Chapter Thirty-Four: I Am Dead (Part One)

Once again, I mustered all my strength to fend off a heavy blow from the Marquis of Menewal. The adventurers, now accustomed to his fighting rhythm, breathed a collective sigh of relief and gathered around him, hacking away with confidence—including myself, though wounded. His strike had shaved off more than a third of my life, but I was within the range of the Minotaur Shaman’s Life Totem, and as usual, by the time he launched his next attack, my health would be nearly restored.

I landed several solid blows against the Marquis’s thigh, savoring the satisfaction of each strike. Suddenly, the Marquis swung his great sword again, cleaving toward me with surprising speed—much earlier than I had anticipated. Caught off guard, my vitality plummeted to less than half, and at that precise moment, the Life Totem entered its magical cooldown, unable to restore me further.

This unexpected turn left me flustered. I was about to call for Bowmaster Sunshot to heal me, when the Marquis did something unforeseen: he beat the pair of wings sprouting from beneath his ribs.

These massive, fleshy wings had grown after his transformation. While I knew no one would add wings to their back simply for aesthetics, he had never used these novel limbs in previous battles, so we had gradually forgotten their presence.

Now, suddenly, those wings beat fiercely, stirring up a wild sandstorm that engulfed us. The coarse dust sealed our vision completely, rendering us blind.

Amid the chaos, I could only catch scattered sounds of fireballs exploding—Black Aurora had always kept his distance from the Marquis, and the sandstorm had not impaired his sight.

Within the gloom, a forceful gust swept toward me, irresistible and overwhelming. It lifted me from the ground and hurled me backward at great speed.

Suspended in the air, I felt a void beneath me, nothing to grasp. I curled my body tightly, hoping to minimize the impact when I landed.

I have no idea how far the wind carried me. My back collided with the floor, and I rolled, scrambling to my feet.

Now, I was outside the sandstorm’s range, my vision restored. I found myself standing against the wall on one side of the hall, a full twenty paces from that swirling chaos.

From my vantage, the figures of Triangular, Bowmaster Sunshot, and Crado flickered in the sandstorm, each with eyes shut tight, holding their breath, blindly groping in place.

The Marquis of Menewal had already ascended to the ceiling, looking down upon his foes with a face twisted between mockery and rage.

As the sandstorm gradually waned below him, the vampire Marquis abruptly drew a deep breath and let out a shrill cry.

This cry was unlike any sound I’d ever heard—not a piercing, harsh noise, yet far from gentle or melodious. It was a needle-like, ethereal tone, reminiscent both of whistling wind and feeble tinnitus, drifting between audible and inaudible, elusive to the senses.

I guessed it must be some strange magic, a direct assault on the mind, perhaps hypnotic. Under its influence, Triangular and the others suddenly seemed dazed, their gaze dull, frozen in place.

Black Aurora’s position was closer to me, and he too was affected by the sound. He was in the midst of preparing an offensive spell, but upon hearing the shriek, he ceased casting, his eyes fluttered shut, and he began to doze where he stood.

Seeing his spell succeed, the Marquis of Menewal threw back his head and laughed wildly, then beat his wings and swooped toward me.

“No one can halt the coming of the Apocalypse King!” His voice rang with arrogance and menace, buzzing with each beat of his wings.

Now, I had nowhere left to retreat and no one to rely on. All I could count on were a battered shield, liable to fail at any moment, and a longsword that had fought by my side countless times.

I had just drained the last vial of healing potion I carried, and with the vampire demon’s savage assault looming, I could not say whether I would last until its effects wore off.

Even if the potion’s power fully took hold, at most, it would let me withstand one more blow. This was my death sentence.

At this moment, words like “luck” and “miracle,” which once brought endless hope, felt hollow and powerless. Perhaps I had escaped danger many times by their grace, but this time, such fortune would not be mine.

I do not know why I was so certain my end was near. Perhaps when a person is about to die, he senses it; or perhaps, when faced with an inescapable doom, he despairs and lets go—not out of cowardice, but as a natural awareness of life.

I cannot recall what the Marquis of Menewal did to me then. In my memory, all that remains of that moment is the act of swinging my sword, again and again, relentlessly.

Like a madman, I expended every ounce of strength, heedless of defense, reckless of my own life. I wish I could say I fought so desperately for something meaningful—my companions, perhaps.

For a time, I even believed that myself: that I sought to whittle down the monster’s health as much as possible before he killed me, so that every ounce of force I spent would grant my friends a better chance.

But in truth, it was not so. While fighting, my mind was empty, incapable of thought or purpose.

I had witnessed many deaths, and seen the spectacle of resurrection. By all I knew, death resembled a deep slumber: when revived, awakening from the great dream, everything remains unchanged.

Yet when you truly confront death, fear still grips you. You feel the cold fingers of the Reaper around your throat, and understand that death is nothing like a restful sleep.

The ferocity and wildness of life are released to their utmost by the threat of death. I was not fighting but struggling, flailing wildly to escape an unknown terror.

In the final act of my life, the vampire Marquis’s enormous sword crashed down upon my left arm. My faithful round shield—and my life—were shattered in an instant.

At last, I would see what Bowmaster Sunshot’s “Sister Death” looked like—was she really as beautiful as rumored? I was surprised that, in such a moment, I could still entertain such idle thoughts.

As everything ended, the light in my eyes faded, dissolving into a suffocating, heavy shadow. The last glimmer pierced my sight, a faint brightness now a blade, stabbing deep into my eyes.

A wave of dizziness and confusion swept over me, and finally, darkness descended.