Chapter 20. Who to Blame (7)
The dying man groaned, "Urgh... Ugh... Guhhh!"
He had thought he could smash me with the club. On any other day, his judgment would have been correct, but I had dodged this time. He hadn't known how agile I was.
I believed I could stab him to death with the sword, and that attempt had worked. He hadn't brought his shield because he hadn't come to fight—he had come to defile a corpse. No one would bring a shield to do such a thing.
Isn't a shield a guard's essential gear?
If he had brought his shield, this corpse-loving fiend might have successfully blocked my attacks and slowly crushed me. He might have succeeded in breaking me apart. Then, I could have returned to the grave again, but it was impossible to know for certain.
Tap.
I took one step back and slowly pulled the sword out of the guard's heart.
Squelch!
Fresh blood spurted out like a fountain. The guard's face turned ghostly pale.
My white skull was stained red with the blood spurting from him. The blood sprayed my empty eye sockets, painting the inside of my occipital bones bright red. It was the same spot where Rubia had hit me with a snowball in a previous life.
Tap. Tap. Tap.