Chapter Twenty-Seven—Isekai In The Jaws of Blood and Slime

Shiro wasn’t dead.

NOT YET AT LEAST!

The inside of the dungeon boss’ throat was like being thrown into a refuse pile of rotting meat and smothered with rocks covered in slimy-wet pillows as the muscles of the beast’s throat rose and contracted to force Shiro further down and into the stomach where he knew he would no doubt be dissolved into nothingness in moments.

Screaming in fear and in pain as he was battered down Akarilion’s throat, Shiro swiped about with his katana which only seemed to force the muscles to move faster.

His blade wasn’t causing enough damage. Not in a throat this huge. He needed to drive his blade into the soft flesh but Shiro couldn’t rise to his knees to do so as he slipped about.

The throat muscles rose and contracted again, dragging him farther and farther down. He screamed, the terror of his situation becoming more and more evident as he had several moments to think about what was coming. Dying was easy. Seeing one’s death was never easy—especially if was to be a horribly grotesque one.

That he was inside the thing’s throat, that he had no control enraged him. “Kami samma!” Shiro screamed and angled his katana sideways at an oblique angle to the direction of his travel and thrust sideways with all his might.

A deafening thrum hit him like a pile of stones as Akarilion must have let out a cry of pain and anguish as the inside of his throat just received a deep tear.

A new warmth splashed over Shiro, a strong taste of metal filling his mouth as he swallowed the dungeon guardian’s blood and coughed it back up.

Again, Shiro screamed, his fear and his rage rising. “DIE!”

He pulled his blade out and thrust again, this time harder, deeper, and he angled the blade downward slightly—down toward the beast’s ghastly stomach of bile and acid as he used his sword as an anchor to keep himself from falling down.

The harder Akarilion tried to swallow him, the larger the gash became and the more blood poured over Shiro.

He must have looked like a pickled-stupid-tomato as he had once heard the phrase from a demi-human in some tavern somewhere (take note of the DanMachi rephrence).

“Agh!” he let out, a cry of disgust, but one of might and challenge against Akarilion as they fought each other for life, both trying to kill one another. “Try it again!” Shiro screamed. “Swallow me—foul beast!”

The world around Shiro shook and a rumbling reverberated about Akarilion as the samurai’s sense of direction shifted.

The beast was thrashing, trying to dislodge Shiro!

“Iie!!!!”

And then…

The force of the muscles, slackened, changed, and a new putrid stench rose up about Shiro which made him instantly wretch. Among the smells and the slime and the blood, it was of little consequence in light of his situation.

The force of Akarilion’s throat had changed direction.

Shiro was now moving back toward its mouth.

What is this?!

“You trying to spit me out, now?! Ha!”