The Black Faceless Trifles with Life

I summoned [Laevateinn] immediately.

Since I didn't know what the opponent was capable of, I couldn't be sure which resistances to grant—but something about this creature was fundamentally wrong. If I didn't stay on my toes, I was dead.

Having been exposed to Scriptures as much as I had, I liked to think I could recognize their presence. That was precisely why I felt such a revolting sensation of "patchwork." It felt as though several different powers had been stitched together into a single, repulsive form.

I immediately barked out my orders.

"Shibaru, Luna, Balor! Give it everything you’ve got. We’re putting it down now."

...I didn't think it was "strong," per se.

Based on my experience, the sensation I got from facing it was simply one of overwhelming tediousness. If this thing was like the enemies I’d encountered before, it would have a natural resistance to any power outputted by a Scripture. Therefore, the only viable path was to buff everyone and end the fight before it had a chance to drag on.

Besides, Ouma was here.

If he was anything like Yamato-san, he should have been able to withstand my support. No, considering he was Shakra’s successor to begin with, there was no reason for me to hold back at all.

"Wha-at lu-ck! Scripture, Scripture... three-sa... wa? Eh, aren’t there a lot of them?"

"I don't know and I don't care. Just die, you shitty Nyarla," I spat.

The instant before Ouma unleashed his technique, I boosted his magic by two full tiers. Then, I turned my attention to Luna and the others, enhancing their magic as well. For Shibaru, I focused on strengthening the conceptual properties of "penetration" and "severance" before sending him into the fray.

A bolt of lightning collided with a wave of absolute-death frost. The creature was frozen solid and shattered, only for Shibaru to follow up by shredding the remains.

The thing they called Nyarla was reduced to a heap of black clumps—mere scraps of meat. Normally, this would have signaled the end of the battle, but my instincts refused to let me lower my guard.

"That was underwhelming. But you're not done yet, are you?"

"You kn-ow it! I, you see—I—can’t die!"

The monster gurgled, its flesh pulsing and bubbling as it regained its shape. It was a sickening sight. The moment it finished reviving, its pressure spiked. I couldn't be certain, but it felt as though its physical density and strength were increasing with every iteration.

"Master... I really, really hate that thing."

"It is a foul creature, my ally... What is the plan?"

"This type of opponent... I have a feeling it’s a Shiten-type. We’ll just have to keep killing it until it stays down."

I’d fought my fair share of immortals in the other world. They usually fell into three categories: those with a limited stock of lives, those with resistances that made them impossible to wound, or—the most straightforward and annoying—pure immortality.

In a fight, the last one was the absolute worst. The methods for defeating them were few and far between.

"Balor, I’m leaving it to you."

"Yes, Reima-sama. I have received your command. Ouma-sama, was it? Please, shave the enemy down as much as you can."

"You’ve got a plan then? Fine—let’s do this."

The battle resumed.

I released my mana, utilizing everything in the surrounding environment to provide support. I materialized invisible footholds to assist Luna, concentrated my buffs on Camazotz as our primary source of firepower, and funneled mana directly to Balor to assist her.

I watched the battlefield from the rear, bracing for the worst-case scenario. The opponent was an unknown quantity, and if its words were to be believed, it was truly immortal. I clicked my tongue as the creature shifted its form, adapting to Luna and the others’ attacks.

Given the dimensions of this dungeon, I couldn't bring out any of my larger allies. Furthermore, considering the risk of igniting the local flora, any fire-based Summoned Beasts were off the table. Humanoids were also out of the question given our current formation.

It was many versus one... and yet, despite not being "strong," the creature’s sheer versatility allowed it to keep pace with us. Every time we killed it, it seemed to gain new resistances. It was becoming harder and harder to put down.

Looking at it that way, continuing to kill it might have been a blunder. However, my instincts had been screaming at me the entire time, my eyes fixed on the creature’s claws—the only part of its body that never changed, and the only part it hadn't used yet.

"Master! Look out!"

I’d lost myself in thought for a fraction of a second. I heard Luna’s voice, and then—a tentacle lashed out from a stray fragment of the monster at my feet. It grazed me as I tried to dodge.

In that instant, I felt it. It felt as if my very soul—my mana itself—was being hollowed out. It was more agonizing than any physical wound; it was an attack that shaved away at my very existence. My mind recoiled.

"Tch—what?"

My vision swayed. A violent chill raced through my body. Inside my head, I began to see visions of my own death. My past traumas were forcibly unearthed; I was bombarded with a psychic onslaught of nausea and vertigo that shattered my ability to think clearly.

I heard voices screaming at me. They called me a traitor. They screamed for me to be killed, to be executed.

"Hey, Reima!"

Before I realized it, the enemy was standing right in front of me, its claws mid-swing.

If just being grazed by a tentacle felt like that, I didn't even want to imagine what a direct hit from those claws would do. I'm not going to make it, I thought, bracing myself for the impact.

"I’ll leave the rest to you."

I was suddenly shoved aside.

In my place stood Ouma, his body being torn open by the monster's claws.

The last thing I saw was his face. For some reason, he was wearing a smile so sad it was heartbreaking—he looked so terribly lonely.