Stepping forward, I flashed the heirloom blade in a single arc.
The sweeping slash severed a cluster of tentacles in one pass.
On the return stroke, I smashed apart yet another tendril.
I accelerated my attacks, but in response, the tentacles regenerated even faster.
They lunged at me with erratic, unpredictable movements.
(I can't keep up with all of them...)
A tendril grazed my shoulder, and I leaped backward.
The moment I landed, cracks split the ground beneath my feet and tentacles erupted from below.
I cut them down in a desperate flurry.
Deflected, one tendril veered off course and shattered the wall behind me.
I kept sprinting while cutting down wave after wave of tentacles.
Halfway through, I caught a glimpse of the golden tower.
It stood there as though its existence were the most natural thing in the world.
The human figures floating on its surface pulsed, as if remembering how to breathe.
The forms were enough to provoke a deep, spiritual revulsion.
"Help me, die, kill! Long live the Demon Lord! This is the worst!"
"No—this is a lie—why am I the one who has to suffer—"
"It's your fault, your fault, your fault—"
Voices of hatred and resentment were hurled at me.
People afflicted by spiritual corruption clung to me, desperate and rabid.
Everyone was bloodshot.
They were becoming fodder for the tentacles, yet they moved without hesitation, not even loathing it.
They were single-mindedly trying to harm me.
(...Perhaps... it cannot be helped.)
I unleashed my magic.
Hot winds severed the people and incinerated them at the same time.
A short distance away, a fierce blizzard turned humans into statues of ice.
Still elsewhere, a black mist caused humans to decay in an instant.
All of it was my doing.
I chose spells that caused the least suffering where possible.
They probably wouldn't even notice their own deaths.
In this situation, even a minor obstruction couldn't be ignored.
Busy dealing with the tentacles, I had no choice but to kill them.
I truly didn't want to do something like this, but there was no time to hesitate.
The infinitely regenerating tentacles blocked my advance.
I hacked through them with my sword, but couldn't break past a certain point.
If I forced my way through, I would surely be absorbed by the tentacles in moments.
Furthermore, the closer I got to the tower, the more my body was affected.
Specifically, it hindered my manipulation of magical power and miasma.
That made dealing with the tentacles even more difficult.
What a troublesome structure it is.
The false god demonstrates overwhelming power.
In terms of existential standing, I am clearly inferior.
I have been outmatched in the scale of abilities.
However, this cannot serve as grounds to abandon the fight.
The golden tower is an aberration destined to destroy the world.
Understanding this, I must stop it here.
(It will be a contest of endurance, but there is no choice.)
Having steeled my resolve, I challenged the tower once more with renewed determination.
◆
How much time has passed since the battle with the tower began?
The surroundings were sinking into the twilight gloom.
Standing amidst it, I cast my gaze about.
The people who were once there are gone.
They either became nourishment for the tentacles or had their lives ended by my arts.
In the end, I could not save a single one.
This is entirely due to my own lack of power.
There is no excuse.
The tentacles erupting from the ground had multiplied to an immense number.
Conservatively, there must have been at least a thousand.
They undulated before me like a mirage, watching my every move.
Despite the distance being no great matter, I could not reach the tower.
I could not break through the impenetrable wall of tentacles.
Even a few steps felt impossibly far.
By this point, I had tried every technique and tactic I could think of.
And yet I had not established any method of piercing through this wall of tentacles.
(What am I to do...)
I struggled with the problem while cleaving through tentacles.
Fortunately, the tentacles' movements were monotonous.
As an undead, I could fight on like this without worrying about fatigue.
In truth, not a single moment had arisen where my life was truly at stake.
But that did not change the fact that I could not seize the offensive.
I could sense that if I played my cards right, a breakthrough was possible—yet I had no foothold to stand on.
(If I had just one more—some kind of opening—I should be able to break through.)
I searched for the means to turn the tide while continuing this endless battle.
That was when a high-output mana reaction erupted in the distance.
The mana response was hurtling toward me at terrifying speed.
Miasma appeared to be mixed in as well—it was an exceedingly chaotic reaction.
(Beast reinforcements?)
Unable to determine what it was, I braced for the worst.
If more powerful beasts gather here, we could easily fall into serious disadvantage.
Ideally, I would have culled them preemptively.
I brace myself to intercept while directing my awareness skyward.
And for just an instant, I go rigid.
Soaring at high speed across the evening sky was a scaled pseudo-golem.