Show Me Your Stats!-Chapter 116

"This is—what the hell...!"

Ayra was aghast at Janus, who was relentlessly throwing his body to chase after her. The dragon crushed his shoulder blade but regenerated it with only a few cracking sounds, then flung himself forward once more to continue the pursuit. Ayra, running away in a panic, stumbled and fell face-first into the snow. Janus, abandoning all pretense, sprinted toward her on all fours like a beast and was about to grab her when Ayra melted away like mist.

At almost the same time, the surrounding houses stretched infinitely upward, enclosing him overhead. Each brick hung down like a pointed stalactite, but they posed no threat to Janus. He nonchalantly swung his sword to slash the spikes, and punched the walls until his fists were drenched in blood.

Some parts of the wall crumbled into clouds of stone dust, while others—perhaps illusions—offered no physical resistance at all. When he looked around again, dozens of Ayra stood there, blank-faced, staring at him. On rooftops, on the ground, even inside houses, his pretty lover swirled her robe hems in every direction.

"With this many lovers, I could screw you ‘til you’re sick of it. I’m confident I could keep it up for a whole month—what do you think? It’s a deserted village, so there’s nothing to stop us."

As Janus smirked and stepped forward, the Ayra standing farthest away twisted her face in genuine disgust—then hurriedly bolted between the houses and disappeared.

Janus laughed out loud, utterly delighted by the situation. Honestly, fighting humans was usually boring. Humans died far too easily. Even just a slightly firm hit would make them bleed out and die. Some were strong, sure—but killing them was no different. He’d heard there were rare knights capable of slaying dragons, but he’d never met one.

Mages were much the same. Instead of wielding blades, they hurled fire or ice or flung boulders. That was about the only difference.

‘Are all Labyrinth Mages like this?’

Once this was over, he’d have to visit the Labyrinth. No—before that... he was going to pin Ayra down in the middle of this village and fuck her until she lost her mind and passed out. With such dark desire seething in his chest, Janus lunged at the closest Ayra. She widened her eyes adorably, only to dissolve like snow, clinging viscously to his lower body.

"What the hell is this?"

Janus grimaced at the unfamiliar and repulsive stench. He shook his body, but it wouldn’t come off. In the meantime, dozens of Ayras gripped the metal spheres in their hands with both palms. Click, click—a mechanical winding sound echoed, and the center of the spheres opened wide.

From within, sharp harpoons launched and rained down toward Janus. They flew at him from every direction like a storm of arrows. Dodging them with a swift twist of his body, Janus’s eyes widened.

"......!"

Dodging the initial volley was easy, but the real problem came after. Unlike typical projectiles, they arced dramatically through the air and came flying back at him. As he dodged again, one made a full circle and, with a sharp screech, extended bladed metal wings. Dozens of steel birds chased after Janus, targeting the exact spot where the suspicious liquid had touched him.

He hit the ground just in time, and the harpoons skimmed his skin before curving through the air again to strike. He rolled sideways, narrowly avoiding them—several struck the ground with brutal force, thwack, thwack, thwack.

"Goddamn—what kind of weapon even is this...!"

Grabbing one of the harpoons, Janus hurled himself again. This time, more harpoons slammed into a building behind him. As he examined the one in his hand, it suddenly sliced his palm open and slipped away. The winged section ripped a gash, sending droplets of blood scattering. Janus flexed his fist.

"This is going to get nowhere fast."

These strange mage weapons didn’t stop just because they embedded themselves once. After piercing a target, they folded their wings, returned to their metal spheres, reloaded, and fired again. Judging by their speed and destructive power, even someone like him—if struck just once—could end up with their lower half shredded to ribbons.

Thinking perhaps these too were illusions, Janus let one hit him on purpose. It pierced his calf in an instant—and the metal feathers made it hard to pull out. Worse, the thing had a tendency to drive deeper in reverse. The pain was all too real. No illusion.

"Kh... ha, heh... this really..."

Like most dragons, Janus found that pain, injury, and blood didn’t trigger fear, but rather arousal. A shiver of delight crawled over his skin. His calf was torn open by the relentless barrage, but his lips curled into a grin. Madness gleamed in his blood-red eyes.

"Ayra... Even if we hadn’t been lovers, meeting as dragon and lord might’ve been fine too."

If Ayra had been fighting this desperately for the sake of her land and her people, she would have resisted with even more ferocity. Since she gave him such pleasure, Janus wouldn't have killed her immediately either. To savor this joy, he’d have kept her alive through many cycles. Forced himself on the proud lord who hated him—again and again—as she resisted, then ultimately broke.

Suddenly, Janus wanted to get his hands on Ayra right now. His mouth was dry, and the snowflakes on his tongue tasted strangely sweet. A heat climbed from his throbbing temple to his crown, and his eyes rolled with hunger. It was too intense and tangled to call mere lust.

He raised his sword—and without hesitation, slashed his own leg. He drove the blade into his calf, pulled out the harpoon, and immediately gave chase, following the harpoon back toward the metal sphere.

One of the Ayras clutching a sphere showed a flicker of panic. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, her breath frosted white, her gray eyes vividly real. But Janus, attuned to the finest sensory detail, could feel the discrepancy.

Fakes were always just a little off. It wasn’t hard to tell them apart from the real thing.

He charged and struck the sphere with his sword. Clang! Sparks flew, the metal warped, and the impact flung Ayra backward. Both the sphere and Ayra melted like snow. Janus grabbed another harpoon and chased after it. He swung his blade again.

After a few cycles of this, Ayra stopped retrieving the harpoons lodged in the ground or buildings. Instead, the spheres changed form once more. Click, click—the mechanical sound returned, and this time the harpoons’ wings folded inward... and caught fire.

"Kh!"

As searing heat scorched his skin, Janus let out a reflexive groan. Where the harpoons grazed, they left blackened scorch marks that burst into flame. One by one, the buildings ignited, spewing acrid smoke. Flames and ash swirled into the sky, staining it a dark crimson. Despite the blaze around him, Janus’s face remained perfectly calm.

"Trying to play tricks with a little fire... cute."

"Is it really just cute?"

A chilly, amused voice brushed his ear. Janus snapped his head around—but no one was there. Scanning his surroundings with a sharp gaze, he chuckled.

A dragon’s vitality was tenacious. You couldn’t kill them just by slicing or burning. Ayra must’ve known that by now. The fire wasn’t meant to kill—it was clearly a tactic to dull his senses.

‘Sure enough, my sense of smell is a bit overloaded.’

The crackling of flames also interfered with his hearing. Swish!—a harpoon shot from the smoke, pierced his palm, and tore through. Another came from a different angle, but this time he didn’t dodge. It punctured his shoulder. Janus didn’t even blink. His burned wounds were healing more slowly, but it wasn’t enough to cause real harm.

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"You’ll need a hell of a lot more than this to beat me, Ayra."

From the start, the very idea of “victory” was stacked against Ayra. Even with hundreds of harpoons, she couldn’t kill him. Worse, she was only targeting his legs—not his chest or head. Her illusion magic was /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ little more than a nuisance.

‘And magic always runs out eventually.’

Ayra’s spells would have to end sometime. She couldn’t conjure infinite illusions. Ignoring the harpoons lodged in his body, Janus drew his sword. He swung and sliced both the sphere and the nearest Ayra.

But unlike before, this time the illusion didn’t melt away. In that instant, red blood spattered across his cheek. Janus froze. Ayra, her chest slashed open, stumbled back, clutching the gushing wound—then collapsed. Clunk—the sphere rolled across the ground. His cold eyes followed the fallen Ayra.

"It was definitely..."

...an illusion, he was about to say—when thud, something struck him hard. He looked down to find a thicker harpoon impaled in his side. The brutal weapon clicked and spread its wings wide inside his flesh to anchor itself. When he turned, he saw the chain pulled taut—connected to something in the distance.

Another thud—a second harpoon pierced his thigh. Janus’s crimson brows twitched. With impaling weapons sticking out of him, he looked back. The Ayra lying on the ground hadn’t disappeared. Blood pooled slowly beneath her, thick with the stench of iron. What had just thrilled him now began to fade.

"...Aha."

Another harpoon shot into his forearm. Janus didn’t even flinch as he slowly scanned his surroundings. Dozens of Ayras still stared at him. Flexing the limbs that had been impaled sent agony surging through him. Blue veins bulged all over his body.

"What—you thought if I saw something like this, I’d... panic? Freeze up?"

Each time he twisted his body, shrrk—his feet dug deep into the ground. After a moment of straining, he suddenly twisted right. Clang!—a chain snapped with a sharp metallic shriek. He tore the other chains too—half by ripping them off, half by tearing them from his flesh.

As soon as he was free, Janus swung his sword without hesitation. Familiar limbs were cleaved, deep wounds carved into bodies. Blood streamed out from the split corpses, dyeing snow and soil red. After cutting down many of them, his sword dulled. He tossed it aside.

Even if they were illusions, the overly realistic blood clung stickily to his body. Unlike a dragon’s blood, which disappeared, this fake blood smelled vividly of real life. A scent he knew all too well.

He grabbed a pale neck with his bare hands and crushed it, going for the vital point to inflict mortal wounds. The sensation was no different from killing any other human. Without a word, he tore and crushed anything he touched. At some point, when he came back to his senses, the corpses of Ayra lay scattered all around him.