Chapter 25: Tactical Maintenance of the Vicious Dog

[End of Turn]

Seventh turn begins.

[Double Strike]

[Blazing Strike+1]

[Reckless Charge]

Sovinia’s eyes lit up.

‘Now!’

Sovinia stopped throwing stones.

She used [Reckless Charge] to lunge at Xuefu, her steps as light as a cheetah’s.

Xuefu was fully focused on snarling and wrestling with Wohard, seemingly unaware of the threat from the side.

Sovinia approached, ready to unleash [Double Strike] and [Blazing Strike+1].

Suddenly, Xuefu ignored Wohard and hurled his battle-axe with a swing of his hand.

The axe flew toward Sovinia with tremendous force, enough to send her across the room and pin her to the wall.

Mid-charge, Sovinia unleashed [Double Strike] and [Blazing Strike+1].

The Moonlight Blade ignited with searing flames, its blade radiating a blinding light.

Combined with the attack from [Reckless Charge], it directly cleaved the incoming axe in two.

After throwing his axe, Xuefu immediately lunged at the slender Sovinia, like an old buffalo pouncing on a lamb.

Wohard slammed his left knee, and Xuefu stumbled toward Sovinia.

Sovinia swung her blade with the momentum.

The effect of [Double Strike] triggered, and the Moonlight Blade erupted with terrifying flames once more.

Xuefu’s bull-like eyes widened.

He shouted, “Impossible—”

He hadn’t expected Sovinia’s [Blazing Strike] to be so fast, defying common sense.

Sovinia’s sword slashed at his unprotected face.

With a boom, Xuefu’s face exploded.

Wohard struck Xuefu’s back again.

Sovinia cut off Xuefu’s other weapon-wielding hand with one stroke, then pierced his throat with the tip of her sword, the blade emerging from the back of his neck, bringing forth a gush of steaming blood.

She immediately stepped back.

But a few drops still landed on her thigh, slowly sliding down her smooth skin, leaving a vivid red trail on her fair flesh.

Xuefu’s body thudded heavily to the ground.

The air reeked of burnt hair mixed with the smell of blood.

He was dead.

Sovinia expressionlessly pulled out her longsword and flicked the blood off the blade.

She looked up at the three card phantoms floating above Xuefu’s head.

Gold Card: [Roar] 0 cost.

Starting next turn, gain 1 additional cost each turn.

Also, vulnerable for two turns, meaning damage taken increased by half.

Sovinia frowned.

It didn’t fit her build.

The remaining two were Copper Cards: [Heavy Strike] and [Iron Slash].

She stared at the three cards as if looking at an unappetizing meal and two piles of dung.

This Gold Card?

No thanks.

She’d rather let the Vicious Dog take two more axe blows if it meant she could draw a different Gold Card.

She could only toss it to [Blazing Forgehammer].

With a thought, the Gold Card shattered, turning into intangible energy to charge the [Blazing Forgehammer].

She turned to look at Wohard.

Wohard walked over, drenched in blood.

His plate armor had several deep gashes, and his right arm had a penetrating wound with blood dripping from his elbow.

His face was pale and his forehead slick with sweat.

He looked Sovinia up and down, saw no injuries, and said:

“Are you okay? Any gains?”

Sovinia shook her head.

“No.”

With that, she wiped her blood-stained sword clean on the minotaur’s fur.

Wohard didn’t press further.

He just nodded and said, “Continue.”

He turned and walked away.

Beneath his tattered chainmail skirt, drops of blood fell to the ground, linking into a line.

Sovinia stared at the blood.

One drop, two drops, three drops.

They hit the ground and splattered, like red blossoms on the stone floor, quite glaring, more glaring than the blood of her fellow demon kin.

Her eyes followed the trail of blood, from the ground to Wohard’s heels, then upward.

Beneath the tattered chainmail skirt, wounds were still seeping blood.

These were wounds she had watched being inflicted, axe blow by axe blow.

She remembered when Xuefu’s third axe strike hit Wohard’s shoulder, one of the plate armor’s straps snapped.

At the time, she had been counting turns and throwing stones, waiting for [Double Strike], waiting for [Blazing Strike+1].

While she waited, Wohard had taken four more axe blows.

Sovinia’s fingers tightened on the sword hilt.

‘Was this pity? Impossible. It was maintenance of a weapon. Maintaining a weapon was necessary, she told herself. It was just maintenance.’

But she didn’t move.

Wohard’s footsteps grew distant.

Sovinia still stood there, staring at the pool of blood growing larger on the ground.

She remembered something.

No, she remembered nothing.

Sovinia just looked at the blood, then spoke.

“Wait.”

Wohard turned around.

“What is it?”

Sovinia said, “You need first aid.”

“Can you do it?”

Sovinia found a clean spot and said, “Come, sit down.”

Wohard sat down obediently, like a golden retriever.

Sovinia knelt on the ground with her legs together, and from her black leather backpack, she took out strong liquor, bandages, and needle and thread.

She unbuckled the straps on Wohard’s plate armor and removed his tattered arming coat, revealing the bloody, mangled wounds.

She didn’t say anything, just uncorked the bottle and poured the harsh liquor directly onto the wounds.

“Sss—”

Wohard hissed in pain, inhaling sharply.

Sovinia took out the needle and thread.

Wohard couldn’t help asking, “You can stitch wounds too?”

“Bear with it,” Sovinia said.

“This needle is thick.”

Wohard took another deep breath, and caught the scent of icy pine needles.

Sovinia continued treating the wound.

Her movements were unbelievably skilled—cleaning, disinfecting, starting to stitch… all in one smooth motion.

Her slender fingers were steady as she threaded the needle through Wohard’s wound.

The needle passed through skin and flesh, making a faint tearing sound.

Sovinia’s hands were steady, but she noticed her breathing had changed.

With each stitch, she held her breath, only exhaling after tying the knot.

She wasn’t even this careful when stitching her own wounds.

She smelled the sweat on Wohard, mixed with blood and the smell of scorched fabric.

The scent made her think of something, but she immediately cut off that thought.

The needle pierced again.

Wohard only let out a low grunt.

Sovinia’s fingers tightened briefly, then relaxed.

She continued with the next stitch.

Her eyelashes were lowered, her golden doe eyes fixed solely on the wound, avoiding Wohard’s face.

‘Don’t look.’

‘Just stitch and be done.’

Her breathing gradually steadied.

Wohard hung his head, looking at the slender Sovinia.

He now found the source of that icy pine needle scent.

It came from Sovinia’s every breath.

The scent of icy pine needles wafted over, mixed with a faint smell of sweat and heavy blood, like the odor of burning dead branches after a snowfall.

Each time Wohard inhaled, this scent filled his lungs, momentarily distracting him from the pain.

The needle pierced again.

Wohard grunted, new beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

Sovinia tied a knot, bit off the thread, and said, “Done stitching.”

Wohard felt the procedure was really fast.

“So fast. You’re very skilled.”

“When you kill a lot in the Demon World, you learn.”

With that, Sovinia lowered her head to pack up her things, her gaze deliberately avoiding Wohard’s wounds.

Sovinia put away the needle and thread, and shouldered her backpack.

She thought of an explanation for her carefulness.

The Vicious Dog, as a useful weapon, indeed required tactical maintenance, just like her sword.

Except this “Vicious Dog Sword” could feel pain.