C4 The Charm of Drunk Wine

The icy words echoed in Lucia's mind like a sinister chant, reverberating hauntingly.

As she gazed upon the grotesque visage of Ijiri, the leader of the Black Bandits, and the encroaching specters, Lucia's grip on her Soul-Cutter Sword tightened, her hand quivering ever so slightly.

She involuntarily retreated half a step.

She knew all too well that if Ijiri launched an attack on Taku, she might have a fleeting chance to escape using her Flash Steps.

Her badge would simultaneously emit a distress signal, summoning nearby patrollers to her aid posthaste.

Yet, if she fled, she stood a fifty-fifty chance of survival, while the inebriated Shiba Taku would face certain death.

To flee or not to flee?

Lucia's mind was a whirlwind of turmoil.

Then, abruptly, a muffled thud of footsteps broke the silence.

Lucia snapped to attention, her muscles reacting on pure instinct.

The memory of Kaien Shiba sacrificing his life for her flashed before her eyes.

A bitter smile tinged with a hint of solace graced her features.

Perhaps this instinctive decision was her way of repaying the Shiba clan?

"Girl, you dare obstruct me again!" Ijiri bellowed.

"You've already been wounded by my previous strike. This next one is twice as potent. If you're so eager to die, I'll oblige and crush you into a pulp!"

His roar filled the air as his right hand, veins bulging, muscles taut, swung the massive mace in a formidable arc.

The whoosh of the weapon sliced through the air, resounding like thunder.

Lucia's bitter smile deepened as the looming attack grew larger in her vision.

Confronted with imminent death, she braced herself, not with fear, but with a sense of liberation.

At least, she mused, she would be free from this life, despite the lingering regrets.

Bang!

A collision like thunder dispersed in all directions.

The resulting gale kicked up clouds of dust and sand, scattering Lucia's hair.

But the expected agony and the specter of death did not come.

Instead, a scent laced with alcohol, yet oddly soothing, wafted to her, calming her inner chaos.

In the face of this bizarre turn of events, Lucia was the first to open her eyes.

"Burp... What are you doing... You can't hit a woman just because you want a drink..."

"I do have booze... But... I'm not sharing it with you..."

"You're asking me whether I want alcohol or a woman... Idiot... Alcohol, of course..."

Taku's slurred speech spilled out, his mind a foggy mess.

Lucia, initially moved by the slight figure before her, felt that sentiment snuffed out in an instant.

She was so frustrated she wanted to punch him awake.

Of course, if Taku were aware that he remained single even in his drunken state, he'd surely exclaim, "Damn it!"

But his rambling wasn't the true focus at the moment.

Whether it was Lucia, the Black Bandits, or even the evil spirits, their gazes upon Taku were tinged with disbelief.

Some even involuntarily swallowed hard.

"He... He blocked it. With just one hand, he stopped an attack that weighed thousands of pounds... Boss Ijiri, did you take pity on him? Were you holding back, maybe planning to toy with him?"

The abrupt interrogation sent a ripple of tension through the crowd.

The attack that the Death God herself couldn't withstand moments before, now seemed to have doubled in force.

Yet, it was effortlessly caught.

This defied their entire understanding.

"Yes, it must be the last shred of pity in my heart that made me spare him. But this time, I'll crush you into pulp!"

Ijiri, leader of the Black Bandits, snapped out of his daze, bellowing with rage.

Since his transformation into an evil spirit, this was the first time he'd felt such unease.

His instincts screamed that the source of his discomfort was the frail-looking noble youth who got drunk off a single cup.

But as the urge to kill surged within him, Ijiri was struck dumb the next moment.

He couldn't swing his weapon!

The giant mace in his hand wouldn't budge, all because of the delicate hand of the young noble before him.

The hand gripping the mace was immovable, like an iron vice, not giving an inch.

"No... Impossible, who the hell are you!" Ijiri, leader of the Black Bandits, panicked, his roar echoing around them.

Taku abruptly lifted his head, barely raising his drooping eyelids, and shot a glare through his bleary, wine-soaked eyes.

"Burp... Your yelling is getting in the way of my drinking. And this thing, why does it look so much like a sour radish?"

Lucia was baffled once again.

She couldn't fathom how Taku could possibly equate a mace with a sour radish. Was this the peculiar allure of inebriation?

But as this ludicrous notion took root in her mind, what she witnessed next made her pupils shrink in shock.

Bang!

With a sudden clench of his hand, Taku crushed the massive mace as if it were made of papier-mâché.

The fragments scattered over him and Ijiri like a torrential downpour, the sting of the debris momentarily halting Taku's drinking.

A flicker of annoyance crossed his blurry gaze as he accused, "You... You dare attack me... Are you after my wine?"

"I'll have to teach you a lesson!"

This was insanity!

Lucia, the evil spirits, and especially Ijiri of the Black Bandits were all astounded.

Ijiri had indeed intended to crush Taku, but lacked the strength to do so!

Now, Taku had crumbled the Wolf Fanged Mace as if it were a mere sour radish and had the audacity to blame him.

Ijiri refused to shoulder this responsibility, for he had come to realize that the noble before him was no ordinary foe.

This time, he feared they had truly met their match.

"Quick, join me in tearing this drunkard apart! We have dozens of us here; he doesn't stand a chance against us all," Ijiri of the Black Bandits bellowed in fury.

His only recourse was to draw on their numerical advantage to bolster his courage.

Confronted with this mass assault, Lucia snapped to attention.

She was about to grip her Soul-Cutter Sword tightly, ready to lend her aid, when Taku, after a swift swig of liquor, staggered forward. He was the first to confront a bellowing ghost that lunged at him.

The ghost towered at five meters, second in stature only to Ijiri of the Black Bandits.

Compelled to act, it sought to demonstrate the might befitting its status as the second-in-command.

The punch it threw, seemingly soft and pale as if soaked in spirits, was headed straight for Taku.

The malevolent spirit swung its fist, massive as a millstone, and charged forward with a head-on collision.

In its eyes, given the stark contrast in size, it was certain that each punch could take down a small child.