Min-Maxing My TRPG Build in Another World: Volume 8 [Parts 1 to 8] by Schuld

Author:Schuld
Language: eng
Format: epub

[Tips] An alias is given by those who hear of the person’s feats, but penned stories are not always an accurate representation of reality.

It was a disgusting smell: The foul reek of blood and excrement seeping from intestines bared to the open air.

Siegfried shook as the reality of battle belatedly sank in.

He had been totally preoccupied during the fight itself, but the realization had come to him after their enemies had fled: Battle did not end as beautifully as the songs would have you believe. Routed foes left a foul stench.

Before Siegfried’s eyes a man let out a pathetic groan. A bolt stuck from his stomach as the life trickled from his carcass.

He was a mensch, just like Siegfried, no older than his father.

The man had chosen a cruel and unjust line of work, it was true, but Siegfried couldn’t pair him with the image of the evil foes that always came out beaten at the end in his beloved tales.

He looked like a normal man—nothing more, nothing less. He wasn’t ugly like the wicked men in the stories. If he had been dressed normally, you couldn’t have told him apart from any other guy on the street. Blood ran from his mouth, and the sight of him clutching his stomach sent pity racing through the heart of the young adventurer.

The bandits had attacked with the suddenness of a rushing stream; now that the dust had settled his memories were hazy.

Had I fired that bolt? Siegfried couldn’t remember how many shots he’d fired, or at whom.

“Help...me...”

“Siegfried. Looks like we got a survivor, huh?”

Erich approached with light steps from the site of battle as Siegfried struggled with a vaster consternation than he had ever known in the face of the man’s request. All the while, Erich cleaned his dagger of filth.

“What’s gotten into you? You need to finish the job.”

“F-Finish the job...?”

“Yeah. There’s no saving him.”

Goldilocks uttered this statement as if he were talking about a pig at market as he assessed the man’s wounds.

The heavy crossbow’s firepower had earned it a nickname—the knight-killer. At a close enough distance, it could easily pierce right through cloth armor. The bolt had penetrated the man’s bowels as it spun, churning his guts into a slurry that slopped from the wound.

His own excrement would infect his damaged internal organs. Only the most brilliant iatrurgy, conjured in that very moment, would save him. If he didn’t die soon, it would draw out over the next few days. The garbage that we all held within us was a fatal poison if it escaped from where it belonged.

All the while the open wound would be a breeding ground for new infections. Even with a high pain threshold, no one could prevent themselves from bleeding out.

There was no avoiding the end now, no chance for last-minute mercy—save the bitterest kind.

“So you need to end his life swiftly. A prolonged death is a painful one.”

“W-Wait, you say that, but I...”

“...Am an adventurer. Right?”

Siegfried instinctively caught whatever it was that Erich had thrown his way.

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