“――Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!”
I feel like I’m screaming.
Pain? Suffering? No, this is something far more horrifying.
Ah, right. It’s just like that damnable white ring, the so-called “Thought Control Device,” ravaging my mind—subjugation, domination, forcing me into submission. It’s the same kind of madness.
Right now, something is toying with my brain.
I can’t see anything. I can’t hear anything. All that exists is this relentless discomfort and revulsion.
Stop it, stop it—I am me. No one else.
I desperately try to resist, but whatever this thing is that’s trying to invade my mind… I can’t stop it. It won’t… stop…
“Gah… Aah…!”
Even staying conscious is agony—excruciating pain.
Suddenly, my vision flickers violently. A sickly purple strobe. Bright enough to blind me—no, maybe my eyes have already been destroyed.
Next, sound assaults my ears. Deafening noise, meaningless static. Yet it saps my willpower as if hurling curses at me.
Then comes my nose. A stinging, acrid stench, like needles stabbing into it. After that, my tongue. Finally, my entire body.
My senses are going haywire. Sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch—each one torments me in its own way, blending into one unbearable suffering.
It makes me want to abandon my own body, to let go of my will entirely!
Just as my consciousness begins to tilt toward that slow, suicidal surrender… I feel something. A light, seeping in.
Not the violent purple sparks attacking my vision—no, this is gentle, soft, a pure white radiance.
Gradually, that white light takes shape. Yes—it’s a single white feather…
“――Aaaah!!”
In an instant, my consciousness, my senses—everything snaps back to normal. It feels like waking from a deep slumber right here and now.
The relentless downpour remains. Greedg’s corpse. The exhaustion weighing down my body, my arms feeling as heavy as lead.
I must have only blacked out for a few seconds. The scene before me is exactly the same as before.
The only difference is that the source of that mental assault now lies sprawled in front of me.
“So… this thing is ‘Slowsgil’?”
Writhing in agony atop the muddy ground is something I can only describe as a Lamia-shaped bolt of lightning.
About two meters in length, its entire body is wreathed in crackling purple electricity. Only its head is vaguely discernible—sunken eye sockets and a gaping mouth, like a human skull.
I can hear something like pained groans, but whether that’s because this thing has vocal organs or if it’s just the sound of discharging electricity, I can’t tell.
Its long, lightning-like tail thrashes left and right as its four-fingered, slender arms desperately claw at the ground. It writhes pathetically, as if trying to crawl forward.
This grotesque monster—this is Slowsgil, bearer of the title “Sloth.”
It’s my first time seeing it, but I can tell at a glance. The left eye Mia gave me glows red, confirming this thing as one of the Trial Monsters.
A crimson line runs along what looks like its spine. That must be the proof of subjugation I need to claim.
“The Guild’s intel isn’t exactly reliable…”
When I looked it up before, the records suggested Slowsgil was likely a mutant species of a catfish-like monster called “Mazanclus.”
But in reality, it’s nothing like a catfish—it’s a Lamia-type. That it’s not only parasitized a Rank 5 Monster but also possesses the dangerous ability to create an entire Monster Legion? That’s something you’d never guess from the Guild’s sparse, half-false reports. The only accurate detail was that it wields powerful Thunder Attribute abilities.
But I suppose its rarity comes from how little is known about it—its ecology, even its true form. I should’ve been more cautious instead of taking the records at face value.
Well, no matter. I can reflect on that later.
“Thanks to Nel, the third Trial is cleared…”
The “White Feather of Mental Protection”—this charm Nel gave me has truly safeguarded my mind.
Originally, it was meant as insurance to prevent Cursed Weapons from possessing me during the “Cursed Weapon Gladiatorial Tournament.” Who knew it’d come in handy here?
This charm doesn’t just ward off curses—it also dispels mental afflictions like charm, confusion, and other status effects that target the mind.
Meaning it works against parasitic attacks too.
On the other hand, it doesn’t react to attacks like “Amethyst Eye” that directly affect the body. It didn’t help during the actual fight, but in the end, it still saved my life.
I don’t even know how to properly thank Nel for this.
The only regret is that expelling Slowsgil from my mind completely drained the charm’s power.
When I pull the white feather from my coat’s inner pocket, the faint glow it once had is entirely gone. Its color has faded to an ashen gray.
A light gust of wind is all it takes for it to crumble like real ashes, slipping through my fingers and vanishing.
It wasn’t supposed to be a single-use item, but I suppose even its power had limits against a Rank 5 Monster’s parasitic ability.
Besides, if the mental counterattack—blessed by the Heavenly Healer Princess Aria’s protection—had fully connected, the parasite should’ve been annihilated outright. The fact that Slowsgil is still barely alive speaks to the tenacity befitting a Rank 5.
But clinging to life in this near-death state is meaningless now.
My own exhaustion is nearing its limit after activating “Flame Demon King,” but I still have enough strength left to finish off this writhing monstrosity in the mud.
Unlike Greedg, this thing has no tough carapace—no scales, not even skin. If it specializes in parasitic abilities, it makes sense it wouldn’t have a resilient body. Slowsgil is probably closer to an Evil Spirit or an elemental—a semi-corporeal magical being. Creatures like that tend to be fragile when struck.
Still, I’m reluctant to punch this mass of lightning directly. Besides, I’m not sure my arms can even throw a proper hit right now.
That leaves me with only one weapon to choose.
What I draw from the shadows is a twin-barreled prototype gun. This thing was made by Simon—and I’ll use it to settle the score for siccing Moljula on me.
The gun feels a hundred times heavier than usual in my grip. Even as I raise it, the muzzle trembles.
But at this distance, I won’t miss. My bullet will pierce your skull without fail.
“…Magic Bullet.”
A single gunshot heralds the end of the third Trial.