"The next time is used in an attempt to avoid instant death, it will fail."

Oolga felt her throat suddenly go dry and swallowed to moisten it. Just to be certain, she double-checked with the spirits.

Spirits, explain .

[[Information is accessible. allows the user to negate physical pain while preserving sensation, ignore 70% of incoming damage, and recover any kind of physical damage including loss of limbs and natural degeneration with high efficiency. User has a 50% chance to resist instant death situations. A current copy of user’s physical data is kept in the soul shell as reference for restoring the body in extreme cases. It is listed as a rare skill: passive state.]]

She let out a shaky breath. It’s not a unique skill, so there’s at least one person besides baby who has it. But that was far from proof that her child wasn’t in peril. I’ll just have to make sure that she isn’t the next person to trigger the effect. But with the timing of this ...

More than the message itself, Oolga was extremely suspicious about its timing. Didn’t this timing make it sound like the extra effect of was about to be needed? With her usual pleasant smile turning into an unreadable expression, Oolga quietly put down all the wood she was carrying. She then turned back toward the previous battle site and started sprinting like someone had set her tail on fire (a bad analogy to use for someone who no longer had a tail and was utterly fireproof regardless).

She had probably startled the others by acting so suddenly, but she wasn’t at all concerned with them right now. Oolga would have happily sacrificed any of the men and women there if it meant her daughter could live. Maybe that was too extreme of an example, though.

***

They didn’t know why they had come out of hiding. There had been no problems just listening in on the progress of the battle from the forest. They could have just remained there and conserved their strength. After the overall numbers of their kind were reduced, they could have stepped in as the new leaders and built all-new villages. They could have each aspired to become chiefs great enough to be called Azza’s replacements.

Yes, their tacit agreement had been to hide away like cowards until the Orcs ate their fill and returned home.

Yet, suddenly and inexplicably, their emotional state had changed. Hide? Cower? Preserve their strength? Were those the things to be doing when the one who killed Azza was nearby? Any one of the group of forty-four could have thought this and looked up to see all of the others thinking the same way. If there was one of them who was unaffected, he would have suspected the others of being under some form of mass hypnosis.

As though they had agreed to do so beforehand, the whole group suddenly fled-- not away from the battlefield, but toward it. There was essentially no living beings left in that place. Indeed, it seemed like a number of the bodies had already been dragged away, making the place look even emptier. This evidence was clearer proof than any other that the Orcs had won the fight. In that drenched and bloody place, only one person was still standing tall.

She was a woman, that was for sure, but was she an Orc? If she wasn’t an Orc, then they wouldn’t know what she was, but that woman had sizeable wings growing from her waist, unlike any Orc they had ever seen.

But none of those details mattered anymore. The immensely powerful Chief Bazarath was lying at her feet, so whatever else she was, she was an enemy.

No, although it was irrational, there was something even more important about that woman. All forty-four Small Baphomets were convinced that this creature, who looked so naturally hateful in their eyes, must have been the one that killed Azza. That alone was enough to demand her death. No, rather than demand her life, they would take it with their own power.

Just after they had arrived and gathered around her, the woman chuckled and looked over her shoulder at them. “Ah, I was wondering where you all were,” she spoke in a mocking tone.

The Small Baphomets were too enraged to respond. At best, they could gnash their teeth and clench their fists. Many of them had bloodshot eyes and were already preparing spells to cast. Their little remaining reason was expressed in the simple act of waiting for a cue to attack.

***

What’s wrong with you guys? Isn’t affecting you a little too strongly?

When I actually saw the looks of the Small Baphomets, I was put off by their intensity. I would be a little scared of even a single Small Baphomet if it looked at me with crazy eyes and bared teeth like that--and there were over forty of them looking like that!

I didn’t do something to make them angry at me beforehand, right?

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

I had to immediately take that thought back when I remembered where exactly I was and what I had just been doing. It’s obvious that they’d be angry, especially if they just came back from doing something else, only to see a scene where all of their kin are dead.

But, this many of them is really too much. I’ll die.

Thinking that I really would lose this fight, I smiled wryly and pumped my wings. “Well then, please excuse me.”

I wasn’t running away! I was just going to attack them from a slightly safer distance, that’s all. However, that fear-fueled decision was clearly a wrong one. I only realized that after an obliterated one of my wings.

Shit!!

With just one wing, the only thing I could do was plummet to the ground. Luckily, I’d already been shocked by the recoil of one stupid move, so I thought out the next one properly. I desperately told myself that it wouldn’t hurt that much and that it would heal quickly, so I should just focus on protecting my head and neck. By curling into a ball, I was able to land without any major injuries, though my back ended up getting bruised pretty badly.

I carefully uncurled myself to see Small Baphomets glaring down at me from all sides.

Well, at least they can’t use while I’m in the middle of them. I wish I’d thought of that earlier.

Various blades were already striking down to attack me, and I was forced to roll around for a minute in order to dodge. After stalling for a second, I opened up a hole in the ground with earth magic and hid inside, sealing the entrance.

It seemed like the swords that were piercing through the mud were awfully well-aimed, though.

Oh, duh. They’ll roughly know where I am as long as is active!

I could turn the skill off. I could totally just turn it off and run away. But how lame would that be? The whole reason I started a war with the Fomors was because Small Baphomets were a threat, right? It was to eliminate them, right? If I turned off and some of them escaped because of it, then it would be the same as having failed in my objective. Besides that, they might scatter and torment my family, right?

Muu. I don’t want to die again, but I can’t really turn the skill off now, can I?

A blast of magic opened the hole I was in up for invasion, but if they wanted to catch me, they would have to follow me down the tunnel I was continuously digging.

From above, would this look like Pacman? Dig Dug?

Every now and then, the activity would open up the wound on my wing stump and leak some blood out, reminding me that my situation kind of sucked. Mm, but, how should I put it? My cynical side had a pretty active sense of humor, so those kinds of situations just made me want to joke around more.

Okay, but seriously, I should have lured enough of them in by now.

It took a considerable amount of Magic Power, but all the tunnel walls, except for where I was, slammed together like a giant trash compactor on fast forward. I felt some Magic power flow into me, confirming at least a few kills, then climbed back to the surface.

I mean, it feels like if I stay underground for too long, they’ll get impatient and just destroy everything with .

I would rather be in a place where there was space to dodge if that was going to happen.

But, it seems like my thinking was a little too shallow again. As soon as I reached the surface, several spells were shot at me all at once. I could only widen my eyes and hastily dig another hole to hide in, since the air in all directions was already occupied with pure, concentrated murder.

The reason I haven’t used to block this whole time is because these guys are all way better with Demonic spirits than I am with Holy spirits, so it would actually be weaker than a non-attribute barrier, which would be fairly useless as well.

Honestly, it wasn’t something to be happy about, but that general situation continued for a while. I would frantically dodge attacks: occasionally picking off an enemy or two; occasionally failing to completely dodge an attack. It wasn’t great. Every time I sustained a new injury was like a sign for them all to attack in earnest. was fast, but it couldn’t keep up after having a whole wing blow off. While it was working on that, all my other injuries kept piling up.

They caught up to me after a while, I guess? It was hard to run away after they stabbed a few holes in my thigh and foot, tehe. Fumu, I must have really made them mad for them to have fun punching me instead of just killing me right away.

It doesn’t hurt, idiots~ I have , so it doesn’t hurt at all~!

Haha. I’m going to fucking die, aren’t I? How nostalgic. It’s probably a bad sign that my survival instincts are shutting off, huh?

Hum, hum~… Hmm haa hmm~...

...This is taking a while. I kind of want to hit them back a few times.

I noticed that there was still a reaction from my Magic Power. My mental state was, well… only focus was necessary in order to make a spell formation, so it was good enough. If there was one good thing about it, it’s that I had a very creative idea for a new spell.

[[Conditions met. User has created the unique spell .]]

Cool. Thank you, system~ You’re very helpful. Now, let me just change it to be doughnut-shaped.

My ceaseless practice through making all of my spell formations myself has made me very good at working with them. I’d like someone to praise me for being able to create a new spell even while on the verge of death. Well, part of it was the special advantage of a Monster: that my Magic Power is concentrated in the core inside my skull. If I were a descendant, I wouldn’t still have control over my Magic Power with my body this beat up. Whatever. Racial talent is also my ability!

Fire~!

There was a thundering boom as the ground all around me released a force upwards and outwards, blowing away all the Small Baphomets that were standing, and forcing back the ones that were levitating.

Mm. Not strong enough to kill, huh? Too bad.

If I had grabbed a bit more Magic Power here by killing a few of them, I would have been able to keep going somehow, but now I’m completely drained. I wasted too much Magic Power playing with tunnels and holes, though that was also for my own survival.

At that moment, I gave up. I passed out and had wispy daydreams about keeping my memories for a third incarnation. I wasn’t completely out, though. My eyes occasionally peeked open, and I saw flashes of red light that I couldn’t make sense of. My ears were a bit clogged with blood, so all the sounds were too muffled to piece together. Things were already out of my hands, so it didn’t matter anyway.