Chapter Seventeen: Boiling Blood

“Get behind me!” Though Lancer shouted this, he had little faith in the other’s ability to move and instead dashed over, putting himself directly between her and the danger.

“Sir Lancer…” Tears had already welled up in her eyes, but Lancer never looked back, nor did he notice. “What are you doing here? Didn’t your father take you to safety?” Lancer, though unable to fight openly, was still ablaze with anger and yelled at her.

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry…” The tears that had filled her eyes now streamed freely down her cheeks, and Lancer realized he’d lost control of himself.

“Enough. No more talking. Hide behind me.” At first, his bloodlust made him a little wild, but as a self-proclaimed recluse, he knew he shouldn’t lose his temper with a girl. Still, a touch of knightly pride kept him from apologizing outright, though his tone had clearly softened.

Griviel stared in disbelief at the man standing before her. In this male-dominated medieval society, men held the highest status, and she never expected Lancer to apologize to her. She was utterly stunned.

“You bastards, looks like you’ll be living a little longer than you thought.” Lancer taunted them directly, hoping his mockery would at least have some effect on the enemy. Though taunts were among his skills, he found that in this world, which was not conjured from a game, the original mechanics were unreliable. Still, they had some use. Wanting to protect the person behind him, he couldn’t dodge, and wounds began to multiply on his body. Yet, perhaps because the “Demon Seed” branching he’d chosen resembled that of a berserker, Lancer found that the more wounds he sustained, the stronger and more focused he became.

“Griviel, if I hold them off for ten seconds, can you make it to that rock?” While fending off the ceaseless storm of arrows, Lancer called out to Griviel behind him.

She glanced at the boulder about ten meters away and nodded. “Alright, I’ll count: one, two, three… Ready!”

The Tang swords in his hands were high-grade weapons Merlin had found for him, but after such relentless attacks, their edges were chipped and battered. He hurled one blade at the enemy, impaling two men before it clattered to the ground, and, as if by magic, two identical swords appeared in his grasp.

“One!” Lancer’s twin blades spun even faster than before, the muscles in his arms twitching in unnatural spasms.

“Two!” The blades themselves began to vibrate strangely.

“Three!” With a mighty swing, Lancer struck the ground. In an instant, a cloud of smoke shrouded everything nearby.

“Volley, all at once!” The enemy wasn’t so foolish as to be fooled by such a simple trick. Their leader ordered the remaining archers to fire in unison. Arrows rained down even more densely than before, piercing the smoke. After the volley, they held their fire, uncertain whether Lancer had changed position. To shoot blindly would be unwise, and the strain of the intense, concentrated fire was already making their hands tremble.

But when the smoke cleared, the scene left everyone in shock.

A man, his body stained purple, stood motionless, bristling with arrows.

“Captain, it seems the enemy…” one of the black-clad men began.

“No! I fear our mission has failed,” their captain replied, saying what none of his subordinates expected.

But Lancer did not keep them waiting for long. “Heh… heh…” His heavy, rasping breaths followed by a mocking laugh proved them wrong.

“Did you really think you could kill me with attacks like that?” With a strange flex, his muscles shook all the arrows from his body, and his wounds healed before their very eyes.

“Round one is over. Let’s begin round two.” Licking the blood from his lips, Lancer looked every bit the demon returned from the underworld.

Lancer had struck the ground with his swords, raising a dense cloud of dust to obscure the enemy’s sight. What he was about to do was beyond imagination, and he couldn’t guarantee he could slay them all—so, just to be safe, he hid their vision first.

Then, he stripped off his clothing, releasing the power hidden within what had seemed a mere garment.

“Where there is a boundary between darkness and light, there must be something that exists—unseen guardians, manifest!” The clothing shimmered, dissolving into motes of light that gathered around Griviel. Normally, this outfit was just a well-crafted defensive garment, but being rated as a B+ noble phantasm, it naturally had more to it than mere protection—otherwise, it would be no different from the featureless armor worn by others like Saber. As a noble phantasm, it could be unleashed; once released, it would convert existence to nonexistence, granting ten seconds of absolute defense. Afterward, it would not reappear for half a day, regardless of magical replenishment—not that one could restore something once it had become light. Previously, it had simply been incomplete. Lancer used this power to shield Griviel for ten seconds. Then, as he took the full force of the arrows, none landed a fatal blow—yet if things continued like this, he would eventually die from blood loss. Still, after sending Griviel away, the boiling blood within him could not be calmed. He once again became the near-monstrous figure he had been on the previous night. Though he could move with intent, the berserk rage and bloodlust could no longer be contained. If anyone, even Torya, approached him now, they would be attacked. Until he vented this fury, his body would not return to normal. Fortunately, a pack of “prey” stood before him. The pain from his wounds was completely drowned out by the thrill of the hunt.

By now, his dual blades were dulled from hacking through flesh and bone, but Lancer manipulated his own blood, coating the swords and sharpening every blow. In just over ten seconds, a force of over one hundred seventy men was reduced by a fifth.

“Ha! Ha! All of you, die!” Like a demon incarnate, Lancer was terrifying. Yet, behind the boulder, Griviel—saved by Lancer—watched with a strange, delighted gleam in her eyes.

His purple-stained body was monstrous, but the sight of a man so wounded, yet enduring it all to protect her, struck a cruel yet beautiful chord. That was Griviel’s thought. Unbeknownst to Lancer, his actions had won him a new and unexpected trouble.