Note: Here's the extra chapter I promised everyone. Thanks again for making it past 1k followers!
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Wrestling with Demons
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The Impure
Vicomte Henry’s new red tag wasn’t the only new change about him…It.
Gone was the tall, stout noble who’d been the face of Bram’s opposition. In his place was a creature straight out of a young Bram’s worst nightmares. It was a bloated thing with sickly skin stretched over muscle and fat that was many times the size of a normal man. It also had a foul stench like that of a rotting corpse left to dry in the sun for too long.
“We are not impressed!”
His voice had become distorted as if something else was speaking at the same time as Vicomte Henry and it wasn’t a voice one should hear on Aarde.
WARNING! [The Impure] speaks with [Malicious Scorn]! You’ve received mental damage, making you more prone to debilitating effects while increasing your fatigue by thirty percent [30%].
“We are not—”
“Impressed,” The throbbing on Bram’s left hand had nothing to do with Dusk’s penalties. “Yes, I understand… But you see…”
Interestingly, the pain from the prince’s cursed scar began after Vicomte Henry’s change was completed. However, Bram tried to ignore it because he could only handle one otherworldly mystery at a time.
“I’m not trying to impress you…” He resisted the urge to scratch the back of his left hand. Instead, his right hand reached into his jacket to pull out the mask he kept there. “But I am going to do my absolute best…”
Bram put on his gold-gilded, porcelain mask…and it was as if a burning fire had ignited inside him.
ALERT! [Mask of the Angry Ghost] has removed the consequences of [Malicious Scorn]. You are no longer more prone to debilitating effects.
“…To send you back to one of the infernal hells!” With the rising fire reflected in his gaze, Bram knew now was the right moment to use the skill he’d kept in his back pocket. “Emulate!”
He’d used ‘Emulate’ enough times not to go unconscious from the onset of pain that heralded its activation, which was good because The Impure would give the spell no time to work its magic in him.
To Bram’s surprise, the blob-like creature was much faster than it had any right to be. It appeared in front of him in a flash—its grotesque visage flashing a devilish grin at the prince—right before its extra-large fist smashed against Bram’s side. The Impure would have caused great damage to him if fortune hadn’t shown the prince its favor.
ALERT! The [Ring of Three Protections] senses the danger to its wielder. [Barrier] has been activated [1/3].
As The Impure’s fist slammed into Bram, a bright golden aura wrapped around him like ghostly armor strong enough to withstand a demon’s attack. More than simply blocking though, Bram’s ghostly armor shattered into hundreds of golden shards that pierced into the demon’s bulbous flesh like shrapnel.
“Gaah!”
A scream escaped Bram’s lips because even with his arcane protection, the demon’s fist packed a wallop that sent the prince hurtling backward and smashing into the parapet to his right. He fell to his knees, gasping for breath, and a new pain climbed up his spine.
ALERT! [Rage of the Angry Ghost] is burning with anger… Its expression is changing [1/10].
“You think to challenge me with trinkets?!”
With a single leap, The Impure arrived before Bram a second time.
“I’m one of the true chosen!”
Despite the pain wracking his body, Bram couldn’t help frowning. His deranged former coachman had said the same thing before Bram dealt Baer the ‘Lotharian Suplex’ that brought him down.
“Chosen by a scion of the seven to serve their noble purpose in this godsforsaken world!”
“The Seven…?”
Bram was sure he’d heard someone mention this phrase, but his brain was now in too much pain to recall who had said it.
ALERT! [Status Emulation Lv.1] was successful. Your status will temporarily be updated to reflect the boons earned from the target’s data. Please wait while the system performs the necessary calculations…
A mental scream was all Bram could afford as the familiar pain of borrowed power began to ignite inside of him. Surprisingly, the burning anger growing in him was helping to lessen the pain so that his mind and body moved without too much strain.
“You are a mere thorn on our side…an ant seeking validation while not knowing it’s about to be stepped on!”
Bram slid to the side to avoid a foot that was thick like a tree trunk.
“Not ready…yet?”
There was no response from the Loom, though Bram did hear something else—the sound of rushing feet.
“What the bloody hell is that…?!” yelled someone who came up behind him.
“I don’t know, but it’s attacking our prince!” roared another.
“We have to help him!” cried a third.
Bram wasn’t sure what surprised him more; his household’s guards being brave enough to challenge a demon or that they were willing to fight it to help him…
“No…don’t—”
But he spoke too late.
Four guards rushed forward to form a shield wall meant to protect Bram, and they were blown away with a single swipe of The Impure’s massive arm…at least most of them were. To Bram’s horror, one guard was snatched up by the demon’s hand and had his head bitten off by The Impure whose mouth grew wide enough to consume it.
ALERT! The system has finished its calculations. Your status has been temporarily updated.
“Too fucking late!”
CONGRATULATIONS! A secondary job has been temporarily added to your status. You are now a [Blood Champion Lv.1]!
Bram’s muscles expanded underneath his royal coat, tearing up the sleeves as if he was also growing beyond nature’s intention.
Becoming a [Blood Champion] fills you with power. Based on probability and threat assessment calculations, your physical attributes are temporarily quadrupled.
STRENGTH: 180 DEXTERITY: 80 CONSTITUTION: 128
Quadruple the strength…things were that dire. Such a boon was necessary considering Bram’s opponent. Indeed, he barely had time to raise his arms to defend against The Impure falling on top of him with hands as large as dwarven-forged war hammers.
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“We’ve always wondered what Atlan’s blood tasted like,” its grotesque mouth whispered through bloodstained teeth. “We’ll find out tonight!”
This close, The Impure seemed even bigger than Bram first imagined. More than eight feet tall with a gait four times wider than him and limbs so thick the prince should have been crushed just by having their weight pressed against his arms. Still, though the strength of this demon was so great that Bram’s feet were in danger of buckling underneath him, the prince endured.
ALERT! Your total HP and SP have temporarily increased. [HP: 1,280] [SP: 1,800]
ALERT! Emulation will last for 2 minutes. Your body may receive penalties once it ends.
“Iron Blood!”
ALERT! You have successfully coated your arms with [Iron Blood Lv.1]! A fourth of your remaining HP was consumed to activate this ability.
The earlier fall forced Dusk from Bram’s grasp, and it was lost somewhere in the rubble around them. Bram had only his hands to fight with now, and he didn’t mind that one bit.
[HP: 1,000/1,280] has dropped to [HP: 750/1,280]
Of course, even with ‘Iron Blood’ coating his arms, Bram was still at risk of being flattened by the momentum of The Impure’s assault.
WARNING! Your SP is rapidly depleting due to your body’s incompatibility with [Blood Champion]. You will earn more fatigue with every action you take.
Bram would have loved to back off and catch his breath, but he lost the contest of strength between them, and the demon tossed the prince straight into the thick wooden door leading into the bastion’s south tower. Bram didn’t even have time to regain his footing before The Impure slammed into him a second time, pushing itself and him through the door that broke apart from their combined weight.
“Bloody—”
The impact caused Bram to stumble backward into the darkened chamber of the south tower’s rampart floor.
“—hell!”
The prince scrambled to his feet, but The Impure was relentless in its assault. Its bulbous form slammed into Bram, lifting him off his feet and carrying him toward the other end of the circular chamber. Unfortunately, there was no door behind him to cushion the impact of their impending crash…only a thick, polished stone wall.
“You want my blood — then here!” A desperate Bram launched a righthanded haymaker into The Impure’s face. “Choke on it, you monstrous bastard!
‘Wham!’
A fist reinforced by ‘Iron Blood’ slammed into The Impure’s cheek, forcing the breath from its lungs, though even this wild blow wasn’t enough to stop its assault.
“Here’s some more!”
Recalling the fist-fighting style taught to him by a revered mystic of Shamvala, Bram followed his blood-coated fist with an elbow dropping down on The Impure’s head, cracking against it like a mallet against a spike.
‘Crack!’
Finally, The Impure stumbled, allowing Bram to escape its arms and bring his feet back on solid ground which he noticed was made of easily breakable wooden planks. More importantly, with the demon’s momentum slowed, the prince planted his feet more firmly, ensuring that he wasn’t about to be thrown back for a third time…at least not immediately.
A new power struggle began between them, though Bram knew it was only a matter of time before he’d lose this second contest of strength. So, instead, he thought of trying a different tactic, one where he could use the demon’s strength against itself.
“No matter how much you struggle”—globules of spittle flew out of that grotesque mouth—“I’m going to rip your head—”
“Fuck you!”
Bram hooked his right arm underneath The Impure’s thick trunk of a left arm. In the same breath, his left hand grabbed onto the demon’s lower lip. It was a courageous and foolhardy act because a single misstep would have cost him all his hand’s fingers.
“Don’t you see the blue moon?!” With the deft skill of one who’d endured years of training on a wrestling mat with one of Lotharin’s top wrestlers, Bram used his imperfect clinch to twist his body a hundred-and-eighty degrees to the right at the same time as his left hand yanked down on The Impure’s lower mouth. “Tonight’s not the night I die!”
Using the demon’s forward momentum, the prince managed to drag its head and body forward just as he slipped his right foot into the space between its legs, causing the demon to trip over Bram who just barely managed to endure its size, sending it sliding across his shoulder and straight into the wooden floor underneath with Bram landing right on top of it.
Bram sacrificed sure footing for a winning move, but he couldn’t help grinning anyway. Together, the prince and demon smashed into the floor, broke through it, and fell more than thirty feet down, breaking past the south tower’s second floor to fall onto its first floor in a resounding crash.
“Ugh…”
1 Minute, 20 seconds...
Bram wasn’t sure how long he’d been down, but a few groans had escaped his lips by the time consciousness was his again.
“Phoebus’ cock… get up.”
Bram followed his advice and rose to his feet on shaky legs.
1 Minute, 15 seconds...
“It’s not over…”
ALERT! [Rage of the Angry Ghost] is burning with anger… Its expression is changing [3/10].
“It’s not enough…”
Although his whole body ached from falling through three floors, the cogs in Bram’s brain were already turning and taking stock of his situation. The rubble around him and the bloated mass of a demon in the corner that was even slower to rise than him.
He could still hear the alarms blaring in the near distance, though he wasn’t sure if reinforcements would find them before round two began.
“Not in time…”
The Impure rose to its full height and turned its devilish face around just in time to see Bram close the distance between them.
“Round two, Vicomte!”
Bram sent a blood-coated fist rising toward the underside of the Impure’s thick chin, and the bone-crunching sound of his knuckles penetrating all that fat to reach the demon’s jaw was like music to the prince’s ears.
“Warbringer’s balls…”
He watched in awe at how his blood-coated fist caused even a blob like the Impure to stagger backward.
“So, this is what a measure of Rowan’s strength is truly like…”
Bram wasn’t sure, but he imagined his status was more than the one percent the Loom usually gave him. Perhaps he truly had been underestimating himself, and the boost to his power was more obvious to him now because his body had become much stronger.
“Again,” Bram said, grinning. “One—”
He followed his uppercut with a right-handed haymaker into the demon’s stomach, causing The Impure to bend over.
“—two!”
As its devilish face was closer to him now, Bram’s next move was a straight left fist right at the bulbous knob that had once been a man’s nose. This time, The Impure staggered into the wall behind it.
“You Ill-Fated—”
‘Wham!’
‘Wham!’
‘Wham!’
Once, twice, and then a third fist straight into The Impure’s gut drove the demon’s back further and further into the wall, causing cracks to appear all over its stone surface.
“Now I wish…I had an audience!”
Bram stepped forward—the strength in his foot cracking the ground beneath him, causing pain to spike up his leg—and then raised his other leg high so he could strike The Impure in the gut with a push-kick that carried with it all the power springing from his lower body.
‘Crack!’
A part of the wall crumbled, but not enough to shove The Impure through. It needed one more push—and Bram was only too eager to oblige.
“Oh, how the tables have turned, Vicomte…”
With his body pulled taut like a bow readying to fire, Bram launched himself forward and slammed into The Impure shoulders-first in a ‘Spear Tackle’ meant to send the demon flying—and it did. Only, Bram failed to calculate that it would hold onto him too. More than simply grabbing onto him, the demon’s mouth tore into Bram’s shoulder—causing the prince to illicit a pain-filled scream—while ensuring he couldn’t escape as it pulled him along through the wall so that they both crashed onto the bastion’s inner courtyard.
That wasn’t all.
As soon as they crossed into the courtyard’s grounds—with the grass underneath The Impure rotting away as if a blight descended on it—the demon took a page out of the prince’s book and used Bram’s momentum against him so that it could fling him away, tearing a chunk of flesh off Bram’s shoulder while sending him right into the trunk of a nearby tree.
The prince toppled to the ground bloodied and bruised all over. Worse, the damage to him also forced ‘Status Emulation’ to deactivate, so he now also had to deal with the fallout of overusing his body.
“Valiant effort, Ill-Fated Prince!” The Impure roared. “But not enough… Not nearly—”
Someone arrived to silence the demon’s taunts, but a groaning Bram wasn’t sure who it was until he heard her voice.
“You’ve grown strong enough to face a fool possessed by a lowly scion of Gluttony…”
He looked up and saw braided crimson hair falling down the back of her teal gambeson. Her bronze skirt billowed in the breeze passing through the courtyard, taking the demon’s rotten stench along with it.
“You’ve done well.” Rowan unsheathed her new falchion. “I’ll handle the rest.”
A strange feeling of déjà vu flooded Bram’s mind; the sight of Rowan defeating all those knights without aid.
She’ll handle the rest…
In all the time they’ve known each other, not once did she step in to fight his duels for him.
Have I become so unreliable now…?
Of course, Bram didn’t think Rowan thought this. He knew that in his mind. His heart, however, had far too many emotions whirling inside of him for rational thinking to win out.
In truth, though Rowan had called it lowly, the demon might have been too big a challenge for Bram. He knew this too. So, perhaps it was right for her to save him. Indeed, he’d secretly wanted this to happen, though he wasn’t sure that Rowan saving him was what he needed.
If she rescues me now, will she even need me anymore?
Bram gritted his teeth.
No…if I don’t surpass myself here…
Once more, he got up on shaky legs.
Then when will I overturn my fate?!
“Your Highness!” came Ser Anthony’s voice.
“Nephew!” Vicomte Conrad called.
“What is that?!” asked Ser Severin.
His sister, Lady Petra replied, “I…I think it’s a demon…?”
More and more people were filling the courtyard behind Bram, but he didn’t care about any of them. All he could do was look ahead.
Rowan was about to step forward when Bram grabbed her arm.
“No… I can’t…”
Rowan glanced over her shoulder, and Bram saw genuine surprise on her face.
“I can’t let you fight my battles for me!”
He stepped past her.
“My Prince…”
“Just watch…”
With determination instilling him with a second wind, Bram strode forward.
“…I’ll come back victorious.”