The Academy’s Crude Pink-Haired Martial Artist

“Kihehehehehe! What a nice scent.”

I gaze at the horrific figure of ‘something.’

Four arms. In those arms, it holds the corpse of something. A body torn into four parts. A sad melody rolling on the floor. What it holds in its hand must surely be the corpse of a Mage.

A large hole is torn in its lower abdomen.

Sticky glurp-glurp mucus flows from the hole. There, a human face of a fetus peeks out. Every time it opens its mouth, a tentacle-like tongue wriggles.

Looking up, I see horns jutting from each side of the head. However, one horn is broken. From the break, sticky glurp-glurp mucus drips down, wetting two of its four eyeballs.

The remaining two eyes are bizarre. The black sclerae have bright yellow irises. The pupils are slit like those of a reptile, and the surface flickers with a tongue.

“Heh, heh, kuk! I was going to let this thing go, but you seem tastier than the princess?”

A chilling voice, like scraping metal, shakes the minds of Yurasia and Silina.

The voice of a woman, as if her vocal cords were chewed and torn before being forced together, invokes primitive fear.

“And to think, you’re a virgin… Kiheh… hehehehe! It’s been 400 years… 400 years. Finally, finally, finally, finally, finally I can return.”

The foul mouth opens wide. Two-forked, four-forked, eight-forked. There are no teeth. Instead, countless tongues squirm. On the most central tongue,

a dragon eating its own tail.

A symbol of sloth.

The Legion Commander’s, Labyrinth’s insignia is etched there.

Seeing that, one realizes without wanting to.

“…Demon Race.”

Not a Mage. A Demon Race.
At the moment of that realization,

crack.

The demon’s head twists at a right angle.

“O Labyrinth! Violate those two girls, suck their virgin blood, tear their skin, chew and swallow their uterus—”

“Your Highness!”

Yurasia’s urgent shout.

And at the same time,

“—I will return to your embrace!!!”

Death rushed in.
There is no time to comprehend what it is. No direction, no speed, nothing can be discerned. Nevertheless, Yurasia raised her sword.

The green blade light, now fainter than before, still retains its promise and explodes in all directions. Boom—! A tremendous sound shakes the labyrinth. To add to that, a storm of Magic, deadly to humans, rages.

It’s not just simple fog or wind.
Invisible magical particles are blades and awls. A disaster that can snatch human lives away with ease.

Faced with that storm, Yurasia hurriedly throws herself and embraces Silina.

While doing so, she swung her sword with her other hand, scattering the blade light. In the world where black ink spreads, the blue blade light flutters distantly.

Even so, Yurasia’s sword does not stop. She swings her sword despite having no way out.
‘If it doesn’t work, I’ll do it until it does. That’s how things get done.’

Yurasia believes in Eliaernes.
Even in a life-or-death situation like now, she trusts her. She believes in her master blindly.

Thus, a thin crack appeared in the place where nothing could be seen. However, it’s too narrow for two people to escape. Widening her view, she gazes at the storm of Magic.

Silina cannot endure that storm.
But can she? Though the chances are slim, they’re not nonexistent. Then the answer is clear.

Crack. As Yurasia was about to throw Silina,

“…Together.”

Silina, nestled in Yurasia’s embrace, moved her lips. Carefully, she loosened the arms holding her and drew up Mana. The Mana, bright as the sun rising at night, enveloped Silina’s body.

“Huht.”

With a short breath, Silina gripped the axe in her right hand and threw it.

—Puhwaaaak! The axe shot straight towards the gap Yurasia had opened, splitting the storm. Then, the blue blade light ripped apart that gap, creating a wide space.

Both of them lunged simultaneously.
They dive through the gap of death. Fine blades and awls tear and pierce their skin. Blood spurts from all directions, creating a fog of blood.

But.

“Ugh, heuh…”

Their lives are still intact.
Somehow, they survived.
However, that doesn’t mean there’s a moment of respite.
They’ve merely evaded a corner of death.
Taking a breath, Yurasia lashes her faltering body into grip around her sword.

“Kihehehehe!”

An unknown Demon Race, witnessing the scene, bursts into a chilling laugh and slowly approaches.

The corpse it had been holding is long discarded.
Now, it wields a vicious saw like a monster’s tooth.

Cak! Cak! Cak! Cak!

Two saws gnaw at each other. One saw is cutting the broken horn on the left. The other saw slowly rises upward.

Thoughts raced through Yurasia’s mind as she rapidly scanned the Demon Race and the surrounding terrain.

This place has a low ceiling and narrow width.
There’s hardly any room to evade. If a storm of Magic like before sweeps in again, it’ll be the end.

They need to pass by that Demon Race and reach a wider area.
However, if they just walk past without doing anything, those behind will certainly die.

Moving forward while deflecting the Demon Race’s attacks, they must reach the heart of the labyrinth to survive.

Having reached that conclusion, she looks into Silina’s eyes. Determination shines in her platinum-colored irises.

“I… will follow your plan.”

“Please follow me.”

“…Okay.”

Though it was a short conversation, the meaning was conveyed.
Better together than alone. It’s far better to have someone to fight beside rather than someone to protect.

Shaking hands grip the sword. Weak hands clutch the axe. They feel fear but do not despair.

The blue eyes gaze straight ahead. A bizarre reverse eye stretches and contorts. A chilling smile lingers on their lips.

At a glance, it looks like they’re playing a joke.
In truth, from the Demon Race’s perspective, this battle may feel like a game.
Yet for Yurasia and Silina, every moment feels like crossing the frontline.

Cak! Cak!

Finally, the saw creates a vertical line towards the ground.
The power sensed from the saw raised above the ceiling convinces that it can’t be blocked no matter what.

They must evade. Absolutely.
Silina also feels it. Thus, they separate to the left and right without a word, braced for impact.

“Kiheheheaaak!!”
The Demon Race, watching the scene, swung the saw at Yurasia.

Behind it follows the tidal wave of Magic. Dozens of tentacles rise from the ground to block Silina, while a dark green liquid drips down from the ceiling.

They come to the conclusion that whatever it is, they must not touch it.
Gathering the Mana in her Dantian, Yurasia scatters her sword’s energy. Not only for herself but also to clear Silina’s path.

The blade energy explodes amidst the tidal wave of Magic. Dozens of tentacles are severed, and the remnants of the sword dissolve the dark green liquid.

Silina’s path opens. She quickly turns her head. Yurasia, spitting crimson blood, swings her sword.

She’s unfolding her sword curtain at a speed beyond her rank, keeping the tidal wave of Magic at bay.

They must get away from there.
The distance is five steps.
She spurs her trembling legs. Stifling her breath, she pivots and charges forward.

One step.
The liquid that fell from the ceiling touches her shoulder. —Shiiing! A black liquid, spewing smoke, penetrates her shoulder, eroding her flesh and bone.

Two steps.
In horrific agony covering her entire body, she fails to notice the tentacle rising from below. It pierces her ankle and tears away the skin of her calf, climbing up her thigh.

Three steps.
The tentacle reaches her waist, trying to penetrate her belly button. Gritting her teeth, she grabs the tentacle with her remaining hand. Spikes rise there, piercing her pale palm, turning it into rags.

Four steps.
Dizzying vertigo strikes her. Yet Silina’s grip does not loosen. On top of that, right in front of her belly button, she tore off the tentacle that had opened its mouth.

Finally, five steps.
Silina’s arm wraps around Yurasia’s waist. Realizing this, Yurasia stops swinging her sword and likewise grips Silina’s shoulder.

Thus, the two girls, holding onto each other, leap past the Demon Race simultaneously.

At that moment.

Crash—! With a thunderous boom like lightning striking, the ground they had just stood on evaporated.

“Kiheheheha! Haha! Kiheh! Quick, aren’t you?”

The Demon Race’s voice still filled with leisure.
Hearing the jarring voice, Yurasia rises. Meanwhile, Silina remains on the ground, unable to get up.

“Ah, heuh… krk, huff, haack…”

Writhing in unexplainable agony, she twists her whole body. The cause is the thick liquid that has penetrated her shoulder.

Not only does it have a caustic nature, but the liquid is churning with potent Magic, creating a morass within Silina’s body.

Leaving Silina here is out of the question.
However, carrying her would only get her caught soon, and Yurasia has no strength left to carry her.

“Ugh…”
Letting out a pained groan, Yurasia stands in front of the collapsed Silina.

“Kihehehehee… heh, heh!”
Before Yurasia stands a Demon Race, walking over a puddle of blood.

Death approaches.
An inescapable, unescapable death comes.
Now, with hands whose sensations have faded, she grasps the sword. Its tip trembles. Her breath is ragged. She hears thud, thud— her chin trembles, making her teeth clash.

What can I do now?
‘Even if there’s an enemy before me that I can’t possibly defeat, as long as I’m alive, that’s enough.’

Both hands grip the sword. Both feet stand firm on the ground. With both eyes, she gazes at the Demon Race, and though painful and faint, her breath continues.

Therefore, she can swing her sword.
If that’s the case,

‘Whatever it takes, I can swing.’

She can swing.
Constricting her breath, she glares with her blurred vision. Gathering the Mana within her, she squeezes her entire body until the last drop is collected.

And one foot forward. One foot back. Loosening the power in her shoulders, her arms are light, her hands heavy.
The sword’s tip points at the edge of her sight, indicating what she needs to slice.

“Kihehehehe! Beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful. What would your uterus taste like? Can it help me regain my power? What about your screams? Your moans? What about the scent of blood? What about your flesh? Can I laugh joyfully?”

Soon, the Demon Race raises the saw.
A single saw held lightly. The amassed Magic there is like a massive sky.

A sky that one cannot dare look up at.
An end that cannot be seen. A realm that is unfathomably high.

It feels impossible to reach, not even with the hands, let alone the vision.
Finally, that once sky-like presence—the wall blocking Yurasia’s path—is drawn by the Demon Race’s saw in the air.

‘Well, Yurasia is so gifted that she finds it hard to encounter an opponent that makes her feel a wall. But if she does face such a wall…’
Then, her body’s trembling dies down.

‘What can I do?’
Glaring with wide-open eyes, she fixes her gaze on what she must slice. A body, whose trembles have ceased, moves according to her will. Intense light bursts forth from a body that seemed about to collapse at any moment.

She lifts her arm.
In the process, the blade energy solidifies. It sharpens. It bears a different promise from before.

The blade light circled around the sword.
‘I’ll break it, slice it, and move beyond. To that side.’
No. Now, it’s a sword wrapped in strong magic.

She swings it.

Swish—
“Kiheh?”

A sharp sound rings out once.
Then thud— a clang as something falls twice.
With hazy eyes, she looks straight ahead.

She sees an arm rolling on the floor.
From the severed end flows a repugnant-colored liquid.

And the sword she swung—
Yurasia’s sword broke.

“…My arm, kik… Kiheh? It’s been cut off?”

She intended to sever the neck but failed to do so.
In that moment, the instinctive movement of the Demon Race twisted the path of Yurasia’s sword. Thus, the sword broke, and her attempt to sever the neck went awry.

“Eeek… Huh, kck, yugh… Guhh.”
Crack, crack, crack— The Demon Race, scratching at its scalp with its clawed fingers, stopped laughing.

“What a disrespectful girl.”

That chilling remark.
The remaining three saws swung simultaneously.

“Ugh, mgh!”
Gritting her teeth, Yurasia wielded the broken sword.

Clang—!
The broken sword unleashed its energy, tearing through the Demon Race’s blades. In the process, her skin burst. Muscles tore. Bones twisted.

All fingers bent backward. The forearm splintered.
Simultaneously, the second saw arrives.

And then.
A flash.
A brilliant light erupted from the necklace around her neck.

A newly formed shield distorted the trajectory of the saw—what happened, she did not know, but she could not waste this chance.

Gulpguh— spewing blood, she swung the half-broken sword once more.

Crack—! She deflected the second saw. Her vision bled red. Blood gushed from her eyes, nose, ears, and mouth. Her sight became a distorted haze. Consciousness grew faint. Dizziness struck hard.

And then, the third saw came rushing in.
‘If there’s still an opponent I can’t defeat… when that happens.’

She could move no longer. She could not swing the sword. She could not evade that attack.

She could not win.
She would die.
‘Tell me. I’ll help you.’

In her final moments, the mischievous smile, the devilish words, the sharp voice, the beautiful colors all came to Yurasia’s mind as she whispered softly.

“…Help, me…”

At that moment.
Swish.
Spring arrived in the desolate labyrinth.
A pink hue, unforgettable, enveloped her sight.

Among it, pitiful petals danced in the air.
Finally.

“Yes.”

Crackaaang—!!!

A single cherry blossom ripped apart the storm of Magic.

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