Leon’s eyes moved deliberately as he activated Rodrick’s Vision. Unlike Rodrick’s original version, which was not restricted by the vastness of the environnt, his own level two only showed its full potential in confined spaces.
To give so credit, ever since his duel with Lyon, Leon had improved the vision—enough for him to keep track of multiple enemies. His skirmish with the goblins in the forest was good training, too.
There’s eight of them, Leon thought as he stepped forward.
As the glow of the Holy Sword pushed ahead with his movent, the Ratn hesitated, their initial aggression slipping away. That retreat was exactly what he had wanted.
Advancing was always faster than retreating. Leon’s right foot slid forward without a sound and his sword surged from below, scattering blood in its wake. He had used “Footwork” to erase the distance and strike first.
Against humans, this would’ve been a leg strike, but against Ratn barely sixty centiters tall, it took the creature’s head clean off. Imdiately, the rest of the Ratn’s eyes turned blood-red and seven pairs of eyes glead as if the scent of blood riled them up.
They trampled their fallen comrade without hesitation and charged forward. Fortunately, the sewer tunnel wasn’t wide. Only two—maybe three—could co at him at once.
As long as they weren’t attacking all at once, they posed no real threat. Leon calmly observed their movents and gathered power in his relaxed wrist.
Pouncing was powerful, yes—but it left the attacker wide open. With a clean slash, the first one to leap fell into two pieces.
The Ratman died without even making a sound. Leon, drenched in Ratman blood, twisted his rising sword into a downward arc. It was the sa technique he had used against Lyon. The whip-like motion of the blade cracked downward like a viper’s strike.
The Ratman took the blade straight to the crown of its head. It twitched once and went still. There were few monsters that could keep moving after getting their brain destroyed—though the fact that even a few existed was terrifying enough.
And then, Leon’s first mont of danger arrived. As he yanked his blade free from the Ratman’s skull, several more had closed the distance and now bared their fangs. It was truly the worst timing.
Can’t dodge—no follow-up if I do. Swinging might be too slow.
None of his sword techniques could save him now. As El-Cid had said, swordsmanship focused entirely on human opponents wasn’t ideal for exterminating monsters.
Three kills, and already he was on the back foot. It was ti to break through his limits.
So Leon kicked, and a loud thump sounded in the narrow tunnel. His boot slamd into the Ratman’s face, sending the creature tumbling with a few broken teeth. In that gap, another lunged high, aiming to catch Leon while off balance.
Unfortunately for the Ratman, Leon’s sword punched straight through its brow. The Ratman’s death cry was cut short.
Leon had kicked and stabbed while balancing on one leg. Without the enhanced sense of balance granted by “Footwork,” he’d have lost his footing or stabbed too weakly to crack its skull.
As he regained proper stance, the remaining Ratn finally stopped in their tracks. There were four dead and one unconscious. With more than half of them taken down in seconds, their hesitation was understandable.
Leon exhaled and charged before they could even think of turning to flee. This sewer was their ho turf. Let one escape, and he’d never catch it. Considering their size, they likely had countless routes humans couldn’t follow. It was better to kill them now, while he had the chance.
With a final screech, the last Ratman fell.
Leon didn’t leave it to chance—he crushed the unconscious one’s neck underfoot and sliced off the tip of each tail before stuffing them into his pouch. These tail ends were proof of the extermination.
They could be processed into rope, apparently, but no one wanted to touch them. Well, it made sense. Who would want to touch a Ratman’s tail? Even if cleaned, the fact that they ca from filthy monsters made them unappealing. People avoiding them was only natural, so they were sold for next to nothing.
Nodding in understanding, Leon stood up, and blood, guts, and sewer water squelched beneath his boots. Wrinkling his nose, he realized belatedly that his entire outfit was soaked in filth—from Ratman blood and splattered viscera, to the sludge kicked up from the floor. There was no saving it. Leather armor, not tal—this stench wasn’t coming out.
—Well, not unless I’m here.
El-Cid let out a gentle gleam and, in an instant, the ss was gone. The gri vanished from Leon’s clothes and hair.
Leon nearly cried in relief, “This... this is the power of a Holy Sword! Praise be to the Goddess!”
—Mhm... that said, it feels like I’m being used for weird things. First air purification, now laundry... I don’t think this is quite right.
“Well, you’re sealed right now. Not much else we can do.”
—Fair enough.
El-Cid sighed as he chewed on the situation. The first great adventure of the Hero, reduced to clearing Ratn in a sewer. His role as the Holy Sword so far? Air freshener and washing machine. Even he, who rarely cared for external perception, was starting to feel embarrassed.
That was when El-Cid decided that Leon’s training plan needed to be overhauled. He had to grow faster—anything to get him out of this grimy, miserable place.
A chill ran down Leon’s spine. He glanced around, sensing danger—but unaware that it was coming from the sword in his own hand.
Just then—
There they are.
A new group of Ratn crept into the edge of his vision, still a good distance away. They hadn’t spotted him yet. Squeaking and chittering, they scuttled along in that grotesque way they moved.
Leon pushed all other thoughts from his mind and raised his sword.
***
With a splash! A Ratman, headless, collapsed to the ground.
Leon casually flipped the corpse over with his foot and, by now a familiar motion, sliced off its tail. That had been his seventh battle today alone. The pouch at his waist had grown noticeably heavy as if it were a testant to how many he’d slain.
That makes fifty. I wonder what’s a good number to hit? Leon thought.
The Guild had simply said, “as many as possible.” More kills ant a better evaluation, and it was a universal truth that first impressions mattered. He had every reason to take this seriously.
With that in mind, fifty was starting to feel a bit underwhelming. He still had plenty of stamina left, and monster hunting was a pri opportunity for a Hero to refine his skills.
“Alright, let’s go for two hundred.”
At Leon’s ambitious declaration, El-Cid, sounding rather exasperated, said, —What, did the rats murder your family or sothing?
—The energy you get from the Ratn is barely any better than goblins. If you overdo it and I have to cast a recovery spell, you’ll lose half the energy you’ve been collecting.
“Doesn’t matter,” Leon replied, firm. Gaining energy to build his Aura was important—but there was just as much value in what he could learn through these battles.
“I pick up a lot fighting like this. Improv, real-world lessons I’d never get just training. Even the close calls have taught sothing. Like when that one dropped from the ceiling, I was scared shitless. If I hadn’t been using a Holy Sword, I’d have been done for.”
The sword was powerful, but relying on it was dangerous. A Hero wielded the Holy Sword; he wasn’t ant to be ruled by it.
El-Cid agreed, —Alright. If that’s your take, I won’t stop you. Just don’t push too far.
“Got it,” Leon grinned.
However, the smile quickly vanished as another pack of Ratn had appeared in his vision. This ti, there were ten.
Most packs averaged seven—this one had three more. Still, there was no need to panic. The narrow space of the sewer worked to his advantage. They would only be able to co at him a few at a ti. All he had to do was cut them down in order.
Leon silenced his footfalls and slipped behind them. Born and raised in the sewers, the Ratn had poor vision. They relied mostly on hearing and sll, but Leon’s scent had been erased by El-Cid’s purifying light, and Rodrick’s Footwork suppressed even the slightest noise.
It was the perfect setup for an ambush.
One down to start.
He closed the distance naturally, then drove his blade into the neck of the rearmost Ratman. After killing fifty, he knew exactly where to strike.
There was a wet squelch and dark blood sprayed. As the ones in front whipped around at the sound and sll, the Holy Sword flashed once again.
Another fell in two pieces, sliced diagonally. Leon booted the body aside and assessed the remaining eight. If they bolted, he’d have to chase them down. If they attacked in a frenzy, he would et them with cool precision.
Then his eyes widened. At the rear of the pack, one Ratman had a small horn sprouting from its head.
What the—why does a Ratman have a horn?
—That’s a “variant.”
El-Cid said as if it were nothing. —When monsters survive long enough or absorb enough resources, they can awaken special abilities. Sa as hobgoblins.
“What should I watch out for?”
—The horn. Not dangerous on its own, but it signals a special ability. Bigger horns, more horns—ans greater threat.
Leon tensed. “Can you tell what ability it has?”
—Why don’t you go find out... is what I would love to say, but unfortunately, this one doesn’t matter.
“Why not?”
—It’s a curse type.
Even sealed, El-Cid was still the strongest sacred weapon on earth. So lowly Ratman’s curse couldn’t touch its wielder. It wasn’t even worth using the purifying light. For a typical D-rank adventurer, it’d be a nasty opponent, but for Leon, this was just another rat.
Leon’s eyes glead with murderous intent. Monsters with special traits were more valuable. That curse might be no threat to him, but for most, it was a primitive form of dark magic—hard to deal with without divine power. If he brought back that horn as proof, the Guild would definitely reward him.
At the sa ti, the horned Ratman flinched and looked flustered. It seed like it had tried to activate its curse.
Its glowing green eyes flickered several tis—but had no effect on Leon. Its “Curse of the Plague” was useless. It afflicted the target with minor illness but today, it had picked the wrong enemy. Leon stord forward, Holy Sword in hand, splattering blood as he cleaved through the ones blocking his path.
“Bring that horn of yours!”
With one horizontal slash, two heads flew, and the others stumbled backward in fear at his montum.
Unfortunately for the Ratn, in the cramped tunnel, there was nowhere for anyone to run. A single kick sent several tumbling into the drainage stream. Leon’s relentless charge was a first for the Ratn.
In re seconds, seven were demolished—and Leon stood before his real target.
The horned Ratman’s round eyes trembled as it screeched and squealed in confusion. Its pathetic stare might’ve stalled a softer adventurer—but—
“What are you looking at.”
Leon’s heart had been hardened by El-Cid’s rciless training. His empathy was dried up like a drought-stricken field.
The Holy Sword glowed faintly, gleaming with filth and blood. And just like that, all ten Ratn were wiped out.
“That’s sixty... plus one variant. One-forty more to go.”
—You’re really gonna hit two hundred?
“I an, we’ve got until sunrise.”
Leon bathed in a quick purifying glow, then pulled out so jerky and bit down. Savory spice spread across his tongue.
The sewer’s stench didn’t exactly whet his appetite, but skipping als over a weak stomach would be stupid. If he wasn’t actively vomiting, he could force it down. After all, he still had hours of battle ahead.
“Alright. Let’s keep going.”
Leaving the mound of corpses behind, the Hero with the Holy Sword pressed deeper into Blaine’s sewers. The gentle glow of his blade lured the beasts like deep-sea bait.
Before long, the Ratn’s screams rang out again.
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