Gripping the AB Sword in both hands, I knock aside the tentacles rushing at me at high speed.
Crunch!
Unlike before, the tentacles that bounce away bear clear wounds—but far more tentacles than those sent flying come charging in again.
I strike down the tentacle shooting straight up at me from the front and split it in two.
Then I knock away a tentacle curving in from the right with the flat of the blade and spin once.
Whoosh!
With a menacing sound that tears through the air, the tentacles within my range are [ripped] apart or knocked outside it.
There is nothing I can do about the hole in my abdomen, so I hurriedly tore up my shirt and tied it around myself as a makeshift bandage while swinging the AB Sword.
...Still, I am fighting with my abs tensed, thinking that contracting the muscles might at least slow the bleeding a little.
Maybe it is because of the bandage, or because I am keeping my abdominal muscles tight, but it feels like the bleeding has lessened somewhat.
Clang!
Clang!
Screeech!
As I deflect the countless tentacles coming at me one by one and sneak a glance behind me, she is sitting there doing nothing, wearing a dazed expression that is seriously pissing off the person protecting her.
...Fuck this.
"You filthy [extremely severe Orario-style anti-elf slur], pointy-eared bitch! Get your ass up already!"
Throb!
The moment I shout, the puncture wound starts hurting again... Damn it.
"I am—"
Clang!
"Swinging my weapon—"
Screeeech!
"To protect you even with a hole in my goddamn stomach—"
Thud!
"And you are sitting there taking it easy by yourself? Is that nice?"
I try to intercept the approaching tentacles one by one using the swordsmanship tricks Ryu taught me before, but even that is gradually becoming too much.
Just how many tentacles can sprout from that body? I must have cut off at least thirty completely, yet it feels as though their numbers just keep increasing.
Swish—thunk!
One finally gets through and pierces my thigh. I somehow swing the AB Sword and cut it off, but from the wound in my thigh onward, my injuries only continue to multiply.
Flesh is torn from my shoulder.
A long gash opens across my forearm.
As I knock away a tentacle trying to stab my abdomen again with the hilt, my fingers twist out of shape.
Before long, my entire body is drenched in blood, and I barely manage to support myself by driving the AB Sword into the ground.
After losing blood, losing more blood, and becoming intoxicated by the thrill of battle, I think I start hearing some strange hallucination.
『■■■ it... You must pr■■ect ■t much...』
What is that supposed to mean...?
『Protect ■he ch■ld... You must protect at least th■■ much...』
Protect? What?
『You must protect ■t... At least the ch■■d must be pr■tected...』
At least the child... must be protected...?
"That is right. At least the child... has to be protected... Cough..."
When I cough blood onto the ground, a small piece of pink flesh that should not be coming out of my mouth is visible.
The one I am protecting may not have white hair, red eyes, or be a homunculus, nor are they a Master.
But that does not change the fact that they are a [child] I have to protect.
I will protect them, even if it costs me my life.
"Hey, kid."
"..."
"For the next minute, I can fight at full power. Use that time to run, or prepare magic that can take that thing out completely—do whatever you want. And survive."
"..."
No answer until the very end, huh... Elves really are... Tch.
『At least the child must be protected!』
All right, all right...
"If I use this, I will collapse after I am done swinging it, and the weapon will break too. Survive on your own."
Perhaps it realized I was about to attack it with everything I had, or perhaps it saw this as the last desperate struggle of wounded prey. Roots and tentacles burst forth in droves from the ground and from its stem.
Even at a rough glance, there seem to be nearly a hundred roots and tentacles.
Taut tension fills the area, and the instant its attack begins, mine begins as well!
『You protect them!』
"[Nine Lives—Shooting the Hundred Heads!]"
Just before I activate the Noble Phantasm by pouring magic into it, a voice resounds inside my head. The Noble Phantasm activates, and the world slows down. This is the power of enhanced reaction speed.
The instant I register the tentacle closest to me, my body moves automatically and swings the enormous AB Sword. This is the power of automatic interception.
The tentacles are literally torn apart by the AB Sword swung with strength incomparable to before, and the aftershock shakes even the other tentacles and roots. This is the power of super-enhanced strength.
In truth, the AB Sword I am using is practically a failure. Though it is a Noble Phantasm, it is a failed creation with a reproduction rate of 45%, one that crumbles like a magic sword after its true name is released even once.
The Noble Phantasm within it is not the complete Nine Lives, either. Since I cannot imitate that supreme martial art, I merely forced together enhanced strength, enhanced reaction speed, and automatic interception, barely holding on to the outer shell of Nine Lives.
But even if that is all it is, it is more than enough to cut apart a plant that is not a true dragon—not even a snake.
I slash upward and [tear apart] five tentacles.
Then, in the same motion, I swing upward again and [grind them apart.]
Spinning in a circle, with the aid of automatic interception and enhanced reaction speed, I [crush] roughly twenty tentacles closing in from every direction.
Planting a powerful step toward the front and bringing the sword down, I knock away seven tentacles.
One by one, and sometimes several at a time, I tear, rip, grind, and crush them, gradually pulverizing its attack.
But even such martial prowess can only be performed while there is stamina left.
The body that has been abused nonstop while bleeding so much begins to go on strike.
After cutting around ten tentacles, I start to lose my hearing.
After crushing around thirty of its attacks, my left arm stops moving, and I begin swinging the AB Sword with only my right arm.
From around fifty onward, perhaps because my nose has stopped working or because I have grown accustomed to the smell of blood, I can no longer smell anything.
Sixty...
Seventy...
Eighty...
Ninety...
By the time I finally cut down all of its tentacles and roots, sight is the only thing in my body still functioning properly.
Even that keeps shifting between black-and-white and color.
I barely pull myself together and try to aim for that flower-head when the heavy weight I had felt in my right hand suddenly vanishes.
When I lift my barely functioning right arm, all that remains is the wreckage of the AB Sword crumbling into powder except for its hilt—and even the hilt turns to ash and scatters in the wind.
[G■od work. You pr■tected the ch■ld.]
I try to regain my senses through the static-filled hallucination, as though clearing away stone dust.
As I turn my foggy mind toward the flower-head, it is charging at me with its flower-head aimed this way, apparently launching one final attack.
...Is this as far as I go? There are still so many things I have not made, and so many things I want to make. What a shame.
Maybe because all the blood meant for my head has flowed outside, I become strangely calm and my stray thoughts fade away. No, in this case, is it my consciousness that is fading?
『Kieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek!!!!!!』
Then, as I suddenly feel as though a cold wind is blowing from behind me, my consciousness slowly fades to black.
If the last thing I saw was that flower-head freezing pure white in the very pose of charging at me, then I suppose she finally got up.
...Good job.
And then, only darkness remained.