#076. Mom is Too Nice (3)

#076. Mom is Too Nice (3)

Marbas was genuinely impressed.

“Excellent. Hansel’s resolve, Gretel’s spirit, and you, the mother-son duo, Ian and Teresa, who drew it all out. All of you are rarities that appear only once a century.”

However, behind the sinister laughter, there was a clear sense of regret.

“But why couldn’t Gretel reach this answer on her own? Have you ever considered the reason?”

Marbas’s ‘declaration’ stole everyone’s will.

“The Gretel of her past life, and Hansel who remembers that Gretel. They know. They know that ‘that much’ is not enough to overcome this Marbas.”

“!!”

“Indeed. This is a clear ‘wrong answer.’ Chess pieces of my game. This is the ‘end’ you have chosen. Regret your flawed choices, and die begging for your lives.”

The feeling of defeat, etched into her memory, into her very soul, froze Gretel’s body solid.

Watching Marbas’s claws dig into Gretel’s heart, Gretel considered several moves.

Several moves stemming from those were explored again, and at the end of the ensuing dozens of exchanges, she envisioned her own dying demise.

The possibilities that had numbered in the hundreds, then thousands, began to dwindle, one by one, until at some point, they all collapsed.

Because during the days when she was toyed with in Marbas’s games, Gretel’s lack of talent never allowed her to defeat Marbas, not even once.

‘It’s meaningless.’

With her spirit broken, Gretel couldn’t lift her sword.

Marbas’s claws pierced through her helplessness, delivering the killing blow along the path of learned defeat.

‘Farewell, Gretel.’

However, it was still too early to say goodbye.

Teresa, throwing herself forward with all her might, intervened with a sword strike that forced Marbas to stumble backward repeatedly with overwhelming brute strength.

Bang, bang, bang! Clash!

Every blow, an attack with power rivaling a large-sized monster’s massive movements, was unleashed by a small-sized human like Teresa, who drove forward without slowing her momentum, increasing her strength with each step, relentlessly pressing the attack.

That rapid-tempo assault was a shortcut to one’s own death at the fastest speed unless one could overcome the fear of power distribution, sword path recovery, and counterattacks.

But every path Teresa had walked had been nothing but a shortcut to death.

Marbas was dumbfounded.

This showed no sign of being ‘weakened’ by his ‘declaration,’ but rather a ‘strengthened’ spirit.

“Didn’t you hear? My ‘declaration’?”

“Got an son who likes to show off. The only declaration I keep is mine.”

Teresa readjusted her grip on her sword and slammed her foot down with a thud.

“I am, more than anyone, a mother who cherishes her children. And a mother who cherishes her children yields to no one.”

No temptation could sway Teresa.

She held a self-protective mantra, a verbal ward.

Teresa already possessed the mental fortress to cast off a vampire’s mind control, to overcome the near-curse of a high vampire who had lived seven hundred years.

An absolute conditioning, so hardened by the long years lived, that even the heightened incantations of a vampire could not penetrate.

An impregnable citadel, not even a needle’s point could pierce, guarded Teresa’s entire inner world.

To become a mother who cherished her children more than anyone, Teresa’s resolve to never yield to anyone, to therefore grow strong.

Like the oath Gretel once held, ‘I would do anything for my children’.

‘Teresa didn’t resemble Gretel. Gretel resembled Teresa.’

Marbas understood.

Teresa possessed a talent for being an ‘actor’ even greater than Gretel’s.

A lead actress fitted to a new script of tragedy after the tale of Hansel and Gretel had come to an end.

“Sublime. How many suns must rise and moons must wane before I shatter that noble resolve? Just as I broke Gretel, I will break you as well, to test you. First, I’ll ensure you can never lift that insolent sword again!”

A vampire who puts his all into it is terrifying.

That doesn’t just mean physical strength.

[Constant Self-Hypnosis Active]

[Command – My nails become as hard as the lives taken by this hand.]

[Constant Self-Hypnosis Active]

[Command – My feet become as swift as the freedoms stolen by this hand.]

[Constant Self-Hypnosis Active]

[Command – My darkness grows as deep as the light of hearts buried by this hand.]

The strength of accumulated sins.

The strength of Karma.

The strength of Marbas, who had grown through self-hypnosis as much as the lives he had extinguished over seven hundred years, was unmatched.

To the extent that Gretel and Teresa, who had once fought tooth and nail at the risk of their lives, could not take his head even when they attacked together.

Clang!

Nails that deflected the sword decreased in length, inserted fingers inside the sword guard and immediately extended the nails again, grown nails brushed Gretel’s abdomen through the atypical attack.

Gretel hastily twisted her body to deflect the nails and fix her posture and Teresa unleashed her signature beast-like gale barrage without retreat.

Wham. Wham. Wham.

Marbas precisely kept up with a sense of speed that no monster had ever fully matched.

His eyes never once strayed from the sword’s trajectory.

If Teresa’s sword was like four swords in one, unleashing three, four consecutive strikes in a flurry, then Marbas was a being with ten nails.

Each nail equal to a sword, thus he was like ten swordsmen in one.

By repeating storage and ejection with each finger movement, as he controlled the length, Marbas’s ten nail swords were practically the same as being targeted at one’s vitals by ten swordsmen at every moment.

‘Dangerous.’

Even Ian, who couldn’t imagine the concept of his mother losing, felt a sense of tension; the pressure was unusual.

He fended off the nails that slipped past the sword and dug in, using her signature combo speed, but before he knew it, Teresa’s offense had become a defense.

The unconventional attacks of the ten nail-swords, too fast even for the whirlwind strikes, had completely seized the initiative.

“Teresa. ‘Repeat’.”

“…!”

Gretel, wielding her left arm, deeply lacerated by Teresa’s blade, like a makeshift shield, joined the fray.

Two against one hand each.

Gretel, whose swordsmanship, adequate to barely parry four shares of five, couldn’t cope.

So, once more, she offered her left arm.

A life destined to vanish anyway, for the completion of vengeance.

For Hansel’s true liberation.

“Repetition, you say. Do you realize how arrogant such a statement is before a vampire?”

Marbas, in response to Gretel’s reckless, desperate charge, scattered the darkness that had heralded his resurrection.

In a game, I would be forced to simply watch.

The player’s role is limited to preparation before the event unfolds.

Trusting in their comrades, praying, and observing.

Yes, in a game.

But this is not a game; this is reality.

Before the darkness, summoned with such casual ease, could engulf Gretel and Teresa, Ian pulled a flare from his bag and ignited it.

A component of the advanced adventurer’s supply kit, a necessity for any self-respecting adventurer, erupted in a blinding light, casting a crimson glow visible from ten kilometers away.

-A pathetic gesture.

-It won’t work. I’ve seen that pattern in the ‘cutscene’.

A sequence of events, unplayable, interrupting the game.

Was the right adventurer dispatched?

Did their skills prove effective?

Did they counter the enemy boss’s primary technique?

Were the supplies meaningful?

The boss battle’s automatic replay sequence shows different ‘videos’ depending on the party composition, the supplied provisions, and the information provided by the player.

A previously witnessed, valid strategy was now being recreated in reality through my actions.

‘Still… it’s not enough.’

Unaided by darkness, Marbas’ clawed-blades relentlessly tore through Gretel’s arm, rendering it to shreds, using her pain-stricken body as a shield to obstruct Teresa’s fierce assault.

“Cut him down! Hurry!”

“…Tch!”

Gretel wished for Teresa to injure Marbas, even at the cost of slashing her own flesh, but Teresa realized that with the diminished force gained by cutting Gretel, she couldn’t inflict a deep wound on Marbas.

Gretel’s cry, driven by a masochistic impulse and devoid of reason, was a reckless gamble leading away from victory.

“That hesitation is ‘decisive’.”

“!!”

The shadows, pushed back by the flare, reformed.

From the path of Teresa’s blade, halted before striking Gretel.

The blurry shadow, always moving and impossible to penetrate, became clearer than ever before, and in an instant, Marbas’ body flitted through it.

“!!”

It surges forth.

Right beside us.

Shadow Dash.

Marbas’ clawed-blades – a ten-hit combo.

Bloodlines etched themselves onto Theresa’s body with a fluidity akin to flowing water.

Marbas’ sinister smile deepened, watching the blood well up.

[Constant Brainwash Activated]

[Command – Blood bereft of its master cannot defy the call of the Vampire.]

Droplets of Theresa’s blood, detached from her form, sharpened into crystalline thorns and flew back to claim more of her lifeblood.

The speed a mere handful of blood could muster was negligible, spent energy dissipating into vapor after a single flight.

But the attack, delivered in concert with ten nail-swords, steadily broadened the wounds, opening an inexorable path.

A ceaseless hemorrhage, blood calling out for more blood.

“Hansel. Ian. What are you doing?”

Marbas bit back a sneer.

“Isn’t the ‘Gate’ open? Are you planning to squander the opportunity your mothers bought with their lives, this chance for ‘escape’?”

Hansel’s eyes wavered.

But mine remained steady.

“Focus, Hansel. The ‘Shadows’ linger at the Gate.”

“…Right. This isn’t like those powerless days, when all we could do was watch and pray for the moment to end.”

Hansel joined the fray, adding his strength to the breach in Gretel’s defenses.

He couldn’t deflect every attack, but as a ‘Vampire’ himself, parrying the blood thorns was within his means.

Not with bare hands, of course.

He was a dullard.

An imperfect creation, spared the curse of Gretel’s ineptitude, yet still lacking.

But the Vampire’s techniques, those were different.

Blood Manipulation, a skill honed through relentless, acquired practice.

“Control blood? Against Marbas? Can a Vampire barely a century old hope to surpass the blood-mastery of one who’s walked this earth for seven hundred years?”

“Not just any blood, perhaps. But one’s own, unique in all the world, that’s another story.”

*Fshhh*

Hansel sliced his palm with a dagger.

From the wound sprung forth a torrent of blood, the only blood Hansel could truly command.

Blood Thorns.

Blood Thorns.

Blood Thorns.

A swarm of crimson spikes, guided by Hansel’s will, shot toward Marbas.

A single thorn from Marbas easily overwhelmed one of Hansel’s.

But as two, then three, of Hansel’s thorns assailed it in quick succession, Marbas’ attack faltered, unable to advance.

A ratio of one to three.

Marbas, exploiting even the blood of allies, against Hansel, wielding his own.

The disadvantage remained.

But the situation had been prevented from worsening.

Time had been bought.

An opening for something more had appeared.

Ian sensed this was his final opportunity.

“Marbas. Seven hundred years, and for what? A wasted span.”

“The boasts of a mortal hold no power. Words only possess strength through possibility and demonstrable fact.”

The technique to shatter self-assurance, to render their own brainwashing impotent.

A talent befitting a high-ranking vampire.

But it was a miscalculation.

“If only my insignificant lifespan were at stake, perhaps. But human will endures. Humans are short-lived, yet humanity’s civilization, its collective will, persists.”

“…!”

“Did the hearts of all those you killed truly break, utterly? Were there none who vowed vengeance even in death?”

*I will curse you from hell.*

*Someone will judge you.*

The hollow chattering of the defeated dead.

Oaths Marbas must have trampled countless times.

The souls of those warriors who waged that desperate struggle might have long since found peace.

Perhaps they forgot earthly matters long ago.

Even so.

If that were not the case.

If their souls remained on this earth.

If they watched this desperate struggle, even a little.

I am a brainwasher.

A deceiver, twisting and manipulating the hearts of men.

Using this wicked power, I will…

[Brainwash Activation]

[Designated Target – Marbas]

[Command – Even Gretel’s shadow refuses to yield, refuses to fall. Whose souls, then, have you truly subjugated and crushed?]

I forcefully roused the broken spirits of the vengeful dead.

Forcibly dragging them back into a battle they thought was over.

Under the banner of humanity, I raised up all the souls of those defeated who had known seven hundred years of peace.

“You…!”

Marbas’s eyes widened.

Whether it was the power of the brainwashing or a mere coincidence, I couldn’t know.

But Mother’s sword landed its first ‘effective hit’.

[Constant Brainwash Activation]

[Command – My nails grow as strong as the lives taken by this hand.]

[Constant Brainwash Activation]

[Command – My feet grow as swift as the freedoms stolen by this hand.]

[Constant Brainwash Activation]

[Command – My darkness grows as deep as the light of hearts buried by this hand.]

One of Marbas’s claw-swords, which had been clashing against my blade without yielding an inch, snapped.

A distortion in the judgement arose, declaring that Marbas’s power, grown fat on countless deaths and despair, had not truly achieved ‘annihilation’.

“A misjudgment. The most troublesome among you, the one I should have eliminated first…”

It was you.

Teresa’s sword, the one that broke Marbas’ fingernails, cleaved through his torso and neck in swift succession.

Even as the thrice-severed corpse teetered, Marbas’ eyes flared with a vicious intent.

Blood.

Spewing from the bisected remains, Marbas’ blood – the very essence of his influence.

Just as those droplets coalesced into colossal crimson spikes to impale Teresa, Gretel threw herself upon Marbas’ corpse, intercepting the spray.

-You mean to stop me? Don’t, and you and your child might survive?

-That is the difference between you and I.

There was no hesitation in Gretel’s action, just as there’d been none in Marbas’ self-destruction.

*Kwaaang!!*

Marbas, the high-ranking vampire who lived for seven hundred years.

Over his shattered remains, the form of the woman who was Gretel became a corrupted clay, dissolving and flowing away.

Hansel, arriving too late, collapsed before the pool of gore, utterly bereft. The tainted clay, devoid of human semblance, crept forward, touching Hansel’s finger.

*Ssss…*

The clay listlessly flowed away.

And then, silence.

The impure clay would never rise again.

Instead, Hansel’s stilled heart began to stir.

Hansel received the corrupted clay and a portion of Marbas’ blood that had seeped within.

His standing as a vampire rose.

Now, Hansel had the power to survive on his own, no matter where he went.

“Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“To finish your vengeance.”

But Hansel did not head for the entrance. Instead, he walked towards the deepest parts of the Lord’s castle.

“Mother showed me. How to approach life. She fought even impossible challenges. So, I will not run either.”

The corrupted clay, which had shown him a path forward when he was a lost child with no reason to live, was more than sufficient to call herself Hansel’s mother.

Gretel’s sacrifice, her final act, had shown both me and mother the way to go.

“On behalf of all the tragic victims who died at Marbas’ hand over seven centuries, Mother, and I, will aid you.”

With Hansel, a powerful ally, we will take on the 2nd phase, the subjugation of Ronove.