Chapter Thirty-Three: The Folly of Gigantism (Part Two)

Marquis Menewal possessed a resistance to Black Aurora’s fire magic far surpassing that of ordinary vampires, which made Black Aurora’s long-range attacks far less effective than anticipated. Moreover, his movements were swift and agile, like the wind, causing the elven mage’s spells to consistently miss, wasting much of her mana. Black Aurora’s two pointed ears turned red with frustration, standing upright, and she muttered curses under her breath. Though our progress was slow, on the other side of the battlefield, Krado and his companions were not facing nearly as much difficulty.

The minotaur shaman wielded a heavy, sharp battle axe—a weapon particularly effective against skeletal monsters. With every powerful swing, bone shards fell from the skeleton guards like wood shavings. Unexpectedly, Longbow Sunshot did not charge ahead with his usual fervor; instead, he repeatedly cast spells of Holy Light, directing the sacred rays of the Supreme God’s judgment upon the two skeleton guards before him. Though our dwarven priest was often hot-headed and prone to reckless actions, this time his choice was unusually wise. Against these undead abominations, the priest’s holy spells seemed to inflict extra damage—a simple Sword of Judgment could deal over a hundred points of harm. He hadn’t enjoyed such a leisurely, spellcasting fight from the sidelines in ages, and was so elated he shouted excitedly throughout the battle.

Clearly, the sensation of choosing a safer combat style was a pleasant change, but sadly, my profession meant I could hardly ever experience such comfort myself. Compared to Krado and Longbow Sunshot, Yangtze Delta was visibly dispirited. Faced with two skeleton monsters, his most lethal weapon, the Corpse Poison Dagger, was virtually useless, forcing him to rely on the short-handled warhammer in his right hand. As expected, this level fifteen warhammer performed exactly as a weapon of its tier should. Nevertheless, he always managed to attract the attention of both enormous skeletons at crucial moments, sharing the damage that Krado would otherwise bear alone, giving Longbow Sunshot a better opportunity to strike.

Thinking back to the exhilarating slaughter with the Corpse Poison Dagger, then witnessing the pitiful “-15” and “-20” numbers floating above the skeleton guards’ heads, it was hard not to feel a deep sense of life’s fickleness and reversals—a sentiment surely weighing heavily on our half-orc friend, now reduced to a mere meat shield. Soon, under the judgmental light cast by Longbow Sunshot, a giant skeleton guard collapsed with a thunderous crash. The remaining one, though roaring furiously and swinging its huge blade wildly, causing trouble for Krado and Yangtze Delta, was clearly at the end of its strength.

Not long after, Krado bellowed and swung his giant axe, reducing the second massive skeleton guard to a heap of bones. Marquis Menewal’s two henchmen were thus completely dispatched. Their defeat caught the vampire marquis off guard.

“You surprise me, vermin…” he finally abandoned his pursuit of me, standing in place with a sinister sneer. “…but your luck has run out.” With that, he threw his head back and let out a piercing screech, so loud it felt as if a thousand bats were tearing through my mind.

In an instant, a dim, sinister red orb enveloped Marquis Menewal, growing larger and larger. Through its glow, I could see his body becoming bulkier and taller. From his sides sprouted a pair of powerful wings, his fangs lengthened, and his formal attire and cloak were torn apart by his swelling frame. The slender rapier he once wielded, as thin as a snake’s tongue, broadened and expanded until it became a massive, axe-like blade taller than a man.

His face twisted with taut muscles, becoming both terrifying and oddly euphoric—a blend of horror and delight that made him look more monstrous than ever. When the transformation spell finally concluded, Marquis Menewal opened his eyes, which now shone with a blinding red light that filled his entire eye sockets.

“You will pay for your arrogance!” the gigantic vampire marquis roared, brandishing his oversized sword and charging straight at me.

This was outrageously unfair! Both skeleton guards were destroyed by those three over there—if arrogance were to be punished, it should be their due, not mine. How utterly innocent I was—why must this ancient monster fixate on me? In a brief moment, I cursed the unreasonable, bloodthirsty fiend dozens of times in my mind, but could only raise my shield in helpless defense.

His heavy blow nearly broke me—when I managed to deflect it with great effort, the pain was so intense I felt as if my left side had been cleaved open. Yet this shameless strike stirred my ferocity. As he faltered, I retaliated with several swift blows to his thigh, and at the same moment, Black Aurora’s fireball exploded against his chest.

Taking advantage of this opening, Yangtze Delta and the others closed in, surrounding the colossal vampire marquis. Throughout my adventuring career—not just now, but for years to come—a great puzzle haunted me: why do those possessing immense power, those formidable and fearsome foes, the ones who command armies and wreak havoc with evil magic, always choose to enlarge their bodies, as if afraid no one would realize they’re the chief villain to be slain?

To my mind, size and strength are never inevitably linked. If these mighty beings at the summit of power chose to shrink themselves to normal human proportions, even with half their strength, they would be far more dangerous. Enlargement makes them conspicuous targets and slows their movements; though their absolute power increases, they become easier to handle.

For instance, if Marquis Menewal had remained in his human form, he would have been much harder to hit, and without a target, even the greatest destructive force is wasted—Black Aurora’s spells missing earlier proved this point.

Now, none of us needed to worry about elusive targets anymore. This bloodthirsty beast stood there, arrogant and foolish, like a tethering post—nothing but a fleshy bullseye. If we missed him now… well, only if it were Melody Harmony, that blind fool. Happily, he was not here.

Sometimes, one can’t help but be grateful—if the Lords of the Apocalypse and their cunning yet idiotic henchmen could grasp this principle, the continent of Faervey would have been overrun two centuries ago.

This was a contest of patience. After his transformation, Marquis Menewal’s health bar was as daunting as his new stature, nearly matching his height. He frequently cast the vampire’s defensive spell Blood Demon Armor, making it so exhausting to cut into him that it was hard to see any loss in his health at all. Fortunately, with his increased size, his intelligence seemed to have dropped considerably.

He rarely used magic offensively, only occasionally casting a strengthened Blood Drain spell. I never understood his fondness for such a spell—it gradually weakens an opponent’s vitality, but is easily interrupted and seldom absorbs even a hundred points of health before failing, nothing like the quick or frequent Blood Spike spells. More often, he wielded his unwieldy longsword to strike, and the preferred target for his attacks was me.

His heavy sword posed a greater threat than his magic. Each time I took a hit head-on, I suffered significant losses in health. After several heavy blows, my shield was covered in cracks and nearing its breaking point.

Luckily, his attack speed was slow; we could hack at him for quite a while before he mustered a counterattack. I guessed it was due to his sword—even with his bulky form, swinging a blade as large as a door took considerable effort and left him breathless after each swing.

The fool had probably never considered that, had he chosen a lighter, handier sword, we would already be skewered like roasted meat on his blade.

This grueling battle dragged on for an unknown length of time until finally, Marquis Menewal’s health dropped below a quarter. Now, I felt the dawn of victory breaking, certain it was within our grasp—never suspecting that, until now, the hardest fight had only just begun.