Chapter 68 Escape Route
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
I wake on the bed of a private room and tell Maggot-san everything at once.
She stays by my side the whole time—calm, steady, listening like nothing can shake her—and that alone lets my breathing settle.
Everyone in the Imperial Guards is buried in logistics, except for Maggot-san. Wartime property administration is a grind, and the battle still rages aboveground.
When I finish, she nods once, asks my leave, and slips a terminal from her sleeve to place a call.
Whoever answers must be important; she keeps confirming details in a low voice, the kind of voice used for commanders and other people who make wars move.
”Word of thanks will come later from the noble family,” she says when the call ends.
So my information got through. She tucks the terminal away and returns to the point we both care about.
”About the ones Trash encountered—we may have a read on them.”
”Really?” I ask.
”Yes. If you’re being pursued, tell them quickly.”
I bite back the urge to rush. The others are still being hunted. We have to get back to the Uncanny Vale.
Maggot-san briefs me in the same even tone.
”They call her the ‘Kijo of Isumi’—a demon-woman who lets the giant ogre she keeps within run wild.”
”A kijo…?”
”Her strength is without equal, and even killing her does not finish her. There is no counter but to flee and lose her in smoke.”
That matches what I saw: a small woman with the look of a red ogre.
”She appeared only recently, yet each time she’s overturned the ground war. Her name wasn’t known, so we believe she only lately received the Oath of Fealty Ritual.”
Maybe the one chasing us isn’t her—but whoever she is, she’s bad news. Up close, the pressure rolling off her was unreal.
It seems no one realized she’d shown up until this morning. The lines above are still swimming with rumors.
”At the southern front there was someone that strong?” I murmur. “That’s… not what I expected. Were they hiding her?”
Can a brand-new Psionic Power user become that strong so fast?
A fresh Imperial Guard’s Psionic Power has limits. Yes, if a female receives many nerves from a male, her baseline output rises. But we’re human beings all the way down. Even if your power leans toward violence, there’s a ceiling to what you can do.
Take Trash-san, for example: his Psionic Power multiplies what’s inside a pocket. But that doesn’t mean he can enlarge the pocket itself and start mass-producing giant objects. The time cost spikes, and the result might be a flawed mess. This isn’t the kind of magic where you twist logic or nitpick wording to do the impossible.
Maggot-san shakes her head at my guess.
”Unlikely to be a hidden ace. Skilled Psionic Power users serve as checks on town-to-town conflict. Their epithets exist partly for that purpose.”
Meaning: the powerful aren’t usually kept secret. They’re advertised—to deter trouble. For weaker towns like those on the southern front, that matters even more.
”Several experts have already fallen to the kijo,” she adds. “Aboveground, a handful of Imperial Guards and a few hundred townsfolk barely held her. We still lack clarity on the woman with the umbrella…”
”So even the town doesn’t know. Then that pile of corpses we found—the first unlucky ones who faced her above.”
I’ve never seen a true first-rate Imperial Guard made for battle. Hearing this is enough to chill the spine.
There are exceptions, of course: the kind who spend their whole lives on monster hunts and dungeon dives; the kind who hog every nerve from a male below the neck; the ruinous powers that demand horrific self-harm. But modern women don’t live like that. That was the late-war world.
What we do know is this: the horned woman we passed was a famous Psionic Power user already clashing with our allies aboveground. The method isn’t to repel her. It’s to run.
”I’ll tell them to keep running,” I say.
”She favors no clever tricks or mystic sleights,” Maggot-san says. “At most, thrown objects within sight. We still don’t know the details of her Psionic Power. Tell Trash this, however: that woman may be a flirt.”
”A… flirt?”
”He will understand.”
”I don’t, but fine. I’ll pass it on.”
The five of us are a touch below mid-tier in a straight fight: two powers not meant for battle, the Ichimatsu crew—veterans, yes, but reliant on the body alone—and, no offense, Kaede-san’s group, whose strength sits around what a normal Exploration Squad earns over long years.
Their power is an extension of the ordinary. Numbers or not, if we’re caught we won’t walk away.
I’d hoped that knowing the enemy’s ability would make escape easier. But if she gets close, it’s over. We run.
There’s no other road. They say she won’t stay dead.
Maggot-san drives the point home.
”The kijo they met is the most seasoned Psionic Power user on the southern front. In fact, even counting the north, there’s no one equal to her alone. Tell them: they cannot win.”
”Understood.”
She gives me more—new identifications from the surface, enemy abilities, positions along the southern lines. Anything that might help Trash-san and the others.
In this war, our comms are crude. That’s why my Psionic Power matters. Cross a dungeon door and you lose every way to talk—except through powers. On our side, we can still gather the shape of the fight.
I call up my mental list again.
Like a courier pigeon, I’ll carry everything I can, as fast as I can—until the words reach them, and the echo of this room follows me back into the dark.
Someone might die.
That thought flickers through me—but there’s no time for it. I shove it aside and fix the important points in my mind.
Before I send my consciousness out, Maggot-san says quietly, “It will be the lady’s final path, in service to Your Lordship. Please, see her through.”
”It’s not her last anything. Don’t say stuff like that.”
”…Forgive me.”
Her poise never wavers, even as she bows me out. I hate how calm she stays—but I’m grateful too.
I reach for Trash-san first. I’ll tell both sides eventually, but the Imperial Guards are my own. They come first. Cruel as that sounds, that’s just the truth.
But as my awareness brushes hers, I know it won’t work. Trash-san and the other two are sprinting across a wasteland like the wind itself. I couldn’t catch them on foot if I tried. Forcing them to slow down might get them killed.
So I switch targets, reappearing at Kaede-san’s side.
”Whoa—!”
The world jolts. She’s already holding me.
The scenery rushes past in a blur—swamps of rusted red, boulders, splintered trunks, all flashing by as if I’m strapped to a roller coaster through some grotesque adventure world.
I’m being carried princess-style.
”Oh my, it’s been a day, hasn’t it?” she says, perfectly composed.
”Kaede-san, am I—am I getting in the way? If I’m slowing you down I can vanish right now!”
The wind roars too loud for me to hear her clearly, but her ears are sharper than human.
”Your Lordship could never be in the way. You’re welcome anytime.”
I can’t tell if she’s joking. No one’s ever greeted my Psionic projection like this before. Maybe she’s just got good instincts.
Running full speed, she asks, “Would you lift my head up high for me?”
”Wha—uh, okay? Like this?”
”Yes, yes. By the temples—now aim it behind us.”
”I’m gonna drop it!”
I clutch her head tighter. She adjusts her grip, sets me upright like a flagpole, my feet braced against her chest. Her rifle and gear clatter against her back as the ground tears by underneath us.
She’s holding me aloft like a banner.
”The wind’s insane! And wow, heads are heavy!”
Her own head tilts backward, eyes scanning behind her like a dashcam.
”Only till you’re tired,” she says cheerfully. “Heave-ho, there you go!”
Spurred on by her voice, I strain to keep her head high, both hands gripping tight, my gaze locked on what’s chasing us.
Kiri-san shouts from beside us, voice rough with breath. “What the hell, Kaede—your head’s floating! Since when can you do that?!”
”I’m watching our rear. You watch the front!”
”Got it. I’ll lead!”
Kiri kicks off the ground. Pebbles explode beneath her boots, speed surging as she takes point.
”Swamp ahead! Jump on three!”
”Right!”
Kaede-san leaps at the signal, sailing over the red mire like it’s nothing, fearless of falling. My arms tremble; the jolt nearly makes me drop her head.
Then I see it—movement behind us.
A hundred meters away, something is charging straight through the wasteland.
Horns.
A horned woman, the same Psionic Power user we passed earlier.
Her skin glows like molten clay, and she smashes through rocks headlong, her hair whipping in the wind.
The other woman—the one with the paper umbrella—is gone. So is the wound from our earlier ambush.
”She’s the one they said never to fight up close!” I yell. “The strongest on this front—the Kijo of Isumi! They said she’s… unfaithful or something! You can’t kill her, just run! That’s what my Imperial Guard heard from the townsfolk!”
”How kind of you to go to all that trouble,” Kaede calls sweetly.
”Forget that—just run!”
I’m screaming now. She sounds like an affectionate grandparent humoring me, but this isn’t the time for that.
The red ogre woman closes in. If she catches us, it’s over.
A glow burns at her lips.
”Her face—something’s lighting up!”
”Hold tight,” Kaede says. “And grip that neck!”
”She’s breathing fire—she’s literally breathing fire!”
Flame gushes from the kijo’s mouth as she inhales deep.
Then—
A wall of fire floods my vision. A red sun bursts across the landscape, streaking past us, heat licking at my borrowed skin.
I tilt, clutched sideways now. Kaede twists hard, dodging the blaze, pressing me to her chest.
Behind us, the demon woman screams curses through the fire. Kiri glances back; her tied hair whips in the rush.
She’s gaining.
”Looks just like a red ogre,” Kiri mutters.
”She’s fast. She’s catching up!”
”Then I’ll interfere a little.”
Still running, Kiri raises her gun without swinging her arms.
”Getting old just makes you good at stupid tricks,” she sighs—and flips backward into a run facing the enemy.
She leaps high, fires at the peak. Sparks explode across the kijo’s body.
Tracer-like light sears the air—dozens of rounds bursting like sparklers against her red hide, sliding off in molten streaks.
Photon bullets—superheated air. They burn through fabric and vanish.
”No way. She’s not even flinching,” Kiri breathes. “Guess only a charged shot’ll hurt her.”
”I’ll fire too,” Kaede says. “Even if it’s useless. You fall back if it isn’t.”
”Nope.”
”Good. Then stay.”
Kaede-san shifts her grip—one hand clutching my legs, the other swinging around behind her to fire.
As soon as the cover breaks, her rifle screams. Bullets pour backward in a silver stream.
”What a waste,” Kiri says between breaths. “A feast like that, and it’s not even working.”
”Give thanks to the craftsmen,” Kaede replies dryly.
More than a hundred rounds fly. They’re like gunners on a speeding jeep, retreating full throttle while shooting over their shoulders. The landscape streaks past, every blast painting the air with heat shimmer.
The barrels glow red; warning tones chirp from the weapons. Too much heat—metal bleeding color.
The demon woman only flinches, eyes narrowing in irritation. That’s all.
The barrage slows her a heartbeat, but firing while running costs speed. The gap closes again. Only her clothes and skin are scorched.
”Got her mid-breath,” Kiri grins. “Shoved a round right in her mouth before she could exhale. Now she’s coughing smoke.”
”She’s not hurt. Just pissed.”
”But satisfied?”
”Yeah. A little.”
Even so, she’s gaining fast. No matter how they shoot, it’s endless. Burns bloom on the red skin, her motions hitch a little—but she’s far from dead. The ones panting first will be us.
”Kaede!” Kiri shouts, her voice raw. “Throw everything you’ve got!”
”Won’t work. She’ll dodge before it blows.”
”Don’t lump me in with bad shots. Just trust me!”
Kaede shoves her gun into her belt and rips her pack free. The leather strap snaps with a sharp pop.
”Kiri—throwing!”
”She’s still hungry after all that lead. Feed her well!”
Kaede hurls the pack behind her.
It bursts open midair—more than twenty grenades of every shape and make raining down on the kijo closing fast enough to see her face.
Fragmentation, flash, high-voltage, gas—all mixed with supplies, water flasks, torn fabric, and metal scraps. A storm of debris spins through the sky.
The woman’s face twists—a monster’s snarl of pure rage. She’s hunting the ones who killed her allies and turned their corpses into traps.
”Down!” Kiri yells.
Her shot hits one of the grenades. Then another.
Light swallows everything.
”My eyes—!”
”What—?!”
The kijo behind them vanishes in white.
”Kaede-san, drop me! It’s safer that way!”
The world flips.
I’m thrown skyward—sky, then ground, sky again, the swamp’s black shine rising to meet me.
A flash streaks the edge of my sight like lightning. I know I’m tumbling, hard, like a skier eating snow.
”I can’t stop—if I fall into the swamp I’ll sink—!”
Finally, the spinning slows, collapsing into a roll that bounces me over the earth. After sliding for several meters, I stop.
I gasp, realize—if I sink, I can just reappear elsewhere with my power. Obvious, but good to remember.
”My head’s spinning. What just—oh no…”
The ground ahead looks like the aftermath of a lightning strike.
From the center of the blast, the earth fans out in blackened cracks, rocks split apart, steam hissing through the fissures. Bits of fire flicker over what used to be swamp—now boiling like a hot spring.
Kaede and Kiri stand a few meters ahead, guns raised, already steady.
”Kiri, check with the mask.”
”Right. Though I doubt she’s still breathing.”
They’ve recovered faster than I thought. My head—Kaede’s head—is already back on her shoulders. She must’ve realigned in midair while landing.
They’re ready for another fight.
Kaede glances back at me, worry soft in her eyes—like a grandmother checking on a fallen grandchild.
”I’m fine! Look forward, not at me!”
No time to waste on me. I shake my head, pointing toward the smoke.
Thick gray plumes rise. The heat stirs the air into a restless wind.
In the scorched center lies a charred shape—black, cracked, glowing faintly red beneath, like cooling lava. It looks like a human body burnt open to the muscle.
Like crash wreckage.
For it to even hold shape after that… only a Psionic Power user could.
A normal person wouldn’t have bones left.
”Has to be dead,” Kiri mutters. “Even aberrations don’t walk off that kind of hit.”
”What’s she saying?” Kaede asks.
”Eh? Oh—you can’t hear?”
”Only half the sound.”
Blood trickles from her earlobe. She taps it, showing Kiri, who’s bleeding from one eye where her visor used to be.
Both of them are wrecked—burned, cut, battered by the blast.
”Let’s make sure,” Kaede says.
She takes aim at the burnt figure—and pulls the trigger.
Nothing. A sharp electronic whine, then silence. She tries again. Dead.
”The gun’s broken.”
She tosses it aside. Kiri lifts hers, but it’s no better.
”Too close to the blast,” Kiri sighs. “Metal hates electricity. Mine’s fried too. Guess we overdid it.”
”Then we’ll finish this up close.”
”Oh, you heard that?”
”One ear still works.”
Kaede steps over her discarded weapon and walks into the scorched mire.
”Damn shame,” Kiri mutters, following. “This day’s costing me a fortune.”
They leap across the red pools. I hurry after them, still shaken.
”Maggot-san said you can’t kill her,” I whisper. “Let’s just leave. Run.”
”We’ll sink her,” Kaede says. “Even if she heals, she’ll die again.”
The stench thickens as they near the corpse—burned flesh and ozone.
A few more steps. Kaede raises her blade to strike.
And the blackened lump twitches.
It wasn’t my imagination. The body bent at the waist—moving, unmistakably moving. So she really couldn’t be killed, even burned to ash.
That meant we had to act now.
”She moved. She’s alive.”
”Could just be a corpse reflex,” Kiri said. “Happens at cremations all the time. Either way, let’s take the head. Then we can rest easy.”
”…You sure?”
”Sure as I can be. You’re the one for the job.”
”Guess so.”
Even while trading dry humor, neither let down their guard. With aberrant Psionic users, you never knew when “dead” meant anything.
After ten seconds of careful watching, Kaede stepped forward and swung.
The heavy blade cleaved through the neck, sinking into the ground. The head rolled free, charred and shapeless, a dull gray cross-section glistening like half-cooked pork.
Kiri looked down at it with a crooked smile. “Strong one, no doubt. Just no luck. Life’s a lottery—face her head-on and we’d be corpses instead.”
”Then we’ll dice up the rest.”
Blood seeped from the headless body, still bubbling faintly. It looked only like a burnt-out husk, nothing human left, no trace of the woman she’d been—just overdone meat.
”They called her the Kijo of Isumi,” Kaede murmured. “The strongest Psionic Power user in this war.”
Kiri chuckled. “That’s one hell of a prize. Got that lesson from your usual teacher?”
”I did.”
”But can we even prove it’s her, like this?”
”I’ll hand over the evidence myself.”
Kaede turned toward me, pride flickering in her eyes. She carried the scorched head as if it were a trophy. A broken horn still jutted from the forehead.
She was half-naked from the blast—one breast bare, her stomach exposed. I tried to keep my eyes anywhere else—for the sake of my mental health.
”The severed head, here.”
”I don’t want it! Don’t bring that thing over!”
”But—”
”No! Just—don’t.”
”…As you wish.”
She looked disappointed, and I almost felt guilty. But I wasn’t about to accept a human head as a souvenir.
Then a voice rasped.
”You really did it, didn’t you…”
It came from beside us—from the corpse.
Blood erupted from the back of the headless body, and an arm burst out, clawing at the air. Fingers spasmed, groping for something invisible, then slammed down, nails gouging the dirt.
Another arm tore free, shredding the charred flesh as if dragging a new body out from inside the old one.
”Kiri!”
”Right!”
They lunged. Kneeling over the corpse, they stabbed both blades down, pinning and hacking the new limbs. Again and again they drove their swords into the twitching mass.
”Don’t stop!” Kaede shouted.
”I’m not! What the hell is this thing made of?!”
”Stab through the heart—don’t hold back!”
Their combined strength could crush stone. Each thrust tore deep into the ground, steam rising where metal met seared flesh.
”…Enough.”
The voice was cold.
Both blades froze—caught mid-strike in a single pale-blue hand.
The arm holding them was slender, smooth, the color of frost. Young. Yet the pressure it carried locked both weapons in place without a tremor.
From the shredded corpse, a new figure emerged—blue-skinned, horned, half-born from the ruin of the first body. Like an insect shedding its shell, the kijo crawled free, slick with blood, her single horn gleaming wetly.
Her pupils contracted to pinpoints. The fury was gone. Her expression was calm now—almost detached.
”The red one’s dead,” she said softly. “That’s fine. There’s still the blue.”
Dripping, crawling like a newborn, she raised her face toward us. Slow, but impossibly strong. Even with both of them pressing down, her one hand matched their full force.
Kiri kicked her square in the face.
”You—!”
But her foot hit nothing. Or rather—it vanished.
The kijo hadn’t dodged. She’d eaten it.
”…Unlike me,” the blue woman murmured, “the two you killed won’t be coming back.”
”Ah—damn it! That hag bit off my foot!”
Kiri’s leg ended mid-arch, armor and all chewed clean away. She hadn’t even felt the impact; the bite came faster than reflex.
The kijo crushed the metal between her teeth and spat it out.
”They were good people,” she said. “And you—your kind—killed them. Killed our townsfolk. This war, all of it, started because of you.”
Her voice was young. Almost girlish. But behind it coiled something rotten and ancient, a grief warped into power.
”Damn you—”
A colossal blue fist formed in the air. It swung, a blur too fast to follow, swallowing Kiri’s silhouette.
The shockwave hit like a storm. I couldn’t even see it—only feel it tear the air apart.
”Fall back!” Kaede cried.
”Ugh… I dodged—how did it still hit?!”
They dropped their blades and bolted. The blue kijo rose from the wreckage, her strength filling the flatlands like thunder.
A voice followed—a voice without heat, colder than death.
”You’re not getting away.”
Kaede didn’t look back. She leapt over a boulder, breath ragged.
”Hurts like hell,” Kiri muttered. “Funny, huh? You never wanna die until you’re about to.”
”Save it. Run.”
”Easy for you—some of us are short a hand.”
She was. Kiri’s arm was gone from the shoulder down, blood splattering behind her as she ran.
The trail glistened dark red across the broken ground.
Behind us, the blue demon straightened, her eyes like dying stars.
”So,” she whispered, “let’s keep playing tag.”
And the blue ogress stood tall once more.
Notes:
• Psionic Power – Mental energy concept in Chapter 35’s lecture. Trash-san teaches it to strengthen the protagonist’s mind after dungeon ordeals.
• Ichimatsu – A high-ranking figure associated with the Imperial Guard, mentioned as having spineless guards around him, with no further details provided.
• Kaede – A female psionic explorer known as Necksplitter, is a veteran assassin and messenger of Lord Ichimatsu. Her appearance is both young and old, with gray hair streaked through black and vibrant, unlined skin. She is graceful yet carries the fatigue of a long life in war, resembling an old hunting dog. Her psionic ability is mysterious and potentially dangerous.
• Kiri – A female sniper and member of Kaede-san’s team, white-haired with sleepy eyes, wielding a disguised sniper rifle, known for her quick hands and slow speech, often joking in dire situations.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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