SCHLK.

Her claws—black, curved, and unnaturally long—punched straight through Guts' left palm and sank deep into his shoulder with a sickening, wet crunch. Miss Shio had moved with impossible speed, launching five-foot spears of black keratin across the shop so fast they blurred.

For a second, Guts was genuinely pinned. All hope felt lost. What was going to happen now?

Guts simply looked down at the claws impaled through his hand with a dull annoyance, as if she'd merely spilled a drink on him.

"...Tch. Right after I was literally recovering. You're dead meat."

Before I could even process the impossible sight, he shifted his grip. He didn't stumble backward; he charged forward. He took a deliberate step—impaling himself deeper on her claw—just so he could close the distance and reach her.

Shio's eyes widened—she hadn't expected that. Nobody had expected that. That was the kind of madman he was. With her claws buried in his flesh, she was now physically tied to him. Guts used that against her immediately.

With a primal grunt, Guts pulled her claws deeper through his own palm, deliberately stepping toward her. His pain tolerance was horrifying; he'd sustained a massive wound, yet hadn't expended a single shred of mana.

Miss Shio yelped—not in pain, but in pure, absolute surprise—as the forward momentum forced her entire body to follow the embedded claw. She fought the drag, her long, unnaturally rigid arms outstretched like scythes, her hands impaled through his, yet he was still closing the distance. The absurd length of her claws made the moment look impossible.

Then, using the claws embedded in his palm as grotesque leverage, he yanked her violently inward.

Sensing the sudden, fatal closing of distance, her free right hand moved. The claws—bone-white, sharp, and blindingly fast—arced in a desperate slash, targeting the space where his neck had been a moment before.

Guts executed a razor-thin duck, letting the swipe whistle harmlessly above him. In the same instant, he caught her second wrist mid-slash. Now, clamped onto both her wrists, he had her completely pinned.

So what next? Tie her up? I thought. But no. Guts wasn't a man of culture or justice systems. Jungle law suited his approach best.

For a moment, they were locked in place, a twisted, macabre tango pose. Except one dancer was a Condottieri drenched in his own blood. And the other was a florist who was no longer human.

Guts exhaled a single, ragged breath.

Then he lifted her clean off the ground, roaring like an enraged beast: "Raaahhhhhhhhhhh!"

SLAM.

Her body smacked into the stone floor with such devastating force the entire shop shuddered violently. Clay pots shattered into dust. Herb jars rolled and cracked. My teeth clicked together from the sheer impact that traveled up through the soles of my feet.

Guts didn't stop.

SLAM!

SLAM!

SLAM—

CRACK

SLAM—

SLAM—

SLAM!

Each blow was a brutal, sickening punctuation of raw power. Shelves toppled into ruin. The sturdy wooden counter split down the center. Dust, dried herbs, and pulverized petals filled the air like ghostly, green confetti at a funeral.

Rose stood frozen, her wind spells dissolving mid-cast.

"Sir—! I think that's enough!" she finally blurted out. "She's definitely dead after all that!"

Guts paused mid-lift. His breath was ragged, a harsh growl vibrating in his chest as he held Miss Shio aloft by the claws still pierced through his palm.

Her body hung absolutely limp. Her head rolled loosely. Her arms were slack.

"Dead already?" he scoffed. "Now that's just anticlimactic."

His annoyance sounded like a man disappointed his meal was under-seasoned, not someone who had just ended a monster florist's life.

He turned toward us, lifting Miss Shio's corpse like a heavy piece of laundry.

"The nerve," he barked, "trying to attack a kid in front of me."

"T-thank you," I managed, my knees still shaking. "You… saved us."

Rose swallowed hard. "You definitely… unalived her. But wasn't that a little—um—excessive?"

Guts snorted. "This is me being gentle. The only reason I stopped was 'cause the kid was watching. Go soft in my line of work, you end up—"

"GUTS!!!"

The warning came too late.

SHKANG!!

An axe tore clean through the air, flashing wickedly before biting deep into his wrist.

His left forearm severed instantly.

THUD.

His hand—and Miss Shio's corpse still attached to it—slammed onto the floor.

Guts staggered back, clutching the spurting, bleeding stump, his eyes flaring wide with surprise and genuine pain.

"What the—?!"

Then the attacker stepped fully into the light.

A towering creature emerged, its fur coarse and matted, its nose steaming in long, visible huffs. Its body was vaguely goat-like… but hideously warped. It stood taller than any man. Its eyes were dull and clouded, like a corpse's.

"MrrrRRRRHHHAAEEEHHH—!" The roar that followed was guttural and raw, shaking the broken shop.

Rose's voice cracked.

"No… way… Merrh?"

The creature—the same goat from earlier—that was Merrh? What the hell—? No, this was an upgrade, or more accurately, its true, monstrous form.

It was almost as though a muscular man was wearing the goat's massive body like a suit of grotesque, bristly armor. Was this what they called a Goatman? This must be their cult offering... the thing Miss Shio had been feeding.

Guts staggered backward toward us, fighting desperately to stay upright as blood poured in thick streams from the stump of his forearm.

"Damn…!" he hissed, gripping the wound tightly. "The hell kind of livestock is this?!"

"So you were not just some pet," Guts spat, his voice strained. "Well, next time, you should have gone for the head."

Merrh—or whatever it truly was—stamped, cracking the tile floor beneath its heavy, iron-shod hooves. Its breaths came in hot, audible bursts, steam spiraling off its snout.

Guts dropped to one knee, the heavy chain and attached corpse lying near his feet. The Goatman ignored him, its attention fixed on Miss Shio's still body. It appeared to possess a cruel intelligence as it carefully checked if she was still alive.

I could already smell blood. I froze. Nobody signed me up for this. This small town was just trying to traumatize me before I got what—who—I needed.

Guts's voice shook, strained by pain.

"Agh—looks like… this is it for me."

Rose spoke up, her voice sharp with disbelief. "Why are you fighting without mana? It's suicide, especially now that monstrosity is here! Can you not use mana?"

Even if he couldn't, we should have held our tongues.

"That's just how I live my life," Guts gasped, though his focus remained lethal. "My job's not done yet. That's how I live my life…" He then looked at us, managing a grim, half-sarcastic smile despite the severe injury. "By the way, either of you know a healing spell?"

I replied with a big, fat "NO." I'm freaking useless when it comes to anyone's healing.

Rose instantly paled, visibly terrified, but her mind was racing. "I—I only have White Mana!" she exclaimed. Not good in this situation. She was right; white mana was useful, but for a massive injury like that?

I felt my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

The monster pawed the ground again, impatient.

And then I realized something terrifying: Miss Shio was trying to reach something behind the counter. That was the thing she kept glancing at like a hidden trump card, and it was the same thing the Goatman was standing over.

We were trapped between a severely bleeding Condottieri… and a monster that most likely wanted us all dead now that Shio was finished.

My face felt cold and pale as I saw Guts's copious bleeding. Rose was also jittering and shaking. "I—I don't know any advanced wind-healing spell," she stammered, her voice cracking. She paused, then her eyes lit up. "Wait a minute… I know one. Not really healing, but…"

Guts anticipated her thought, his voice urgent. "Which one? Use it fast! I'm losing a lot of blood here!"

"Here you go: Air Pressure Tourniquet!"

She raised her hand. A sharp whoosh filled the air as wind gathered, spiraling tight around the bleeding stump. The swirling air coiled like a constricting serpent—PRESSURE tightened instantly, firm but not painful. The heavy blood flow slowed immediately to a controlled drip. Dust and dirt blew away, keeping the wound clean.

I exhaled a long breath of pure relief. "Nice one, Rose."

So, they could also use White Mana in this way.

But then—

A deep, guttural THOOM shook the counter and rattled the remaining herb jars. The Goatman—the Condottieri's monster—had finally stopped its unnerving stillness.

It stood there, breathing in short, furious huffs, staring down at Miss Shio's lifeless body.

Then it beat its massive chest once, its hard, knotted muscles bulging under the coarse, matted fur, as though physically annoyed it had lost its toy.

It slowly raised its huge, blood-stained axe, and with slow, terrifying deliberation, pointed the sharp edge directly at Guts.

It was a clear, unambiguous challenge.

"Oh, perfect…" Guts muttered, rolling his shoulder, testing the stability of the tourniquet and the readiness of his one good arm.

But the monster wasn't done.

It reached behind the counter, rummaging through the smashed bottles and broken crates.

Rose gasped. "Astraga… that thing—what is it looking for?"

I remembered how shio kept glancing there—like it had a hidden trump card.

Then it found it.

A strange herb-doll woven from straw.

It looked like a charm… or a fetish.

The goat shoved it into its mouth, chewing like an actual goat—loud, wet crunches.

And then—

It roared.

HRRRRRKKKKKKKK!

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.