Chapter 33: 33 CHAPTER XXII The Pride of Dobmouth

It was like a plea, like a prayer to the gods above through the thick clouds.

"Oh, I wish it had been ...... Herto, Herto Stanley who was caught with me!

And at the end of that prayer, I'm not there.

The breath is hot. I can feel it in my body, being generated in my lungs, passing through my tubes, and carrying the hot air throughout my body. A fearsome heat was circulating in my body.

Even in the past, when I was traveling with this woman and Fialat La Volgograd, I wonder if I ever felt this kind of spitting heat and hatred that threatened to consume the outside.

Oh, even in this time? Are you still the same now?

I remember. I remember. Master sorcerer. Not in this moment of crisis. Of course you weren't that upset. But you said that every time you looked at me.

--Oh, my God, it's you. I wish it was Helt.

I wish it was you. It's weird, it's steaming inside.

Of course. Of course. I'm just a deadbeat rat at every turn. I'm just giving you the benefit of the doubt. That's very noble, very nice.

The flames of the ceramic candlesticks that had so far only flickered in our shadow now cast a large shadow on the wall. It clinked and clinked as it approached. It was a soldier, or should I say a decapitator, with a beheading sword, his face covered by a helmet, methodically clad in armor.

"Get up. Come one. The saint has arrived. Have you finished your prayers?

Apparently, they've already lost their nerve. Apparently they had already lost their nerve, and wanted to make an example of one of them in order to catch the two who were probably still running around the passages of the underground temple.

Fialaat cowered with a muffled cry. His face was completely pale, he was upset, he had no hope. That's the expression on his face.

No wonder I have a reputation as a rat. In Fearat, that reputation will never change no matter what. So I'll take it.

But there's no way I can suppress this feeling that's crawling up my spine and threatening to spew out of my mouth and eyes.

"Very well. You're always the same, Master Sorcerer.

With a flicker, the shadow lying on the wall wavered and stood up.

The ceramic candlestick made of hexamerous fat was actively flickering as if it was shaking itself. As he stood up, he dropped the remaining chewing tobacco in his pocket, which increased the intensity of the flame even more. The heat was so strong that I could feel it just by getting a little closer.

I stood up quickly, and Fialat stared at me with his moist eyes. Unexpected, you say? I don't know.

You're right, unfortunately, I was, am, and will always be a rat. So I'm not going to be able to rescue you with the flair of Herdt Stanley.

And it looks like this," he said, showing off the rope tied behind his back. The guards looked at me with suspicion as I stood up easily, but they didn't immediately try to harm me.

I'm sure they did. They have their own aesthetics. I'm sure they're using that aesthetic and technique to kill me. Plus, there's five or six of us here with guards. They're thinking they can take me down no matter what I do.

Oh, I'm angry. It's aggravating. The heat is raging in my stomach. You underestimate me. You too. Oh, you, too, if this were Held Stanley, you'd all be holding spears and setting up a perimeter.

I pull on the rope and stick out my elbows, thinking such delusional and ridiculous thoughts. The flame of the candlestick below me seemed to be flickering strangely.

I see, kicking up is not powerful enough. Besides, you'd have to take them by surprise.

But, sorcerer. A rat has its pride. Please stand back and watch. And if there's an opening, run for your life.

He slowly twisted it in his back pocket so that only Fialaat could see it.

It is an adhesive fluid made from the mucus of hexenbiests, purchased in Galuamaria. Originally used as an adhesive, it can be easily purchased as a daily necessity. You can take the knife and the money, but... No one's gonna look at this crap.

But it's still very useful. Of course it's useful for day-to-day use, but this thing, it burns good.

What? It's simple. Now that I have the knife, I can't cut the rope anymore. So now. I have to burn it off. I'll have to leave you the handkerchief I got from Alueno, though. If you're lucky, it'll stay in the canteen.

--well, from the elbow. What, we did something similar a long time ago. Except I was the only prisoner then.

I kicked my feet for a moment, gaining momentum.

I put all my weight from my elbow into the ceramic candlestick and hit it with force. I pressed the hardest part of the candlestick against it to smash it.

For a moment, I could see Fialaert's lips moving as if to say, "What? But he left those words behind.

--Then, with a crunch!

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With such a white noise, the pottery crumbled away.

The first thing I felt was my elbow.

The first thing I felt was an intense pain that pierced not only my elbow, but my entire body. The first thing I felt was an intense pain that pierced not only my elbow, but my entire body. It was so painful that I thought my body would split in half from the tip of my elbow.

The elbow bone, which had been smashed into the ceramic and then thrust directly into the cobblestone floor, was undeniably abnormal. Oh, thank God my dominant arm is okay.

And at the same time, the burning pain. Ah, yes, this flame is pain. I'm fast past the hot stage.

The flames, now free, spread from my elbow to my clothes, adding fuel in the form of mucus, and then spread out across the room.

In an instant, the damp, dry little things burst into flames, as if releasing a grudge that had been contained in a diminutive candlestick.

Naturally, that momentum fell on me. It ignites and runs down my arms and waist, burning my skin.

Oh, burn, burn, burn. It's not enough. My guts hold more heat than that. That's not enough to burn me. That's not enough to kill my feelings.

The high-pitched screams of the phialats and the panicked cries of the guards ring in my ears.

Oh, this is fun. Delightful. You underestimated me. You underestimated me, you underestimated me.

You must have been in a panic. The beheading sword slipped from the hand of the decapitator standing in front of me. Oh, and I forgot to tell you...

"The water bottle!　The water bottle!

I've already burned through my rope.

He picks up the beheading sword with both hands on his back. And just like that.

--A black streak streaked through the flames, caressing the small gap between his armor and helmet, and gouged his neck. 　

It was not a targeted move. No, I can assure you. It was a smooth, picked-up motion, a swing like the ultimate in martial arts.

The flesh was torn, the cervical vertebrae severed, and the mouth of the decapitator, pathetically separated from the body, could be seen to have been shaped like that of a demon.

The look on his face was fear. Wariness. That must be it. The look on his face as he stared at the apparition. So did those around him who dared to point their spears. I see fear in their faces. I see fear. Ah, then it's simple. It's all because they're my prisoners.

The black streaks of the beheading sword matched strangely with the red of the flames.

"Ah! G-hah!

Don't die, don't die. Definitely. I'll die here. That's fine. Just die.

Some fall down around you, sobbing convulsively. Some crying out in terror. The ones whose bodies are starting to burn just like mine. I hope they all die.

Their breaths are truly hot, their throats burning and aching with every breath. But it's not enough, not even close to the heat inside. Not like this. It's not this kind of heat. There's still not enough heat in the guts to feed the hate.

--But the body is clearly reaching its limits.

I can't feel my left arm anymore. It's exposed to the heat and pain of the flames, but it can't feel anything. Even though his back is also covered with flames, he still has no sensation.

As my senses fade, so does my vision. I can't do it. I'm at my limit. Somewhere in the distance, I thought I heard the strangely haunting voice of Fialaat.

Oh, but you've done rather well. I don't know if humans are supposed to be able to move while being whipped around by flames like this. Was there a tonic or something strange in there?

Well, that's okay. Anyway, in the end, I didn't compromise. I can be me. I can die with the heat on. What more could I ask for? Oh, it can't be.

Please, Fialaat. Take advantage of this mess and get out if you can. Your arms are bound, but your legs should be safe. If you're too shaken and frightened to run, then give up.

I can't be that caring to save people. I'm not Held Stanley, I'm not a hero. I'm just Lugis.

And you see, the black shadow that once brought me to this time. I, Lugis, am finished here. This is no way to save a woman. You're ruined. There's no hero like this in any play. 　　　　

But it's good for a rat, don't you think?

--Yeah, too good.

With such a voice in the corner of my ear, my body, almost unable to breathe, fell down on the spot as if following the laws of nature.

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