"Good killing intent. It sends shivers down my spine," Bocchi replied with a strangely cheerful tone. "But there's no such thing as something that can be solved with willpower alone."
(That's right…)
He dashed to the right. Bocchi continued to chase after Chumie, aiming his flamethrower without stopping.
Chumie, more nervous than ever, dodged the writhing, snaking flames like a serpent.
The black smoke spreading from both Chumie and Bochi eventually obscured their figures.
That was precisely the moment he had been waiting for. Chumie drew his remaining two daggers and threw them at Bochi.
(What am I most afraid of...?)
He was afraid of getting hurt. Every night, as he undressed, the increasing number of wounds on his body filled him with a maddening sense of guilt and tormented his heart.
Yet, he had taken a job that involved constant danger of death, and continued his pursuit activities in the great city and metropolis. It was because there was something he feared even more.
He heard the daggers deflect, and Chumie accurately grasped Bocchi's position.
Then, in the flickering flames, he saw a phantom silhouette before him.
In that darkness, the image of the one he loved most in the world and the one he hated most was projected...
With a silent roar, Chumie drew his dagger and charged forward at full speed.
(Tonight, my beloved body will be wounded again, and my soul will lament in deep remorse...)
But the true essence of fear was that his life's thread would be cut before he could fulfill his burning desire for revenge, which controlled him like this inferno.
(So, focus only on that. Only on this burning resentment that controls me like this flame...)
Boow! Chumie emerged from the smoke screen, spotting his enemy.
(Remove all obstacles in your path!)
But Bocchi seemed to have anticipated the surprise attack. He didn't flinch at Chumie's sudden appearance, and said,
"I told you, you're too reckless," and pointed his robed arm at Chumie.
And as he had done many times before, he unleashed a blast of flames—
But this time, Chumie didn't try to dodge the flames. If he dodged in a wide arc, it would disrupt his attack. Just before he went into a crawling position, Chumie swung his dagger in the air.
The abnormal air pressure created by his full-powered strike slightly split the flames, but it was like throwing a pebble at a mountain.
He was hit directly. The searing heat on his skin evoked a pain unlike anything he had ever experienced.
But he didn't stop.
Chumie emerged from the inferno and leaped in front of Bocchi. Finally within striking distance, Chumie drew his blade with all his might and swung it down, aiming to cleave Bocchi in half.
Bocchi, on the other hand, took a defensive stance, using the giant coffin to block the katana.
But the blow, with its power and spirit unlike the daggers he had thrown, blew the coffin away.
The coffin, which had been secured with a lock, was released with a resounding clang. In that instant, two thick artificial dust tubes extending from the coffin into Bocchi's clothes caught Chumie's eye, and he severed them with two swift strikes.
The severed tubes hissed white smoke as they fell to the ground.
"What the…!"
The pumpkin-headed man exclaimed in shock.
Bocchi should no longer be able to use flames. The true nature of the black coffin that Bochi had been carrying was undoubtedly a flamethrower filled with artificial dust fuel.
Bocchi had been using the extending tubes, which he had incorporated into his left arm, to spread flames as if they were sand dust abilities.
But, even if it wasn't [Flame], there was no doubt that Bocchi had activated the injector and was moving freely in the flames.
Therefore, Chumie had predicted that Bocchi's sand dust ability was probably something like [Heat Resistance].
The sand dust particles that Bocchi wore acted within his body to negate the negative effects of the heat energy from the fire.
In other words, it was a defensive sand dust ability. This explained why Bocchi was the only one who could move freely in the fire and why he could repeatedly launch flames.
If Chumie's deductions were all correct, then there was no reason why he should be pushed back now that he had closed the distance.
Bocchi had no visible melee weapons on him. Even if he were to take out a hidden weapon, there was no way he could withstand another blow at this distance.
"This is my win,"Chumie thought, and swung his katana for a follow-up attack without hesitation.
But—
Bocchi's clenched fist slammed against the black coffin. The cross engraved on its surface snapped off and flew through the air.
"Wh-what!?"
Chumie was horrified by the action.
He had dismissed it as a mere pattern, but it was actually a weapon embedded in the coffin.
Bochi caught two specially shaped batons in each hand with a snap—and blocked Chumie's full-powered strike head-on.
A sharp metallic clang echoed through the night sky.
"To make me draw this thing in a one-on-one fight... you're not bad, you know."
Bocchi whispered, close up.
He parried, lightly pushing Chumie back.
"Damn it..."
Chumie gritted his teeth as he rolled to break his fall. He was agile, but Bocchi was far stronger when it came to raw power.
The rule of thumb in these situations was to use the darkness for a surprise attack, but that was a pointless strategy in this situation.
Looking down from above at Chumie, who was lying on the ground, the pumpkin-headed man said,
"I'll give you credit for figuring out the secret of my coffin, the "cast hole." And for disarming it. In this terrible combat environment, it's incredibly difficult to accurately grasp the subtle flow of sand dust particles. You have exceptional dynamic vision. But—"
Bocchi's long frame was carrying two unusually long melee weapons, large silver tonfas, and the flames reflected a reddish glow on them.
"But—sorry. I'm better at close combat."
It was a word of despair.
But the fight had to continue. The moment he stopped was the moment he would be defeated.
Chumie tried to get up, pushing his katana into the ground, but—
"────!?"
He was stunned when he realized the state of his body.
He had no strength at all. His limbs were shaking uncontrollably, a shock reaction from being hit directly by the flames just now.
Once he realized he was in trouble, Chumie noticed that he couldn't even maintain a grip on his katana.
"Hah, haa... haa...!"
He took shallow breaths. Chumie no longer felt the heat. His body had no moisture left; even his heart was parched to the extreme.
"It's over," Bocchi declared.
"No, I'm impressed. Actually, you've done remarkably well. Most people would have already collapsed after running around in the middle of a fire like that. But give up now. If you keep moving, you might end up with some serious after-effects."
Even as he listened to Bocchi's words, Chumie forced himself to swing his katana.
The blade, lacking its usual sharpness and power, approacheBochichi.
When the katana's trajectory was stopped, Chumie launched a third strike.
His fading consciousness superimposed the image of Bocchi's pumpkin-shaped mask onto the mask of the opponent he had decided to kill with his life.
With each merciless deflection, the katana's speed visibly decreased. By the time he had swung it four, five, six, seven times, Bocchi no longer even bothered to block the blade, simply dodging with a slight movement of his body.
The final blow didn't even reach the tip, stopping abruptly in front of Bocchi's pumpkin head.
"You..."
Perhaps sensing some unknown driving force in that determination, Bocchi asked, looking behind his black dog mask, as if trying to understand the truth.
"What's your name?"
"...Chumie Revenger..."
Chumie replied in a rattling mechanical voice. He had lost his birth name and even his face, and this alias was the only thing he allowed himself.
He had responded to the conversation to maintain a facade of strength, but it was clear as day that Chumie was incapable of fighting any further.
Still, Chumie drew his katana once more, aiming to cut his opponent down. It was no longer an act of survival, but a testament to his own existence, a constant attempt to destroy the obstacle before him.
At that sharp, murderous intent Bocchi instinctively raised his silver tonfas.
But the blade didn't swing. Instead, there was a thud. The dying Chumie collapsed on the spot.
His body, against his will, had reached its limit and refused any further action.
Chumie saw a hallucination of his soul being released from his body, which no longer responded to his commands, and dissolving into the surrounding fire.
"Chumie Revenger, you say...?"
Bocchi looked down at Chumie's fallen body and muttered, as if pondering something.
"Hmm, I see. A avenger, huh..."
He was undoubtedly a revenant. Without fulfilling his revenge, his current existence would have no value, no meaning. That's why he couldn't stop here.
With a sense of despair at this unforgivable defeat, Chumie's vision gradually blacked out. Suddenly, Chumie felt a strange sensation of floating.
Someone—probably, Bocchi—seemed to have touched his body and lifted him.
He wanted to yell at him, "Don't touch me!" But before he could, Chumie lost consciousness completely.
_____
Oh noo what will happen now to Chumie? Stay tuned to next chapter! Lovelots!
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