Almistyor
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Somehow, Living Life in Another World is Wrong, as I Expected Ch. 10.5
🕑 Added 2025-10-05 12:00:16 +0000 UTCFighting is, as unfortunate as it is, something I’ve had to do quite a bit in this world. Minor scuffles when random would-be muggers? I’d beat the shit out of them to make a point. Knights that don’t know how to take a hint that I don’t want to spar? I’d lose on purpose just to make them disappointed and never approach me ever again.
The latter one worked more times than I could count, with knights that couldn’t figure out why Astrea was being friendly with me. People call that petty. I call it preventative maintenance. A bruised ego today saves me three awkward “friendly matches” tomorrow.
Anyway, beyond those, I had also been in fights that were more life and death. One of which was against the Cultist that I am now, ironically, fighting with.
Irony lands hardest when the bruise is fresh. The first time we crossed paths, I learned he could stack the battlefield like cards and deal me the worst hand without blinking. Now he’s an ally by circumstance, the way a crutch is an ally to a broken leg. You use it because you don't have a choice.
Though, ‘fighting with’ is a bit of an exaggeration, since I couldn’t do anything more than twiddle my thumbs in the background. That’s not to say that I don’t want to help - Karsten was still helping Romanée-Conti after all - but I just couldn’t find an opportunity.
And that’s not me being lazy, not this time.
This time, it’s because the hooded zombie we were locked into combat with was just too damn good.
…
Karsten lunges forward with her sword, a gust of wind joining her as she stabbed at the corpse’s knee. It answered with a heavy step to the side, lifting its other leg and kicking the offending blade to the side. Blasted away, almost like a rocket, Karsten would have been open to punishment had it been anyone else.
I knew her though, and I knew that she wouldn’t have made a mistake like that.
Without any visible prompting, stone flew from the ground to catch the zombie’s outstretched leg. Romanée-Conti’s work. Rock gripped onto it like a vice, as Karsten flipped herself around and launched back with her sword aiming for an overhead strike.
Had their opponent been alive, that leg would have been cut off. The entire purpose of this exchange was simple: limit the corpse’s mobility. Already, it had proven itself to be much better than what a corpse soldier should be capable of. This implied that this one was able to retain some memories, or skills, from when it was alive.
It was already bad enough that they were fighting a creature that had no qualms dying. Want to know what’s even worse?
One that knew its limits and didn’t fucking care.
There it is. The suicidal overachiever. The kind of fighter who invests heavily in short-term losses and calls it strategy. Wall Street would be proud.
With a sickening sound of tearing that could only be flesh and bone, I watched as the zombie rotated its leg ninety degrees, its foot still encased in the stone. It put up the cleaver to block Karsten’s blow, before using the momentum that she had to deflect the sword onto the stone.
The stone gave way.
Karsten rolled away, tumbling in the dirt. Had we not been in a life or death situation, I may have made more of a comment on that. I did not. My focus was more on the way that the corpse’s foot was mangled to hell and back.
Then, with the same tearing sound, I saw it whip back into its proper shape.
Great, the damn thing can heal. With my kind of luck, I knew that this meant that we had to probably re-kill it in one blow, to prevent it from regenerating.
“So this is where you were.”
Ha.
Speaking of luck.
A greatsword that looked wholly unwieldable. It was even bigger than the corpse’s cleavers, somehow. Yet, I knew just how strong it was in the right hands.
And right now? I knew it was.
Barielle ripped through the battlefield in a flash of fire. A circle of flame enclosed the area we were in, yet did not torch the mansion. Of course it didn’t. The flames ran like ink along invisible seams, hugging a boundary only she could see. The heat grazed my skin, then softened, as if it had remembered the word ‘restraint’.
“To think that one such as yourself would stoop so low.” Barielle’s normal smirk was missing. It was instead a scowl, one that highlighted the sheer disappointment she felt, “What say you, Kurgan?”
I wracked my head at the name. I knew that name. Vollachia’s national hero, the War God known as Kurgan. Over forty years ago, he served as the bodyguard to Stride Vollachia, the Archbishop of Pride. This itself was a popular story, since Wilhelm van Astrea took to fighting against them.
The entire thing was recorded as the Silver Flower Dance of Picoutatte.
After all of that though, Kurgan was taken prisoner, and was forced into enslavement. His name, at the time, was still seen as dirt though. It was only about ten years ago that it changed, when Kurgan fought a force invading the Fortress City of Garkla and died. The city fell after an hour, true, but by all accounts, had Kurgan not fought, the city would have fallen in half the time.
That’s…
Something’s wrong there.
Kurgan died.
Garkla was invaded.
Both were due to the same party.
Who was that party?
I should know this. I don’t know why, but I know I should.
Fuck, my head hurts. Why? Why? Why? Why? No, stop that. Not why - who? Who did it? Who killed Kurgan?
W̴͌ͅä̵̬̑̽s̵̱̬̒̿ ̸̧̗̠̉ǐ̸͖̀̾t̵͚̦͆̏ ̷̥̳̊͛m̸̹̋̈́ḛ̵̺́̎̇?̶̺̯̈́̾
“Hikigaya!”
An arm came to support me as I stumbled. Or I think I stumbled. I don’t know, my head is spinning too much to remember. Karsten was at my side now, staring at me with a worried glance, “What happened? Have you overexerted yourself?”
She knows that, though I’ve rested, I’m still not at full capability. Subtly, she’s also telling me to back off since I would be a liability if I couldn’t keep up.
“I’m fine.” I felt my nose burn. I wiped at it, feeling liquid as I did so. Blood.
“The fact that you’re only partially lying worries me.” Karsten glared at me, before giving a sigh, “But I will admit that we’re going to need all the help we can get if Barielle is correct as to who this is.”
Speaking of which, the corpse soldier that was maybe Kurgan was now standing still, two cleavers still at the ready. Romanée-Conti had backed off to the side, still preparing to strike at any moment. The Fingers had all fucked off somewhere, finally realizing that they were more of a detriment than help against an opponent like this.
Barielle stood at the center of all of us, facing towards the corpse. Her sword, the Yang Sword, was still pointed at it, but she wasn’t making a move. Good, that’ll give us some time to actually make a plan of action.
Of course, the Sun Princess wouldn’t be the Sun Princess if she wasn’t a total pain in the ass.
“Is silence your answer? Very well then.”
Barielle charged forwards, flames following her path. An overhead swing, similar to Karsten’s, but the weight of the swords used was like night and day. Instead of blocking, the zombie met the charge head on, before sliding to the side at the last second. A cleaver would have bit into Barielle, had I not been watching.
As it was, I opened a portal where the cleaver would have it, the exit coming out right behind the corpse’s head.
The force needed to stop that strike would have rattled anyone’s bones. The speed at which the cleaver was drawn back would have shattered them. Damn, I was looking to cut the damn thing in half. Would have been easier than trying to do that to the zombie, at least.
Barielle didn’t even acknowledge what I had done, pirouetting from her failed attack into a smashing hit from the flat edge of the blade. This one did impact against the corpse, sending it stumbling a step back.
Romanée-Conti followed up quickly, rock once more rising up, this time being more snake-like in their movements. The rock snakes twisted mid-air, avoiding the corpse’s guard as they pierced through skin, right at the joints of the elbows and knees. Almost immediately, the rock started to expand its hold, solidifying even more until the joints were completely covered.
I didn’t hesitate to portal Karsten right next to it. Her blade bit into flesh, though no blood came out. One, two, three slashes, heavy and deep enough that it would have rendered even Juukulius out for the count. A fourth slash, this one with an accompanied burst of wind. Aiming for the heart this time. The other hits were to disarm - this last one to kill.
This was, as video games had taught me, perfect time for a phase transition.
Karsten’s blade made impact, though the sound of metal on metal made it clear that she hadn’t hit her target. From beneath the hole on the zombie’s cloak that Karsten made, I could see a flash of metal.
Right.
I can confirm that this was, in fact, Kurgan. After all, he was the one that they called Eight Arms for a reason.
As Karsten retreated once more, fearing retaliation, the cloak that the zombie wore was torn open. It was then that I could see that, for all intents and purposes, we were fucked if we didn’t do something soon.
There was a story that went around. That Kurgan only took you seriously if he was using all of his arms and weapons.
Against us? With all of what we just did? He was only using four.
The implication that this corpse could get even stronger was sobering. Romanée-Conti could keep up against Wilhelm, and that old man could keep up with Kurgan, so that should have evened things out, right?
No. The Sword Devil was past his prime, as much as he would never admit it. The younger him would have been able to match against Kurgan easily, but the current him that fought against Romanée-Conti was no longer that man.
And unfortunately for us, it looked like whoever resurrected Kurgan did so when the War God was in his prime.
“Hachiman.” I portalled Karsten back next to me, “Do you have a plan?” The uncertainty I heard from her forced my mouth to scowl. Very rarely did I see this woman be like this, and never for good reasons.
“We don’t have a choice. We need to hold on until the others arrive.” And that was the truth of it. In reality, I could portal us out of here with no issues. I could run away with my head held high, cause there’s no reason to fight an opponent so far above my weight class.
However, that would leave everyone else not in my immediate sightline to their fates. Without knowing where everyone was, I couldn’t exactly portal to them, either.
Romanée-Conti and his Fingers could all die for all I care. But the others? Against the skill that Kurgan purportedly had and shown?
Not a chance.
“I’ve got an idea.” I kept my voice low as Barielle went on to exchange blows with Kurgan once more.
We didn’t need to win. We needed to live long enough for the cavalry to arrive. More importantly, for Natsuki to arrive. I wasn’t stupid enough to not realize that Natsuki had likely gotten Barielle’s attention by mentioning that Kurgan had been resurrected as a corpse soldier - nevermind how the brat knew that.
He also likely knows that, for all that we’re capable of defending ourselves, none of us are a match for the War God. He doesn’t expect us to win, just to hold this fuck into position until we can.
More than that, I knew that Natsuki has a bleeding heart, and won’t allow us to die easily. Not including the Cultists we’re fighting alongside, of course.
So, fine, I’ll play my damn part. For now. Just hurry up and be the Big Damn Hero already!
…
A/N: Again, no chapter next week cause I'm moving onto a bi-monthly schedule.
