Her weighty thrust with the front of his shining golden buckler. A second whip of Her weapon using only immense strength meets the second buckler, leaving it knocked away another time as he closes the distance with one step.

 

(I can deal with close in, too!)

 

Her back hand twists, activating the internal mechanism of Her precious dear.

The polaxe shortens into a battle axe with a clunk, before She thrusts Her side into the path of his buckler.

Though sharp, the weapon clatters against the immense sturdiness of her plate armor.

 

(WHEN I COME ALIVE, IT DOES, TOO!)

 

Even with what the Violet Moon did to deface Her perfect partner on the inside, the growling voices that fill Her mind when She wears it are alive.

 

 

 

They agree with the call to violence.

They hunger for others to fear them.

 

They tell Her to devour everything she lays eyes on.

 

(Umm, but not Boss or the rest.)

 

At Her internal reproach, the voices screech in frustration, but go quiet after She growls.

 

(Right now… right now you can hurt them all.)

 

 

 

In return for being let loose now,

 

Her armor screeches like metal dragged across an iron grate.

 

 

 

“HAAAAAAH!”

 

The cutting shield bounces off with a grating sound, sending the catsuited slayer stumbling back without any damage delivered.

 

“YOU, CAN’T EVER BEAT ME!”

“Not the same, as You remember!” Vain as always, the Rooster tries to ruin her momentum.

 

A firing hammer fist slams sideways onto the left buckler, driving it deep into the ground and kicking up the false floor with its chipping blades.

Her flames disallow any escape when She hefts the poleaxe with herculean strength to cleave that side, swinging it over Her head to swoop in while cackling.

 

“KAKAKA! BE DESTROYED!”

 

To the floor he plummets, striking it while his bucklers spin faster.

“[Grind Up]!”

“NAH!?”

Her all-or-nothing swing misses overhead and sends Her into a spinning recovery.

 

 

 

Grinding metal deafens Her when the spinning blades tear up the floor and launch into Her.

From the ground he rides, before lifting straight into the air and dragging Her body with the climb.

 

(GAH!?)

 

“[Triple Raid]!”

 

Three slams strike rapidly, trapping Her between the sawing teeth of dual bucklers.

Her armor howls in frustration, sharing Her pain as parts of it are chipped away to reveal the softer garments underneath.

 

But, all She can do is spin as the lithe man keeps hacking at her while surrounded by streams of swirling smoke. Her lifeblood coats his blades and catsuit, covering the ground beneath them too as his impossible dance continues.

 

As he finishes his brutal combination of blows, She’s left upside down and weightless.

 

“UGH!?”

 

The vexing enemy twirls in the air, tasting the scent of Her temporary helplessness.

Very human hatred awakens in his heart as he howls.

 

 

 

“GOT YOU THIS TIME, YOU FUCKING YOU!

[FINAL COMBO: SURPRISE DECAPITA—!]”

 

 

 

Lightning bursts from the man’s mouth instead of words when a bullet enters his throat, sending the rest out the back of his neck.

The energies seize his entire body as he looks horrified by the inability to break Her.

 

 

 

“BLARGH!?”

The man shakes violently, before his eyes roll back into his head and he falls with Her.

 

(… Not… done… with…!)

 

In mid air, She grabs onto his face and starts spinning.

 

“GET DOWN!”

 

With Her prodigious weight added in, his face is slammed into the soil and cracks the world with its ugliness.

Rocks fly with the impact, forcing a smiling man to effortlessly juke his large body through the flying debris to come out the other side unscathed.

 

“Hah, always a pleasure.”

“Why are you the only one who feels pleasure!?”

 

Because She hates him; because he always steals the spotlight from everything She tries to do…

 

“I’d rather be alone than need you!”

“Okay, okay. So, you, take on…?”

 

Lethargically, the almost-naked man pulls his bycock hat off to point it past the Knight.

 

“That?”

 

She retrieves Her poleaxe, whipping it around to menace the group approaching.

 

 

 

“Wormy kobold.”

Still unsteady, the giant wolf woman straightens her messy braids while leaning on one of her offspring.

With two of Her foes justly laid out on the ground and…

 

(Nnn? They’re melting into the soil…)

 

… vanishing into nothingness as they boil into bubbling red chunks, this great boss of the pack is Her true enemy.

And also the man with bucklers, who stands up with unsteady legs and then jumps back to the safety of numbers.

 

“Why, say fight alone?” The she wolf narrows her blood-red eyes, taking in her dire situation with all other of her allies vanished. “Every time, that one, saves You.”

“SHUT UP! I’m not telling him to join in! He just does what he wants to!”

 

(Every time… I try to get stronger, he’ll step in!)

 

 

 

The man behind Her is the sort that can’t let go.

Even now when Her pink eyes shake with anger, his ruggedly handsome features only betray a sheepish grin.

 

“Just shy, like lovely big woman!”

“… Lovely!?”

 

Just like always, the man who interrupts Her ambitions yanks Her screaming from the stage.

He steps forward, lifting an arm toward the woman taller than even him by an inch.

 

“Alone, wastelands, strong men…?”

“Huh? … Only, strong men…”

“But, not observant, not seeing best part of wasteland, red fur and—!”

 

While the brood shuffles in unease, the rooster continues to crow to the benefit of only one woman.

She sniffs the air to discover his annoyingly clinging smell of arousal, obviously picked up by the tall woman as she offers a toothy grin at the subtle praises and questions being heaped on her.

 

 

 

(You… horny… stupid… male… @#&$!?)

 

The words aren’t there anymore as She extends Her poleaxe.

Though they no longer vanish completely after meeting Her Boss, when the rage overcomes Her, they tend to forget form.

 

Trying to step forward, She halts when the man’s scent changes.

 

Stopping in mid stride, he gives a knowing glance over his shoulder.

It’s a familiar look She’s seen many times before.

 

(WHY NOT!? WHY NOT FIGHT!? IT… SHE IS SOMEONE I CAN BEAT!)

 

The idea that the rooster, the one male of the Call She’s never beaten, looks down on Her almost drives Her insane.

 

 

 

Until She sniffs again.

 

(UGH!? That… that is… putrid!)

 

Scowling at the smell, She suddenly intuits the man’s efforts when She looks to the ground.

 

In the veins of cracked earth flow a thick, pungent goo, deep down into the firmament.

Though She doesn’t understand how She knows, its truth is evident.

 

The longer She smells it, the more She respects its scheming power.

 

(Only one coward would do it like this…!)

 

 

 

A blue bitch has poisoned this land, somehow.

The silent Knight observes the enemy as it spreads, waiting to see the result with proper decorum.

 

“Child, strongest? Some say, haha, I, but can’t say that’s, true… right?”

“… Why not find out, try me, strong body~?”

Flirting continues as the man thumbs his nose, looking away from the horny wolf who has room for more mating to fill the naked stomach she strokes.

The stench of her horny gash makes the Knight hiss.

 

 

 

(… I hate cowardly things…)

 

To accept help from others implies that She is weak.

To win by any other means than combating openly is to admit shortcomings.

To lose or run without giving everything to one’s struggle is to be a weakling.

 

(Boss… understands that and Me!)

 

The one fire that never falters is Hers, threatening to overflow if She can’t be let forward.

Even if the rooster is strong, with his back turned to Her…

 

 

 

(… I won’t attack from the back… not even if it’s to beat you…)

 

 

 

A contradiction is what it is, She suddenly realizes.

To have the power to beat another, but to be unable to use it, is a contradiction.

 

(Hmmm? That feels… weird…? If I could do it, but can’t, or won’t, then can I?)

 

 

 

As Her gut churns on this creeping philosophical question, She notices that others feel the same discomfort.

 

“Ugh… GAH… GAAHK!?”

 

The bowman of the horde vomits upon his stark, black leathers, before collapsing to the ground. Veins of glowing bluish-black run along his entire body as eyes take in the sight, matching the garbage he expelled.

 

“… AHH!? YOU, FUCKING, MALE, SNEAK!?”

“Haha, no, true feelings, honestly!”

 

The jolly slayer waves his hand impetuously, before the roaring giantess with the slightest hint of a stricken, flush face barks an order.

Around her, the entire assembly coughs and gags, clawing at their flesh as it darkens and rots. But, they still struggle onward.

 

A barbarian’s mace aims for the rooster’s skull bearing her answer to his invitations, holding a speed the Knight can’t match.

 

(Not that it matters…)

 

 

 

The smiling man’s trigger hand whips his gun from its holster and unloads both barrels into the barbarian’s heart, stopping the mace inches from his head.

A suddenly blasted man shudders in mid-step to the phantasmal gonging sound, losing all vitality and collapsing to his knees. After the shots, the gunman laboriously drives his foot through the man’s face, sending him keeling to the ground with a cracking sound.

 

“… Hm, negotiations, over? You, still don’t want help?”

 

Offering his back to the remnant false men and the shocked she wolf, the rooster with the cocksure smile effortlessly slams two new rounds into his shortened long gun before holstering it once again with a spinning flick of his wrist.

 

 

 

“I want to shine, not have Me be blocked by your glow!”

 

 

 

A line She’s waited a long time to deliver spills out. She’d never thought it’d have a chance to be said again after She found better teammates, ones who value Her way of doing things.

Value Her enough to let Her take center stage.

 

Even She is uncertain by the shrill way She screams it, why it means so much to be spoken.

Having the rooster all to Herself, just the uselessly handsome guy without the mannish, woman-hearted fencer bitch or the crazy, monster-mating shadow girl to shut Her down is a rare moment.

 

“Okay? Why, can’t you shine?”

He leans back with open arms, before lifting his hand toward Her.

“When you shine…”

His thumb points to his chest, his silver eyes inviting Her with mystery to their masculine draw.

“I shine.”

 

(I don’t want you to shine! You already have enough females!)

 

A man far too confident even for his stature can say things that infuriate Her.

Just like Her Boss, this man is strong and therefore can do whatever he desires. And just like him, Her Boss constantly helps Her.

But when he does it, it isn’t as annoying.

 

(… You don’t do it for me like Boss does… I wonder why?)

 

 

 

That thought is cut short when the bycock hat goes flying.

A circulating buzzsaw clips the rooster’s hair when he ducks and sways on quick feet. The rest of his stupidly hunky body slides through the second shield eater with a great flourish to his dodge.

 

“HO! You know, looking good, dangerous sometimes…”

 

He strikes a harried pose behind Her after jumping his juking path to freedom, towering overhead as he awaits the rushing slayer.

 

“Okay, how about, you shine with me adding a little polish?”

 

(FUCK OFF! UGH, FINE!)

 

The polearm she wields extends once more, before She leaps straight at the frustrated slayer who bleeds from his ears, ready to add more paint to the canvas.

 

“DO IT THEN, STUPID ROOSTER!”

Looking behind for confirmation, She watches him draw a silver pocket watch and a spoon with golden thickness like molasses in its scoop from a small pack at his back.

“Great energy! Then, let’s go for…”

 

He draws the spoon across the pocket watch with fine control of his bulging muscles, depositing the mass on the face of the arms and mechanism.

It starts to spark as the two substances meet, before a great flush of magic snaps into being.

 

 

 

“[Alchemical Mix: Quickmire]!”

 

The ground ahead turns into mush that slips up the slayer’s legs.

Meeting at his chest, he shudders forward with the crackling golden-silver mass shifting to leap upon Her.

 

(Fast time!?)

 

It washes over Her helmet and chest, evaporating into a smoke that enters through the joints in Her armor. When it coats Her skin, everything else begins to slow.

 

(Ummm… lots of blows!? Why not!?)

 

One strike shatters his collar bone.

The next hacks into his side.

Two stabs to his heart and liver draw immense pleasure.

 

A whirling poleaxe rounds out the abuse by clapping his bleeding head twice, before the blur of a Knight shortens it and leans into an upward hammer blow to the man’s crotch.

 

“KAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKAKA!”

All the time, She cackles a stream of glee that refuses to end.

 

 

 

When time reverts to fluid, the man explodes into misery.

 

“GAAAH—ACK…!”

 

The slayer rockets into the sky, bursting into a gory mass as his false life loses all cohesion at the overkill given to him.

 

Through the deluge charges an enraged champion.

 

“MORE! FEAR ME MORE!”

“Don’t fear! DEVOUR!”

 

The queen of a pack roars while swinging her arm.

Muscles flex with passion as she leaks blood down her jaw.

 

 

 

“NNNGH!?”

From Her side, a giant red-wolf’s paw flies to clobber Her, appearing from a great rend in the air itself.

 

The force is so brutal that it knocks Her over Her head, tumbling until She rights.

“HAAH!”

“DIE!”

Two slavering servants leap at Her, but discover a striking problem.

 

“TWO FOR ONE!”

The clobbering by the bitch Ylva sends Her into a drunken spin that She savors.

As She recalls the power of a Talent long taken from Her that used to wheel Her around like this, She lets that control direct the armor’s own hunger.

 

Black steel comes alive.

It shrieks as its strength overlaps Her own, sucking at the terror building from the two men who can no longer back away from its pull.

 

“[PARADISE LOST]!”

 

The poleaxe fills with the blazing inferno She recalls from Her masterpiece of this very night.

It shakes as She spins with it, slicing the two men in half with an arc of the blade as they combust into white-hot flames while screaming.

 

Wind springs up with the slice, sending them burning skyward with no distance needed to be bridged.

 

“ONE AND DONE!”

 

The springing Knight shanks them both on a stab each, before falling forward into a dive with Her internal fire flowing down the shaft of Her weapon.

It connects through their bodies when they drill into the ground, wracking all connected to this flow.

A smoldering mess is thrown up into the air when their vitality vanishes in one impact, removing their stain from the world.

 

“… I am real strength.”

 

Nodding to Herself, She breathes with difficulty at the harm the feedback of this new Talent inflicts on Her. Already, cracks can be found all over Her perfect companion where the steel threatens to fracture.

 

(Um… let’s not use that one again for a bit.)

 

She turns to renew Her assault, grimacing at the situation She was knocked away from.

 

 

 

“No talking?”

“DIE, DIE, DIE!”

 

Great rends of a wolf’s paws tear through space as Ylva slashes through her own final defender, tearing into pieces the armored foe that the Knight had drilled into twice.

 

“AH! THAT ONE WAS MINE!”

 

Through this unending assault, the mad rooster continues to flirt while darting into the blows. Each time, his body seemingly passes through solid flesh while darkening slightly, coming out the other side refreshed.

 

“Why not kiss, make up?”

“KISS THIS! [Memory of Iron]!”

The remnant chains on the woman’s thick body burst off, plunging into the ground as the fragmented iron all around, left after she burst her bonds, sinks in, too.

“Oh!?”

Shackles snap around his legs and arms before he can react, binding him to one spot as he sweats a single drop.

“… Hah, this might, bad?”

A struggle for his guns leaves him stuck, pulling against the chains held by the earth.

 

“THE FEAST~!…”

Standing tall, she opens her drooling mouth while staring at her prey.

 

 

 

A huge wolf head peeks out from the nothingness beyond the edge of view, leering down at the sacrifice prepared.

Gallons of blood are drawn upon its icy blue fur in swirling patterns, while its black eyes reveal four irises, all narrowing at the fresh sustenance.

Its long, red tongue lolls out from a mouth big enough to devour an entire man whole.

Poisonous saliva boils the ground when it lands.

 

“… IS NIGH~! [JAWS OF HEL]!”

 

It mimics her motions, lunging for his body to consume it.

 

“AWOOOOOOOO!!!”

 

 

 

(I am… very…)

 

 

 

“STUPID KOBOLD!”

“YES…! GAHHHH! VERY STUPID…!”

 

Crunching deafens Her, but She clearly hears this insult.

 

(BUT ALSO, VERY STRONG!)

 

Sacred metal deforms under the enormous pressure of the wolf-demon’s jaws.

Pulled up into the air, Her flesh burns with the liquid corrosion spilling onto Her as teeth continue to chew through the outer layers straight into the crimson mail beneath.

 

“GRAAAH! ALWAYS… I DO SOMETHING…

FOR STUPID PEOPLE…!

LIKE MINION…!”

 

Darkness is all She can sense, fetid rot of an uncleaned mouth all She can smell, as something like finality closes in on Her…

 

 

 

“[‘Wind slices,

Fire scorches,

Earth shakes,

And Water rages!’

[Alchemical Mix: Golden Truth]!”

 

 

 

“BAH!?”

Four rapid-fire shots sound, leading to the Knight spilling out of the thing’s mouth and tumbling.

Landing on Her head, She rolls up with Her helmet missing.

 

“AWOOOOOOO!? HIIEEE—!?”

 

Four glyphs blaze on the demon wolf’s head from the shots, before the crackling energies meet between them.

When the Alchemaster’s symbol emblazons on its forehead, the spiritual presence of a semi-divine, lupine entity dissolves into a thick shower of golden dust while screaming.

 

 

 

“What!? You! You, can’t…!”

“… Don’t tell anyone, on this poor lonesome guy?”

 

Toward the she wolf, the rooster just shrugs his shoulders while putting a finger to his lips. The remnants of the shackles binding him are ripped off by his strong hands to be cast away, freeing him to reach down for Her.

 

“Stupid rooster… if you can do that, then…”

“Hey, it’s your time, to shine?”

 

The battered Knight is brought up, plopped in front of the enraged she wolf.

With no weapon in reach, only claws are available.

 

 

 

“Humiliating… all children, lost, you stupid kobold!”

Fur hackles as the giant woman leans forward, stomping toward Her on strong, lupine legs.

“… Ah, and, so?”

Cracking Her neck, She leans in, too.

“Was going to break all of you, anyway.”

 

 

 

(Now is the time to prove to Boss who is the best female!)

 

Her scaled tail whips at this thought.

Very seldom do these opportunities come up.

 

Her burning heart and loins have a fire started long before this night.

Very soon, She plans to let them flame up.

 

 

 

“You will… never understand… a mother’s loss!

FUCKING… MEAT…”

 

Vapors of bloody red waft up from the ground, which she draws into her with a large breath.

The fangs upon her belly that faded with each loss blaze back to existence, suddenly.

Eight of them form a circle around her navel, sending shooting hooks of flaming tattoos across her body.

 

“AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!”

Muscles bulge as she rips at her ears.

The tall woman gains another two feet as her skin struggles to keep up with the growth.

Long teeth grow longer, tail thicker and dripping steady ichor, as she prepares for the final struggle.

 

 

 

“[FALSE SACRIFICE]!

THEIR FLESH… FEEDS MINE…!”

 

The hulking wolf staggers forward, lacking any agility to her movements as she raises thick hands to slap the Knight silly with.

An aura of death winds up her body, drying the ground she treads on.

 

 

 

“NOW YOU, LEARN WHO, PREY!”

 

 

 

(Yeah, everyone always refuses to go out. They always have “one more thing”.)

 

Unfortunately, She can’t decide what Hers will be.

As the she wolf casts Her in total shadow while standing overhead, a thought comes to mind as She struggles to motivate her battered body.

 

(Not the time to try going out together, so maybe—?)

 

“Sounds fun, try this?”

 

She whips Her head around, ears pointed toward the rooster.

The she wolf chokes on a growl and meekly stares, too.

 

 

 

Holding a bronze statue of a begging leper and some sort of empty shell horn, the dashing cassanova who never takes anything too seriously thrusts the statue into the horn’s mouth.

 

“[Alchemical Mix: Famine o’Plenty]!”

 

 

 

A swirling kaleidoscope of lights surround Her and the she wolf.

Horrific specters of crying sickly humans flee from the giant wolf woman, while glowing angels of contented fat men descend to hug the Knight.

Smoking red mists puff away from a huge woman’s body to be sucked into a smaller girl’s.

 

(Just like this guy, he always has something more—

 

MORE!?

MOOOOOOOORE!?)

 

 

 

Enormous anger fills Her body.

The trampled and trodden upon claw at Her soul.

 

An unwanted life, sent back to death, begs to have its short life avenged.

One screaming, abused shade is joined by seven others.

 

 

 

“… No… no, not fair…”

Ylva furtively pats her body, disheartened by the sudden loss of the tattoos writ upon her and the diminished stature of her amazonian self.

 

(Hmm… a lot shorter, now.)

 

As She examines Her hands, She finds it odd how there are red tattoos with angry lines glowing on Her furry palms and fingers.

In addition, the ground seems further away as She looks down.

 

It cracks when She walks, dried to dust by the pale wisps wicking off of Her body.

They join with Her reviving fire, reaching out to the nearest source of that delicious feeling that sends Her into an orgasmic fit when it reaches its height.

 

(Feels good~!? Do you finally get it?)

 

 

 

“Ready now, bitch?”

 

She pounds one hand into the other, producing a thunderclap.

 

“You can’t… steal my power!”

“That doesn’t sound true. Sounds like a lie.”

 

Toward the quivering wolf woman, the Knight leaps with a fist raised.

Unnatural robustness makes Her flight effortless.

 

“LYING IS NOT HONORABLE.”

 

The first hit busts the wolf bitch’s lips and nose, adding fresh purple lifeblood to the stains already there.

When she hits the ground, the emboldened champion mounts her thrashing form.

“GAK!

W-W-WAIT!?”

“Don’t worry. Violet Moon taught Me how to learn honor.”

A flurry of blows keeps earning a new sound as more purple drowns the shaking world around Her.

“GAH!?

URK!?

HAHHH!?”

While She is finishing up Her business with lessons in pain, the rest of Her teammates are also fervently concluding theirs.

Their motivation to win fuels Her need to inspire the next generation of Her minions.

 

“LIKE SHE SAYS: ‘YOU JUST KEEP DRILLING IT INTO YOUR BRAIN UNTIL IT STAYS INSIDE’.”

“MERSHY!

MER—GAK!?

AAAHHH!?”

 

A satisfied man sits beside the wanton violence, sighing as his “gift” is put to use by a girl who didn’t need him.

Red bumps grow in number on the battered woman’s once finely featured face, as the fists continue to rain with bone-crunching ferocity. A lesson within a glowing elven glade escalates, the yelps She earns serenading the bruised spirit of the teacher.

 

 

 

“FIRST LESSON ON THE PATH TO HONOR:

 

KNOW ENOUGH TO FEAR THE JUST KNIGHT.”

 

 

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Chapter 100         Table of Contents          Chapter 102