I Became the Wrong Race

273 – Mourner (2)

The mourner sensed his own death.

Actually, maybe.

It might be an intuition I’ve been feeling since I came to this continent.

He nevertheless set foot on this continent. Not being afraid of death was different from not caring about death.

He too was afraid of death. He didn’t want to see himself dead and rotting. But on the other hand, he was suffering from the contradiction of having to find a place to die.

Was it because he was nothing more than a central cog in the chain of hatred and revenge? It seemed like he had been wandering for a long time looking for a place where he could die well.

So I met Llewelyn and Isla.

When Llewelyn made the bold statement that she would kill him.

He optimistically wanted to believe that. Let alone that he would really kill him if he was twisted or irreversible.

He didn’t think that Llewell Lin would really kill him. Even though we had only met for a short time, there was one thing I could tell.

This person, neither a boy nor an adult, is a very kind person.

At first, I didn’t trust it. He said he trusted him and was also moved.

After thinking about it for a while, he decided that there was nothing to trust.

But he found a place to die. Unbeknownst to Llewelyn, he thought he would live and die here.

He thought that he would die fighting, that he would die without any reason.

Of course, it would be difficult not to have any spare time, but at least he thought so.

As he lived here, his thoughts gradually changed.

He met people.

It’s been a long time since he saw people who cared for him and smiled kindly at him.

It was something he had lost while living as a mourner, something he never thought he would find again.

If you start your day by listening to the sound of a child’s laughter, you will encounter a friendly scenery as soon as you step outside with sleepy eyes and limping legs.

A dog who gives unconditional love, a woman who does laundry, and a person who patrols with weapons to protect the pantheon.

People who are his neighbors and who treat him like a person despite his past and fearful status

As he stayed with them, he remembered something he had forgotten for a long time.

People must live with people. No matter how lonely, dangerous, and scary it may be.

A person is born again as a person only when he or she lives with other people. At least he thought so.

And he thought so at the same time. I would even die for them.

Life is wasted anyway. Let’s put it to good use.

My clenched fist was shaking.

He prepared to die.

“Hmm?”

A voice that stretches out for a long time. It is the tail that rushes towards the face of the mourner with wide eyes.

He raised his arm to block the tail.

Oh my gosh!

There was no meaning in defense.

As soon as you block, the pain and shock that rushes along the blocking arm, as if your soul is being ripped out of your body.

At the sight of death lurking in the tail, blood gushes from the mouth and the body is dragged backwards.

Nevertheless, it endures. The mourner raised the corners of his mouth, and Chimi twisted her body, swallowing blood.

Wow!

A fist digging into the center of Nerilmaeus’ naturally virtuous expression. At the same time as his chest he was pounding, his legs flew towards the mourner.

Once again, the earth trembles and the body shakes. A force that no human can dare accept or withstand.

Despite the immense power that comes with the body of a dragon and the nature of a mourner, the mourner laughed.

Rather, naturally, as if flowing water, he struck Nerilmaeus’ face with his forearm.

Among the splashing blood and flesh, the fists, legs, forearms, and elbows of Nerilmaeus and the mourner were entangled.

Only Llewelyn figured out the reason.

A realm that could not have been reached originally, a realm that could be said to be the mourner’s extreme.

The unknown mourner accepted the mourner’s energy prevalent in this space and temporarily reached that area.

Even though the only thing that would come back to him was death, he stretched out his hand without hesitation.

As a result, he got it into his hands. This is the level that Llewelyn originally aimed for, and the reason why Nerilmaeus was able to overwhelm Llewelyn.

The question that Llewell Lin had been harboring for a long time naturally came to mind.

What kind of fight would it be if two max-level mourners, a mourner and a mourner, fight?

The result was exactly what we see now.

The battle never ends.

Debris is scattered in all directions, and death and life come into contact. Even though there are only two mourners continuing to sharply attack each other.

In the aftermath, everything around is broken and scattered. Llewellyn barely managed to get up from her mourning her her.

Need to help I need to help.

She couldn’t find a way to intervene. Llewelyn watched what was happening before her in bewilderment.

The tail swung by Nerilmaeus. A tail with enough power to easily crush a person’s head and split their body in half.

It taps her on the shoulder. Flesh that dents and collapses and bones that twist. A mourner’s fist beats on Nerilmaeus’ chest amidst the flying blood.

A good level of counterattack and counterattack even if they were almost simultaneous. It looked like he might have been pushed away, but as if reacting to the mourner’s attack, Nerilmaeus planted his backward leg on the floor with a loud sound and stretched out his leg.

A push kick with the full weight of the body. Shock waves spread in the form of concentric circles, and as Llewelyn’s body was pushed away, the mourner’s fist was fired again with clear killing intent.

Kwahiah ahhhhh!

A loud noise that could easily be called a cannon. Nevertheless, Nerilmaeus was almost unscathed.

Is it because the strength of a mourner is combined with the hard dragon scales and high-class body unique to a necromancer?

For the mourners, it was different as the damage was slowly accumulating. So Llewellyn gritted her teeth and forced her body up.

[Mourning]

[Remaining duration: 60 seconds]

The grief that is converted into temporary physical strength is forcibly cut off through divinity. What I needed now was not temporary stamina.

Since the consumption of temporary stamina becomes the consumption of mourning, it is better to allow the mourning to last longer.

To that extent, there was a clear difference in the number of attacks.

This is best. With that thought, Llewelyn moved her shaky limbs and ran in front of her.

She swung her fist at Neril Mayus, who did not even look at her Llewelyn.

Kwahiah ahhhhh!

A fist filled with the power of divinity and mourning. Nerilmaeus’ head her bent for a moment before her legs her stretched out and aimed at Llewelyn.

A shock, as if the world was falling apart, enveloped Llewelyn along with a crashing sound. There is a real sense of violence and overwhelming force that cannot be resisted.

This is the horizon that Llewelyn should have reached originally. The power of a mourner trained to the limit. With the power of the necromancer attached to her, Llewelyn was thrown back, her mouth gushing and spitting up blood.

It was another mourner who filled the empty gap.

A middle-aged man risking his life on the battlefield. A person who has lived his whole life in regret, but has no regrets at this moment.

Without any time for Llewelyn to intervene, he faced Nerilmaeus.

At the moment when his swung knee he plunges into Neril Mayus’ abdomen and pushes his body away, Neril Mayus’ swung tail hits the mourner in the face.

A handful of skin falls off and the body is pushed out, and faster than the body is staggered and pushed away, the mourner’s fist hits Nerilmaeus’ neck.

An infinite cycle of attack after attack, counterattack after counterattack. However, Llewelyn, who bounced behind her, could tell.

What will the end of this fight be like?

There was never a future in which the mourners would win. Clear difference, clear superiority and inferiority, clear victory and defeat.

Llewellyn saw a man being cut down. After wandering for a long time, she found her own place to die.

Llewelyn desperately stood up.

She knew that her father was terminally ill. She said it herself, so I have to know.

However, if he died, he hoped that he would close his eyes comfortably in bed, surrounded by people.

I never wanted it to end like this. Llewelyn stands up, Lucilla, who was blown away by the shock wave, returns, and Ignition Ball condenses the star’s flames again.

Quad deud deuk!

In the end, Nerilmaeus’ arm pierced the mourner’s chest.

“… Ah.”

A vivid death came into view.

A wound that cannot be recovered as long as you are human. Even if you are a mourner, the moment your mourning ceases, you have no choice but to face death.

That wasn’t everything. When the violent movement stopped, there were a few things visible.

The sunken side, the crushed temple, the twisted legs and arms, the ooze and blood flowing from the peeled arms and legs.

The man was clearly heading towards death. Even the power of borrowed mourning was too strong for his weak body to bear.

With blood dripping down his forearm, Nerilmaeus smiled a smile drenched in happiness.

“Ah, you really… It’s pretty. Even my father-“

Stand tall.

Nerilmaeus’ eyes slowly lower as he stops speaking. What is reflected in her gray colored eyes is her arm, stained with her own blood.

And it was the hand of a mourner that held that arm tightly.

“… Wow.”

It doesn’t fall out. He grabs hold of the wound on his chest as if it were his grasp and does not let go.

A move that even Nerilmaeus didn’t expect. The most bizarre act of devoting my entire life to the act of holding on.

But that’s why it works. As Llewellyn watched, the mourner cried out as he held on tightly to the arm that had been dug into his heart, tearing it out.

“Now is the time, Llewelyn—!”

Llewelyn stands up at the words that scream out her life. Light condenses on her outstretched hand.

A cluster of stars that has barely finished regenerating. The moment when the divinity flows above flashes.

“Hit it!”

A cluster of stars flickered with blue light.