Chapter 18…
Monsters of the Wasteland
‘That sound… moving swiftly across the wasteland with multiple legs. A scorpion-type monster, perhaps.’
Scorpion monsters, massive in size, clad in hard armor, and frighteningly fast, made deserts and wastelands their home.
Their venomous tails were especially dangerous; without the aid of a mage, knights and soldiers alone struggled to deal with them.
Eugene drew his sword and called out to Evron.
“Priest Evron, wake Galette. Tell him to light a fire and brighten the area—the scorpion monsters are near.”
At his command, Evron sprang up and rushed into the tent.
Sword raised, Eugene focused on the sound.
Perhaps under the influence of his Battle Maniac trait, his eyes glimmered faintly with a blue aura.
Raising his agility had helped, but with the trait’s enhancements, his senses had become sharper than ever before.
‘Far better than that Lust Maniac trait, at least.’
But there was a downside. With the Battle Maniac trait, he instinctively reacted to any fight, which sometimes forced troublesome quests onto him.
Still, it was preferable to leaving the Lust Maniac trait unchecked. Until he gained another corrective trait, he would have to live as a man addicted to battle.
Soon, Galette was up, lighting torches and setting fires around the camp.
Insect-type monsters disliked fire, and sometimes they fled once the surroundings were bright.
Eugene kept listening, sword ready.
Shssshhhk.
Had it been the sound of retreat, it would have been a relief. Unfortunately, the noise grew closer. Without lowering his guard, Eugene shouted to Galette and Evron.
“Bring the horses behind me! Scorpions will target them first!”
Just then, the ground burst open. A giant scorpion leapt out, lunging toward Eugene.
Hsssssshhh!
As large as a grown man, the scorpion lashed its venomous tail at him.
Eugene swiftly retreated, narrowly avoiding it.
Had he not raised his agility, he would already be paralyzed by its sting.
‘Whew…’
He stayed alert, still focusing on the sounds around him. Another set of legs scuttled behind him.
‘Two of them.’
One drew his attention from the front while the other circled to target the horses.
Eugene immediately dashed toward the horses. The scorpion in front raised its tail high and charged.
“Galette! The skewer!” Eugene roared.
Galette grabbed one of the iron skewers stuck in the tent and hurled it.
Catching it nimbly, Eugene spun, muscles bulging, and hurled it with all his strength at the monster rushing toward him.
Thunk-thunk-thunk!
The iron skewer, packed with Eugene’s raw might, pierced through the scorpion’s armor and lodged perfectly at the joint between its tail and waist.
SKREEEEE!
The creature shrieked, its venom-dripping tail thrashing wildly.
“Get the horses back!” Eugene barked, retreating.
The others tugged at the terrified horses, trying to drag them farther away.
But the ground rumbled again—another, larger scorpion emerged.
It rushed at the horses, but Eugene dashed forward, short sword drawn, aiming for its tail.
Clang!
The blade struck the hardened armor with a shrill crack—and snapped in two.
A greatsword might have endured, but a short sword could never sever such a thick tail.
Even so, the monster’s tail didn’t escape unscathed. A fine crack ran along its shell.
Dropping the broken blade, Eugene charged in, seizing the half-broken tail under his arm.
The stinger, dripping venom, jerked toward his back—
—but Eugene’s grip held it fast. It couldn’t move.
He pulled with both arms, muscles straining.
Craaaack!
The scorpion’s tail shattered with a deafening snap.
And Eugene didn’t stop there—he tore it clean off.
The wounded scorpion shrieked, just as the first monster, enraged, charged at him with venom frothing.
Eugene hefted the severed tail in both hands and swung it.
The sharp stinger plunged straight into the charging scorpion’s head.
SKRIIIEEEE!
With a final scream, the monster collapsed, lifeless.
Eugene turned immediately, closing in on the crippled scorpion.
Without its greatest weapon, the creature thrashed about helplessly.
He ran in and slammed his fist into its head.
Bam!
The monster reeled under the blow.
Seizing its pincers with one hand, Eugene hammered its skull again and again.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
Like strikes from a sledgehammer, his fists crushed the scorpion’s head. At last, with a sickening crunch, it burst, spraying green fluids everywhere.
The monster went limp, dead at last.
Eugene only released its jaws once he was certain it was lifeless.
Behind him, Galette and Evron gaped in stunned silence.
Then Evron, crossing himself, began praising Eugene, likening him to the heroes of scripture who slew monsters with their bare hands.
Ignoring them, Eugene picked up a greatsword and approached the corpses.
He cut through the upper joints of their tails, severing the venomous stingers.
He wrapped the two stingers carefully in leather and placed them atop the baggage.
Scorpion venom fetched a high price; it was worth keeping.
Their carcasses could also be sold, but dragging them across the wasteland was impossible. The stingers were what mattered most.
Eugene turned to his companions.
“The scorpions’ fluids are scattered about. Others won’t come near. Rest here until sunrise—we move then.”
They camped through the night, using the scorpions’ bodies as barricades.
As Eugene predicted, no other monsters approached. When morning broke, they set out once more.
Carrying the scorpion stingers seemed to deter other creatures; from the second day onward, no monster dared attack.
What was expected to take four days instead took only three and a half.
By sunset, they reached Bonstein’s gates—closed for the night.
Galette hurried forward, pounding on the gate.
“Lord Eugene Bastio, ruler of Aslan and honorable ranger of the Northern Wall, has crossed the wasteland to arrive here! He has urgent business in Bonstein tonight—open the gate!”
His cries brought soldiers to the wall. Their faces showed open irritation.
“Once the sun sets, the gates stay closed! Camp outside and enter in the morning!” one shouted.
Galette protested again.
“This man is the lord of Aslan! And beside him is a priest in service to the noble Nova! Open the gates for such esteemed guests!”
But the soldiers only sneered.
“Don’t care if he’s a lord or priest. Rules are rules!”
Another chimed in mockingly:
“If it’s so urgent, then force your way in. That’d count as an exception.”
Galette’s face flushed red. He realized they were mocking and insulting them.
“To think they dare—!”
He could endure insults to himself, but to see his lord, a man worthy of being called a hero, treated with scorn was unbearable.
Just as he was about to retort, Eugene stepped forward.
“Galette. Stand aside.”
At once, Galette obeyed. Eugene leapt from his horse and stood before the gate. It was thick and heavy—no man could push it open alone.
Above, the soldiers laughed, jeering.
“He’s really going to try pushing it?”
“Must be some country bumpkin. What a fool—”
Craaaaack!
Before they could finish, a strange sound echoed from the gate.
Rumble…!
The massive wooden beam bracing the gate splintered. Slowly, the gates began to open.
“St-stop him!” the soldiers shouted, panicked.
They scrambled to the battlements, aiming arrows at Eugene.
But by then, the gates had been forced wide. Beyond them stood an iron portcullis and an inner gate.
Arrows rained down as Eugene stepped inside, but he dodged them with ease and strode to the portcullis.
Grabbing the bars, he wrenched them apart.
Craaaaash!
The iron bent and tore like candy, leaving an opening wide enough to pass through.
He stood before the reinforced inner gate and clenched his fists.
Boom! Boom!
Each punch dented the iron plates, leaving deep craters. The soldiers gaped in horror.
At last, the battered gate cracked and gave way. Eugene stepped back, raised his foot, and kicked.
CRASH!
The inner gate tore off its hinges. He widened the hole until even horses could pass, then waved for Galette and Evron.
They hurried through, leading the packhorses.
But ahead, Bonstein’s guards stood bristling with spears and bows—though trembling like they faced a monster.
Eugene ignored them, instead surveying Bonstein itself.
The city’s familiar scent stirred something primal within him, and he had to fight to keep it suppressed.
Letting the Battle Maniac’s instinct take the forefront, Eugene glared at the soldiers, murderous intent radiating from his eyes.
A cold, blue aura flickered there. The guards’ knees buckled. Some even soiled themselves and collapsed outright.
With nothing more than his gaze and his presence, Eugene overwhelmed Bonstein’s soldiers—
—and, with Galette and Evron in tow, strode calmly into the city.
