The Laughing Swordsman

Chapter 78 - The Village's Death Throes



The village was under attack by gardeners.

Because of how fast gardeners could duplicate, the moment the shaky ecosystem's balance was disturbed, their numbers blew out of proportion.

However, like a seesaw, the balance came back to reclaim its hold.

There were no more shadow monkeys for them to eat, meaning they would die in droves.

At the brink of starvation, the gardeners were getting desperate.

Normally, they would stay away from the village. This was because of the massive beacon it had in the middle.

This light produced by the beacon would naturally repel creatures and heavily damage those that refused to leave.

However, the gardeners no longer cared about the threat posed by the beacon.

They were going to die anyway.

And so, a war commenced.

Every villager, strong or weak, young or old, starving or full, picked up their weapons.

The only thing protecting their town were the villagers themselves.

The gardeners let out roars that tore their throats. This was their last stand, they would satiate their hunger, or die trying.

The walls of the village hardly stood a chance. They broke down the moment a gardener charged forwards.

In reality, the walls were never able to defend the villagers from anything.

They had been broken down before. That much was clear from the holes that littered them.

Yet, the villagers still patched over these holes, for a wall that didn't protect them.

It was not that they did not know this fact.

The walls were never for protection.

They were just something the villagers used to trick themselves into thinking they were safe.

However, now, the walls had fallen. They could no longer ignore the cruelty of reality.

The village's beacon shone brightly, doing its best to hold off the gardeners.

However, there was only so much it could do.

The gardeners flooded the village. Their bodies were slowly disintegrating, the consequence of going against the beacon.

A woman held onto a piece of black wood. It was originally a spear, but the tip had broken off.

Her body consisted of skin and bones, but she still stood to fight for her life.

The woman watched the gardener with her blind spot.

As for the gardener, it charged forward without restraint.

The woman stared into the creature's open jaws without the slightest trace of fear. Her broken spear shot out.

It hit the roof of the gardener's mouth, preventing it from biting down.

The gardener continued to push forward, letting the broken spear pierce through its head.

Its claws reached out, swiping at the woman.

As for the woman, she stubbornly held onto the wooden spear. This meant the gardener could slash freely, causing her blood to spray across the floor.

However, her conviction did not waver. Her eyebrows tried to dig into her eyes while a defiant frown was plastered on her face.

The woman bled heavily, all the while staring right at her adversary.

As for the gardener, its slashes grew slow and weak. Half of its body had disintegrated from the beacon.

It could no longer stand, falling to the ground helplessly.

The woman stood over the gardener, watching it slowly disappear.

Her blood dripped onto the ground. It sounded like the last few drops out of a leaky faucet.

Then, she raised her broken spear to fight another gardener.

This was not the first time the villagers had to fight.

They were always hanging by a thread, treading the boundaries of life and death.

That made them cold and callous.

All the cowards had died. They were either killed by the creatures or forced to mature at the brink of death.

Galileo held onto a black wooden spear with his hand.

Since he only had one arm, it looked rather strange. There were many actions one couldn't perform without two arms on the spear.

However, Galileo held his weapon confidently.

Three gardeners lunged towards Galileo, jaws wide open.

Galileo did not panic.

He bent his knees and pulled back his spear.

When the creatures were one meter away, Galileo let out a fierce roar.

His spear traced an arc. The tip pierced through the throats of all three gardeners.

Galileo's foes fell to the floor, disappearing in the beacon's light.

His hand was trembling.

He used to be a scavenger himself but was far past his prime.

Ever since he lost his arm, he could no longer be a proper scavenger. After all, one needed their arm to carry the fruits of light.

Now Galileo's body was weak.

However, while his physical capabilities declined, his spirit never died.

As shaky as his hand was, it firmly held onto the spear.

Galileo was determined to defend the village, so long as he stood.

The villagers fought fiercely with the help of the beacon.

...But they still suffered heavy losses.

A child shrieked in pain after a gardener skewered him with its arm.

The gardeners paid a heavy price to attack this village, but there was an equally heavy cost of defending it.

There were simply too many gardeners.

Galileo had been surrounded on all ends.

He struck with his spear, killing a few.

Then, the others mauled him.

The gardeners disintegrated before they could kill Galileo. It left him bleeding on the ground.

With the last of his strength, he opened his eyes.

Galileo saw the village in ruins.

The few people that were still alive were on the verge of death.

Then, he shut his eyes.

There was a bitter smile on Galileo's face.

"So... this is where it ends."

In the end, both the villagers and gardeners were wiped out.

It could be said that Apollo was the one that caused this.

By killing the shadow monkeys, he caused the abnormal growth in gardeners.

The sudden surge of gardeners then caused the eradication of the village.

Perhaps you could blame Apollo, tell him he killed all those villagers.

However, he would retort.

What if those scavengers never lied about the shadow monkeys, or set aside most of the fruits of light for themselves?

Then, this mission wouldn't have existed and the village would still be living peacefully.

Though, for now, he would probably have bigger concerns.

After all, he was encircled by a few weavers.


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