Hearing the explosion-like sound erupt behind him, the old bug gritted his teeth, turned sharply, and bolted toward the basement—slamming shut every door along the way. He refused to believe that the man sent to kill him could pinpoint the entrance to the basement so precisely.
Aslan, however, didn't rush into the house—more accurately, the bug nest. Instead, he waited patiently until all the insects swarming the gate had been burned to charcoal and their rotting stench was thoroughly masked by the acrid scent of ash. Then, fanning his hands, he released a burst of magic from his palms, conjuring a breeze that swept away the abnormal odors.
Only after all that did Aslan step leisurely into the house. At the same time, he reinforced the surrounding barriers once more. This was nothing more than catching a turtle in a jar—the outcome was predetermined. All that remained was to make the process enjoyable.
It had to be said: the Matou family's house was massive, but it was also incredibly dark, offering no comfort at all. Aside from the outermost rooms touched by sunlight, the rest—like the corridor now visible through the ruined doorway—were poorly lit, exuding a musty, decayed air.
If not for the traces of modern-era décor scattered throughout, Aslan might have suspected he'd stepped into a dim corridor of a medieval castle. Honestly, if someone wanted to shoot a horror movie here, they could save a fortune on special effects.
Speaking of horror movies...
Aslan's lips curled into a grin. From his ring, he drew the magic sword that once belonged to Lucius—yes, the very same sword plundered straight from the Roman emperor's grave. No fire axe? No problem. A magic sword would do just fine.
Hey~ Door-breaking speed even faster than a fire axe! No need for ¥998 or even ¥98—just know a Roman emperor and his grave, and voilà: an elite door-slaying magic sword! Bonus: it doubles as a disco light on said emperor's grave!
Looking ahead, he saw every door in the corridor had been sealed shut. Aslan raised an eyebrow. It almost felt like a puzzle game. But why should he bother solving puzzles?
With a casual swing of the sword, he shattered the nearest door into splinters. Yet even with the door gone, no light from the street lamp outside penetrated the room's interior. The old bug, upon retreating, had stuffed the rooms full of insects. The moment the door broke, they burst forth like water from a breached dam, flooding toward Aslan.
The old bug likely knew these vermin couldn't actually kill Aslan—they could only stall him. That's why he mixed in not just combat-capable bugs, but grotesque, nauseating ones too. Even if they couldn't inflict real damage, they could certainly try to traumatize him.
Among them, Aslan spotted many shaped disturbingly like men's genitals. Some were even spewing fishy-smelling mucus. If these creatures crawled onto him, Aslan might genuinely want to rip off his skin and grow a new one.
"As expected of a gutter-dwelling cockroach—endless ways to disgust people."
He stabbed the magic sword into the ground and activated it with a surge of magic. Power pulsed outward, trapping the insects in place. None of them could cross the boundary the sword had drawn.
From his pocket, Aslan produced a magical device resembling a lighter. With a jolt of magic, it rapidly transformed—becoming a flamethrower. He pulled the trigger, unleashing a magical blaze that turned the room into an inferno in an instant.
The moment the flames made contact, the insects ignited. As though answering a call, all the other sealed doors burst open at once. A tide of black insects surged into the corridor.
"Just how many of these disgusting things has that old bug raised?"
Aslan aimed the nozzle at the oncoming swarm and fired again. At this moment, he slightly regretted not inventing a powerful insecticide. Still, fire worked just as well. Burned bugs didn't leave corpses—no need to wade through squishy, crunchy remains.
Thinking it over, Aslan was thankful he didn't suffer from trypophobia or entomophobia. People with those phobias would be mentally scarred after facing this hellish infestation, even if they managed to kill the bug in the end.
Crunch, crunch. He stepped steadily deeper into the house, boots grinding over carbonized bug husks. He paid no mind to the growing flames. The entrance to the underground wouldn't be near the front of the house. That would make it too easy to discover. Besides, the front was just a façade, used by the family to maintain the illusion of a normal life.
Placing the basement entrance near the entryway would've been foolish.
But the house was vast. Searching it room by room would be tedious. So, Aslan retrieved a forging hammer from his spatial storage, tapped it against the floor, and channeled his magic to reshape the entire first level. Wood twisted under alchemical influence like something out of Fullmetal Alchemist, climbing up the walls and exposing the stone foundation below.
Now, finding the entrance would be much simpler.
Underground, the old bug had just secured the basement door when he heard it: footsteps.
His eyes went wide.
No one else should've been able to hear those footsteps.
But they were getting closer.
That damn old monster—the one coming to kill me—found the entrance this quickly!?
Cold sweat ran down the old bug's temples. He quickened his pace. But it was already too late.
Crack!
The blade of the magic sword—its surface etched with red vine patterns—pierced through the basement door. The sweltering heat from the burning house followed, seeping into the subterranean air, carrying with it the acrid, charred scent of cinders.
-End Chapter-
Visit the Patreon!!
Read 30 chapters ahead, more on the way!
[email protected]/TrashProspector