After all my attempts to graze Sarvest failed, it hit me...
{...Yes, Master. I've observed it too.}
Yeah. This stupid, so-called divine sword is the problem!!
Damn you, Pluto!
Sure, the sword was powerful—it enhanced the wielder's speed, alright—but the force behind the blows? That was all on the user.
And here I thought I'd scored a cheat-level weapon.
{Master, I'll suggest you devour the sword.}
Hehe. It's not snack time, Platform.
And if it is, I'm on a sword-free diet.
{No, my dimwitted Master, I meant to consume the weapon and use its speed-enhancing ability for yourself.}
Ah, there's that!
Actually, I didn't know I could do that.
{You can. Just use Abadon Abyss to eat it.}
Yes, professor.
But is it me, or is Platform being... nice?
She sounded impatient and troubled, though.
Sarvest really was that much of a threat, huh.
I followed her instructions, absorbing the black lightning sword with Abadon Abyss. Platform worked her magic, and I unlocked a new transformation: [Black Lightning Wolf], the third phase.
My hair reverted to black, and so did my attribute.
My glorious muscles receded too—tragic—but I wasn't that scrawny shrimp Pluto initially turned me into.
I had no sword now, but who needed it? My entire being was the weapon!
Claws, fangs, and speed combined in perfect harmony.
And as expected, Sarvest's demeanor shifted. He grew wary, now actually bothering to dodge me—something he hadn't done before.
Though I could only strike him when he materialized, I could tell... I was getting to him.
Wait! Let's not get conceited.
I'd rather not die like a sewer rat, thank you very much.
It'd be too embarrassing after all my bravado.
But still, Sarvest barely noticed me at first.
And now? He was keeping his distance.
All credit went to Platform's impeccable calculations, which allowed me to narrowly evade or counter Sarvest's blows.
In all honesty, if even one direct hit landed...
Well, we'd just close the curtain on "The Silent Pact of the Wolf Babysitter."
Except, I'm not actually the protagonist—just a side character, deluding myself.
One hit from him would turn me into mashed potatoes—the kind squished by a dinosaur.
But if I may be so bold, my attacks were doing (some) harm... I think.
I WANT to think.
I mean, his eye twitched sometimes when I struck first, so...
Okay, that could mean anything. Maybe he just had an eye disease.
Or wait, can this beast even get sick?
I can't fall sick that easily—talk less of him.
No, let's stay positive!
I was managing, even if just a bit, to pile up damage on him.
Buuuuuut, as we must've realized by now, the author has had it out for me ever since Chapter 1—no, even before that!
I started to feel tired.
Weary.
Slow.
Everything I shouldn't be when fighting a being who attacked before an instant.
No, really, I'd been burning through holy energy, pushing my abilities and the sword's power to their limits.
I'd probably been fighting Sarvest with fifty times my average strength.
My head felt cloudy, my body moved on just brain juice, and Platform barely kept me from falling apart.
And this Sarvest... was as hard as—I don't know. I swear I don't know.
Every strike I landed on him made me think of my mother in Asgard. It felt like an earthquake inside my brain. The dissonance wasn't a joke, my friend.
It was like a boulder being dropped on my exposed organs.
And to make matters worse, as my vision dulled and my breath hitched, I suddenly felt Sarvest at my exposed flank.
How lovely.
I let my guard down for one second, and he was already on me.
Sarvest wasted no time.
Sheesh, this is going to hurt. So bad.
Platform, help me.
Ugh, I don't even have enough energy to beg for help.
Despite it all, Platform mustered every bit of defense my body could manage and focused it at Sarvest's landing point.
We were expecting to cushion a thunderous force that would at least leave me without a lower half.
Without any defense, even a single fragment of me would be scattered across the wasteland in grotesque violence.
Ugh! I'd rather not let Alicia see that, sooooo—
BAMMM!!!
A sick, crunching sound resonated in my ears.
Mhmmmmmmmm—uh, actually, I felt no pain.
{That's because you weren't hit.}
Platform's voice sounded almost... relieved.
{It's your imagination.}
But seriously, I was perfectly fine.
If anything, the shock of almost being blown to oblivion gave me enough wake-up energy.
Sarvest staggered back, hopping several feet.
And... is that blood coming out of his nose?
With that shattering sound I heard, should he even have a head?!
But what happened? If I didn't hit him, then...
Damn! She's not on my back!
I'm getting a dreadful sense of déjà vu!
Where? Where's Alicia! —oh, she's just some distance away.
What a worrywart I am.
"Alicia, are you okay?" I called, dashing toward her.
Huh?
"I'm fine! You protected me!" Alicia chirped like a baby bird, but...
Why are there eight of her?
{I think Master needs to sit down.}
With our instantaneous speed-level battle, it must've been terrifying for Alicia...
But here she is, having faith in this old wolf...
{Master is far too dense.}
"I didn't ask for your opinion—!! I mean, y-you think so.
Haha, yeah, I can be really dense at times!"
Gahhh! That was close!
I can't afford to anger Platform right now of all times.
I was seeing blurs, but I hadn't even resumed battle...
Ah, I can see three of Sarvest taking a stance.
I'm sure it's just one of him, and my brain is only trembling a bit, but the point is:
I'm not ready for whatever he has in store for me.
Should I grovel and beg?
Nah, he doesn't strike me as one to care about war hostages. He'll slay me.
Nonetheless, I barricaded Alicia, ignoring all the throbbing my brain suggested.
I... have to protect her!!!
Wait, why am I being enthusiastic about this again?
But, miraculously, before Sarvest could make a move—
Kling! Kling! Kling! Kling!
My redeemer emerged, a heroic scythe in hand.
She whacked Sarvest back to the medieval era, executing a graceful dance of slashes!
Oh!!! Thank God!!!
She would've made it here earlier, but better late than sorry.
And she was a beauty, too.
Black, long, and flowing hair—so deep you'd get entranced just by staring too much.
Cute!
Her dead, dark pupils held a silver icon of skulls in them.
Cute!
And that beautiful pale skin, under her oversized—and kind of tattered—black robe. Her long, pale fingers gripped that cool silver and black scythe.
Cute!
Actually, that's more like cool!
But, boy! It was short-lived, but she assaulted Sarvest immediately, managing to wound his chest.
She was good.
If I had taken that direct hit—hahaha!
I once saw a high-class family eating dinner, and the lord used a knife to dissect what was called a lump of butter.
It was beautiful.
Sarvest held his—actually, slightly—bleeding chest, watching us.
Probably recalculating.
The scythe lady, also careful, swung her scythe to the side, gently tearing at space, a dark purple light tracing its outline.
SWEET!!
She created a gate!!
Sarvest wasn't too bothered by our blatant escape attempt.
Actually, was he even bothered by anything today?
What a devil.
By the way, he was hurt—though only slightly. So if this reaper lady—who's just way stronger than me—attacked him again, maybe it'd put him at a disadvantage?
Perhaps he suspects that we'd gang up on him?
That's thinkable.
Just that me doing that right now is like a toddler joining the front lines of a heated battle.
Certain death.
"Get in."
Her sexy, husky voice rang with authority and control, her dark eyes never leaving Sarvest.