The Fat Aristocrat Waltz in the Labyrinth - Chapter 107
Chapter 107: The fat aristocrat doesn’t run away
Mitrof bit his lip.
He clenched his fist with his right hand and slammed it hard against his own face.
“——Ugh!”
The pain was intense.
Tears welled up in his eyes.
Red blood dripped from his nose and stained Blanc Manje’s robe.
“I won’t run away!”
Shouting.
driving away fear, temptation, and weakness.
“I won’t run away!”
Mitrof stood up, his trembling legs pounding and stomping on the ground.
The goat-skullhead-oldwoman’s song echoed throughout the room. In the air, several lightning thorns surrounded a golden sphere.
just as Blanc Manje has been saving up her magic to deliver the killing blow. The goat-skullhead-oldwoman also gathered magic power to ensure Mitrof’s death.
Mitrof ran.
He picked up his lightning rod that had fallen to the ground and continued running.
He couldn’t involve Blanc Manje. He stood alone, holding up the lightning rod with his back against the door.
Electricity filled the air.
Mitrof’s skin tingled, and his hair stood on end. With blood flowing from both nostrils, he howled.
“Bogu, gogo!”
He tightens his grip on the handle. The skin of the “Electric Catfish” that had been wrapped around the handle is crumbling into charcoal.
‘Ah, if only I had power,’ he murmurs to himself.
‘Things like a magic sword that can cut any monster in one blow.
‘Or magical power that can cancel out lightning magic.
‘Or wisdom that never fails and courage to overcome any crisis.
‘If such things existed, I could live a cooler life.’
Mitrof grits his teeth, trembling.
‘It was a mistake to come here alone.
‘I want to be recognized by others; I have strength; I can do anything well. I am not wrong.
‘That’s what I wanted to show—but I was mistaken.
‘So at least in the end, I want to choose something I can truly believe in.
‘Something I can be proud of.’
Tears spilled from Mitrof’s eyes without him knowing why he was crying.
Putting all his strength into it, he exhales a rough breath. Hmph. His blocked nose, now freed, spurts blood. He can breathe. He’s still alive.
“I don’t have incredible strength—I can’t defeat you alone—but I won’t run—I won’t run from you anymore!”
A lightning bolt strikes.
The lightning rod he raises receives the impact. It’s much stronger than any other lightning bolt he’s ever seen. With the death of the goblin soldier, the goat-skullhead-oldwoman has no reservations.
Two, three strikes
Lightning strikes.
The sound of the electricity clashing echoes. It’s the sound that ruptures the air. Countless thorny shrubs are in a chaotic uproar, and Mitrof’s vision turns white. He can’t even hear the goat-skullhead-oldwoman’s song anymore.
Just standing and raising the lightning rod. And enduring.
The handle of the rod is getting hot. The leather skin wrapped around it is starting to burn. He shouts unconsciously. He endures by shouting. He searches for hope somewhere.
His view is flickering. He doesn’t even know if he’s still standing.
Darkness and light alternate, and in the world of light, he gazes upon the past memories:
Mitrof is screaming—his mother is in front of him.
Mitrof is screaming—his mother is bleeding.
Mitrof is screaming—no matter how much he screams, the power does not awaken.
Mitrof already knew that no matter how much he screamed, he would not awaken a convenient “power.”
That day, at that moment, there was no power within Mitrof to save his mother.
And now, there is nothing Mitrof can do.
The lightning rod he holds is starting to melt, and the leather handle is crumbling. Exposed to the rush of lightning, he can only endure.
But Mitrof is “waiting.”
Alone, he could do nothing. He could only endure death.
Mitrof no longer believed in the “power” within himself.
However, Mitrof was not alone.
He believed that they would come.
——His comrades.
Amidst the thundering torrent, he heard it.
the sound of something breaking. It was the sound of the “Guardian’s” room door being struck with terrible force.
In an instant, the sound of cutting through the air flew.
It was an arrow.
As soon as the shooter entered, she decoded the situation and the arrow hit the goat-skullhead-oldwoman without missing a shot. The sword was lowered, and the thunder stopped. The arrow pierced through the old woman’s dark body.
“——Are you alright?”
Mitrof missed that voice.
Grace came running lightly beside him, sweat covering her face, her eyes shaking with anxiety and urgency.
“T-Thank you—you helped me a lot.”
It felt like they’d had that conversation before. That was, yes, the day Mitrof first met Grace.
“Once again, you’ve saved me.”
“It’s just part of helping each other out.”
“I’m coming.”
Canule rushed towards the opposite side of Grace. She raised her shield to defend against the lightning that flew towards her. But Mitrof’s lightning rod attracted the lightning toward it.
“…This is ‘electricity’. A shield won’t be able to stop it—we have to catch it with this rod.”
“It’s a magic that simulates lightning. It should be quite advanced… But more importantly, I’m glad you’re safe—we’ll talk more about it later.”
At the cold and chilling voice, Mitrof’s back trembled. Clearly, yes, she was angry.
“Is that Blanc Manje lying over there unconscious?”
“Y-Yes, she fainted—we should hurry and take her to the treatment center.”
“Do you know Blanc Manje?”
“It’s a long story… Oh!”
He caught the lightning bolt that came flying in the middle of their conversation.
Despite having previously accepted death, the presence of these two somehow rejuvenated him. It was truly a mysterious thing.
“…You two are dependable.”
Mitrof whispered to himself, and Grace and Canule exchanged glances.
“What do you mean, saying such obvious things?”
“Don’t worry—let’s take care of this quickly and then tend to both of you.”
And so, the three stood side by side, facing the goat-skullhead-oldwoman.
She was a formidable enemy. After all, she was a “demon”.
But now there was nothing left to fear.
Mitrof felt a strange “power” flowing within him. He could move forward. He could fight.
‘There is no way we can lose—we can win.’
“Alright, let’s go!”
In response to Mitrof’s voice, Grace takes the lead.
She pulls out an arrow from her quiver and shoots it accurately at the head of the goat-skullhead-oldwoman. The old woman avoids it, gliding across the ground, her coat fluttering with invisible magic.
The goat-skullhead-oldwoman raises her sword and generates a thunderball in the sky, about to swing her sword down.
Immediately, Grace shoots a second arrow.
As an elf hunter, she has lived for decades in the mountains, chasing and hunting animals in the wild. Therefore, shooting and piercing through a target moving only horizontally, with no trees or bushes around, was not a difficult challenge at all.
“——Oh, no, it went right through.”
The goat-skullhead-oldwoman stops her sword mid-swing.
The arrow hit her but went through her body.
“Blanc Manje said that attacks wouldn’t work.”
“So, it’s a spirit, then—it means we can only defeat it with magical attacks.”
“It’s a little tricky.”
In front of the three people who had stopped moving, the goat-skullhead-oldwoman shook her chin bone and laughed while singing, holding a thrusting sword aloft.
Mitrof pulled Canule’s arm.
Leaning in, Mitrof spoke in a tone that carried the talents of a noble, commanding and compelling others to obey.
“Canule. Throw me.”
“——Yes.”
“Mitrof?!”
It was Grace who shouted.
Without hesitation or confusion, Canule merely carried out Mitrof’s orders. Immediately clinging to Mitrof’s body, with a strength similar to that of a troll throwing a rock, Canule threw Mitrof into the air.
Due to the curse that had turned her into a monster, Canule possessed strength comparable to that of a troll.
As Mitrof flew through the air, he controlled his posture. Holding onto the lightning rod and curling up his body, Mitrof prepared for impact. Thanks to his fat, Mitrof’s balled-up body resembled a sphere. He landed and rolled, tumbling down.
Pushing himself up with his arms and bouncing up, the goat-skullhead-oldwoman was already in front of him. The lightning was about to strike—no, it did not strike.
The sword held by the goat-skullhead-oldwoman was not swung, and her magic was just suspended in the air.
“I know—while you’re using magic, you become materialized.”
Mitrof, who had been watching silently, noticed. It was not just the goat-skullhead-oldwoman who learned through multiple lightning strikes. Mitrof had intelligence as well.
“If you were to strike lightning now, you who have materialized would also get hit—what will you do?”
Mitrof grinned and swiftly swung the lightning rod he was holding. The hollow metal that had become brittle struck the thrusting sword held by the goat-skullhead-oldwoman.
The lightning rod finally broke due to the shock.
The thrusting sword was released from the old woman’s hand and danced in the air.
The tempo of the singing had changed. It was fierce, high-pitched, and it sounded like a curse.
“Emotions”——The lightning ball in the sky spread its branches violently due to the excitement. The lightning branches spread across the ceiling and shone brightly, illuminating the surroundings.
It no longer mattered who hit whom.
The goat-skullhead-oldwoman opened her jaw and screamed. She knew that the fragile human would die first trying to bathe in lightning together.
The thunder struck.
Mitrof knew that.
She struck the goblin soldier with her thunderbolt regardless. This creature was intelligent and had personality and consistency in her actions.
Reading, speculating, negotiating, and guiding the opponent’s personality are what nobles are good at.
There is a strange time when everything flows smoothly. The sharpened mind is refined, and the sharp concentration threads through the gaps in time.
Mitrof passed the broken lightning rod to his left hand and grabbed the thrusting sword in the air.
He swung the left iron rod. It was broken, but the chain remained.
A draw? It’s fine. It’s about who can endure longer—a patience battle.
The swinging chain became entangled with the thrusting sword.
Mitrof lowered his waist and braced himself, even if he had to face the lightning that was falling, showing his determination to never run away. He finally raised the beloved sword that had returned to his hand to the sky.
Thunder strike.
The lightning struck the thrusting sword used as a lightning rod. The impact was terrible. The view was pure white, and the heat burned from his shoulders to his feet.
The lightning passed through his legs and struck the ground in an instant.
Mitrof is still alive, standing with gritted teeth.
A side strike from the lightning rod in Mitrof’s left hand hits the goat-skullhead-oldwoman.
Screams echoed.
If it had been a real lightning strike, everything would have ended without a chance to breathe, and Mitrof would have died, with no “electricity” remaining anywhere.
However, this was magic.
The lightning burst all around Mitrof’s body.
Due to the goat-skullhead-oldwoman holding it for so long, the thrusting sword was contaminated with magical residue. The lightning that flowed through the chains enveloped the thrusting sword, briefly turning it into a magic sword.
Mitrof appears to have lost consciousness for a moment due to the tremendous lightning bolt. He did not fall, however, and he did not let go of the sword because “electricity” had paralyzed and stiffened his body.
In the pure white world, Mitrof watches a bird.
A magnificent and beautiful giant eagle approaches him quickly and strokes Mitrof with its soft wings.
Then consciousness returns.
There is the goat’s skull in front of him.
Reality.
Almost unconsciously, Mitrof moves his body.
steps forward towards it.
But he has no strength.
Almost falling, Canule rushes over and supports Mitrof.
He raises his arm.
The hand that grips the thrusting sword, with the lightning chain wrapped around it, trembles and almost drops it, but Grace rushes over and places her hand on his.
The residual “electricity” remained in all three of them, wrapped in thorns, and thus, the trinity of Mitrof, Canule, and Grace penetrated the goat’s skull with the thrusting sword.