With one foot stepping on the fence which I leaned on I looked over the crowd that had gathered on the streets beneath. All wielding so form of weapon be it sickles and axes to torches.
'Just what the fuck happened here...?'
Even with my "experiences" the sight of the streets disturbed to no end. It wasnt just havoc. It was like a localized apocalypse. Corpses littered the streets, brutalized and even with patches of fur and so with bestial teeth and claws, their eyes wide open even as corpses, likely that they died in agony.
The sll, no, the stench invaded my nose, burning and rotting flesh, also a SICKENINGLY sweet sll. Broken carriages were left out on the streets, locked and heavily secured coffins were tipped over. It was easy to imagine this scene as a once peaceful and bustling street of old London.
Now- books, clothes, boxes, barrels, planks were scattered across the streets, a complete mayhem. Several houses were on fire, even worse were the goddam flaming crucifixes scattered around the streets. It was like an insane church mob had passed through the streets, setting houses of heretics afla and crucifying the others.
The sight alone made Lordran seem like heaven. At least there everything was mindless undead, it was a wasteland there, filled with death and decay but this place.
This place was just a pandemonium of insanity.
And it was my job as a goddam improvised janitor to clean it up.
Transforming my axe into its two-handed form I jumped up from the railings while twirling my axe above my head before coming down like a guillotine on one of the poor sods that were a part of the mob, the blow split him clean in half and buried my axe into the ground beneath his feet.
This obviously drew the attention of his fellow mobs. And as much as I hate to admit it I am at a disadvantage here.
Although I am extrely experienced with life and death situations, without my skill assisting I hate to admit it but. I am not very skilled at wielding weapons.
I am just decent. After all 99% percent of the opponents, I faced really didn't require any skill with your weapon other than being able to align your edge. The only opponent I would need weapon skills against was Ornstein. And in that fight, the gap between was so ridiculously large that that wouldn't have mattered anyway.
As unbelievably fucked up as it may be, my skills were mostly geared toward brute force. The biggest thing that shows that is none other than my own unique fighting style. The Mad Hollow Combat.
In my head, the only way to beat a monster was to fight like a monster. And while that wasn't exactly wrong, it has left in a very awkward situation.
I am rather lacking in pure skill with weapons. Although with bare hands it is a completely different case as I demonstrated with the werewolf. I am fairly certain that there isn't anyone that I have t before that can beat in hand-to-hand combat.
That though, didn't an that I was incapable of handling these bags of at in any way shape, or form. It just ant that I would have to relearn how to actually use a weapon and not just shoot giant pillars of fla out of it like I belonged in the saber class.
The mont I snapped out of my distracted thoughts I was barely able to react to a pitchfork coming to my face by leaning to the side and kicking the legs under the offender- making them fall face first. After that, I ducked to narrowly avoid an axe heading to where my face used to be.
All of the mob turned toward , torches, pitchforks, axes, and all manners of weapons pointed at . A scene too familiar to but to my shock, I heard them speak.
"Death upon ya!" "Filthy beast!" "Beast! A foul beast!" "I'll mash up your brain!"
And then I saw their eyes. Madness, complete madness, I could see the insanity hidden beneath their clouded lenses. Yet their shouts still affected .
*BANG!*
I felt a sharp jolt in my side. I turned to look behind and saw a townsman holding a gun that was smoking. But before I could fully react I heard soone shouting next to "I'll rip you apart you fuckin Beast!" before a sickle was dug into my shoulder.
Turning, I slamd my foot into the enemy's chest, sending them back. I wasnt in the best ntal state of fighting as this was the first ti I had been t with this much hostility and dialogue from an enemy.
Most of those I found were mindless hollows or close to it. Now fighting actual townspeople was not sothing I was used to. I didn't even know why they were attacking in the first place, I know that even without Frenching that one guy I would have been hunted down. I needed to get out and recuperate, maybe prepare a bit more and ask the old man so questions.
I crouched down and prepared to dash but it seed like the mob was out for blood as a pitchfork t my back, throwing off balance. I kicked back, throwing the attacker off of but a fist t my face, breaking a few of my teeth. A flaming torch impacted my stomach. A club smashed over my head.
I kept pushing everyone out of my way, trying to get out of the encirclent yet there were too many people. I kept taking blow after blow. And just as I managed to make it a bit out of their encirclent I heard yet another bang before my leg gave out.
The mont I fell, all of the mob ganged up on . Stabbing, crushing, slicing, ripping, punching. A feel too familiar.
"Cursed Beast!" "Filthy mutt!" "Die, outsider!" "Beast! A foul beast!"
"I'll burn your corpse!" "Burn! Burn!" "It's all your fault!"
I was dying.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
/ D y i n g ? /
/Right, they are trying to kill ./
/What makes them any different?/
{Enough}
Just as the mob was about to scatter, seeing the brutalized corpse of the 'beast'. They were shocked to see the brutalized form try to rise to its feet. Before even one of the townsfolk could react, his hand shot out like a bullet and grasped the neck of the closest huntsman.
"Hel-"
Before the huntsman could get a word out, the hand closed tightly, completely shattering the neck, so tightly that crushed bone and flesh oozed out between his fingers like playdough. Pulling his hand back he decapitated the huntsman before launching the head toward the others like a rock much to their shock.
Like a visage dragged from hell itself, a monster far beyond any beast they assud stared them down. Dark purple eyes bore into them. Shortly before the monster shot forward like a bullet and ripped his fist through the nearest hunter, impaling them on his arm like a stake before pulling his arm back with his victim's heart before chomping down on it. His wounds recovering visibly.
"Filthy beast!" "Beast! A foul beast!"
Seeing his beastly visage the huntsn rallied once more with religious fanaticism, much to the monster's glee. He rushed into the crowd, slamming his knee into a poor fool's face before clawing off another's. The huntsman hit him over and over with their weapons yet he was like a perpetual motion machine of murder.
He grabbed the leg of a huntsman before using him like a flail, swinging him around so hard that its body got reduced to little more than a rag. Whenever he got wounded he cannibalized the nearest corpse to recover.
Even the zealous huntsn couldn't even stay motivated at the sight.
Every ti the monster swung, soone would drop dead. As if his very body had transford itself into a perfect tool for murder. Bang, another gunshot was heard as the eye of the monster smoked. He tilted his head back forward. The grin was wiped off his face, replaced by a bland and purely murderous expression.
Before the offender could even entertain the idea of reloading, John summoned his axe in his hand before reeling back an absurd degree, suddenly all of his limbs snapped back like a rubber band as he flung the axe.
With extre speeds, the axe reached the gunman's face in a blink. They only got a millisecond of reaction before being split in half from head to toe by the large axe.
None dared even move an inch, for they had laid their eyes on the true beast.
The true predator of the nightmare.
.
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-[John pov]-
Exhausted, I was utterly exhausted.
Although I had made it look easy, healing through blood is not an easy task, and the effectiveness gets reduced the more tis you use it in a row.
But with absolute minimum stats(still near peak human) I was able to slaughter an entire mob of around peak humans with weapons. Although it seed like I went completely berserk that wasnt the case. It takes way more than simply that to truly snap . I was just simply very, VERY angry.
The main thod to defeat them was experience in getting mobbed and using fear tactics.
After all, if your enemy seems like an invincible perpetual machine of murder, then your morale will be much lower. but it still left a bad taste in my mouth.
I very much disliked fighting like a monster. It reminds of bad mories. Though it seed like drinking that much blood had increased my stats a notch. And I seem to have gained so skills as well.
But my goddam axe broke. It seed like I abused the poor thing too much. Whatever, I can probably sort sothing out for myself in the workshop.
For now, I should really focus on taking care of the first boss here.
Sighing I rubbed my bloodied head. I really needed to sort things out soon.
Drop so stones if you liked the chapter.
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