That Unique Monster Who Just Got the 'Consciousness' Passive Skill

While he gripped at absolutely nothing, I gripped at my knife. And so, still slithering, I closed in on him and aimed at his heart. With a whipping movement— "Wha—! Haaah!" He managed to evade me. Instead of his heart, the knife went right through his left hand. Crying out in pain, he held out his hand in a stiffening position. Blood leaked on his tunic. "Agh~! My hand—!"

In one of the two areas of this room, there was a peacefully resting old man, sipping on his cup of tea. And in the other area, the atmosphere was totally different. For reasons that were beyond me, Hideous still was yelling as it'd save him. After I stabbed him, I darted back, seeing what would happen then… but seeing they did nothing more, I quickly shot forward, gripped again the stabbed knife in the man's hand, and twisted it in the wound, tearing off some of the defenseless elf's flesh. Wriggling in pain, for some reason, with bloodshot eyes, he cursed White-haired instead of me. Silly elf.

White-haired responded to him. "J-Just freaking get her, why don't you!" The elf was frustrated. Why didn't he just get me himself, though? Well, after casting that big spell of his, the thin layer of mana that precedently surrounded him was gone. With heaving shoulders and heavy breaths, he readied himself to continue the hunt, but he clearly would be no good by himself.

And their usual duo was back. Hideous was just downright trash at everything he did, I was sure, so nobody could be disappointed with his act. But White-haired was different. He was usually so calm and composed. Intelligent and superior, basically. His only weak point was the stupid elf I just stabbed, however. And so, yeah, their usual duo was back. As a matter of fact, they hadn't planned anything after this. Letting loose of my grip on the knife, I darted backward again, leaving the stupid elf overreacting on his own with a knife through his palm. And my eyes darted back to the same shelf. The one with the knives. When I snatched another of these sharp things, White-haired was still at his place by the rearguard, and his trembling eyes met with mine. He muttered something to himself, then he spoke up. "P-Princess! Please, reconsider!" Gulping his dry saliva, he took a step forward, still huffing and trembling all over. "Can't you just… understand, Princess!"

Yeah, right. I understood they had to do this. Seeing I didn't respond, he abruptly took a battle stance despite his fatigue. His eyes darted between me and Hideous. He still didn't give in. Hideous was still wriggling like a fool on the ground. "Poison… I swear there's poison in that…!" Maybe he knew better than me.

"Just leave this guy, White-haired. He won't be of any use now."

"I-Is that even the princess I've known!?" he hysterically yelled. The stress was driving the poor elf crazy. Also, he was neither healing his fighter, the hideous elf, nor fighting me himself for a reason. The magic he pulled not so long ago, I knew, almost depleted all his stamina. Once he used it, he was down. Or so he humbly confessed to Hideous during their previous not-so-secret strategy meeting. "P-Princess! Answer! Answer to your people—"

"What the hell are you talking about again? So you broke down too? Cut the crap. You lost. If you take Hideous now and leave, I'll show mercy."

From his bag, White-haired produced other runic sheets and stored spells. Well, it's not like he could go easy on himself. Growing more aggressive than he should, he spoke the following. "Come back to us, Princess! We need you—"

"Too loud!" I held a knife. Now, I threw it at him. The hand in which he held his runes was stabbed too. He let out a sharp cry of pain, dropping all his runes on the ground, and breaking into a cold sweat. With that, there was a knife for each one of them. And I was done here. I thought of wrapping it up as I should have from the very beginning. These guys were cockroaches. Or worse, even. My hand went and snatched another lame. The air grew so tense the two of them only longed to escape. They couldn't. White-haired couldn't. He still had his people to look out for. Quickly, I skipped to the hideous elf. Lying on the ground, he was groaning, tearing up his fury, and foaming, uncontrollably whimpering and trembling all over.

Crap, was there really poison on that dagger?

The absurd mess he grossed me out to the point I might have believed there was poison in there. Up until the present moment, I don't know what he'd been doing. When I approached him, however, he had to snap out of his act. Like a cornered snake, he desperately attempted to jump at me. As he was lying, however, I just had to kick his jaw off—a strong, jerky kick on that ugly turd-like face—and taught him to stay calm, or rather, taught him to be knocked out.

A few seconds ago from now, White-haired, who was on his knees, kept hysterically yelling at his princess to come back with all his might as he crawled his way towards me, begging, being a total wrecked mess, too. I didn't recognize him, but I guessed anyone's world falling down on top of their head was simply too much to sanely handle. And anyway, bringing out the same kick as before, I brought out the same result. Directed by the wild symphony of that old man's ever-so-loud sipping sounds, I knelt down to Hideous. My knife was brought down on him and—

Out of nowhere, a sharp, freezing cry rang out. My knife went down following my hand, but I stopped right away. I stopped despite myself. "OH!? HO HO HO HO HO!?" That sharp laughter came from the other side of the one-roomed house. For who knows what reason, the old man… woke up? The bubble of calm and rest he had around himself was pierced at once. Giving a start, his eyes snapped open. As it clattered, he brought his teacup down, and energetically laughed some more. I and my elf friends were surprised by his sudden entrance, to say the least. Well, he'd been here even before we showed up, but really, was he here?

At present, he sure as hell was. His hearty laughter carried on for quite a long time. Ho ho ho ho~ And then he spoke. "Young folks!? My my!" He, too, seemed surprised. "Where are my manners! Young ones, I didn't quite see you well, today." A good old old man he was. That's how he struck me. Sending waves of warmth off to the other side of the house, us, he vehemently clapped his hands once. "Truly, this old man must apologize! But… C-Come here, now!" Seemingly happy at the prospect of having guests, all of a sudden, the old creature enjoined us around his table. "Here. Right here, my son." Placing some cushion sideways to himself, in front of the coffee table, he showed off more of his vigor, tapping on it with a hand. "Come. Here shall be your place." We ignored him.

I was done grimacing at the old man, by now. And slowly standing back up, I cocked my head to the side at him. What's he want, I thought, and why only wake up now of all times? A coincidence? No. Sparring a quick glance at the dying hideous mess of a poisoned elf, I thought I didn't take his life yet. I was right about to, however. And that aged human, I thought, did he want to stop me from committing that? As a test, leaning back down to the elf, with my knife going down, I felt the same sharp, tingling sensation the laughter had brought.

My chest tightened. What if I killed Hideous then? Would the old geezer be mad? Squinting my eyes, I thought it was maybe for the best.