I Became the Wrong Race

10 – Mourning (2)

I usually made similar choices when playing games.

The job I mainly chose was a warrior, specifically a raw and powerful kind that could be deemed a barbarian.

Whenever I visited a PC room, I only played as a rough barbarian who wielded two axes in typical AOS games.

It would be a different story for FPS where there is no such choice, but if possible, I primarily chose the barbarian.

It wasn’t for any grand reason like encouraging courage when seeing them overcome adversity.

I just simply enjoyed the act of smashing whatever that obstructs me according to my personality.

I enjoyed entering alone to defeat the enemy, and whipping through the enemy line with a monstrous physique without any outstanding items.

I liked being simple and foolish. Rather than thinking complicated thoughts, I preferred the rough style of pushing everything aside.

After trial and error, my grand duke build also became a Homunculus mourner build.

Homunculus’s infinite power, charm, and inspiration had nothing to do with the mourner.

The mourner’s low performance could be compensated for with Homunculus’s brute physical ability.

Through my darkened vision, I glared at the magician. The teetering, arising magician was at least level 8 higher than I was.

Had it been ten years since the discovery of the new continent? If they had consistently leveled up during those ten years, I wouldn’t know, but if not, they’d likely be fixed at level 10.

This game makes it hard to find an opponent capable of leveling up as the level increases, and there are many cases where the maximum level cannot be reached until the ending due to that.

Despite not being optimistic, I predicted.

The magician’s level is 10. The maximum level of magic they can use is rank 5.

Rank 5 magic has unbeatable performance, capable of reversing any battlefield. However, there is a casting time, so all I have to do is watch out for that.

[Remaining time: 51 seconds]

I carved the time etched in the corner of my sight into my eyes and rolled myself forward.

Creak!

The world is dragged towards my back. The omnipotent sense of a robust body I had never felt before pushed me.

I’ve never even attended a simple taekwondo studio, let alone thrown a punch, but that doesn’t mean I can’t fight at all.

As I rushed forward, I swung my leg out. Even just my body imbued with acceleration is powerful, but the swung leg itself was like a siege weapon.

Crash!

“Damn it…!”

The problem was the lack of accuracy. As I swung my off-mark attack and turned my body, flames poured out towards me.

Roar!

It’s a rank 1 spell. A simple spell of the destructive mutability school that just spouts intense flame from the hand.

It’s a practical and powerful spell, fittingly eclectic for the War School that learns all branches indiscriminately.

If it touches you, at least you’re burned, if not, it blocks your sight. Usually, that’s the case.

But what about in my case?

Sizzle!

As I broke through the flame and advanced, the magician’s face twisted. Despite the expectation, there was still a bubbling rage on his face.

“Inquisitor!”

As the magician stretched his hand downward, a strange-shaped sword appeared in his hand. A bizarre golden sword with hollow spaces between.

A rank 3 spell from the War School, “Golden Blade.”

A spell of powerful cutting power that only the War School, equipped with martial arts, can master.

And simultaneously, an attack that could penetrate the Holy Blood armor I wore and inflict damage.

However, I had a countermeasure. I kicked up an axe lying on the ground.

Barely catching the sprung up axe with my hand, I focused my consciousness.

Sizzle…!

The Holy Blood-covered axe began to glow black. I didn’t know how to handle or swing it well, but…

Zing, clang!

With this body, blocking at least would be easy.

Seeing the Golden Blade that I blocked with my axe couldn’t move forward, I grinned.

The Holy Blood adorned on the body becomes a part of the body itself. If attacked with a magical instrument, you might get harmed and damaged.

But the Holy Blood on weapons is a different story.

[Adds one point each to precision and damage rolls, and suspension of the judgment of the weapon damage.]

It suspends the judgment of weapon damage. It doesn’t prevent the damage entirely, but the weapon will break when the coating is stopped.

So, the best way to block such a weapon is this.

An ordinary weapon should sever my flesh smoothly like a breeze, but a golden blade blocks the way.

The expression of the magician changes in itself. A mix of confusion and defeat. In that fleeting moment when he was about to retreat, stepping back.

Clang!

“Argh…!”

I pushed and kicked with my axe.

The feeling under my foot as I kicked was not of a human.

Burying the guilt of the mourner, I moved forward.

My distance with the staggering magician decreased rapidly, and the swinging axe overlapped with the golden blade.

Clang!

Of course, my weapon skills are terrible. I never learned Taekwondo or Kendo since childhood, I haven’t even played baseball.

I never could afford a hobby, and when playing with friends, I would willingly reject an option if it seemed a bit costly.

I could not easily agree on someone else’s terms. The balance between friends was quite important.

Being quick-witted and intelligent, I’m not a blockhead that can’t catch on to such things. Though I can’t deny there’s no problem with pride.

So, the axe that I swung was a pitiful attack, relying only on my physical ability.

But it worked.

With the superhuman physical abilities of a homunculus, and the momentary firepower of a mourner, the abnormal job without magic or special abilities was harmonized.

“Groan…!”

While listening to the sound of the magician blocking my attack with force, I once again felt the truth.

The homunculus was a monster in itself.

The strength was comparable to a well-grown North American grizzly bear.

The regeneration ability and the sturdiness of the body was near a 3m troll.

Even the overwhelming sensation and reflexes, having no comparison in the wild.

I, having such pure physical ability, have pushed Beowulf, a veteran warrior and magician.

No matter how much of a warrior or excellent magician he is, I am a monster.

Few humans can encounter a monster face to face and survive alone. Beowulf was also a human.

“Ah, father!”

Even a monster interferes to save a human, but that is not enough either.

Splat!

Judging from the sound heard from behind, it seemed like Isla was doing her part.

So I did mine. I eventually gained ground and closed in on the magician preparing a spell.

Stab!

The punching left fist plunged into the side, and the magician rolled on the ground with a disoriented posture.

Thump!

Following, my violently swung leg tilted the head of the now standing magician.

“Argh, go away!”

My physical body was pushed back by a forcibly created incantation, but the homunculus wasn’t something that could be stopped by that.

Smash!

Eventually, the golden blade shattered by the axe I swung down, and at that moment, Beowulf’s face distorted in bewilderment.

I noticed something flying towards my side a bit late.

Roar!

My body was pushed. My feet left the ground. Even if I put strength into it to endure, I couldn’t.

Even though my fallen feet touched the ground, I did not stop. I saw my kind pressing me.

The kind that eats even without hunger. The monster glaring at me with fiery eyes, gritting its teeth, bleeding here and there from its body.

I heavily swung my tightly clenched fist towards such a kin’s back.

It did not let go even in the shaking. Even though it’s not comfortable hitting the small back, I overlapped my two fists and constantly swung down.

Bang, bang, bang, roar!

Even though the ground was distorted and the flagstones were scattered around, the girl holding me did not let go.

Rather, the power pushing me was gradually growing stronger.

Gradually pushed and pushed until the wall finally touched my back.

“I’m hungry…”

SuddenlyA mumble could be heard. Words flowed from the girl’s mouth. Before I could react to her words, she moved.

Thunk!

“…Huh?!”

A punch to my side disturbed the stillness. As the separation began to heal, I gazed at my kin.

There were wounds all over the girl’s body—a half-crumpled head due to a stuck iron nail, an axe lodged in her body.

Isla has been keeping her at bay well, I thought.

But she couldn’t hold her off any longer. I had no choice but to let Eila charge at me.

The reason caught my eye. The girl’s wound was healing rapidly.

A blatant healing ability surpassing mine. I sensed a burning intensity that whispered another term into my ear.

Unstable burning intensity.

In the end, the girl shook off my arm and raised her fist.

“Agh!”

Crack!

The girl’s swung fist hit my face. I snapped back my head, then plunged it in her direction.

Roar!

Then the girl withdrew, clutching her head. When I caught up with her, she stood facing me.

The ensuing battle was a sight I’d never seen even in a game.

Homunculus versus homunculus.

A match of defensiveness and regenerative power.

A struggle between a superior and stable specimen and an inferior but in some aspects, a more powerful, unstable one.

I soon understood why I felt the girl was inferior.

[Time remaining: 2 seconds]

My vision blinked to its end as the time was ending.

Shards of the holy blood wrapping my body fell to the ground as it separated completely, and the girl’s torn limbs rolled over those pieces of my blood.

Bang, crack, bang, bang!

Just as my fist shattered the girl’s spine, ripped through her side, and pierced a hole in her chest.

“Ah, ah…”

The girl no longer regenerated.

She couldn’t even attack, merely heaved as she crouched on the ground.

“…Eila.”

No, it was worse. She was gradually disintegrating.

Pieces of her skin fell off like porcelain, unveiling the muscle underneath.

The magician tried to crawl to the crouching girl on the ground.

The magician, one side of his head soaked in blood with an arrow lodged in his arm and an axe in his leg, couldn’t make it to his daughter as quickly as he wanted.

But he managed eventually. Isla, who was watching them expressionlessly while handling the magician instead of me, looked at them.

In the place where dozens of cannibals had been slaughtered, a mother and daughter embraced.

She will be devoured, surely.

Contrary to my assumption, the girl did not devour her father.

Like any other child, she merely shivered faintly in her father’s arms.

Until she collapsed completely and turned into a pile of ashes.

The magician looked down at the ashes of the monster that wasn’t even his daughter with a devastated face.

I remembered something as I watched the sight.

The monumental first series of Grimm Darker, the murder case related to Beort was a quest to investigate.

In it, the player finds out that the murder was committed by the baron.

The veteran warrior and powerful magician Beort Tomura Baron.

He got a nickname, the cannibal baron, and managed to disappear until the end of the trilogy by fleeing to the new continent, which was still under investigation.

When I reminisce, there were many doubtful points in that quest.

Why the room of the baron’s deceased daughter seemed to be in use just recently.

Why the number of slaughtered and cannibalized humans exceeded the amount that humans can consume.

Even if he was an outstanding magician and warrior, how could a fifth-tier wizard escape the empire’s investigative network and flee to the new continent?

I felt that the answer was right in front of me.

“Eila.”

The baron stroked his daughter, who had turned into ashes on his lap, and looked up at me. His gaze was dull.

“Kill me.”

The baron, who lowered his head. He looked like a death row inmate waiting for execution.

“…I will instead….”

Isla stared at my faces and, scoring at the baron, said such words but.

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

The monster was me, not anyone else.

So, I…He stepped forward, raising the axe.