Wonderful Insane World
Chapter 131: Backstabber

Chapter 131: Backstabber

They all felt it.

There was something in the air... impossible to hide from their newly awakened senses. A dense vibration, almost tangible, like an invisible gaze pressed against their skin.

Dylan didn’t know if it was because of recent events — or simply the fact that the three of them had awakened their stigmas — but one thing was certain: they were now far more sensitive to the ambient spiritual essence.

It wasn’t that they could control it, far from it. It was more like it no longer bothered to hide. It pressed down on them, it asserted itself, it existed more insolently than before.

As if the world, which until now had been whispering, had suddenly decided to speak louder.

Not long ago, Dylan wouldn’t have even known if he felt anything. Spiritual essence had seemed vague to him, diffuse, like a mist one senses without ever truly reaching it.

But now... he felt it brushing his skin, sometimes sliding along his neck, slipping into his bones like a cold breeze.

He didn’t know if Maggie and Élisa were feeling the same. He didn’t dare ask. He only knew that he would have to get used to this new reality, sudden and unsettling.

Slowly, he moved in front of the group. His hand hesitated for a moment, then he drew the Jian. The motion still lacked fluidity — he wasn’t used to the weight, to the presence of this living weapon.

He aligned himself with Maggie. Élisa, without a word, took a slight step back, adopting a defensive stance. She lowered her center of gravity, planted her feet firmly, and pointed her spear in front of her.

The noise grew louder as whatever it was came closer, but they kept calm, knowing that panic would solve nothing.

Dylan and Élisa exchanged a glance, and he tightened his grip on the sword with both hands. He wasn’t trained to use it, so his stance was poor; he simply held it in a way that would allow him to strike — if he got attacked, or if the opportunity arose.

"I really need to learn how to wield a sword properly."

The vibration in the air thickened, becoming a low hum that resonated in their bones. The silence of the forest was suddenly shattered by the crash of pulverized branches. A massive shadow burst from the mist like a living projectile.

Dylan wasn’t exactly shocked by its appearance — but he was still surprised and took a cautious step back.

You don’t see a bear like that every day. If you could even call it a bear.

"It kind of looks like one," thought Dylan, gripping his weapon tightly.

It was larger than a normal bear, its brown fur bristling with stiff spikes along its back and shoulders. Its snout, deformed, revealed two yellowed, curved tusks as long as Dylan’s forearm. Its bloodshot eyes stared at them with a mix of feral hunger and intelligence. A foul stench of rot and damp earth enveloped them.

Dylan reacted purely on survival instinct. He knew no technique, no ideal posture. He was just a kid who had seen the Guardian wield a sword so effortlessly that he wanted it for himself. Yet the Jian — this living blade of immense potential — became nothing more than a long machete in his hands. He charged, a hoarse cry escaping his throat, and swung the blade horizontally with all his strength.

The result was pitiful. The flat of the blade struck the beast’s muscular flank with a dull thud. The creature growled, more startled than hurt, but the impact made it veer slightly. Dylan felt the hilt twist violently in his sweaty palm, nearly wrenching the weapon from his hands. A painful numbness shot up his arm.

"Fuck!" he swore, stumbling back, clutching the handle desperately to prevent another slip.

Maggie, however, didn’t hesitate. Adrenaline and rage drowned out the pain of her injuries. With a growl that rivaled the beast’s, she spun her new weapon. The chain whistled, the metal fang tracing a deadly arc through the cold air. She aimed for the creature’s front leg.

The fang embedded deep into the beast’s shoulder with a crunch of shattered bone. A scream of pain tore through the air. Maggie yanked the chain hard, pulling the weapon free. The fang tore out a chunk of flesh and fur in a spray of black blood. The boar-bear stumbled, its front left leg destabilized.

"Yeah! That stings, doesn’t it, buddy?" Maggie roared, a savage grin on her lips. But the weight of the flail-halberd and the recoil spun her slightly, throwing her off balance. She regained it by jamming the weapon’s haft into the ground.

Wounded and enraged, the monster ignored Dylan and charged at Maggie, the source of its sharpest pain. It lowered its head, aiming its deadly tusks. Maggie, still rebalancing, raised her weapon to block, but the heavy chain and fang were slow to retract.

Élisa intervened like lightning. She had studied the charge, calculated the angle. Her body launched forward, the dark wooden spear becoming an extension of her will. The damascened tip flashed briefly in the forest gloom.

The point pierced the beast’s left eye with surgical precision. Élisa drove the weapon in with all her weight, then pulled it out in a smooth, circular motion before the claws could reach her. A gush of thick, bloody fluid sprayed from the ruined socket. The boar-bear roared, a note of terror mingling with its rage, backing away and violently shaking its head.

Encouraged by the damage done, Dylan tried again. Seeing the creature blinded on one side and disoriented, he rushed at its right flank, raising the Jian with both hands like an axe to bring it down on the beast’s neck.

But again, his lack of skill betrayed him. As he swung, his grip on the handle slipped slightly. Instead of striking with the edge, the flat of the blade crashed onto the creature’s thick skull.

The impact rang out like a gong. Dylan felt the shock reverberate through his arms to his shoulders. The boar-bear, dazed but protected by its heavy skull, spun around with surprising speed. A clawed paw slashed the air, narrowly missing Dylan, who managed to leap back — only to trip over a root and crash to the ground. The Jian flew from his hands and landed in the mud beside him.

"Asshole!" Maggie yelled, seeing Dylan fall. She swung her flail-halberd in a wide arc. The fang struck the creature’s flank, opening another wound, though not as deep as the first.

The beast, though injured and half-blinded, was far from finished. It seemed its pain only fed its fury. It charged again, this time at the elf with the spear who had inflicted its worst wound.

Élisa gracefully dodged a tusk strike, her spear tracing fast defensive circles to maintain distance. The tip sliced through the beast’s ear, drawing another pained shriek.

But the boar-bear was resilient. It used its bulk to press Élisa against a thick tree trunk, limiting her room to maneuver.

Dylan, dazed but driven by fear, grabbed his Jian from the mud. This time, he didn’t think. He only felt the urgency, the weight of the weapon in his hand, and the crushing threat bearing down on Élisa. He sprang to his feet and, without technique or stance, charged with an inarticulate cry, the sword pointed forward like a makeshift spear.

He didn’t aim. He just ran straight into the beast’s hindquarters, where the spikes were less dense. The momentum and raw force did the rest.

The Jian, this time guided by desperate instinct rather than poor technique, plunged deep into the boar-bear’s haunch, just beneath the tail. The blade sank to the hilt. Dylan, carried by his momentum, crashed into the beast’s rear and fell again, but he kept a firm grip on the handle.

A horrendous, guttural howl ripped through the forest. The creature reared back, writhing in agony, trying desperately to reach the source of this new torment.

Maggie saw her chance. Ignoring her exhaustion, she took her flail-halberd in both hands, raised the fang high, and brought it down with all her strength onto the creature’s already-damaged skull.

The fang sank into the bone with terrible force. The beast collapsed on its side, its limbs twitching violently before slowly falling still.

A final death rattle escaped its gaping jaws, and its body stiffened, falling with a heavy, wet thud.

Dylan lay sprawled in the mud, panting, still clinging to the Jian embedded in the carcass. Maggie, her face drenched in sweat and blood — whether hers or the beast’s was unclear — leaned heavily on the haft of her weapon, the bloodied fang still lodged in the monster’s skull. And Élisa, slumped against the tree she’d been pinned to, was breathing deeply but steadily, her spear still aimed at the fallen beast, just in case.

"You... you got it up the ass, Dylan," Maggie panted, a breathless, humorless laugh escaping her. "You’re officially an ass-slayer now."

Dylan pulled himself free, wrenching the Jian from the flesh with a wet squelch. He looked at the blade, caked in blood and mud, then at his trembling hands. He felt like he’d been beaten himself. "That wasn’t... glorious," he admitted, his voice hoarse. He tried to shake the mud off the blade, but his motion was clumsy. "This damn handle... it keeps twisting. And hitting with the flat..." He shook his head, ashamed and frustrated.

Élisa finally lowered her spear. Her golden eyes scanned the corpse, then settled on Dylan and his mistreated weapon. "Survival trumps glory," she said simply, though her gaze was grave. "But you’re right. You need to learn. Fast."

She glanced warily at the surrounding forest. The silence had returned, but this time it was heavy with the violence that had just taken place — and with that lingering spiritual presence, like an invisible observer. The fresh blood would draw other predators.

"We clean up quick. Then we move."