Pol's Revenge
Despite the powerful magic that had put him to sleep, Gion's condition looked dire. His lycanthrope form had faded away, leaving his clothes in tatters. Blood streamed steadily from the fatal wound on his abdomen, sustained during the battle with Drake. Since the magic kept him unconscious, he couldn't wake from the pain, and without treatment, he could easily bleed out.
"Cure."
The first priority was stopping the bleeding. A pure white light gathered over Gion's abdomen, and the flow of blood ceased. The wound itself, however, remained open. Cure was a spell that removed status ailments like poisoning, bleeding, confusion, and paralysis—essentially an emergency measure, much like in a game. To actually close the wound, another spell was needed.
Bagan examined the injury carefully, making sure not to wake Gion. The Dragon's Claw, a martial technique that shaped aura into claws just like an Aura Sword, had done far more than simply pierce the body. True to its savage nature, the aura had torn through his internal organs without any attempt at refinement.
Ordinary healing might not be enough.
Having assessed the damage, Bagan gathered far more mana than usual and layered on the Magic Amplification formula.
"Great Heal."
It was a spell reinforced with greater mana and imagination than a standard Heal. As its name suggested, a powerful surge of life energy poured into Gion's body. Though the effect wasn't visually striking since it wasn't an attack, the rapidly closing wound brought a measure of relief.
The other adventurers watching Bagan work could only stare in shock.
"Not only does he know recovery magic, but he can heal wounds this severe..."
Bagan addressed the stunned onlookers.
"That's enough gawking. If you want to help, move Gion somewhere safe."
"Huh? Ah, yes."
Though his blunt tone naturally drew polite responses, none of them dared argue. They had no way to gauge the full extent of his abilities. The adventurers who had been doing nothing but watching finally sprang into action, carrying Gion to a safer spot. His massive frame required three or four of them, but they managed to lay him down among the other injured adventurers who were already resting.
While Gion and Drake's battle had ended, Pol and Caliban were still fighting. Bagan had expected Pol to lose long ago, yet it seemed Pol's will had found a reason he couldn't abandon.
"Pol! That's enough!"
Reina shouted at him, cursing her own helplessness as she could only watch her comrade's desperate revenge. Natalie felt the same, but remembering Bagan's words, she held herself back, unwilling to let Pol's resolve go to waste. Still, her body twitched as if she might rush forward at any moment.
Why was Pol fighting so desperately? What meaning did revenge hold? Charging at an opponent he couldn't possibly defeat was nothing short of foolish. In the end, he was paying the price for losing control and attacking Caliban.
"Persistent. I don't know what drives you to cling so desperately," Caliban said to the barely standing Pol, "but there's something you should know. You and I come from completely different worlds!"
Caliban's blade filled with aura, a blazing blue energy wrapping around it.
"My patience has run out!"
He raised the aura-clad blade high with his right hand behind his back, preparing to end it with a single downward strike. Sunlight reflected off the edge in a brilliant display, but Pol, using his sword as a cane to stay upright, kept his eyes fixed on Caliban. Blood from his forehead streamed down like tears, yet his gaze hadn't died.
Bagan was moved. An indescribable emotion stirred him to act.
This should be enough.
Clang!
"Sloppy."
Bagan's palm met Caliban's blazing aura. Instead of being sliced apart, his hand pushed the blade back.
"...What did you do?"
Caliban was thrown off by the inexplicable force. Though usually composed, he was still human, and even he couldn't help but be startled by something this extraordinary.
"Absorption."
Bagan's palm began draining the aura from the blade.
"Ghh!"
Caliban realized that continuing to pour aura into it would only let Bagan steal it all. He withdrew the aura, but Bagan didn't miss the opening. He released the absorbed energy in a burst.
Boom!
"Kuhack!"
Caliban was sent flying by the shockwave. He only stopped after slamming into a tree, coughing up blood. Feeling his body burn, he reactivated his aura now that he was away from Bagan.
"That brat kept clinging to me..."
He blamed Pol for his current predicament. The prolonged fight had drained his stamina. His rage burned so hot that even the aura coating his skin flared visibly. His strength was on par with Drake's. As Drake's most trusted subordinate, Caliban's skill wasn't far behind his boss's. Drake had preferred to stay hands-off like a figurehead, leaving all external matters to Caliban. In truth, the more experienced Caliban might have been the stronger of the two.
Whoosh.
Caliban steadied himself and raised his blade once more, left foot and left hand forward as always.
"I'll ignore the revenge-obsessed fool and kill you instead."
He spoke as if he could win against Bagan if he fought properly. Bagan snorted.
"Hah. Want me to use a sword? Think that'll help?"
Bagan manifested a mana sword in the shape of a blade, something he'd never used before. His core made it possible. Being right-handed, he took a stance with his right foot and right hand forward.
Caliban eyed the slightly awkward posture.
"You're digging your own grave!"
His words ignited the battle. Caliban charged in beautifully.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Every clash of their blades shattered the air and rang in their ears, loud enough to hurt. Bagan blocked Caliban's swordsmanship using only his physical abilities and reflexes, feeling disappointed.
Too easy.
While Bagan remained relaxed enough to think that, Caliban attacked wildly, blinded by rage and gasping for breath. Emotion had no place in battle. Caliban's rage might have been his greatest driving force, but it didn't translate to skill.
"That's enough."
Bored with the exchange, Bagan lost interest in Caliban's technique. He deflected an attack, pushed back with force, and created distance.
"Running away?"
Misunderstanding the situation, Caliban smiled, thinking he'd gained the upper hand. But Bagan adjusted his grip with both hands, raised the blade overhead, and closed the gap in just two steps.
Whoosh!
"?!"
Boom!
The blade merely sliced through air, yet it sounded like a mountain collapsing. It was the heavy, distinctive sound of Reinhardt's swordsmanship made manifest. An overwhelming pressure that made one instinctively not want to block. Even a simple vertical slash carried immense weight. It wasn't just an illusion—the strike truly possessed that much mass. The descending blade felt as though gravity itself, not just the shoulder, was driving it down.
In Caliban's vision, it fell slowly, ever so slowly, and during that moment, no thoughts came to him. He only raised his blade on instinct to defend.
"Graaah!!"
That was exactly what the technique was meant to force. Caliban sank into the ground, his arm and shoulder muscles twisting from the impact of holding the blade.
Clang! Clang!
The sword flew from his grasp and hit the ground several times. The fight was over.
"You shouldn't suffer any longer either. Just die."
As Bagan prepared to finish off the man who couldn't even lift his head under the pressure, a weak voice called out.
"...B-Bagan-nim."
Pol had somehow stood up. Bagan stopped his attack and turned, meeting Pol's eyes.
"So you've made up your mind."
Even facing death, Pol's eyes still burned with an unyielding will that refused to abandon revenge. That fire hadn't gone out even after witnessing Bagan's battle. It meant Pol wasn't relying on him alone. That was why Pol still blazed with determination.
Maybe he would've won even without my help...
Bagan nodded at the thought.
"...Thank you."
Bagan quietly stepped aside. Revenge wasn't his to take.
Pol stood before Caliban, who had killed his comrade. The raised tip of his sword carried Flang's unjust death, while the descending blade held Pol's regret.
Slash!
...I'm sorry, my friend. For not being able to save you sooner.
On the verge of losing consciousness, Pol remembered the old Flang.
"Pol! I'm going to keep being an adventurer even after the war ends. I might die in this battle, but seeing those free adventurers makes me think this is my calling."
"Yeah, that's just like you. But one thing's for sure—we're both going to survive this battle."
It was the conversation Pol and Flang, both from Tempo Kingdom, had shared before their final battle after being conscripted into the war against Sog Kingdom.
Thud!
Pol collapsed as well, and the situation came to an end.
"Pol! Wake up!"
"Waaah! Pol!"
Reina and Natalie, members of Dawn's Wolf, worried over their leader and moved him to safety.
"His life isn't in danger, so he'll be fine."
Bagan had already treated Pol. He'd performed emergency care before Pol collapsed and used Great Heal on him just like he had with Gion. All Pol needed was rest to recover from the accumulated stress and complex emotions. Still, the two women couldn't calm down despite his reassurance, so Bagan tuned them out.
He looked around and spoke.
"Hey, come here."
It was the adventurers who had been at the guild and ended up following them to Zairan Forest. Clorsus was among them.
"I'll heal their internal injuries, so take everyone back to the guild."
"What?"
"Didn't hear me? Did you hurt your ears too?"
"N-no. I heard you."
"Then hurry up and move."
Bagan met each of their eyes in turn before locking gazes with Clorsus.
"What, you don't want to?"
"N-no. I'll do it."
It was a pitiful sight for someone bearing the alias Iron Fist. Afterward, Bagan fully healed the injured adventurers and entrusted Gion and Pol to them. Once they had left, he stood alone in the middle of Zairan Forest beside the corpses of Caliban and Drake.
"Come to think of it, I still need to find the underworld's main base and their branches in other cities..."
The dead offered no answers. As he stared at the two corpses, a thought suddenly occurred to him.
(What are you talking about? The judgment isn't over yet. Lay the bodies out properly.)
"Huh? Got it."
At Sally's words, Bagan straightened Caliban's beheaded corpse and Drake's mangled body.
(Thus speaks Sally, the Spirit of Condemnation. O scales that weigh sin and lantern that punishes the wicked, open the gate and light the path.)
Entering combat mode, Sally held the Icicle Tree scales in one hand and the book Spia had given her in the other. She created a path of lanterns in the air, forming a gate.
Those are souls?
(The purpose of condemnation is to decide what to do with their souls.)
White energy—souls—began flowing out of Caliban and Drake's bodies. Bagan knew they existed in theory, but seeing them for the first time left him unsettled. Once the souls had fully emerged, Sally opened the gate and guided them with the lanterns. The floating lights illuminated only the path for the two souls, preventing them from straying.
Bagan followed Sally quietly and expressed his surprise at the space beyond the gate.
"What is this place?"
(Ah, you could call it my courtroom. I was wondering what kind of space would be most fitting, so I just copied Ifrit's residence and changed the colors.)
Though she was now the Spirit of Condemnation, Sally had once been the High Spirit of Fire. Naturally, she had served at Ifrit's side and was familiar with the spaces he often used. She had recreated the location exactly, with one difference—the overall color scheme had changed. Ifrit's room had been filled with blazing red flames, a scorching domain of fire, but Sally's space featured blue flames with occasional snow crystals falling from the sky, creating a contradictory atmosphere. The walls and her seat were made of black crystal to match her colors, giving off a cold, unforgiving feeling befitting a spirit who judged sins—where seeking forgiveness only invited greater punishment.
Sally locked the souls in a cage of cold iron bars and took her seat.
"Open your eyes!"
Since this was her own space, Sally appeared in her true form without needing to materialize. She addressed the souls.
"Wh-where is this?"
"You! You bastard!! Where did you bring us?!"
The two fools, unaware they were dead, still displayed hostility. Bagan turned to Sally.
"Sally, we shouldn't resort to violence in this sacred place, right?"
"Of course..."