The Lazy Boy Is, In Fact, the Strongest and Most Brutal Assassin. - Chapter 22: No Life King: Part 2

No Life King: Part 2

“Master, who exactly is he…?”

“Oh, it’s rare for you to show interest in someone else.”

Kurikara’s voice contained a hint of surprise, along with a teasing or mocking tone. However, for Silver Cat, the question wasn’t so unusual. After all, just a few days ago, when investigating ヒHiluluk, Silver Cat had witnessed Haiker being gruesomely slaughtered by bandits, only to later encounter the same man alive.

“Is he… immortal?”

“Not quite. It’s not immortality. He dies when killed, just like any other human. He’s really just an ordinary person in that sense. However… what’s different is that he somehow comes back to life, no matter how he dies.”

“Come back to life…?”

“Yes. No matter how he dies, as long as a part of him—whether a bone or a piece of flesh—remains, he regenerates from there and comes back to life. That’s what I’ve heard.”

“That’s impossible…”

Silver Cat stopped just as they were about to speak. After thinking about it, they realized that Haiker was not unique in this. Many members of the Night Dwellers, Nocturnal group were, to some extent, involved in similar absurd situations.

“What he lost to his curse was ‘rest’. He doesn’t even know when he was born, or how long he has lived. According to him, he’s been a Hydra, the king of Highland, and also a slave. That’s what I’ve been told.”

“Highland!?”

Silver Cat was struck speechless.

Highland—a kingdom so legendary that it now only exists in myths. Long before the current nations began to rise, it was said to have been a mighty empire, and Hydra was one of the key figures in these stories.

“The usurper Hydra…”

A king who murdered his own father to take the throne and, driven by greed, invaded the desert kingdom of Escalis-Mimir. Despite his overwhelming military strength, he was eventually defeated.

“How did someone like that become an assassin…?”

“I can’t say for sure whether it’s true or not,” Kurikara interjected. “But when I last spoke to him, he said it was for the money.”

“For money…? That’s quite a mundane reason…”

“He said that crossing the boundary between life and death, the River of Lamentation, always forces him to return. Recently, the ferryman of the River of Lamentation started charging extra fees, so he needs money for that…”

“Is that really… a mundane reason?”

Silver Cat was troubled, wondering whether it was appropriate to describe the afterlife in such mundane terms. Observing this ambiguous expression, Kurikara smiled like a young girl, her hand to her mouth.

***

A cold, almost unseasonable air lingered in the brothel room.
A shiver ran down his spine, and Hiluluk trembled slightly. Realizing he had been staring blankly, his eyes unfocused, he shook himself out of it and began scanning the room with a sharp gaze.

The usual room. The brothel room Hiluluk used as his private quarters. The women on either side were wailing in distress. Annoying. The high-pitched voices of the women grated on Hiluluk‘s nerves.

A body, split in two, lay on the floor. The man, whose name was something like Sazarof or Zazarof, a country bumpkin, now lay in a pool of blood, leaving dark stains on the red carpet.

He, a hothead, useless and short-sighted. No, he was. The subordinates surrounding Hiluluk couldn’t tear their eyes away from the body, all of them standing stock-still with foolish expressions on their faces.

And finally, the awkward figure in full-body armor. The man they had killed—Haiker—had come back, dressed like a fool in full armor, and now he had come to kill Hiluluk.

What is this? What kind of joke is this?

Thoughts had been slipping through Hiluluk‘s mind for a while now. His blood vessels twitched, as if his heart had scattered across his body. The more he tried to calm himself, the hotter his head felt, and it became all he could do to even recognize what he was seeing.

The man in full armor had come to kill him. That fact, and nothing else, was all Hiluluk would focus on.

He glared at the man in full armor.

The issue was this man—the young noble.

It was this impossible situation where the dead came back to attack, causing all this confusion.

But what is he? An undead? No, that’s impossible. From the gap in the raised visor, the face of the man was clearly that of a living person, and it even seemed a little flushed, as though he were excited. It was undoubtedly the face of a living human.

Hiluluk exhaled. In. Then out again, slowly and deeply. Calm down, calm down, calm down. He closed his eyes, telling himself to steady his nerves.

He could feel the slight tremors from the women clutching at his sides. That was a sign he was regaining his composure. When he thought about it, the man before him had the same face as the one they had killed.

A twin, or simply someone who looked very similar. There were plenty of ways to alter one’s appearance with ancient magical tools, makeup, or disguise. There was no reason to be afraid.

But what did he say his name was?

“Night’s Dweller… Nocturnal?”

He had been mocked.

Thinking of that name, Hiluluk realized the man probably thought anyone in the town would be trembling at the sound of it. Finally, anger overtook the fear inside Hiluluk‘s body.

Kicking the floor loudly, Hiluluk shouted at his subordinates.

“You idiots, he’s just one man! Don’t just stand there shaking in fear!”

After a brief moment of stiffening, the subordinates quickly checked the number of people in the room. The opponent was one person. They, excluding the two women, numbered eight. In calm consideration, there was no reason to be scared.

The subordinates all turned to face the intruder and regripped their weapons.

The man in full body armor—Haiker—had been standing motionless in the doorway, with a short sword, gladius, resting on his shoulder. The visor was raised, and through the gap, his smiling face only irritated the men further.

A man with a grotesque, dog-like face—Kije, the underboss—stepped forward.

Among Hiluluk‘s subordinates, Kije was known as the most martial. His appearance suited his nickname, “Mad Dog.” He wielded two hand axes, which weren’t particularly elegant for a Yakuza weapon, but their lethality was far beyond that of a dagger.

“I’ll send you back to the grave once more!”

Kije shouted as he charged toward Haiker, swinging his hand axes with all his strength. However, the full body armor didn’t budge. The axes came down from a high angle, striking the helmet with a dull metallic clang that echoed off the walls, piercing the ears of Hiluluk and the others.

The full body armor staggered, and part of the helmet caved in. Blood splattered from the gap in the visor.

“Yeah, bro! This guy’s just for show!” Kije exclaimed, turning toward Hiluluk with a strange, excited tone.

“Idiot, Kije! Not yet!” Hiluluk shouted, but it was too late. The brief moment of hesitation was enough for Haiker. With a swift motion, he dropped the gladius, which had been resting on his shoulder, and cleaved down without any care for finesse.

“Aah…”

With a sickening crack, Kije let out a strange sound. His skull caved in with a dull thud, and his eyes rolled upward.

Kije collapsed to his knees, and before he could fall further, Haiker kicked his body aside. Haiker let out a small, derisive chuckle, “What a mess.”

Haiker spoke in a dull tone, looking down at Kije‘s lifeless body.

It was Haiker who was the one causing the mess, but no one, aside from Haiker himself, dared voice it. However, thanks to Kije‘s strike, the full body armor was clearly unsteady.

The enemy was injured. At that moment, a false sense of ease spread among the men. Generally, the more thuggish types are strongest when their opponent is weakened.

“Dieeeeee!”

The men, despite the unsteady state of the full body armor, surrounded it in a semicircle. They exchanged glances and, in unison, charged forward, shouting as they attacked.

But that sense of ease was nothing more than an illusion. In the blink of an eye, hell’s gates opened.

The man who aimed a knife at the gap in the visor watched in horror as his own arm, still holding the knife, flew off into the air, slashed away by Haiker‘s gladius.

A man who swung a longsword horizontally at the torso made contact with the armor, producing a light metallic clang. At the same moment, the gauntlet-covered left fist of Haiker slammed into the man’s face, caving in his features as he was sent flying.

Another man, aiming for the shoulder with a dagger, never even touched the full armor. He was struck in the jaw by the arm of his own ally, sent flying, and fell awkwardly to the ground.

“Damn it!”

The man pushed off his ally’s arm, which was still on top of him, and as he tried to stand, a short sword gladius came down from above, taking away his chance to ever rise again.

In an instant, Haiker had taken the lives of three men. He moved like a mindless golem, stumbling on unsteady feet as he swung the gladius wildly, approaching the remaining men.

At first glance, it seemed like a careless, wide-open attack, a series of movements that couldn’t even be called swordsmanship.

Without any fear of being struck or cut, Haiker continued to slowly approach the men who were backing away, as though he was a force of nature.

“What the hell is this guy…?”

The men, retreating in fear, let out voices soaked in terror.

Blood dripped from the seams of the helmet, running down the neck of the full-body armor, staining the chestplate. The blow from the hand axe had indeed taken its toll… or so it seemed, but the armored figure didn’t show the slightest sign of hesitation.

A chilling unease began to build among the remaining men as they were slowly pushed into a corner.

And then, as they looked into the eyes visible through the gap in the helmet, the men froze. It wasn’t the gaze of one suffering from pain, nor of someone fearful, intoxicated by killing, or burning with rage. It was the same gentle smile that had been there from the beginning, unchanged.

“Uah, uuaaaaah!”

With no room left to retreat, the remaining subordinates, in their panic, leapt forward at Haiker, their expressions twisted in fear.

But it was already too late. The men had no chance, not even as much as a speck of dust in comparison. Their strikes were not even aimed at slashing, more like clumsy blows as they were relentlessly beaten down. In an instant, their consciousness was severed, and they were battered mercilessly as they collapsed, until their bodies could no longer retain their human shape. All of this took mere seconds.

“A monster…”

Hiluluk realized his voice was trembling. His subordinates, his shield, were gone. Every last one of them had already sunk into a sea of blood.

Haiker, having stopped swinging his sword, stood amidst the sea of blood. Slowly, he turned his body toward Hiluluk. From behind the helmet, he smiled.

Hiluluk swallowed hard, rising with a jolt.

“Aaaaah, it hurts, it hurts!”

Hiluluk grabbed the hair of the woman trembling as she clung to his right arm and yanked her up from the sofa. Hiding behind her like a shield, he pulled out a dagger from his cloak and showed the woman’s ruined face to Haiker.

“Wait, wait! Please, stop, forgive me!”

The woman, whose hair was grabbed, screamed and cried in terror, and inside the raised visor of the full-body armor, Haiker furrowed his brows.

The eerie smile disappeared. Just that alone made Hiluluk feel a slight easing of the pressure he had been under.

“Is that so? Isn’t she your woman?”

“Heh, she only looked good, so I pulled her out of the brothel and made her my mistress. There was never any love involved. Well, I suppose she’s a decent enough woman, useful as a shield against a self-righteous bastard like you, so I’ll give her that much credit.”

“Noooooo!”

The woman cried out in despair, her voice trembling with tears, and Hiluluk smiled maliciously as he pressed his cheek to hers.

Now, despair. Move out of the way.

However, Haiker‘s response was vastly different from what Hiluluk had imagined.

“A hero? That’s your misunderstanding. Sure, you’re evil. But swallowing up evil is not justice.”

Without a care, Haiker waved his right hand, and suddenly, the weight of the woman in Hiluluk‘s grasp became much lighter.

Startled, Hiluluk looked down, and what he was holding was no longer the woman’s hair, but just her head.

The rest of her body had been slammed into the wall beside them, blood splattering out.

“An even greater evil.”