Hell Mode: Volume 9, page 29
“Come on, now. I hit you with my best move,” the man said. “If you push yourself, you’ll die.”
“Shut up!” Helmios shouted.
“Jeez, this is why brats who don’t understand differences in power are so oblivious.”
The man with brass knuckles slowly raised his fists as rage filled Helmios’s heart. If only I could fight without a weapon like he can!
Helmios glared at the man. Vwoom. Just then, a glowing frame appeared in front of him, obscuring his vision. The boy could not hide his shock as glowing letters appeared within the frame.
“Huh? What? Huh?!” Helmios gasped.
Helmios made his choice. “I would!”
When the boy shouted as loudly as he could, the man with brass knuckles stared in confusion. He soon turned serious, noticing that Helmios’s hands had started to glow.
“What? You still plan on fighting?!” the man cried.
He raised his fists, remaining wary of Helmios, who had seemingly gained a mysterious power. The man swung down as the glowing frame produced new letters in front of Helmios.
Suddenly, power coursed through Helmios’s body, and he thought he saw a glowing dot in the middle of the man’s fist. I’ll aim there! Like this! The boy thrust his own glowing fist at the man. He twisted his hips, his chest turning to the side as his shoulder jutted forward. Power flowed from his hips and into his fist, his punch as sharp as a spear—headed straight for the glowing dot that only he could see.
“Blast Punch!” Helmios shouted.
The man’s brass knuckles shattered. Crack! His fist was parried, and he fell backward as he cradled his destroyed hand, curling up into a ball with fear.
“Gaaah! M-My hand!” Derakel cried.
“What?! Derakel lost?!” one of the Talent hunters said in a panic.
“This brat... Is he a Fist Master too?!” another gasped.
“Boss, we don’t stand a chance against him!” a third exclaimed.
The Talent hunters lost their will to fight and stepped behind Derakel. Helmios firmly stepped toward them despite the damage he had sustained mere moments before, and the assailants turned to their boss for help. But their boss merely sat atop his horse, completely lost for words.
“Shut up!” he ordered. “It’s only one kid! If we all attack together— Huh?!”
Loud rumbles cut him off. The knights had caught up to and surrounded the Talent hunters.
“The boy’s safe! Kill the Talent hunters!” the captain commanded.
“Yes, sir!” the knights replied, cutting down the hunters.
“We’re saved,” Gatsun said.
“Ena, are you okay?” Dorothy asked.
“Y-Yeah,” Ena replied.
Though they were trembling, the kids cried with joy, knowing that their lives had been spared. Helmios walked toward his friends.
“H-Hey, you all right?!” Gatsun cried, approaching Helmios.
The battered boy looked at Gatsun, then at Dorothy and Ena. He smiled and fell forward. Gatsun hastily caught his friend as Helmios closed his eyes, a smile still on his face. He breathed serenely, implying that he was fast asleep.
Side Story 3.5: Hell Mode Spin-Off—The Grimoire and an Inquisitive Mind
A long-haired man in a white clerical garment was seated on the sofa in the middle of the room. In front of him stood a man with curly, brown hair, a glowing halo above his head, and wings growing from his back—First Angel Merus.
The man in the white clerical garment—Elmea, the God of Creation—watched Merus look up and down repeatedly. A screen was placed on the wall in front of Elmea, and Merus was watching a control panel as he tried to focus on a certain scene, confirming the location numerous times.
Elmea averted his gaze from Merus and stared at the screen. He watched a grisly battle unfold on a mountain pass, let out a deep sigh, and turned to the thick book in his hand. The word “grimoire” was written on the cover, and the deity flipped through its pages before raising his head.
“The effects are just as designed,” Elmea said. “It went well.”
“It seems he’s gotten the gist of it,” Merus replied, looking up at the screen.
A passed-out Helmios was being carried away by a worried Gatsun and Dorothy. Behind them, the knights were tying up the Talent hunters who were still alive.
“Are you saying that Helmios’s Extra Skill, Natural Gift, is working as intended?” Elmea asked.
“Precisely, Lord Elmea,” Merus said. “What do you think? It might be a touch complex, but I believe it functions the way you wished it to.”
Elmea replied with a heavy sigh. He closed the grimoire, placed it on the table beside him, and grabbed a cup. After taking a sip of his drink, he opened his mouth.
“What makes you think this functions the way I wished it to?”
“Huh? What?” Merus said in befuddlement as he whirled around to face the deity. “I believe the settings are exactly as noted in the documents in front of you, Lord Elmea.”
“Not at all,” Elmea replied firmly. “Merus, have you learned nothing over the past one hundred thousand years? That method couldn’t have possibly conveyed our rules to Helmios.”
Merus finally realized that Elmea was upset not about the effects of Natural Gift but about how the effects and usage of the Extra Skill were conveyed to the young boy. Helmios would need to make several leaps of logic in order to make heads or tails of his newfound skill.
“Indeed. I agree that there might have been better ways to convey that,” Merus said. “However, I believe we had no other choice in that precarious situation. And that frame I sent to appear in front of Helmios was a virtual window made by Lady Isiris, the Goddess of Magic. It’s still in its testing phase, or so I’m told.”
“Letters simply floating in the air cannot be seen as a divine revelation,” Elmea explained.
“I understand. Let’s see...” Merus thought for a while and came up with an idea. He gingerly said, “What about making a glowing stone tablet fall from the sky? One inscribed with glowing letters.”
A quick glance at Elmea’s face immediately silenced Merus. He hastily glanced around the room, searching for a new idea. The angel’s eyes landed on an item Elmea had placed on the table beside the sofa. The God of Creation lifted it up.
“A...book?” Merus asked.
Elmea nodded slowly. “A book is a conglomeration of words meant to convey information from one person to the next. And if it looks this lavish, I’m certain it will enchant the people of the world. Instead of using a plain and dull method of having letters appear in the air, surely this method is more elegant?”
“But we’ve never had the idea of conveying our messages to mortals through books. If we were to create a new setting like that, we’d have to make sure there are no discrepancies with the settings we currently have. It’ll take several years to get this up and running...”
“I’ve said this many times before, but you must spare no effort in this project. Continue to tweak Helmios’s Extra Skill, and have Isiris begin production of this book. It shall be a grimoire.”
“Your wish is my command.”
No matter how unfeasible the deity’s requests were, Merus had learned to accept them without argument. Naturally, the angel had no way to execute all of these plans, but he nodded for now and kicked the can down the road, praying that Elmea would forget about this whole thing one day. Indeed, Merus had already received orders that numbered into the triple digits.
Elmea sank into the sofa and sighed. “If only Helmios were more curious and had a more inquisitive mind. Then we wouldn’t have to worry this much.”
“I’m sure there must have been a few events that would’ve served as hints, but it seems he does as he pleases,” Merus replied.
He had been watching over Helmios. The boy had swiftly learned how to wield a sword and had mastered Healing Magic after practicing for merely half a day, but not once had he assumed that he had extraordinary abilities far beyond what his peers were capable of. All he had ever done was act delighted in his findings.
Helmios was kind and humble. With every power he gained, he wondered if he could use it to help other people. Not once had he questioned why he had been blessed with these abilities, nor had he wondered just how unusual his skills were.
“That’s quite a problem,” Elmea said, frowning as he watched the screen that showed Helmios sleeping contentedly. “Merus, do you truly believe that Helmios will be able to skillfully wield his Natural Gift?”
“I’ve created the power exactly as you requested,” Merus replied.
“Then I suppose I have no other choice,” the God of Creation said. His following words shocked the angel. “Bring Helmios’s soul here. Since he’s sleeping, this will be the perfect opportunity.”
“Huh?! Um, do you intend to explain the skill to Helmios personally, Lord Elmea?”
“Precisely. He is the hope of humanity that was finally born into the world. We must raise him properly. Make haste, Merus.”
Elmea stood up. Unbeknownst to Helmios, a grimoire was in the works.
Afterword
Thank you for picking up the ninth volume. This is the afterword that you’ve all been waiting for. The main part of the volume ended when Allen decided to head to the Prostia Empire on the ocean floor. This closes the curtains on the Allen Army and island development arc.
Allen’s party gains more friends, and he now has both an army and island residents who will act with him. How will his choices affect the story? Please look forward to future arcs. I’ve added a few spin-offs and bonus stories pertaining to Pelomas’s love life, but it finally made it into the actual story. What will happen in his quest to make Fiona love him? It’s a story of romance—the kind of tale that Allen doesn’t have. The merchant has no power or weapons, only courage as he marches forward. Please look forward to his journey!
How did you like the three side stories? They focus on Beku, Olbaas, and Helmios. They’re all important to the history of the Hell Mode series, but they’re written from their points of view, which makes them a bit different from the main story.
For those who don’t quite know how to interpret Beku’s story, I wrote it from the perspective of someone who was lauded and praised by everyone for their excellence. Such people have their own conflicts as well, so I hope that clarifies it a bit.
Much like with Pelomas’s tale, these side stories don’t run parallel to the main story, so please look forward to seeing how they connect to it.
From here on, I’d like to speak a bit about my past, when I bid my father farewell.
When I, Hamuo, was a little boy, I attended a school that was far away and spent my time daydreaming about a story of my own creation. I dropped out of college after obsessing over games and worked part-time night shifts at one of the companies where my father worked. Fifteen years passed while I was there.
A memory I have of my father is that I hadn’t helped much with harvesting bamboo shoots when I returned home. In 2019, I got engrossed in writing my own stories and was caught up with creating Hell Mode. At the end of March 2020, a certain event made me snap back to my senses, and I called my dad. We usually touched on this topic when we went bamboo shoot harvesting, and I thought I should report the good news.
“Hey, what’s up?” my dad said when he picked up the phone. “It’s rare to get a call from you.”
“Yeah, I got a promotion,” I said.
I was wrapped up in writing my novel, so I didn’t care much about the promotion, but I thought I should tell my father about it since I often went to him for advice about work.
“Really?! That’s great! What’s your title at your company again?” my dad asked. He seemed ecstatic, contrary to my own feelings.
“I’ll become a subsection chief in April,” I replied.
“You really worked hard, huh?”
“And I think I told you about writing novels during the New Year, but the story I’m writing now will become a published book.”
My publisher was talking about making Hell Mode into a bona fide book. When I’d returned home during the New Year, I’d told him that I was currently engrossed in writing my own novel.
“Wow, a book?! That’s amazing, champ!” my dad cried.
I don’t remember ever being praised so much in my life. Honestly, I had no idea how to respond to my father’s compliments.
“Thanks,” I replied.
“Hey, can you come home next Sunday?” my dad asked.
“Huh? Yeah, I think I can. Why?”
I was a bit hesitant to return home. I was neck-deep in my writing and wanted to spend every bit of my free time on it.
“I wanna talk with you!” my dad exclaimed. “Oh, and it’d be great if you could help out with the fields. My arms are getting weaker, and I can’t dig deep holes.”
“The fields... Yeah, all right. Sure.”
To be honest, it felt like a huge pain to me. But when I heard my father sounding so happy, I couldn’t refuse. I never said no to requests anyway. A few days passed, and I received a call from my father.
“Hey, dad. What’s up?” I asked.
“Sorry, but it seems like it’ll rain this weekend,” my father said. “Can you come home the following week? We can’t dig holes in the rain.”
“Sure, okay. The following week.”
“Sounds good.”
To this day, I couldn’t tell you what the holes in the field were for. As he’d said, it was pouring rain that weekend, and there was no way anyone could go out on the fields.
That was the last time I spoke with my father.
In early April, I received a call from home. My dad had been transported to the hospital. When I rushed there, my dad had already lost consciousness, and a few days later, our family gathered to bid him a final farewell.
At midnight, the doctor came to deliver us the news. It seemed my dad was in a worse state than I’d thought. He had lived far past his life expectancy already. A funeral was held, and four years later, I’m finally able to publish this volume.
I heard later that my dad was far happier about my promotion than I’d expected him to be. He was practically jumping with joy. Unfortunately, I don’t think I’ve been able to repay my gratitude to him. I can’t call myself a devoted son.
Thanks to Hell Mode reaching its ninth volume, I’ve finally been able to write about my memories of my father and bid my final farewell to him in this afterword. I cannot thank everyone enough. Thank you to my publisher and to everyone who’s supported this series thus far. I’m sorry to use this afterword as a journal or diary of sorts. Dad, you’re my pride and joy. I hope you can rest in peace.
For the past few years, I’ve been starting to get some royalties from my books, so I’d like to at least be devoted to my mom. I’d like to share a little story of when I mentioned something like that to her.
“Hey, mom. Is there anywhere you’d like to go or anything you’d like to eat?” I asked. I knew it was a vague question, but I thought it was best to listen to a person’s wishes first.
“Ooh! There is!” my mom replied.
There is? I wonder what it could be.
“And what would that be?” I asked.
“I’d like to ride the Seven Stars!”
“Whaaat?!”
She was referring to a deluxe, super luxurious excursion train run by JR Kyushu. Can Hamuo at least grant his mother’s wish? Please stay tuned.
This is where I wrap up the afterword. Next is the big double-digit volume. What awaits Allen at the bottom of the ocean? Please look forward to reading it.
If you would also support the manga version of Hell Mode, that would make me as happy as can be. Till we meet again!
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Copyright
Hell Mode ~The Hardcore Gamer Dominates in Another World with Garbage Balancing~ Volume 9
by Hamuo
Translated by piyo
Edited by Adam Haffen
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2024 Hamuo
Illustrations © 2024 Mo
Cover illustration by Mo
All rights reserved.
Original Japanese edition published in 2024 by Earth Star Entertainment
This English edition is published by arrangement with Earth Star Entertainment, Tokyo
English translation © 2025 J-Novel Club LLC
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property.
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The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.
Ebook edition 1.0: March 2025
Hamuo, Hell Mode: Volume 9
