Show Me Your Stats!-Chapter 115

Ayra revealed herself just as Janus reached the path leading into Naulam. She rode in on a horse that snorted out hot puffs of breath, and planted herself in front of him. Dressed head to toe in heavy layers, she looked almost comical. On the other hand, Janus found himself imagining peeling all those clothes off her, tossing her onto the snow, and savoring her as she shivered in the cold.

“...Janus.”

She called his name calmly, her silver hair and ashen eyes barely visible beneath the hood pulled deep over her head. Every time the wind blew, strands of her hair and the edge of her robe fluttered gracefully.

“Yes, Ayra. What brings you all the way out here on this cold night instead of sleeping warm and cozy in your castle?”

He feigned ignorance, asking in a sweet tone. Ayra glanced past his shoulder. If you crossed the mountain pass, it would take about an hour on foot to reach Naulam. But at Janus’s speed, it wouldn’t even take ten minutes.

“I thought I’d go on a date with you.”

She said it casually, but her expression looked nothing like someone out for a date.

“Isn’t it a little late for that?”

Janus wondered when and where she’d caught on to his plans, and tried coaxing her gently.

“We can go on a date later. Go back, Ayra. I won’t touch that town until the month we agreed on is over.”

“That village is still part of my estate.”

Even if it was just a small sliver of it. He felt a faint twinge of guilt, but he had no intention of backing down, so he only shrugged. Ayra didn’t seem to expect him to listen anyway.

“Fine. Maybe, if you’re lucky, you’ll find your partner there. But it won’t be tonight.”

With those words, she dismounted. Janus silently watched her and saw her pull something from subspace. It was a long stick of unknown purpose. Then, with a whoosh, flame erupted from her hand—turquoise fire soared into the sky with a shrill whistle. It exploded into a brilliant flare above their heads. A signal—meant for someone.

It was clearly an attempt to block him, but Janus wasn’t particularly angry. He was more curious—did she really think this was enough to stop him? Watching the fireworks burst overhead, he turned and broke into a sprint. Ayra calmed her startled horse and followed after him.

Janus wondered how she would react to the slaughter. Maybe because she was born in the Labyrinth, his lover had a rather strong stomach. Even when he’d sliced through the Ocampania horde, or when he’d killed Mishio with a single blow—she hadn’t shown much fear. Just calm acceptance.

‘Maybe she’ll get a little angry. Or maybe she’ll get really angry.’

Either way, he couldn’t picture her running away in terror. Janus imagined subduing a furious Ayra—ripping apart her clothes and pushing her down, overcome by lust—and licked his lips.

He arrived in Naulam and raised his eyebrows. Even for a small village, it was unnaturally silent. It wasn’t just that the residents were sleeping. Every house was empty—no breathing, no tossing, no movement.

“Click.”

Janus clicked his tongue and turned. Ayra had just ridden into the village.

“How’d you do it? You evacuated everyone in that short time?”

“Ever since I realized you were a dragon, I’ve been preparing for situations like this.”

She spoke plainly and looked around the empty village. Janus, realizing he’d raced over for nothing, clicked his tongue again. This was getting annoying.

“Fine. If not here, I’ll just go somewhere else.”

There was no reason to insist on Naulam. It was just one of many villages to trample. Still, he didn’t immediately leave—because Ayra had dismounted. Her attitude was unusually resolute, and that intrigued him.

“Wanna make a bet?”

“A bet?”

He already liked wagers, but coming from her, it was even more enticing. Ayra calmly pulled something from subspace. A golden orb with a thin chain clinked in her hand, full of rotating mechanisms that ticked endlessly.

“If I win this fight against you, you stop killing people in my estate in the name of finding your partner.”

“Hah...”

Janus laughed, thinking she was dreaming too big. He paused, recalling how many humans had dared to confront him knowing he was a dragon.

Most ran as soon as they learned the truth, or approached him hoping they might be his partner. A few—very few—had the strength to try and kill him. You could count them on one hand. He’d also fought countless humans during his mercenary years.

But he had never fought a Labyrinth mage.

Just how formidable were Labyrinth mages supposed to be? How long could Ayra hold out against him?

Janus accepted the bet without hesitation.

“Alright. I’m in. So if you lose?”

“If I lose, I’ll leave Solar like you wanted. I’ll go to Sobletz, or Bolni, or even back to the Labyrinth.”

It was exactly the answer he wanted, but something about it didn’t sit right. Janus flexed his fingers. Sobletz or Bolni might be fine—but the Labyrinth? That was far too remote. She was too fascinating a human to let get that far away. Just then, his brow creased.

‘The Labyrinth... Come to think of it, have any dragons ever been inside?’

He combed through the memories of dead dragons—but none of them had even seen the entrance, let alone entered it. As he searched further, he heard a click—metal parts locking into place. It came from the device Ayra held. The chain slithered like a living thing, crawling up her pale fingers, into her sleeves, and coiling around her wrist.

And then, the snow exploded.

All at once, the thick layers of snow on the ground and rooftops surged upward, cloaking the area in a dense, swirling mist. The last thing Janus saw was Ayra’s determined face, lips pressed around a red flower.

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‘She used this strategy at the Lord’s Castle.’

He calmly scanned his surroundings. The swirling snow obscured everything. In this whiteout, he could rely only on sound. Somewhere in the haze came a creaking noise—crack, crack. He stepped forward once—and from the storm, something shot toward him with a piercing shriek.

Janus didn’t dodge. He raised an arm to block it. A heavy stone smashed into him with a thud. Crunch—his arm broke, pain spiking instantly. Wooden poles and boulders followed, crashing toward him. Each time, he lifted his broken arm to shield himself.

His arm dangled like a rag, but he didn’t even blink. These basic attacks bored him. With a deep sigh, he muttered:

“Ayra, let me show you why it’s so hard to kill a dragon.”

Then, instead of blocking, he spread both arms wide and took the hit. Crack! A sharpened wooden spike tore through his abdomen, impaled through to the ground. The attacks halted for a moment, as if in shock.

He opened his mouth to speak—but only blood spilled out, his lungs torn. Janus chuckled, but all that escaped was a garbled, wheezing sound. Once he figured she’d seen enough of him broken, he reached back. Instead of pulling the spike out, he shoved it deeper into the earth and straightened his skewered body. Crack, crack—his torso slid off the impaling wood.

Then came the hesitant sound of retreating footsteps. Though his body was torn from sternum to pelvis, Janus didn’t miss the opportunity. He lunged toward the sound. Each step was so powerful that a mini blizzard burst up from the snow with every impact.

He caught the edge of her robe. He yanked—but it vanished, melting like snow.

Left standing awkwardly, Janus’s broken arm began snapping ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) back into place. The gushing blood stopped. Torn flesh mended with fresh new tissue. Pain didn’t bother him. If anything, the cold air in his lungs felt refreshing.

“A hallucination, huh.”

He murmured, drawing a sword. It was poorly maintained, rusted, and dull—but he raised it high.

A moment later, the sword fell in a strange arc—slice.

With a soft sound, the blizzard parted like a curtain. In that moment of clarity, Janus spotted Ayra watching him from between two buildings.

He grinned and tried to run—but his body didn’t respond. With a ridiculous thud, he collapsed into the snow. When he tried to move his right foot, his left hand twitched. Tried moving his left hand, and his eyelids blinked. Face buried in the snow, Janus chuckled. A mouthful of snow crammed into his mouth.

“Thiishh... izh... trul... amazhhing...”

He’d lived a long time—but never experienced this before. His limbs, even his tongue, refused to work. But adapting was quick.

Rapidly, he began moving body parts, comparing the mismatched sensations. It looked like full-body convulsions. Soon, Janus staggered to his feet, his movements bizarre and off-kilter. Like a drunk, he stumbled and fell two or three times before grabbing a nearby wall. Crumbles of stone fell away under his grip.

Even then, with his senses scrambled, he hesitated—but quickly made a decision. If he couldn’t walk or run properly, then he’d just throw himself.

The muscles in his arm bulged with blue veins as he launched himself forward using the wall as leverage. Boom! He slammed into a nearby building, his body crashing through with a brutal crunch. Blood streamed from his cracked forehead. He grinned, his pale teeth stained red, and licked it clean.

Walls were nothing. He could have avoided injury easily—but sometimes he liked to wreck himself. It was refreshing. After all, it wasn’t like he was going to die.