Parasites, Magic And Revenge

Since Raven had put all his strength into a single attack, he was utterly exhausted. He threw aside the shattered iron leg of the table and began to walk towards the man on the floor, panting. Blood was gushing from the man’s mouth, and he looked almost unconscious from the blow. Raven had a few lingering questions, and as he approached the man, he muttered them to himself. “I wonder why he never used magic. If he had used magic from the start, he could have easily taken me down with any spell.”

As Raven got closer, he noticed that the man's blood had started to dry up, and even the flesh under his mask had begun to rot. Raven immediately dropped to his knees and lifted the mask. What he saw was both disgusting and unbelievable—his face had decayed, but Raven was sure it hadn’t been that way from the beginning. While it was possible that a spell was causing the body to decompose, Raven was certain that the blow alone wouldn’t have killed him through the armor.

As Raven pondered his thoughts, the man’s flesh continued to decay, but Raven had more pressing matters to attend to. He needed to confront the doctor crouching nearby. Raven stood up and began walking when he suddenly felt someone grab his ankle. However, this was no ordinary grip; it was so tight that Raven felt like his leg was about to be torn off. Instinctively, he twisted his body and kicked the man’s head, which made him release his ankle—not because the kick was effective, but because the corpse had opened its eyes and was staring at Raven.

With its hair having fallen out recently and the armor still on its body aside from the helmet, the corpse looked like a samurai's. Raven leaped back, taking a defensive stance with his fists. He expected the corpse to reach for its sword, but instead, it just stood up, acting purely on instinct. Its eyes were still fixed on Raven, although what made it terrifying was that its eyeballs had long since fallen from their sockets. Even though it couldn’t see, its gaze seemed to convey some kind of message. But Raven didn’t care in the slightest. As long as he had his fists up, all he had to do was kill it again.

Raven grinned before charging forward, aiming a punch at the corpse’s face. The corpse caught Raven’s punch at head height and locked eyes with him. It gripped Raven’s fist with all its strength and flung him toward the wall. Like in his previous fights, Raven used the momentum from the wall to spring back toward the corpse. Mid-air, he angled himself and brought his feet forward. As the corpse raised its arm to grab him, Raven dipped low and landed an uppercut to its chin. “What is it with you and your chin, man?”

Although the corpse was unresponsive, it was clearly affected, stumbling from the blow. The corpse swung its fist at Raven with incredible speed. Normally, Raven would have easily dodged using his ultra-instinct, but he wasn’t using it right now. Activating the ultra-instinct required a period of focus. Blocking the punch with his arm could break it, leaving him without a weapon. That meant he had to meet it head-on with the hardest bone in his body—his skull. He clenched his fists and teeth, preparing for the impact.

When the punch connected, the room reverberated with a powerful wave as Raven's head snapped to the side, blood spraying from his nose and mouth. But he didn’t move from his spot. He plugged one nostril with his thumb, letting blood gush from the other as he laughed. He pounded his chest with both fists. “KEEP GOING, YOU SON OF A BITCH!”

With one hand guarding himself, Raven delivered a full-force punch to the corpse's face. The corpse staggered sideways but quickly turned to face him again. It raised its fist to strike Raven once more, and Raven didn’t dodge this time either. This wasn’t about honor as a warrior anymore, or even the desire to survive. This was about pride—pure, masculine pride.

Raven had grown up without considering concepts like masculinity or femininity because, in his eyes, anyone who fought to survive and grow stronger deserved respect. But this time, what he felt was undeniably the need to protect something—the pride of manhood. Even though he was fighting a corpse, it was still a man he was facing. Raven could run away and save his life, but he couldn’t accept another man's authority challenging his own anymore.

When the corpse’s punch landed, more blood sprayed from Raven’s nose. “SO YOU WANT TO PLAY LIKE THIS, YOU BAG OF BONES?” Raven swung his fist with all his might and struck the corpse again, causing it to stumble once more. Even though it was a corpse, Raven was hitting so hard that if an ordinary human took one of those punches, their bones would likely disintegrate.

For minutes, the two of them took turns landing punches. Raven, half-naked, looked like a true warrior, his body no longer as scrawny as before, making him quite the striking figure if not for his battered face. When it was Raven’s turn again, he lifted his fist with all his strength and slammed it into the corpse’s face. Finally, after one last stagger, the corpse fell to the ground, dead for good this time.

Having won both the fight and his masculine pride, Raven let out a battle cry. When it ended, he looked down at the corpse, which had fallen beside its katana. Raven planned to use the katana temporarily until he acquired the Dagger of the Blood Bat. He bent down to grab the sword, but a voice echoed from the room. “Stop! Don’t take that sword!”

Raven turned around to see the doctor. He had completely forgotten about him after all the blows and pain to his head. Raven reached for the sword again and spoke. “First, I’m going to take this sword, and then I’m going to chop you into as many pieces as I can and feed you to the ravens.”

As Raven picked up the sword and began walking toward him, the doctor screamed, “I didn’t betray you!”

Raven suddenly laughed, continuing to approach. “Sure, sure. I’ll reward you for your loyalty by letting the hungry ravens feast on you.”

The doctor was clearly trembling, and he had nowhere left to run.