Turmoil (6)

"We have to outrun the Count; he's trying to trap us here and escape!"

As I shouted toward Leonardo, he kicked up his great sword. The sword soared into the air, striking a part of the ceiling and crashing down. With a rumbling sound, piles of stones fell, creating an obstacle. Leonardo, having formed a first line of defence to stop them, ran toward me. He furrowed his brow and gripped the hilt of his sword tightly.

"I missed the Count's presence. I'm sorry."

"It's okay since I'm aware. We're currently passing through the middle of the labyrinth."

"Just stay right behind me."

If the Count had prepared a way to seal the labyrinth, then Leonardo wouldn't need to stay here to stop them. Even if they rushed to the entrance of the labyrinth, they wouldn't be able to escape easily with that sealing method in place.

Leaving behind those massive, perhaps contaminated things, I began to run through the maze. At least now, my hands were lighter compared to my first visit when I had to carry a coffin. Anyway, the fake corpse that I had brought down here was the sandbag I used to fill Leovald's armour. I can leave the coffin here.

However, while my hands felt light, my legs, due to the reset, felt like they were about to fall off any moment, weighing down like a thousand pounds. I stared at the map and carefully observed the Count's movement speed. We were slightly faster, but the distance between us had already become considerable, making it feel like we could only barely catch up.

I can't take any more resets. Through the flashback, I clearly realized that with each reset, the accumulated fatigue had already reached its limit.

[Check current status of 'Leonardo': Health (90/100), Mental strength (75/80)]

[Check current status of 'Sinistra's Suspicious Innkeeper': Health (30/80), Mental strength (10/100)]

[Check current status of 'Street urchin Vittorio': Health (20/60), Mental strength (55/60)]

Is it even possible that I'm the most difficult unit to manage out of the three in the party?

Leonardo? Well, I thought he might have gotten a scratch or something. Even Vittorio, after reuniting with us, had almost fully recovered his mental strength, despite this chaotic situation.

I'm glad to be seen as someone a child could rely on, but his mental state—despite just stabbing a monster—is nothing short of impressive. It makes me wonder if the difference between someone like me, who's exposed to this world without any preparation, and these carefully crafted characters meant for this setting is what's causing this sense of deprivation.

"Are you struggling?"

Vittorio, who was gripping my hand tightly, asked cautiously.

"If you need help, just say so."

Leonardo added as he swung his sword horizontally, smashing the wall.

Though the unfamiliar treatment of being the weakest link was strange for a moment, I looked ahead at the flickering blue triangular shape and spoke up.

"I'm fine, so don't worry. Leo, the Count's ahead."

At that, Leonardo quickly resumed his usual stance, thrusting his arm forward with sharp precision. The great sword, lying flat in a horizontal position, shot forward like a torpedo. It left a trail of afterimages as it flew into the darkness.

"Ahhh!"

A direct hit.

Sometimes, I get the sense that for Leonardo, the sword is nothing more than a tool—neither more nor less—and I ran forward, my thoughts racing.

There was the commander, and Leonardo's great sword was embedded in the Count's shoulder.

Swish!

While Leonardo shot a preloaded crossbow to stop the henchman, he sprang into action, retrieving his sword. Thanks to the experiences of fighting alongside Leonardo in the previous loop, I was able to predict his timing to some extent.

Leonardo wouldn't just pull; he would twist the sword, likely tearing open existing wounds. After all, he was someone who sought to cause the greatest destruction as efficiently as possible. Sure enough, as the severely damaged wound was wrapped, Count Bermont burst out in a furious voice.

"Do you think the Lord will let you go!"

"Seems like he won't let us go…" 

I reflexively muttered back, shrugging my shoulders. Reset four times. Ah, it's been tough. At that moment, among the henchmen, a shorter man who seemed to be their leader spoke up, recovering his face, which had been caved in by an arrow.

"The Count… failed."

"What are you doing, you idiot! Capture them! Kill them!"

The Count snapped his fingers frantically. Sweat-drenched hair hung down, making him look a mess. To that Count, the henchman mumbled.

"Then, I'll replace it by eating."

Behind the henchman's eyes, there was a flicker of blind subservience. 'Ah, that one was affected by ,' I recalled as the henchman's body split in half, shedding its skin and revealing its insides.

"Argh!"

And then it devoured Count Bermont with a crunching sound.

For a moment, the henchman's face appeared on the surface, then Count Bermont's face pushed it aside and emerged. It was like watching two images alternate frantically on a mirror. This was the first time I saw with my own eyes how it consumed and assimilated a person. When I first heard that it could mimic the dead and the dearly missed, I didn't quite understand why it was so rejected.

Life is finite, and we constantly experience meetings and partings, living with a longing for those we dearly miss. If it could accurately mimic those who have passed or those we long to see, wouldn't there be people who would use it as a medium for their longing, despite the revulsion and rejection?

I think I would have. Out of longing. However, its consumption process was too explicit. This is where the reason it can only remain a monster is maximized. The sense of crisis ingrained in a living being's instinct. The henchman was soon replaced by Count Bermont.

"A-ah-ah!"

Count Bermont's screams quickly turned into exultation.

"It doesn't hurt, this, is, right! It feels like, being, born again!"

They mimic the memories and appearances of the humans they consume. However, the boundary becomes somewhat ambiguous after the consumption. Eating to absorb, resulting in assimilation.

Is the individual's death, while their memories, thoughts, speech patterns, and even minor habits are entirely absorbed and remain in the world, an extension of 'me' or not? Is that being reborn or being erased from the world?

At least, it was clear that the Count Bermont before my eyes believed it was the former. The Count, having restored his broken body, gripped the henchman's scimitar tightly. I sensed Leonardo catching his breath and taking a stance. It seemed he didn't consider this opponent easy. The white triangular waves visible on the map were closing the distance every moment. At this rate, we would be swept away by that wave.

The command from to consume the Count if he couldn't fulfill his role, in other words, expressed 'Sub-Writer 1's' determination to keep us confined to this fourth floor.

'There must be a way.'

In front was Count Bermont, behind were the unknown.

I realized that there are writers behind the scenario. A main author, sub-writer 1 and 2, and an assistant writer, making a total of four. For some reason, sub-writer 1 harbours resentment and conflicts with the main author.

I don't understand why a sub-writer would oppose the main author's writing intentions, but if there is an author who wants to continue writing this story, they will devise a countermeasure. They have to. If they intend to keep writing this world within the story.

The lantern light that had been flickering anxiously before grew weaker and finally went out with a puff. Suddenly, darkness enveloped everything. And at that very moment, my judgment proved accurate. As if on cue, letters flooded my vision.

[Scenario sub-quest has been triggered!]

Main Objective: Withstand the flood of the sacred pond (0/3)

A wave occurs as the divine stream overflows to overwrite the seal on the pond. You must endure the flood while preserving [Health] and [Sanity].

The [Health] and [Sanity] values are linked to the previous quest.

Quest Participant: The Suspicious Innkeeper of Sinistra

Time limit: 0 hours 59 minutes 58 seconds

The letters blurred and the scene of the world within the play overlapped onto my eyes again. In the pitch-black darkness, I could hear the sounds of Leonardo clashing with the Count. In the distant void, a will-o'-the-wisp flared up.

'…A torch?'

There was light in that place. It wasn't an illusion. A faint crimson torch was burning and emitting light in the darkness of the submerged labyrinth.

I remembered that the direction was where the elevator connected to the underground sanctuary was located. The elevator swayed in the air, as if someone had stopped turning the pulley midway. Through the reflected outline of the light, I could barely make out that someone was standing on it. That person seemed to be groping through the darkness, then reached out and pulled something.

Ding, ding, ding—

The sound of bells rang throughout the entire underground labyrinth. He lifted his head and shouted toward the top of the elevator, that is, toward the underground sanctuary.

"They've come out of the seal! Release the sacred pond!"

The moment I heard his voice, I realized who he was.

"Orlie…"