The Whisper of the God of Love (Part 8)

The wind whipped against his cheeks, a cold, sharp caress.

Ewan leaped, a graceful, almost suicidal arc through the air, as if willingly, eagerly throwing himself into the monster’s waiting embrace.

Elka’s face lit up with a look of pure, unadulterated, ecstatic joy. She reached out her hands, a hundred of them, like a gentle, loving wife welcoming her beloved home in the dead of night.

If only she didn’t have several hundred hands.

“ANNE!”

Sensing the timing was perfect, Ewan let out a mighty, earth-shaking roar.

And then, the steel sang.

A forest of gleaming, razor-sharp metal thorns erupted from the ground, slamming violently into the monster’s grotesque, pulsating body. Countless sharp blades twisted and churned, slicing through every inch of the deformed flesh, their clashing edges creating a brutal, blood-soaked symphony of iron and death. Like a fleet of spiked steel chariots crashing into a mountain of raw, living meat, the monster’s body was instantly torn open in several places, leaving massive, gaping, and utterly horrifying wounds.

“Ah—”

Elka screamed.

But there was no pain in her voice.

Only a raw, terrifying, and almost orgasmic excitement.

She twisted the face embedded in her flesh and looked at the maid in the distance, the one who commanded the steel with such beautiful, deadly grace.

“Master, you really did come back for me, didn’t you?”

“Yes. I’ve come back, Elka.”

Anne let out a long, slow, and steadying breath. She folded her hands at her waist, her back ramrod straight.

Once again, the perfect, unflappable maid.

She stared, without a single flicker of fear, at the abomination that had nearly shattered her mind just a short while ago, at the hundreds of wailing, weeping faces that screamed their twisted love for her.

This time, her gaze was as firm and unyielding as the very steel she commanded.

“I’ve come to save you.”

“Huh? I feel like something is different about you, Master. Is it just my imagination?”

Elka was confused for a moment, then she let out a soft, girlish, and deeply unsettling giggle.

“Oh, well! That’s not important! All that matters is that you’re my Master!”

“And you’ll accept my love, won’t you, Master? After all, you understand me, don’t you?”

“I love you, Master!”

Hundreds of faces roared in a single, deafening, and soul-shaking unison, the soundwave so powerful it made the very steel around them tremble and groan. The deformed flesh writhed again, and the gaping wounds healed in a matter of seconds. New, cancerous flesh began to grow along the steel thorns, like a virulent rust, or a fungal bloom. The corrupted steel quickly lost its integrity, crumbling into useless, gray dust that scattered in the wind.

Anne’s gaze darkened. New steel condensed at her side and once again charged the twisted, ever-growing monster. The monster, not to be outdone, lunged forward with a wet, sickening squelch.

A new battle began.

A clash of monsters, a fight to the death.

On the other side of the battlefield, Ewan was sprinting across a bridge of forged steel, heading straight for the part of the monster where Elka’s head was embedded. A whirlwind of sharp, spinning blades spun around him, mowing down the constantly growing and regenerating limbs like a scythe through a field of wheat.

But no matter how fast the blades spun, against the sheer, overwhelming, and seemingly endless number of regenerating limbs, a few were bound to slip through. And against such a terrifying, Zerg-like number, even a few were enough to be suffocating.

Countless limbs shot out from all angles, sealing off his path, trying to grab him. Several of the faces turned toward him, their expressions twisted in a demonic, hungry grin, as if they could already taste their new meal, the moment he would be absorbed and become one with them.

Love should be shared, and so should pain, right?

How could we let you be the only one who doesn’t get to become like this?!

“It seems I’m still being underestimated.”

Ewan laughed at himself. He was the one who had drawn the aggro, who had started this whole insane fight, and yet, Elka’s attention was still completely, obsessively focused on Anne. She had only spared a few of her hundreds of faces to watch him, as if he were nothing more than a minor, insignificant annoyance.

But was that a bad thing?

No. It was wonderful!

It was far, far better than he could have ever hoped for.

Sneak into the village, and don’t fire a single shot.

A strategy he hadn’t even dared to dream of was now a reality, all thanks to Elka’s all-consuming, and very convenient, obsession with Anne.

Ewan’s lips pulled back in a wide, silent, and utterly manic grin.

He opened his hands, making a grasping motion.

Anne, who had been keeping a sliver of her attention on him, seemed to understand instantly.

A pair of curved, elegant, and perfectly balanced short swords appeared in his hands.

This was the weapon he had asked her to make for him in advance. He had realized while using the hatchet that, unlike a light, delicate dagger that was better suited for a woman, he was much more comfortable with a more powerful, substantial short sword. And the shape of the blades wouldn’t interfere with his hard-won Dagger Combat skills at all.

This was a win-win situation!

“Eat my Lightning Whirlwind Slash!”

Ewan leaped into the air, his twin blades a blur of shimmering silver light as he hacked and slashed at the writhing, fleshy limbs before him.

Blood sprayed everywhere.

The blades Anne had forged were incredibly, almost supernaturally sharp. In an instant, he had carved a bloody opening in the cage of flesh. New limbs immediately shot out to fill the gap.

But it was too late.

Shadow Step!

The powerful movement technique of the deadly assassin was unleashed once again. Ewan’s figure became a phantom, a blur that was almost impossible to see with the naked eye, and he shot through the opening like a bullet.

It was true, as he himself had said, that he only had a few tricks up his sleeve.

But damn, they were good tricks.

Who doesn’t love a flash with almost no cooldown? As long as he wasn’t interrupted by a martial art or some other special, bullshit ability, like with the scarred man before, this move was unbeatable in terms of pure, unadulterated mobility.

And you, a monster corrupted by an Evil God, you can’t possibly use a martial art on me, can you?!

Ewan grinned ferociously.

With the cage of limbs breached, there was nothing that could stop him. He pushed forward, and soon, he was just a stone’s throw away from the monster’s abdomen, where Elka’s head was located.

Almost there!

A look of pure, triumphant joy appeared in Ewan’s eyes. Just two more Shadow Steps and he would be right on top of her!

“Just you wait, Elka! I’m coming to— huh?!?”

His triumphant laugh was cut short.

A sudden, jarring, and deeply unwelcome warning screamed in his mind.

Among the writhing, deformed limbs, a completely different arm had appeared. It was like a normal person in a crowd of freaks. No, wait. In a crowd of freaks, the normal one is the real freak.

It was a normal arm.

Thick, and powerful.

Its muscles were as hard and coiled as a dragon.

It aimed its palm at Ewan, and its five fingers suddenly clenched.

As if imitating the claws of some great, mythical beast.

And in that instant, a thunderous, concussive roar erupted from between its fingers.

Ewan’s brain buzzed. A terrifying shockwave, appearing from nowhere, slammed into his chest. He couldn’t help but let out a grunt of pain, the air driven from his lungs. The qi and blood in his body churned violently.

And the Shadow Step he had been about to use was forcibly, brutally, and very rudely interrupted.

“What the hell?”

Ewan stumbled back, his eyes wide with horror as he stared at the arm.

A martial art!

It was a goddamn martial art!

And it was a far more profound, and far more powerful, one than the scarred man’s!

Being silenced so I can’t cast is one thing, but you can interrupt a flash too?!

Huh? Huh?!

Is this League of Legends?! Can a developer please explain the mechanics here?!

“Woof.”

Just as his shocked brain was going off on a wild, nonsensical tangent, he heard a familiar, and deeply unwelcome, bark.

“No way…”

Before his stunned, disbelieving eyes, the thick, powerful arm pushed down on the writhing flesh, and then, with a great heave, a familiar figure pulled itself out.

In an instant, Ewan recognized him.

It was the man who had been turned into a dog.

Elka’s husband.

He was completely naked, the ridiculous… “decorations” still on his body.

But as he stood before Ewan now, his presence was completely different.

This was not a dog. This was a ferocious, wild beast.