The matriarch of the Bathory lineage was known as Mother Bathory, whose true identity was Elizabeth Bathory. She was presently a formidable warlock locked in a bitter feud with Human-meat Chef. However, she hadn't always been a warlock.
It may seem implausible, but it's the truth.
Elizabeth Bathory was originally a wizard. And not just any wizard, but the heir to a line of esteemed wizards hailing from the central continent.
Despite the central continent's unique geographical features and the calamitous presence of the Pied Piper, the Bathory family remained relatively obscure. Yet, despite their low profile, the Bathory lineage was surprisingly forward-thinking in retrospect.
They identified the correlation between conventional magic and black magic, usually seen as separate, and were the pioneers in acknowledging the vast potential benefits of mastering this connection.
The process of accumulating and examining black magic knowledge may have marred the family's reputation, but their research undoubtedly progressed positively.
Had they continued their investigation smoothly and yielded results, they might have cemented their place in history, possibly relocating to ‘Galos' or ‘Landa' to bask in a new era of prominence.
But that was not to be.
The cause? The Human-meat Chef and Bathory's affection for him.
The specifics of how the Human-meat Chef wormed his way in or how Bathory came to love the Human-meat Chef remain a mystery to all but those directly involved. However, one fact is undeniable: Bathory's excessive love for Human-meat Chef led her astray, culminating in the shameful downfall of both her and her lineage.
Despite this, the central figure, Bathory, endured.
And she made a vow to always remember.
The rage she felt at that time.
The disgrace she experienced then.
The grief she suffered.
The betrayal she endured.
Bathory, through a sliver of her family's knowledge she managed to save, miraculously rejuvenated her dying body.
Surviving in the underworld, she renounced her identity as a wizard, her thoughts consumed solely by the desire for vengeance.
Even if it required her to abandon her humanity and dealing with Demons.
These times were undeniably desolate and brutal, yet Bathory never knew fear. Once she committed to revenge, there was nothing left to fear.
…Indeed, there was nothing to fear. However, at this moment, Bathory was reminded of a long-forgotten fear that once haunted her.
"Do, don't come closer!!"
Bathory, her limbs severed, writhed and shrieked like an injured insect.
Her state was pitiful, yet it paled in comparison to the looming fear of death.
She attempted to reattach her arms and legs, but to no avail.
The blade swung by Dave did not allow any regeneration or recovery as if it had been cursed.
Despite her efforts to decipher the reason, nothing made sense.
Except for one thing.
‘As long as that guy is alive, I will never recover.'
In her state of desperation, Bathory cast her gaze upon Dave.
A young man of about twenty, who had only recently begun to make a name for himself.
"Lady Bathory. After cutting off the limbs… what is it?"
Bathory experienced a wave of fear at his presence, quickly followed by a deep sense of humiliation.
It was as if her sorrowful past, her rage, her hatred, and her efforts were all being invalidated.
And so, Bathory attempted to extinguish the being in front of her, taming her fear, in a bid to affirm her own existence.
"Grr… Die!!"
Despite her severed limbs, Bathory retained her ability to manipulate blood.
At Bathory's command, the surrounding blood coalesced into a formidable blade and hurtled toward Dave, who promptly raised his black blade in response.
His handling of the knife seemed inexperienced, merely standing and swinging, yet to her surprise, he traced a graceful arc, effortlessly slicing through the blood blade.
Too effortlessly, in reality.
"……."
The blood blade disintegrated, devoid of any power.
Witnessing this, Bathory was dumbstruck.
It was surreal.
A mere blend of trivial emotions and a minuscule ‘irritation' from the caster incorporated into a pathetic knife, and to imagine that the blood magic she had spent her life perfecting was nullified… This was unacceptable. It was grossly unfair.
"Lady Bathory?"
Dave called her once more, causing Bathory to lift her gaze toward him.
Whether it was a manifestation of her fear or not, his figure appeared warped, barely recognizable as human.
"What should I do after cutting off your limbs?"
"Uh… uh… aaaaaaaaaaaah!!!"
Consumed by fear, Bathory let out a scream and the blood answered her call. Emerging from the ceiling's holes and the wall's crevices, it surged towards Dave.
It morphed into dozens of forms – blades, spears, bullets, bombs, flames, cold, electricity, and poison.
Each time, Dave casually swung his knife, employing just his shoulder, elbow, and wrist. Every swing rendered Bathory's blood-formed attacks futile.
Blades shattered, spears snapped, bullets and bombs disassembled, and flames, cold, electricity, and poison were neutralized.
She couldn't accept it. It was simply too outrageous. Wasn't the term ‘Genius' merely a commonplace classification?
Confronted by the inexplicable absurdity unfolding before her, Bathory mustered her dwindling strength to call forth a ‘blood balloon' using the scant blood she had left.
Her unique creation that maintained a significant quantity of blood in a fresh state.
Resembling a massive blister, the blood balloon pulsed and ruptured, spilling a torrent of blood.
Whoosh! Swoosh!!
Using this blood, Bathory summoned another ‘blood balloon' and replicated the action multiple times.
In doing so, she managed to fill the space with blood.
At this scale, she might be able to land a blow that could evade his knife…
"…..Huh?"
Bathory blurted out, her expression stunned.
She had undoubtedly intended to manifest spears and swords from all directions to impale and eliminate the enemy in front of her, but the blood failed to respond, remaining eerily still.
‘No… it's not that it's not responding… It's been taken away!’
From the tranquil sea of blood, Bathory's gaze fell upon Dave.
A tiny bead of blood was stirring in Dave's hand.
"So, it moves like this."
Upon witnessing the tiny droplet of blood move with such precision, Bathory was once again left speechless.
It was because her mind struggled to comprehend the series of shocking events unfolding.
"How…?"
"Huh? Oh… my blood is mixed in."
Dave revealed the blood oozing from his injury.
"So I tried just in case… and it works?"
Dave gestured with his finger. A pathway emerged, parting the space between Bathory and Dave like the biblical Red Sea.
As he approached, Dave… or rather, an unfamiliar entity, Bathory watched in a daze, taking a deep breath.
The overwhelming fear usurped the anger, humiliation, sadness, and betrayal she had pledged never to forget, and the desire to survive from the presence before her took complete control of her mind.
"I, I offer a truce—"
—Swish.
Dave swung his arm, and Bathory's line of sight abruptly swiveled to the side and started rolling away.
As her gaze dropped, Bathory caught sight of her body.
Her own body, now decapitated.
⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩
"………Hmm."
Roughly ten seconds after decapitating Bathory, Oliver scratched his chin and hummed.
Once the deed was done, a wave of regret washed over him.
Upon reflection, there were numerous questions he could have asked her.
About blood magic, or the Human-meat Chef, or even the Life school faction…
"Or I could have asked about the clock apocalypse… Hmm…."
Oliver let out another sigh, berating himself for not considering this earlier.
There was no need for the final blow……
But it was already in the past. Oliver chose to temporarily set aside his remorse and focus on what he could do presently.
First, Oliver scanned his surroundings in search of the quarterstaff he had missed.
Fortunately, the quarterstaff was close by, and as soon as Oliver picked it up, he extracted emotions and mana from the vast pool of blood on the floor, used the blood puddle, and ascended the lab.
The place he emerged was the secret experimental site where he had first navigated via the blood puddle. Oliver unfastened the magic bag at his waist and pulled out a large leather case.
It was the leather case containing Bigmouth, and Oliver took out the folded Bigmouth that was stored and put it on the floor.
Bigmouth swelled like bread dough, blinking its several eyes, croaking like a toad, and looking at Oliver.
"Grrr? Grrr?"
"It's not a new house, we're just on a short trip. I'm in a hurry, could you help me with something right away?"
This time, having a lot of work to do, Oliver took out a 100,000 Landa note from his wallet.
Bigmouth, who rarely saw such high-denomination bills, nodded happily.
After eating the 100,000 Landa note, Bigmouth swallowed up all the corpses in the secret lab as per Oliver's instructions.
This includes the female warlock from the Bathory family whose head was crushed, the Enhanced Human-C03 with one head, and several other experimental subjects.
There were less than ten usable female warlocks, and the number of experimental bodies from the Life School faction was just over ten, so it didn't take as long as expected.
It was as if only the useless experimental bodies were discarded and left behind.
"Still, I should take care of it for now."
With the thought that anything could be useful, Oliver continued to collect items.
When he had been collecting for a while, Bigmouth stopped and spoke to Oliver.
"Grrrr… Grrrr. Gurrr."
Bigmouth said that its stomach was full and it couldn't swallow much more.
Oliver was slightly surprised at Bigmouth's statement that its stomach was full, but upon reflection, it wasn't that strange.
Since the early days of being a solver, whenever he had a catch, he had Bigmouth swallow it, so the accumulated amount would be considerable.
No matter how big Bigmouth was, and how large its swallowing capacity was relative to its size, it wasn't infinite.
Oliver fell into deep thought and then asked a question.
"By any chance, would you be able to swallow ten bottles of this size and one more corpse?"
"Grrrrr……"
Bigmouth seemed to be struggling, contemplating. Oliver persuaded it.
"I'll give you another 100,000 Landa note."
"Grrrr!”
Bigmouth readily agreed.
⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩ ⏩
Whoosh!
Oliver descended to the lowest floor of the Chimera Research Institute with Bigmouth using a blood pool.
After wiping the blood streaming down his face, Oliver lifted his shoulder bag into the air using magic, opened the flask, and filled it with Bathory's blood.
The blood quickly filled up.
As previously instructed, Bigmouth swallowed the round flasks filled with blood and then spat out something.
It was nothing other than a huge bandaged hammer, a loot acquired after a fight with the disciples of Human-meat Chef.
When Oliver unwrapped the bandages around the hammer, a crimson hammer with flesh attached to a white bone base was revealed.
Perhaps pleased to be out after a long time, the crimson hammer wiggled, and lips like worms sprouted here and there.
Gulp. Gulp.
The hammer opened the sprouted lips wide and greedily inhaled the smell of blood, soon expressing a desire to drink.
It didn't speak, but it was felt through the hand holding the hammer.
"Do you want to drink?"
To the crimson hammer, which answered by wiggling, Oliver whispered, "I'll let you drink. Can you do me a favor later?"
The crimson hammer readily agreed.
Oliver tossed the hammer into the sea of blood, and the crimson hammer greedily absorbed the blood, like a wanderer stumbling upon an oasis in the desert.
Relentlessly.
As a result, the sea of blood that had flooded the floor gradually diminished, enabling Oliver to locate Bathory's dismembered body.
"Ah, I should take care of this one too.”
Saying so, Oliver called Bigmouth.
(To be Continued on June 19(MON))
OR
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