CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Proof of One’s Changing Fate
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“Is he truly the Ill-Fated—”
“Hush, Brother,” Lady Petra cut the tall, handsome Ser Severin off.
Bram still wore his mask, but his torn clothes marked him for who he truly was. The others may have already recognized him, but he had no desire to pull the ‘Mask of the Angry Ghost’ off his face because he hoped to use the ‘Rage of the Angry Ghost’ to his advantage.
First things first though, Bram needed to deal with his shoulder. Fortunately, Bridget, the party’s ‘big sister,’ had forced her party mates to keep a healing gel in their pockets for emergencies, which this moment certainly was. The prince just wished he had more of the life-saving poultice. As it happened, he slapped his only healing gel onto the garish wound around his right shoulder and felt instant relief…enough that Bram was no longer limping as he strode forward to where the demon waited at the far end of the courtyard.
The Impure
Unsurprisingly, the demon was much less conversational now that there were spectators nearby.
Perhaps The Impure didn’t want to give its identity away with its distorted voice, for surely no one could connect this bloated monstrosity to the stout-looking vicomte with the fashionable beard who was supposed to have returned to his Resolute Fortress in Koble Shire. Or perhaps it was Rowan’s presence that stole this demon’s voice away. She had that effect on most beings after all.
“Flametail leopard got your tongue, Vicomte?” Bram taunted.
As he predicted, murmurs began among the crowd.
“Vicomte?” someone asked.
Bram recognized the speaker. He’d heard Sir Edwin Mallory’s gruff voice during Rowan’s knighting ceremony.
“I think His Highness is hinting that there’s a person underneath all that stuffing,” replied another voice, a female one Bram also recognized. “Might be true…demons can’t exist without a host.”
He always thought that Ser Aveline Allard was one of the smarter knights under his employ, and if she and Ser Edwin were here, Bram assumed the rest of his household’s knights were around too. Now, any other high noble might wonder why they didn’t step forward to assist their lord, but not Bram. He didn’t doubt that Ser Anthony kept them back. If the prince decided he could handle this situation himself then his most loyal retainer would trust his lord’s judgment.
That’s right… Bram’s gaze fixed on the blob-like face that had lost any semblance of the man it once was. This is my adventure.
A pair of eyes as black as a moonless night sent an icy glare in the prince’s direction, but he didn’t cower back. His old powerless self might have, but not Bram as he was now.
He raised his left arm to the side, his hand reaching out for something unseen. A second later, there came the sound of shifting rubble.
“Return.”
A shared trait among all magic items that required attunement was how they were magically connected to their wielders. The Loom took this connection even further by allowing its users to recall any magic items locked to their account so long as these magic items were within their reach. That’s why Dusk’s handle came flying into Bram’s hands, though he had to sacrifice a bit of health in place of his lacking magic power to use the item system’s ‘Telekinesis’ feature.
Bram used even more health to ignite Dusk’s blade, earning him a few ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ from his audience. Particularly because of how large the violet-orange blade was. Despite how well he’d done in round one, Bram no longer had ‘Status Emulation’ to fall back on. He needed something else to give him an edge, one sharp enough to cut through even a demon’s corrupted flesh. Dusk’s new blade was twice as tall and twice as thick as its longsword version, costing Bram nearly twice the amount of health to ignite.
With only half his health left to fight with, doubt filled his mind once more.
If I get hit even once…
His brow creased.
No…I can’t think like this…
He hefted his greatsword’s blade over his shoulder.
To overcome my fate, I must have confidence.
His left hand tightened around Dusk’s handle.
Like Hajime says…I can do this.
With that thought filling him with resolve, Bram charged forward—and those who watched his back couldn’t help feeling a slight stirring in their chests.
“Ill-Fated—”
As before, The Impure moved so fast that it crossed the distance between it and Bram within a blink of an eye.
“—Prince!”
However, the prince wasn’t one to fall on the same sword twice, and he’d already added the demon’s supernatural speed into his calculations. It was why Dusk was already mid-swing even before The Impure appeared before him.
“Tonight’s the night—”
Empowered by both hands, Bram slid Dusk across The Impure’s stomach, though the thick violet-orange blade barely caused a dent in the demon’s flesh.
“—I’m retiring—”
Once the first slash was completed, Bram twisted his wrists one-hundred-and-eighty degrees and sent the greatsword back down the path it came from, but with as much strength as Bram could afford to give it.
“—that fucking moniker!”
Sending it down the same path did the trick.
The demon’s weakened flesh couldn’t withstand Dusk’s second strike, its violet-orange blade slashing through thick skin and soft fleshy parts to come out the other side in a spray of dark ichor.
“Yes!” Ser Anthony yelled excitedly.
Even with his focus fixed on the battle, Bram could still hear the chatter from behind.
“Oy, might that masked man truly be our prince?” His River-Danes accent easily identified Ser Lief Coulson, the blonde knight who’d also assisted in Rowan’s knighting ceremony. “Seems impossible for us not to know he had such skill, don’t it?”
“One successful hit doesn’t make him skilled,” was Ser Bennu Sabry’s curt reply.
Speaking of that one successful hit, it was a success that would cost Bram as well. Some of the dark ichor spraying out of the cut he’d made in the demon’s gut splashed onto his arm, causing the skin to burn on contact as if it were a particularly volatile venom.
ALERT! You’ve been inflicted with [Poisoned Ichor]. You will continue to lose health while this affliction is not cured.
ALERT! [Rage of the Angry Ghost] is burning with anger… Its expression is changing [4/10].
Fortunately, the angrier Bram got, the less painful his injuries became. As a bonus, the angrier he was, the less likely ‘Poisoned Ichor’ affected him. Even more fortunate, it seemed The Impure couldn’t use its supernatural speed in succession because it was quite slow to react to Bram’s third attack—the downward slash that turned its first cut into an ‘X’ shaped wound.
More dark ichor splashed onto Bram’s flesh—his right hand this time—but he just gritted his teeth and kept his guard up. Regrettably, ‘Rage of the Angry Ghost’ didn’t activate this time.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“What in seven hells is that blade?” Ser Aveline asked.
“Indeed, it’s sharp and durable,” Ser Edwin began answering, “but it’s more than just his sword…”
“My nephew has talent,” Vicomte Conrad agreed.
Suddenly, Bram’s ‘Danger Sense’ kicked in, and he ducked just in time to avoid The Impure’s hands as they tried to wrap around him. The prince slipped under the demon’s bloated arm and escaped to its side, but The Impure chased after him. It hurled a backhanded swing to catch Bram before he could regain his footing, but Bram raised Dusk in time to block the incoming blow with the flat side of his violet-orange blade.
ALERT! [Rage of the Angry Ghost] is burning with anger… Its expression is changing [5/10].
Despite having blocked the attack, the force of The Impure’s blow was so strong Bram staggered backward, and unable to regain his footing in time, he couldn’t completely dodge the fist that came streaking toward him. The glancing blow lifted Bram off his feet, sending him barreling into the rubble made from the top of the rampart he’d broken with the ‘Sundering’ spell.
ALERT! [Rage of the Angry Ghost] is burning with anger… Its expression is changing [6/10].
Interestingly, though they were on the other side of the mound of rubble, Bram was now close enough to the crowd to hear their comments once more. Among them was one loud voice that set Bram’s teeth on edge.
“Shouldn’t we help him?” Ser Severin asked. “We can’t let our governor die in front of us, can we?”
The fact that he could hear genuine concern in the handsome knight’s tone annoyed Bram more.
“Be still, Brother,” Lady Petra cut Ser Severin off again. “If His Highness’ knights aren’t moving to help him, then it’s not our place to interfere.”
To Bram’s ears, it didn’t sound like an excuse. Indeed, he thought he heard a hint of expectation in Lady Petra’s voice. Bram didn’t want to disappoint his spectators, and something appeared to help him do just that.
A body lay half-buried in the rubble, and Bram recognized one of the three hooded figures who’d arrived with Vicomte Henry. Despite being buried in chunks of stone, the unrecognizable man was still alive. Unconscious, but alive, which was exactly what Bram needed him to be.
ALERT! [Rage of the Angry Ghost] is burning with anger… Its expression is changing [7/10].
Despite lacking the bite to truly hurt him, ‘Poison Ichor’ had become a boon for him. With each burning pain he felt in his arms, the chance of activating his mask’s curse also grew.
Sadly, I don’t think I’ll stay poisoned much longer.
The prince glanced over his shoulder to be certain that the mound of rubble obscured him from his spectators’ gazes. Hearing someone yell, “Has the prince gone into hiding?” assured him this was indeed the case.
I can’t believe I’m considering this…
Knowing he had only seconds, Bram leaned down toward the bloody arm protruding out of the rubble. He then pulled his mask up just high enough for his mouth to be free of it, though not high enough that he would break the curse it placed on him.
But beggars can’t be choosers…
An awkward smile flashed on Bram’s face, showing off the twin fangs that grew to meet his intentions, and then he bit the unconscious man’s arm.
ALERT! The right conditions have been met to activate [Blood Drinking Lv.1] Draining the target’s blood will restore a set amount of HP.
For the blood is the life…
As a blood champion, Bram’s desire to consume his enemy’s blood was quite addicting, but as his regular self, the mere taste of it on his tongue made him want to gag. Still, thanks to continually draining Rowan’s blood during the incident with the Midnight Shard, ‘Blood Drinking’ belonged to him now, and it served Bram’s needs regardless of his disgust for the deed.
You have activated [Blood Drinking Lv.1]. A large portion of your total HP is restored [220/320]. [Poison Ichor] has also been cured.
It took him just seconds to drain the man of his life’s blood, and when the deed was done, Bram raised his head and discovered that he’d added another nameless face to his ledger.
It was him or me…
“I see you…”
There came the taunting voice of a demon, and Bram turned his head to the side only to find that The Impure was observing him from nearby. An evil grin stretched to the corners of its mouth.
“So, this is the power you gained in the goddess’—”
“I’ve heard that voice before,” Vicomte Conrad spoke up.
“Strangely, so have I,” Ser Anthony agreed.
The demon’s grin quickly turned upside down. Meanwhile, Bram, after returning his mask to its original position, couldn’t help laughing out loud.
“Don’t be concerned with them,” Bram’s voice dripped with sarcasm, “Vicomte Henry Kle—”
The Impure let out a screech so horrific that Bram might have been inflicted with another ‘Malicious Scorn’ even with his mask’s protection if he hadn’t cut its screeching short with the broken blade he flung into its mouth.
More than simply making the demon choke, the enchantment Bram had cast on the blade he’d stolen from the dead assassin’s corpse burst into flames on impact, causing The Impure a degree of elemental damage.
“I’d replicated Bridget’s Fiery Arrow just in case, but now I know why it’s her favorite spell.”
While the demon was preoccupied with clearing its mouth of the flames burning inside it, Bram quickly bridged the distance between them. Then, as he got right inside The Impure’s guard, he raised Dusk high with both hands and with butt clenched, roared, “Power Strike!”
Finding that half-dead assassin buried in the rubble was quite a boon for Bram who now had enough health to use the one-time spells he’d replicated from his friends. And ‘Power Strike,’ which he’d borrowed from Chris, proved a devastating blow even to a demon of the seven hells. Glowing slivers of crimson aura wrapped around the edges of Dusk’s violet-orange blade just as Bram swung it down on The Impure’s head.
‘Boom!’
Though not powerful enough to crush the demon, ‘Power Strike’ was a blow that brought The Impure to its knees while causing the ground underneath it to crack from the impact of an empowered strike. Dark ichor spurted out of the garish wound Bram dealt its shoulder, and he was just all too eager to let it splash against his face to inflict him with more ‘Poison Ichor’ just to ensure the arrival of a new notification.
ALERT! [Rage of the Angry Ghost] is burning with anger… Its expression is changing [8/10].
Two more to go…
At this point, the mask on Bram’s face no longer looked like a typical ‘Geist’ but had morphed to resemble that of a demon’s visage. Twin horns now protruded from its brow while its porcelain shell had lost its white coating, replaced by a dark gray shade that was on the cusp of turning black.
Bram’s audience didn’t seem to care about his mask’s changes. They seemed more interested in the fact that he had just cast two spells in a row, a feat no one thought the Ill-Fated Prince who lacked magic in his veins could do.
“I thought he couldn’t use magic?” Lady Petra asked, the confusion clear in her voice.
“Clearly, that’s no longer the case,” her twin answered, also sounding surprised.
Bram couldn’t help grinning.
I still have two spells out of the five I’d replicated… It should be enough…
Bram regretted the arrogant words even as he said them because he knew better than to tempt fate. Indeed, he should have expected it. He knew from first-hand experience that a boss fight didn’t end in just one or two stages.
Certainly, The Impure was far from finished, though Bram had dealt it enough damage for the demon to transform into its final form.
“Bloody hell…”
To Bram’s surprise, the x-shaped wound he’d given the demon widened so that its stomach opened in some grotesque parody of a mouth. Teeth shaped like a man’s ribcage grew from the hole in its stomach just as a forked tongue lashed out of the abyss within it to pierce Bram’s left arm which he’d raised at the last minute to keep it from spearing his chest.
ALERT! [Rage of the Angry Ghost] is burning with anger… Its expression is changing [9/10].
Bram felt himself get pulled forward.
“Aa~~ah!”
The prince let loose an angry howl as he used the momentum of getting dragged into the demon’s stomach to fuel his next attack.
“You can have my arm”—Bram drove Dusk’s violet-orange blade into The Impure’s chest—“but I’ll take your life!”
Bram’s taunt was far from accurate though.
Even impaled by Dusk’s violet-orange blade, The Impure did not die. On the other hand, the mouth on the demon’s stomach closed on Bram’s left arm, and though its bone-like teeth pierce his flesh, something otherworldly happened for it to spit him right out.
ALERT! You have fulfilled the conditions for [Rage of the Angry Ghost]! For ten seconds, you can use the power of a [Berserker].
An inferno of rage grew inside Bram to burn away all other emotions from his mind so that only anger remained among the ashes. At least that’s what should have happened, but there was one other change blossoming in him to defy his expectations.
ALERT! [????] has reacted to the presence of a demon!
Despite all his senses being overridden by his rage, Bram could feel the strange coldness emanating from the cursed scar on his left hand…and a great bout of fear—the kind one felt at sensing the end of life—blossomed inside him. Death herself had come…and she was holding his hand.