Online In Another World

The Dread raised a single hand, looking down at the girl with impunity, not budging in the least even as desperate spells of wind were flung against his body.

I can’t do anything…Even after how hard I’ve tried, am I still too weak to even make the enemy acknowledge me?! Melisande thought.

To the surprise of the young girl as she flinched from the Dread’s hand being cocked back, she opened her eyes again to see the figure paused in front of her.

He stopped…? Melisande questioned.

Suddenly, the blood-soaked figure spun around, using the back of his hand to smack against the face of the one who attempted to attack the Dread from behind–

“Gh–!” Asher winced.

The Devilheart’s nose spurted out blood from the abrasive counter, though Asher didn’t let it stop him as he dropped down, attempting to sweep the leg of the Dread.

THUD

Not even a slight budge came of the Dread as the exhausted figure watched the Devilheart with its stygian eyes, “…Desperation like this is unsightly.”

It seemed like a fruitless effort; they were all beyond tired, even Asher only had small horns protruding from his forehead, unable to conjure further evolutions of his system. With only the first stage accessed by Asher, there was no hope in harming the Dread.

Everett is down for the count…I don’t know if he’s over there asleep or dead, Asher thought. Yuna is guarding his body, and Melisande is watching Emilio’s body–either way, those two wouldn’t be able to do anything against a foe like this. As it stands…I need to weave a miracle with my own two hands.

“You’re afraid, aren’t you?” Asher said weakly as he straightened himself, breathing ruggedly.

The Dread faced him, lowering his face with a raised eyebrow, “Fear is not a concept I am familiar with.”

“Yet…you’re targeting an unconscious boy,” Asher held a half-smile, “I wonder why? I think we both know–you know that if he wakes up again, he’ll kill you. Emilio Dragonheart…he possesses the potential to be more dreadful than you.”

A slight fidget came of the Dread’s fingers as he momentarily glanced back at the knocked-out Dragonheart on the ground.

–Right at that moment, Asher dashed in with his sword in hand, swinging it with the meager strength left in his arms.

“Nice try…!” The Dread spun back around.

With nothing but his raw limb, the entity born of violence blocked the edge of Asher’s blade, letting it slam against his blood-painted forearm as it cut into the Dread’s skin. Though it managed to penetrate the monstrous figure’s skin, the claymore failed to dig any deeper as Asher’s fingers trembled around the handle, being knocked back as the Dread pushed his arm.

pa(nd)a no vel “You’re nothing. Do you know why you’re still alive?” The Dread asked, “–Whim. You don’t pose a threat to me. You’re weak; a toy for me to play with. But if you wish to push your luck…I’ll break you apart.”

The Devilheart stumbled back, coughing up as his bruised ribs ached just from the simple movements made.

Do it, you damned devil inside me, Asher thought, I’m giving you permission…so feast.

[Devilheart System | Altered]

[Deal With The Devil | Stage 3/5]

Once more, demonic armor scaled the black-haired man’s body, crawling over his skin like jet-black insects that intertwined into a sturdy armor of skulls. However, this armor was different, as from within it, spikes pointed inward, piercing into Asher’s flesh as a groan escaped his lips.

The devilish armor was sentient, oozing with a denser aura of ominous energy as death itself seemed to emanate from Asher; the armor drank his blood, restraining him in the painful armor with the impalements.

“Interesting,” the Dread spoke, “So you had that much left in you, then?”

As the figure stood still, the confident Dread was taken aback as the Devilheart surpassed his expected perception of speed; like a comet of death through the air, Asher slammed his knuckles towards the Dread.

Knuckles met bone, tearing through the skin and muscle of the Dread’s singular left arm as the strength behind Asher’s blow came as a shock, rippling through the organic material with shreds of demonic force.

Though the Dread had guarded the attack, it wasn’t a simple feat as the torn limb trembled. Blood dripped from between the grooves of Asher’s double-edged sword of armor, catching the Dread’s eye.

“I see. You’re using your own body as fuel for this strength,” the Dread remarked as a wicked smile stretched across his lips, “–Do it then, Devilheart! Kill yourself and fail to accomplish anything! Let me see you struggle in vain like a worm in the mud!”

In response, Asher pulled away before driving his fist into the Dread’s stomach, causing the figure to slide backward, however, at a cost–

SQUELCH

The spikes from the armor dug deeper into the wielder’s flesh, causing Asher’s stance to falter for a moment as he spit out blood within his helm.

Damn, this armor…! Give it an inch and it takes a mile! He thought.

A revitalized tenacity flourished from the Dread, able to move even with its tattered vessel as blood seeped from seemingly every pore of his body, dashing forward and sprouting a limb of darkness from his lost arm.

Pressed by the aggression and speed that backed it up by the blood-soaked figure, Asher’s armor reacted by digging into his flesh further, absorbing more blood as his metallic, living armor of black-and-red material reinforced itself.

In exchange for his own self, the armor granted him the strength needed to keep up with the Dread, reacting to the fast-paced blows that swept in his direction.

“…Huff,” Asher breathed out, feeling his entire body throbbing.

The entity of violence fought without any regard for what was around it, swiping its dark-forged limb around as the land was carved up, forcing Asher to counter with swings of his claymore.

Even with enhanced prowess, the Devilheart’s body wasn’t made any more durable as pain soared through his body when having to make extreme movements, causing the spikes impaling him to skewer his flesh further.

“Gkk–” Asher winced.

In the midst of his own assault taken on the Dread, dashing in and juking him with a faint strike, he cocked his claymore back, aiming at the being’s back before the spikes ripped into him once more.

Willpower wasn’t enough; the amount of damage being done to himself prevented Asher from following up in any meaningful capacity. As the Dread spun around, the malignant figure drove its foot into the Devilheart’s gut, releasing a powerful kick that knocked the impaled man back.

“Is this the power you’ve gained for killing yourself?” The Dread asked, “It isn’t all that impressive.”

The taunts weren’t lies; Asher knew full well that the strength he had wasn’t enough to stop the Dread. At best, he felt he was only buying mere seconds.

However, the beaten, reincarnated man also knew exactly why this was the reason: he was anchored by fear. There was more he could draw from himself, more he could sacrifice, but that fear buried deep within him restrained it from coming to fruition.

…I knew it, Asher thought, I’m still scared of death. I came so close to experiencing that everlasting nothingness all those years ago, sitting in that hospital bed…Did I accept it then? It’s frightening. I’m afraid of it.

Laying on the ground, feeling his own body soaked in blood kept beneath his armor as the demonic spikes prodded his flesh, the sounds of the Dread’s footsteps drew closer as Asher remained silent.

It’s simple though. If I don’t do it, I’ll die anyway, Asher thought, They’ll die, too. When I think about it like that, it’s easy…There’s only one thing left to do.

The Dread approached, turning the darkness it used as a replacement limb into an unsightly blade, “I’ll make use of you, don’t worry. After the number you’ve all done on my vessel, I suppose I’ll need a new one.”

Those words were met with what began as a quiet chuckle then shifted into outright laughter, coming unexpectedly from the usually stoic Devilheart.

“…What? Has madness reached you in this dire state?” The Dread looked down with a raised eyebrow.

Asher brought himself to his feet with trembling hands, barely able to stand as he wobbled while attempting to straighten himself. A piece of the demonic-hide helm crumbled, revealing a singular, sable eye of Asher’s that looked at the Dread.

“Sorry, but my body isn’t going to be in any better shape than yours soon,” Asher smiled.

“What–?”

Before the Dread could react to what was about to come, the Devilheart gave himself away to something within himself; the greedy devil living in his pitch-black soul.

[Deal With The Devil | Stage 5/5]

[Styx Coffin]

The sound of flesh squelching and bones being cracked and penetrated was heard throughout the area as the armor completely dug its claws into Asher, stabbing into him from every angle.

“Nnngh…!” Asher let out in pain.

The Dread witnessed a massive awakening of mana from the Devilheart’s position, momentarily stunned by the unexpected second wind, “Just what did you do, boy…?!”