Spectre of the Sinner - Zetro Translation

POV: An Nguyễn, 2321 UTC + 09:30, Vest Schëld, Mellanphalia Kingdom

The first victim of the fight, a charging machete-wielding lad despite the lack of light, was ruthlessly brought down by a light squeeze of the trigger. One down, several more to go.

“Good thing that I replaced the stock trigger with something much more responsive,” yet another soliloquy drifted into the nothingness as I gunned down yet another foolhardy, “I wonder when those fucking hotheads can fucking cool their head?”

Weave in, weave out of the thick of the action.

Keep them beyond arm’s reach, and pump lead into their body.
Be extra mindful of any flanking attempts, and take care of them accordingly.

Keep watch of the ammo count and reload at the first opportunity available while using the [Armory] to replenish as discreetly as possible.

Then suddenly, the candles flickered again, returning light to the hideout of a tavern. A click of the tongue leaked out of my lips for not expecting my talismans to give out this early, ruining my attempt at eliminating all the bothersome opposition.

“So… Anyone here still wants to aim their puny toys at my throat for no good reason?”

The remaining armed folks, numbering exactly 5, were pulling that same old “who’s first to go” exchange. Their eyes darted ceaselessly anxiously amongst themselves as if trying to comprehend the scale of bloodshed that I had unleashed on them. After all, it was their first taste of a different kind of violence, one that pointedly nullified one’s lifetime’s effort dedicated to melee weapon mastery. Seriously, at this point, I was hoping that cooler heads would prevail, sparing those poor bastards an agonizing end.

A moment that felt like an eternity dragged its damn arse went by.

“No way in hell!”

“Especially when you have unjustly killed our comrades! There’s no damn way we can fucking let it slide!”

Wow there, why the fucking hell I smelled something dubious here? I desperately suppressed the urge to retort to their ridiculous statement as I glared at the daring son of a bitch. To think that he could spew out such preposterous utterance, which unfortunately reminded me of those damned armchair warmongers from the other side of the trenches.

“You may have the unfair advantage of fighting on the pitch black… But now the lights are on, let’s see how well can you do?”

Ah, it’s a shame that those damn ruffians were truly a lost cause. I was a damn naïve son of a bitch to think that they would stand down after going this far. The only solution left was to send them straight toward the sacrificial altar of the [High Patriarch].

Thus began the last round of the bloody ritual.

Brrrrrrt!

First stop, the bastard uttered that outrageous avowal. Ah, it felt oh so refreshing when letting loose a couple of [Guyrza] into his body. With that source of annoyance gone from the face of [Evrylandia], I could focus on taking on the remaining folks as well. Of course, the [Veresk] was out of ammo, and I wasn’t going to use the pistol to deal with those lowly ruffians.

Time to brush up on my hand-to-hand combat skills, or else it got dangerously rusty.

After seeing the corpse crumbling, not unlike a puppet getting its string cut, the rest of the fighters exchanged a glance amongst themselves before starting to move as well.

One of them, a fleet-footed lad, had already positioned behind me as I put away my PDW. I could imagine the fella’s hand was giddily twirling the hideously curved knife, anticipating cutting the black menace down and looting valuables from his corpse.

Unfortunately for the little sneaky bloke, I shall have his hopes and dreams dashed away, brutally.

Slamming a kick into his knife-wielding hand, then grabbing the poor schmuck’s arm, and finally, slamming him onto a wooden table. Ignoring the mix of crashing sounds and pained yelp, I proceeded to swipe at the legs of an incoming bogey, bringing him down to the floor.

Seeing that the sneaky bloke was desperately trying to reach for his reserve knife, I quickly smashed my fist into his esophagus before rolling over to the side. The wet and crunchy sound of a heavy blade sinking into flesh quickly followed, earning an amused chuckle from my lips.

“Nice blue-on-blue there son!”

I swiftly stood up and vaulted over the team-killing lad, not forgetting to leave behind a parting gift in the shape of a kick into his still-surprised face. With that son of a bitch being sent the merry way, I hurriedly drew out my combat dagger as I dodged a retaliating swipe from a red-faced rogue. Not wasting a valuable opportunity, I used the momentum to take a swipe at the guy’s leg again before driving the knife into his defenseless throat.

Hurriedly rolled to the side once again, I delivered a hasty kick into an attacker’s face just as they were lunging forward, creating a distance between us. As I regained balance in a hurry, the knife was hurled toward the brown-robed enemy, only for the damn dagger to bounce off harmlessly.

“Сука блять, you fucking lucky bastard,” an irritated cuss was tossed at the lucky spawn of a bitch as I pulled out yet another dagger from my tactical belt.

The other party suddenly chucked an object toward me with a determined look in their eyes. Knowing that it was something troublesome, I leaped away from the spot. What came next was a puff of black smoke, bringing with it an intense pepper smell.

“Sorry lad, you picked the wrong target to play your prank on,” I quickly ducked low and turned around as I put on the gas mask to counter the effects of the spicy smokescreen.

A faint thrusting swoosh passed by the place where my head was moments before. Not letting such an opportunity pass by, I grabbed the axe-wielding arm of the team killer of an assailant and slammed him down. Shame that there wasn’t a piece of furniture nearby, allowing his back to land on the floor cleanly with a thud.

Then a dull sensation hit me in the flank, and soon I found myself grunting from the force of impact.

“Argh, that’s a good hit there, I must say.”

“Huh, you’re much sturdier than I thought,” a nondescript voice piped up in slight astonishment as I recovered after doing a handspring to the side.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” being the gracious self-proclaimed gentleman I was, I replied to the flattery as I spied at their figure, “I hope that I’m not wrong, it seems to me that you’re not a local either, right? Or more specifically, you’re from the [Holy Empire], right?”

A soft tongue-clicking sound escaped from the brown robe figure, confirming my suspicion about their allegiance. After all, that mantle’s design was starting to stir unpleasant memories in my heart, ones that I was eager to banish away.