Desecration of the Tomb III: Violence
“GUGOAAAHH!!”
With a roar, the massive foreleg comes crashing down. While the force is enough to cause destruction, I know that even if I counter, it won’t deal significant damage, so I dodge instead. The ground shakes violently, but I sense the impending danger of its tongue lunging at me as I prepare to stomp down with all my might. I use the momentum to leap back.
“Ah, damn, it’s so agile.”
As I land, I catch sight of the tongue bending and reaching toward me, prompting a curse to escape my lips. There’s no reason to take the hit, so I sprint toward the side of the giant body to evade it.
After moving about ten meters to the diagonal rear of the giant, the tongue retracts, either reaching its distance limit or for some other reason. Regardless, I’ve learned that if I stay at this angle, the tongue won’t reach me. From here on, I’ll do my best to maintain this position in the fight.
If it were to chase me endlessly, I might have thought it could strangle me with its own tongue… but perhaps it has enough wit to avoid that. At the very least, it’s capable of retaining the skin that should normally be shed, storing blood, flesh, and acid between it, so it’s not entirely out of the realm of possibility.
“…It really doesn’t get it, does it?”
That aside, I continue to strike and kick at its hind legs and rear, but I can’t shake the feeling that my attacks aren’t inflicting any damage. It’s like hitting a soft punching bag—rather than a sense of satisfaction, I feel a strange unease as I strike.
“By the way, what caused that to tear earlier?”
As I continue my lackluster assault, I can’t help but wonder about the earlier incident where it tore. What’s the difference between the kicks I delivered, the stomp that caused the tear, and the punches and kicks I’m throwing now? I thought it might be the body part, so I kicked at the tip of its hind leg, pinning it against the ground, but the sensation remained unchanged, and it didn’t tear.
And then—
“Damn it, you’re annoying!!!”
I see the signs of its hind legs preparing to leap, so I slam down with a heel drop onto its rear while sending the approaching Wraiths flying away. There are many of them, and I understand their behavior of closing in on the living. I can feel the cold creeping in as they grasp at me, so I know I can’t ignore them. Still, there are too many; even as I obliterate dozens, their numbers seem to multiply.
Moreover, these Wraiths are unsettling. Despite being Undead, they act as if they’re still alive, their faces contorted in expressions of pain, which is not a pleasant sight. This is true for all Undead, but it’s particularly pronounced here.
For now, I’ll wipe out all the visible Wraiths. I need to clear my mind of distractions while I fight, so I’ll eliminate anything that could become a nuisance. I know reinforcements will arrive soon enough, and I’ll have to deal with them then.
“Tch, what a hassle… Ah? GAHH!?”
“GUGEAHH!!”
“Damn it!! I got careless!”
I was too focused on dealing with the Wraiths and didn’t notice the hind leg being raised. I barely manage to brace myself in a defensive stance, limiting the impact to a few hundred meters, but I never expected a Dead Eater—or rather, a frog—to deliver a spinning kick. Fortunately, my bones remain unbroken, but I can feel pain radiating from my chest to my abdomen, suggesting that some ribs might have been crushed. I don’t have the luxury to pour a Potion directly on my wounds, so I crush two of the vials and gulp down their contents for a quick fix.
“Haah… haah…”
“…Right, calm down. My attacks aren’t effective, there’s nothing around to use as a weapon, and I’m outnumbered with no hope for reinforcements… Yes, just like always.”
I cool my head and reset my thoughts. The goal is to kill the enemy, and I need to think about what’s necessary for that. I’ll abandon the plan of waiting for Fana to regroup; I’ll take the initiative to eliminate it myself. I’ll spread its corpse across the ground and crush its head and heart beneath my feet.
That’s all I need. Focus on what’s necessary. Why do physical attacks not work? Why did slashing attacks succeed? Why did the stomp cause a tear? It’s simple; if I keep the goal of killing in mind, the answers will become clear.
“GUGEGEEH!”
“Ha! You’ve become quite clever, haven’t you? Did you go on a diet somewhere? You seem rather relaxed, huh?”
“GUGEAHHHH!!!!”
“Sorry, but I don’t speak frog, nor do I care to learn.”
So just die here.
The moment I think that, the foreleg lunges at me, and instead of dodging, I clench my fist and slam it against the approaching limb. I’m pushed back a few centimeters, but I ignore it and stab my fingers into the side of the foreleg, gripping it tightly.
As I see its mouth opening, I transform my other arm into a blade and stab it into the same spot, gripping it tightly to tear off the end of the foreleg. I catch sight of the grotesque expression on its face as blood pours out, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Ha ha! Finally, some damage has been dealt!!!”
I toss aside the severed limb and, before it can regenerate, I grab the exposed bone and yank it out. With a satisfying crunch, the tip shatters, leaving me with a sharp bone.
The reason physical attacks don’t work is likely because it can disperse the impact throughout its entire body. Whether it’s its bodily fluids, skin, or muscles, it seems to mitigate the shock by spreading it out, rendering it ineffective. I know of a few creatures that can do something similar.
Conversely, the reason slashing attacks, stomps, and my current piercing and tearing attacks are effective is that they don’t carry a wide area of impact. It’s a simple realization that became clear once I calmed down; I had been too focused on the idea of everyone working together against it.
Or perhaps I was just eager to show off a cool side to my new companions. I might have wanted to demonstrate that their leader is reliable in cooperative combat. That’s a possibility; they’re companions who can understand each other, after all. I might need to reflect on that later.
“GUGEEAAHHHHH!!!”
“Hey, hey, don’t get too excited. I’ve just torn off a leg and pulled out a bone, after all.”
I swing the extracted bone toward the frog’s lower jaw, leaping as I bring it down. Just as I thought, I can feel the impact being absorbed and flowing away, but I can tell it’s not being negated or absorbed.
…Well, that’s irrelevant. It’s clear that it’s not a threat anymore.
As I watch the bone shatter under the force of the impact, I stab the remaining bone fragment into what seems to be the frog’s shoulder, using it as leverage to leap onto its head.
As I do so, the frog opens its eyes and mouth, preparing to extend its tongue, but I’m faster. I clench my fist and slam its head down into the ground with all my might.
It would have been nice if it had bitten its tongue, but that didn’t happen, so I take advantage of the momentum from the fall to deliver a kick as it tries to rise.
“Hey, hey, you’re looking pretty pathetic, huh?”
“GUGEEAAHHH!!!”
“Shut up!!!”
As it howls, spewing blood, I kick it away. If I were to simply kill it, I could stab into the area where its brain likely resides and end it there, but… that wouldn’t be entertaining. I want to take my time to exact my revenge for the humiliation I’ve suffered, so I’ll finish it off with a resistant strike.
I’ve realized that it’s not completely negating the impact, and now that I understand how to adjust the area of my strikes, I know I can deal sufficient damage to kill it.
Well then, for now—
“Let’s play ball; you’re the ball, alright?”
I scoop up its upper half and kick it upward, following up by kicking the remaining parts still on the ground one by one into the air. It’s heavy—honestly, I started this because I thought it would be fun, but it’s heavy enough that I’m tempted to stop.
However, putting that aside, it’s quite satisfying to think that despite its massive, giant body and resistance to shock, it’s being effortlessly kicked into the air by a single human. If it could speak like a Demon Lord’s Army Executive, perhaps I would feel even better about this situation. After all, being able to communicate implies a certain level of intelligence, which means it might have employed a more troublesome fighting style that utilized its unique traits. But I’ll choose not to dwell on that.
For now, I’ll continue kicking it up and transporting it over there. This isn’t exactly the kind of thing one should be doing in this situation, nor is it something to ponder too deeply, but I’ve started to feel like it’s a decent workout with just the right amount of resistance.
Moreover, since I hadn’t been able to assess the situation over there, I’ll take this opportunity to observe while I kick it up. I believe Fana will handle things just fine, though.