Transformation (2)
The sun had climbed high overhead, pouring the same warm light as yesterday through the chapel windows in lazy streams.
But yesterday's peace was no promise that today would be the same. The first to sense the anomaly was Ifrit.
Her eyes, blazing like living flame, locked straight ahead. A stench that stabbed the nostrils. Dark crimson bandages wrapping the entire body in grotesque coils.
"What is that……?"
"Don't tell me—the Sword Fiend?!"
"Tsk. So it really came all the way down here."
While the crowd recoiled in horror at the repulsive form of the Sword Fiend, Ifrit clicked her tongue in irritation and stepped forward.
Coming to the chapel just in case had paid off. She was the only one here who could stop that thing.
But right then, the Sword Fiend's form wavered grotesquely… and vanished from sight as if it had never been there at all.
I lost it……? Me, a High Ranker?!
Shock flooded her face. Not just any Ranker—a High Ranker—and even she had lost track of it. Speed that vast.
Ifrit whipped her head around. The blood-red sword aura the Sword Fiend had left behind was streaking straight for the chapel.
Too late. She couldn't protect it. Just as a cold shadow of despair began to settle over her face—
Clank.
The sound of steel striking steel shattered her despair-laced silence. Then a steel prosthetic arm emerged from beneath a sleeve.
In the instant before the blood-red sword aura could swallow the chapel, the prosthetic slammed upward from below and roughly knocked the Sword Fiend's charging blade aside.
Kaaang!!
Sparks flew with a sonic boom.
A beat of silence. Then a single polite voice broke it.
"Please refrain from brandishing weapons inside this sacred chapel."
"Zion……!!!"
A veil of black and white in perfect harmony. Against it, a jet-black habit. The silver-white-haired nun Zion stepped forward.
Ifrit had gone past surprise into pure astonishment. Speed that even she, a High Ranker, had momentarily lost—
Yet Zion had reacted. Not only reacted, but forcibly deflected the Sword Fiend's blood-red sword aura with raw power.
I knew it. Zion isn't just some ordinary Hero NPC.
Hero NPCs were certainly strong. Strong enough to overwhelm average Adventurers and even Rankers.
But the Sword Fiend was different. She had only faced it for a moment, yet it was unmistakably a monster with power on par with High Rankers.
And Zion had casually knocked that blood-red sword aura aside. On top of that, hadn't Zion's stats already been higher than her own?
Yes. Zion has to be a Legendary NPC!
Of course there were no Legendary NPCs in this Tower. No one even used the term.
Still, Ifrit couldn't help thinking it. Because this was the great Saintess from the legends.
While Ifrit reeled at Zion's strength, the person in question was making a tearful face on the inside.
S-Scary! What the hell was that just now?! I really thought I was gonna die! No—if it hadn't been for the prosthetic, I might actually have died……!!
Zion had fought former Rankers before, but the monster in front of her was literally on another level.
The foul stench. The dark crimson liquid seeping from rotting flesh…… and the bandages wrapped mummy-tight around it all.
The grotesque appearance was secondary. The real problem was the crushing pressure, as if steel rebar were pressing down on her entire body.
"Have you come seeking help, by any chance?"
"Zion, there's no way."
"One never knows. How can we judge another by outward appearance alone?"
Resolving things without a fight is always best. Yeah.
Of course Zion had eyes. No matter how she looked at it, the opponent's appearance screamed that dialogue was impossible.
Still, she could try. If it was someone who needed help, the problem would solve itself easily……
And even if words failed, she could always subdue them afterward. Nothing to lose.
"Th-That's…… I……"
"Yes, of course. Please speak freely."
"Aaaaaaagh!!"
Unfortunately the conversation did not last. The Sword Fiend let out a roar that was half scream, half agony.
The stench thickened. Zion sighed and clenched her fist. Metal scraped against metal.
Outwardly she radiated not a single tremor of sacred fighting spirit as she quietly opened her mouth.
"I shall gladly deliver judgment."
Together with Ifrit, it was possible.
Sword Fiend.
A bounty of three thousand gold meant it was no pushover, but if they joined forces they could win.
Contrary to Zion's calculations, however, Ifrit had stepped back instead of joining the fight and was turning Zion's words over in her mind.
One never knows. How can we judge another by outward appearance alone.
She wouldn't be telling me to show mercy to a monster…… wait.
Appraisal.
A skill that revealed an opponent's information. If the user's stats were lower than the target's you couldn't see the details, but—
At least you could still tell whether the target was an Adventurer, an NPC, or a monster even with lower stats.
I thought something felt off. To think it wasn't a monster at all—it was a fellow Adventurer……!!
Every piece clicked into place. Zion had seen it at a glance and extended a helping hand.
Because she was a hero. Before she was an Adventurer who killed monsters, she was first a hero who saved people.
Having finally grasped Zion's intent, Ifrit left the Sword Fiend to her and chose to protect the people nearby.
I don't know how it ended up like this, but if it's Zion there must be a way. All I can do is trust her and wait.
Why aren't you fighting with me?!
Meanwhile the person in question was making a tearful face and thoroughly cursing the High Ranker who was just standing there watching.
She had made that declaration believing they would fight together. Instead the reliable High Ranker was sightseeing?
This situation had never been in the plan……!! But the Sword Fiend did not even grant her time to complain.
Shit!
An ominous jet-black blade carved a crude arc. Closer to wild thrashing than any real swordsmanship.
Yet the reason it earned the grand alias of Sword Fiend was simple: overwhelming speed.
Sword speed so absolute that even High Ranker Ifrit would have to yield a step came screaming toward Zion without mercy.
"Look out!!"
Shock and screams erupted around them. The Sword Fiend's blade looked ready to butcher Zion on the spot.
Then something no one expected happened. Crunch! Not the sound of flesh tearing—the sound of bone breaking.
The instant the sword met the prosthetic, force spiraled up from the left arm, through the waist, and into the right.
Counter
Used at the perfect moment, it negated incoming damage and returned a portion of it to the attacker.
Crack!! Zion's steel fist slammed precisely into the Sword Fiend's jaw. The overwhelming impact sent the body flying through the air.
"Sh-She took down the Sword Fiend!"
"Isn't that person a healer?! How can a healer go toe-to-toe with the Sword Fiend……?!"
"This isn't the time—we have to report to the guild right now!"
Healers excelled at support but lagged in combat power. Of course exceptions like Gijeok existed, but—
They were vanishingly rare. And now one of those vanishingly rare exceptions had appeared…… chaos was inevitable.
Moreover, not just combat— a healer who could properly hold the front line? Naturally top priority for recruitment.
"Wait. Don't approach recklessly."
"You have no right to stop us!"
"Exactly. Don't try to monopolize it so shamelessly!"
"That's not it. That thing isn't finished yet."
In the direction Ifrit pointed, the Sword Fiend was writhing grotesquely and forcing itself back to its feet.
The crowd fell silent as if the argument had never happened and scrambled backward. Ifrit clicked her tongue.
She had expected other guilds and houses to send spies…… but she hadn't expected them to be this blatant.
"Zion, it looks like a curse, doesn't it?"
"A curse……?"
"Yeah. A very powerful one. It's rare for an Adventurer to end up like that."
From time to time Adventurers cursed by monsters became puppets or worse than dead.
Hearing Ifrit's words, Zion finally caught on. That wasn't a monster—it was an Adventurer.
If Ifrit hadn't told her, she never would have known. That aside— a curse…… a curse.
A curse is just a status ailment in the end, right?
Just one method.
There was a way.
In Dungeon & Soul, the Priest skill that cleansed every status ailment—and a basic skill with outstanding cost-efficiency.
"Cure."
Cure
A great cross began to descend from the heavens, scattering pure white light.