The Living Armor
A graze.
The enemy's sharp blade slipped through a gap in the shield.
This is impossible.
Debi Jane couldn't believe her eyes.
To her, Del Roan's defense was an absolute wall.
Having experienced it firsthand, she had been certain it could never be breached.
Yet now, that very defense was wavering precariously.
"What are you doing, you idiot?!"
She gripped her runestone tightly.
She was ready to intervene.
But—
"No! You don't need to help!"
Del Roan stopped her.
...What? Why? Didn't you look for comrades so we could face things like this together?
The moment real danger reared its head, he was pushing her back.
"Since when do I listen to you? I don't care if you hate it, I'm stepping in! An armor like that will collapse on its own if I just burn it from the inside—"
"No! I'm seriously fine! It's just... it took me a second to pull myself together!"
Pull yourself together from what?
As if answering her silent question, Del Roan readjusted his grip on his shield.
Clang! Screeech... Clang!
A beastly torrent of strikes rained down, sending sparks flying.
A relentless flurry of consecutive blows.
It was a speed where a single missed breath would cost him his head.
But now that Del Roan had regained his composure, his shield was an immovable fortress.
"Whew."
A calm, steady breath.
Thud!
Deflecting the final strike with his shield, Del Roan twisted his wrist.
The pommel of his sword struck Cedric Rowell's wrist with brutal force.
"Ugh...!"
A sharp grunt.
A momentary stumble.
Seizing the opening, Del Roan slammed the broad face of his shield into his opponent.
Crack!
Creeeech!
Pure, unadulterated strength.
With the agonizing groan of screeching iron, Rowell was sent flying backward.
Boom!
An impact violent enough to snap a giant tree.
His armor trembled violently, beginning to discharge mana.
But there would be no further counterattack.
"Ugh..."
Del Roan's boot was already pinning his chest to the ground.
"What in the..."
Debi Jane watched them, her breath catching in her throat.
Dozens of clashes had unfolded in less than a few minutes.
Is he insane...? How is he tracking all of those strikes?
A battle only those who lived by the sword could truly comprehend...
No, only Del Roan can pull off something like that. Rowell was just relying on his armor's physical specs.
They were on entirely different levels.
As Debi Jane stood lost in thought,
the temporary silence was shattered by Rowell.
"Pant... pant... I knew it."
A low, ragged breath wheezed from within the iron suit.
The light in his eyes had not yet faded.
"You're no different."
His voice sounded like scraping metal, raspy as if he hadn't eaten in days.
"You want this armor, don't you? But it's mine. It gave strength to a lost soul like me... It belongs to me!"
His fists clenched tight.
As if responding to his will, the black armor flared with dark energy.
"I will never let you take it. Even if you tear me limb from limb...!"
"I'm not going to tear you limb from limb."
"What...?"
For a moment, Rowell's twisted obsession lost its target.
"And I'm not taking your armor, either."
Del Roan spoke calmly.
The slight crack in his voice only made his words carry more weight.
Unable to hold it in any longer, Del Roan cried out to him.
"Cedric Rowell! You haven't changed a bit!"
And then, he burst into tears.
Just like he had when he first saw Debi Jane.
Rowell's deep-seated distrust and profound loneliness were exactly as Del Roan remembered them.
It seemed to have struck a deep chord in Del Roan's heart.
"What is wrong with you?! Why are you crying while stepping on my chest?!"
Whoosh! Whoosh!
Rowell's blade flashed, aiming for Del Roan's ankles.
Yet every single strike sliced through empty air.
Even while sobbing, Del Roan effortlessly deflected every blow.
The lone wolf had been thoroughly subdued.
Confirming the situation was resolved, Debi Jane walked over to his side.
"Ah, perfect timing, Jane. Can you take a look at this armor for a second?"
"Look at what?"
"See if you can sense any malevolent mana coming from it."
Del Roan's request was reasonable.
An Ego Armor could easily become a seed of destruction.
With her deep knowledge of magic, Debi Jane was more than qualified to detect it.
Debi Jane stared at the armor for a moment, then shrugged.
"Nothing out of the ordinary, really."
"Really? That's a relief."
"What... what are you planning to do?"
Rowell's voice trembled under their downward gazes.
Del Roan gave him a warm smile.
"An etiquette lesson."
...
"W-Wait! Don't take it off!"
...
"You crazy bastard...! You were after my armor all along!!"
...
"W-Wait! Stop..."
"Jane, hold him down tight on that side."
"Hey, you try holding him! He might be skinny from starving, but he's ridiculously strong!"
After a brief struggle, Del Roan managed to strip the armor off him.
Hidden beneath that dark, imposing armor was a body far more fragile than expected.
"Ugh..."
"He quieted down real quick once we took it off."
Debi Jane poked him lightly.
Like a sensitive plant, he curled inward from the spot she touched.
Without his armor, Rowell looked utterly defenseless and shrunk into himself.
"Jane, can you keep an eye on him by yourself?"
"Who do you take me for? I'll just bind him with the same mana chains I used on you, so don't worry."
"Great. I'll leave Rowell in your hands for a bit."
"...Where are you going?"
"Nowhere. I'm going to do it right here, but I might not be able to pay attention to my surroundings."
"You said something about an etiquette lesson? What—"
Debi Jane, who had been binding Rowell with mana chains as they spoke, froze in shock.
The demonic armor that had been forcing this scrawny man's body to move—
Del Roan had slipped it onto his own body without a moment's hesitation.
"What?! You just came here to steal gear for yourself?! All that talk about comrades was a lie!"
"Exactly... That's how the world works... You were fooled."
Rowell muttered bitterly.
But despite her sharp tongue, Debi Jane didn't actually believe that.
His tears from earlier were proof enough.
Once fully suited, Del Roan began to explain.
"To put it simply, keeping this gear on is dangerous. It drains your life force and eventually leads to the user's death."
It was a terrifying truth.
It contradicted the energy she had sensed, but she didn't bother pointing it out.
I hate to admit it... but he's never wrong about these things.
"But at the same time, I don't want to take away the armor that gives you strength, Rowell. You always soared the highest when you wore this."
"What are you talking about...?! Today is the first time I've ever laid eyes on you. Why are you speaking to me like we're lifelong friends?"
"Because we're comrades."
"Ha! Comrades? My comrades have already dissolved in the bellies of monsters. Are you trying to mock me?"
He was far pricklier and more defensive than Debi Jane had ever been.
Seeing him so full of life, however hostile, only made Del Roan tear up again.
And then—
"Oh?"
Creak, creak. Del Roan's arm began to rise on its own.
"Tsk... Is it trying to choose a new master?!"
Rowell gnashed his teeth, glaring at the black armor.
But Debi Jane immediately shook her head.
"No, it's resisting."
"...Resisting?"
"Yeah. The armor is fighting back. There's a massive surge of mana exploding inside it."
The mage's eyes were precise.
A desperate struggle was unfolding within the metal suit.
The Ego Armor was trying to force his body to move, while Del Roan fought to suppress it.
A relentless tug-of-war ensued—
"Hup!"
Clang!
Del Roan slammed his fist down hard on the armor's raised wrist.
It froze.
The armor seemed to yield for a split second, but the strike only provoked it further, triggering an even more violent backlash.
"Ugh!"
It was the first time they had ever heard him grunt in genuine pain.
Soon, blood began to seep through the seams of the armor.
Spikes had erupted from the inside, piercing Del Roan's flesh.
My goodness.
Debi Jane was stunned.
It was more shock than worry.
So red blood actually runs through his veins too.
He had always seemed so superhuman that she half-expected him to bleed blue or transparent fluid.
Apparently, he was human after all.
"Hey... mage."
Watching the scene unfold, Rowell called out to Debi Jane.
"What?"
"Aren't you... worried? Your comrade is getting seriously hurt."
"Not really."
Debi Jane shook her head.
"That guy is a monster."
She stated it as an absolute fact.
Rowell's gaze naturally drifted back to Del Roan.
Squelch, squelch.
Despite being impaled multiple times, Del Roan's expression didn't even flicker.
"See? He's perfectly fine."
"Ah, damn it. That actually hurts like hell."
He complained, but he didn't look like he was in any real agony.
Though his facial muscles did twitch slightly.
"Tsk, I'll have to find that friend for our next comrade."
Del Roan muttered to himself, as if remembering someone.
Yet, he still refused to take off the armor.
In the end, after a futile struggle, it was the armor that seemed to tire first.
"Ah, that's better."
Del Roan was dripping with blood.
No matter how tough he was, the stinging pain was unavoidable, causing him to knit his brows slightly.
"Better? There's a resistance far worse than physical pain."
At Rowell's murmur, Debi Jane tightened the mana chains.
"Ugh...!"
"What do you mean? There's more?"
"It's not just 'more,' it's the real test. I was never pierced by spikes. If the armor is going to try something... its next move will definitely be to attack your mind. That's what tortured me."
Rowell explained further.
He said it forces you to relive your most horrific memories.
It conjures illusions to trigger your deepest trauma.
In his case, his fallen comrades from the knight order had appeared repeatedly, cursing him, spitting venom, and blaming him for their deaths.
"...If that's the case."
Debi Jane looked at Del Roan.
He had constantly rambled about his past and his comrades.
She couldn't fully comprehend it, but it was obvious he harbored immense regrets from his past.
If that armor targeted the most fragile part of Del Roan's mind...
"Well, then I'll just have to burn him along with the armor. He's still too useful to lose."
With Debi Jane's words as the cue, the armor made its move.
Faint, hazy afterimages began to materialize before his eyes.
Leathery wings and impenetrable scales.
Something tearing the earth apart with limbs larger than mountains.
Figures chanting of death beneath a crimson moon.
An incomprehensible entity whose very nature defied definition.
The armor conjured these apocalyptic visions with all the power it could muster—
"...Huh?"
And then, it fell utterly silent.
Before a man who had literally returned from the end of the world, the armor's grand illusions were nothing but a joke.