Somehow, Living Life in Another World is Wrong, as I Expected Ch. 11.3 (Patreon)

I was…not a good fighter, that much I can admit with no shame. Most of the time, the methods I used to fight were just unorthodox enough to unbalance my opponent. Maybe even shut them down permanently. But when it came to actual fighting-fighting? With swords and shit?

‘Out of luck’ would be the kindest way to put it. ‘A ten-year old would be better’ is the more insulting version, but I already get insulted outside of my thoughts more than enough times.

The point is, I just wasn’t built to fight like a knight. I didn’t have any background in physical conditioning, nor did I have the bullshit passive enhancements that everyone in this world had. And trust me, I tried. No matter what I did though, the problem stemmed from the fact that my body was inherently weak compared to everyone else.

The only damn reason I could keep up was because of my yang magic strengthening my body. Even then, it wasn’t enough.

See, yang and yin were diametrically opposed. When you use one type, the other falls off dramatically in efficacy. As it stands, the most I could do with my yang affinity is enhance myself to around the same level as the normal people in this world. I will never be a master of yang, though. Not anywhere close, in fact. This stems from my liberal usage of yin magic, and that was fine by me.

However, sometimes, I do regret that willful decision to do so this fast. Often, it’s situations that involve a lot of fighting, and while I have been able to coast along with my yin and earth magics, I couldn’t deny that having the ability to punch a hole through someone’s chest cavity could have been useful.

Like right now.

…

I threw a thin layer of sand and silica upwards, scattering them in the wind. In an instant, they formed a barely visible field just as more mabeasts came down upon us. None of them saw the sand, and dove with reckless abandon.

It would be their last action.

Carried by their momentum, they speared themselves on the particulates. No, that was wrong. Have you ever seen those sandblasting videos online? Imagine that, but with flesh and bone. Not pretty, and definitely stank to high hell.

But the mabeasts after me were dead, that was good enough. Rom and Felt were also busy fending off another group on their own terms, with Felt using her Divine Protection to knock them down so that Rom could swat them.

Of course, the bulk of the problem was being dealt with by Aldebaran. The Archbishop had tried, at first, to spear at us, but the gladiator had moved like an absolute maniac. He had cut through the appendage that had almost reached Felt, before hacking and slashing at the monster that was Lugunica.

Every attempt to attack us after that was met with even more aggression, leaving the three of us to thin the horde in peace. So long as Aldebaran was there, he would do his damndest to defend.

Evidently, Lugunica had come to the same conclusion, and was now focusing everything on killing the gladiator. Except that, somehow, said gladiator was able to defend, deflect, and damage her without suffering any visible injuries.

It wasn't a matter of overwhelming skill or raw, unadulterated power. Even with my completely untrained eyes, I could tell Al’s swordplay was rough, unrefined, and frankly, kind of sloppy. If you put him up against an actual master swordsman, he’d probably get folded like cheap laundry. Though, that may be my bias as I had personally witnessed Karsten and the two Astreas.

Regardless, Aldebaran wasn't taking a single hit.

It was like watching a video game speedrunner absolutely dismantle a boss fight they had already played ten thousand times. Every swing, every dodge, every desperate parry was executed a fraction of a second before the monster even telegraphed its move. He stepped to the left exactly when a vicious, scythe-like appendage slashed through the space he had just occupied. He raised his guard just in time to block a strike from a blind spot that he shouldn't have been able to see.

Ha.

Maybe that was it.

Natsuki had his clairvoyance. I had my triple affinity. Aldebaran had his unearned combat prowess. A three man party. A party that could have been, with possibly more people that had been in hiding this entire time. A thought for another time.

"Oi, Boss! Watch your right!" Felt’s voice cut through the chaos, her small frame blurring as she kicked a dog-like mabeast squarely in the jaw.

I didn't bother turning my head. The moment she shouted, I tapped into my mana gate, feeling the familiar, sluggish coldness of yin magic pooling in my gut.

A pair of mabeasts had managed to flank me while I was distracted by Al’s suspiciously perfect performance. They leaped from the shadows of the surrounding debris, maws wide open, clearly expecting an easy meal out of the frail-looking guy with the dead fish eyes.

Too bad. The only thing you're getting from me is indigestion. 

"Shamak."

It was the most basic Yin spell, essentially just a parlor trick to blind or disorient. But like I said, I don't fight fair. Instead of casting it in front of their eyes to block their vision, I dumped the concentrated cluster of dark mana directly into the open, roaring mouth of the leading mabeast. The result was instantaneous. The sudden burst of sensory deprivation and heavy mana inside its head completely scrambled its equilibrium mid-leap. The beast convulsed, twisting awkwardly in the air, and crashed headfirst into its companion.

Before they could untangle themselves, I slammed my foot into the dirt, pulsing a quick burst of earth magic. Two jagged stalagmites shot up from the ground, skewering the mess of limbs and fur. A pitiful yelp, and then silence.

My breathing was starting to get ragged. The yang magic keeping my muscles from tearing themselves apart was draining my reserves, and the constant output of earth and yin was giving me a splitting headache. My stamina was draining faster than my will to live on a Monday morning.

"Don't space out, kid!" Rom bellowed, swinging his massive club in a wide arc that sent three more beasts flying into the nearest wall with a sickening crunch, "There's no end to 'em!" 

He wasn't wrong. For every mabeast we put down, two more seemed to crawl out of the woodwork, drawn to the carnage and the overwhelming stench of miasma radiating from the Archbishop. I shot a glance back at Aldebaran. He was still holding the line against Lugunica, but even his 'speedrunner' routine was showing cracks. He was panting heavily, his single arm trembling under the sheer force of the monster's relentless assault. Anticipation or not, there was a strict physical limit to how much punishment a one-armed gladiator could deflect before his muscles gave out.

We were stuck in a war of attrition, and with my pathetic physical specs, that was a war I was guaranteed to lose. I needed to shift the board. I needed to do something incredibly underhanded, preferably while minimizing the risk to my own life.

The choice was made for me.

"Beako, now!"

That obnoxiously loud, painfully earnest shout could only belong to one idiot. The resident tracksuit-wearing, try-hard protagonist himself.

Instantly, the ambient mana in the air grew incredibly dense. And I don’t mean ‘heavy’ like a humid summer afternoon in Chiba; I mean the kind of crushing, suffocating pressure that makes your teeth ache and your instincts scream at you to find a bunker immediately.

I didn't need to be told twice. My survival instincts kicked into overdrive.

I immediately dropped to the dirt, ignoring the undignified squeak my joints made, and slammed both hands onto the ground. I dumped whatever earth mana I could spare, shifting the ground into a wave. I used it to drag over Aldebaran, Rom and Felt with me. With another heave, I formed the rest of the dirt into a thick, dome-like barricade over our heads. I wasn't about to get caught in the friendly fire of a four-hundred-year-old Spirit's wrath.

"Al Shamak."

...

There was a line of thought that I once read about. About the nature of life and consciousness. Solipsism, I believe it was called. I think, therefore I am. The belief that only one's own self is sure to exist. I never did ascribe to such a thought, because I thought it was just a bunch of horseshit that some chuuni brat would believe in. After all, I doubt that I could come up with everything that's happened to the world on the fly, nevermind the idea that I was the only one responsible for everything that has ever happened.

And now?

I still didn't think so.

Only because I was experiencing the complete opposite.

Inside the dome, one could say it was dark. The lack of light made sure of that. Al Shamak blew that darkness away. Figuratively.

If a normal Shamak was like putting a bag over someone’s head, Al Shamak was like deleting the concept of 'sight' from the source code of the universe. The atmosphere screamed as the mana tore a hole in reality, a localized void that swallowed the light, the sound, and the very air. 

The world ceased to exist.

If the others were here, then I didn't know. Logically, I knew I had succeeded in dragging them in with me. Physically, I lacked the senses to tell.

Am I even thinking? Are these thoughts even mine? That I am asking these questions should have been a resounding yes to both. But the very fact that I was questioning it meant my consciousness was still intact. Descartes would be so proud of me.

And then, it was gone. I could feel the dirt on my hands, hear the labored breathing of me and the others. See my hands. Shaking.

It was one thing to read about it. It was an entirely different thing to experience Al Shamak by the one individual that could use it.

“I think-” Felt dry heaved behind me, “I think I’m gonna throw up, holy shit.”

“Do it once we’re safe.” My tone lacked the bite it could’ve had. Especially since I felt the same way.

“Was that Subaru?” Aldebaran groaned as he supported himself with his one arm, “What the fuck did he do?”

I didn’t bother answering, instead opting to clear the earth dome. All at once, the lack of mabeasts hit me. No smells either. No bodies.

No Archbishop.

Only Natsuki and Beatrice, standing just a couple of meters away from us. The moment my dome collapsed, Natsuki’s eyes widened in relief, jogging his way with a wave of his hand.

“Man, I got scared there!”

I stared at him. Or rather, I leveled a glare at him.

"Scared?" I repeated, my voice as dry as the dirt I was currently brushing off my knees. "You're the one who just unplugged the universe's router without warning. If my heart had actually given out from the sheer existential dread of being deleted from reality, I was going to haunt you for the rest of my life."

"Seconded!" Aldebaran.

"Oh fuck-" Felt was too busy puking.

Rom was too busy trying to stop himself from puking.

I have to admit, the sounds they were making were making my stomach roil too.

Natsuki rubbed the back of his head, offering a sheepish grin that was entirely too bright for the miserable hellscape we were currently standing in. "Haha, sorry, sorry! I didn't really have time to send a memo! But hey, it worked out, right?"

I could feel the last dregs of my yang magic fizzling out in my veins, leaving behind a sudden, heavy ache in my muscles that promised absolute misery tomorrow. Assuming we lived to see tomorrow.

"You should be on your knees thanking Betty's contractor, I suppose." Came the haughty, bell-like voice from the drill-haired spirit clinging tightly to Natsuki's hand. Beatrice looked exactly as out of place here as I felt, a pristine porcelain doll standing amidst blood and rubble, "If not for my flawless execution of Al Shamak, you and your ragtag group would be nothing but stains on the dirt, in fact."

"...You do know being a lolicon is a jailable offense here, right?"

Subaru’s face went through a fascinating spectrum of colors - shifting from a healthy post-battle glow to a pale, panicked white, and finally landing on a vibrant, indignant red.

"It’s a sacred contract between a Spirit and her Contractor! A bond of the soul that transcends petty worldly laws!" Subaru yelled, waving his free arm around like he was trying to direct traffic in the middle of a Shibuya scramble, "And don't bring up the 'L-word' when I just saved your cynical hide!"

I snorted, before sharpening my focus once more, "Okay, before anything else, I'm just confirming that you just sent that Archbishop into another dimension?"

Beatrice scoffed, "What do you take Betty for? Of course I have! Unless she's an expert in yin magic, there is no possible way that she can get out!"

"Right then." I nodded, ignoring the Spirit's indignation. I think I just needed it to be confirmed, for my own sake. I eyed Natsuki and his apparently contracted Spirit. Somehow, he had convinced Beatrice to make a contract with him, a feat that nobody had been able to achieve in the past four hundred years. The kid at least deserves my respect after that.

All to neutralize a damn Archbishop like it was nothing. How anti-climatic.

Still, I'd take anti-climatic over the sheer amount of action going on.

Thank goodness that Felt hadn't been targeted - well, targeted any more than that initial volley. I hate to say it, but I do owe Aldebaran quite a bit for that. Speaking of which, I turned to lock eyes with the other man, giving him a nod. He returned it, not saying a word.

I'll pay him back one of these days, but for now, "Karsten still needs to deal with that corpse soldier." I breathed out before locking my shoulders straight, even as they protested the action.

Of course, it's par for the course that the protagonist's actions solve everything, I thought to myself as a familiar head of green came poking through the ruined mansion, "No need, it seems that the elimination of the Archbishop released whatever hold was on Kurgan."

Following her was the other Archbishop, along with a blond demi-human I did not recognize. He was certainly a character, looking more like a feral cat than he had any right to be. He was also talking with Romanée-Conti with a fervor, one that the Archbishop returned with a calm smile.

I did not like it.

Natsuki didn't have the same reservations, waving at the blond, "Garf!"

"Cap'n!" The demi-human grinned back, before rushing towards the tracksuit-wearing teen. Turning my head away from the loud laughs, I raised an eyebrow towards Karsten.

To her credit, she only shrugged with an amused smile, "Sir Garfiel here assisted us with Kurgan. I must say, he reminded me quite a bit of you when he used his Divine Protection in more creative ways than I would have expected."

"Damn straight!" Garfiel gave a thumbs up, his grin not fading, "An' I told ya, non'o that 'sir' business! The name's Garfiel Tinzel, Shield of the Sanctuary, nothin' more, nothin' less!"

“Alright, alright!” Natsuki slapped his hands on his face, a determined look on his face, “We can talk about all that later. Right now, we managed to finish things here earlier than I expected. So, I’m gonna use this time to finalize what we’re going to do to deal with the Great Rabbit.”

Silence.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

…