The Hunter, having finally dealt with the minions, let out a sigh. The seemingly endless number of them had tested his patience, but he felt a sense of relief at getting through it all. Usually, by this time, Raydan Tanton would have already handled things and been on his way back, which only highlighted the unusual severity of the situation. The Hunter’s respect for Tanton had grown significantly as of late.

He felt an urge to help Tanton quickly and then find some rest. This felt less like a battle against Foreign Entities and more like grueling labor. Upon reaching the entrance to Londan without any further attacks, the Hunter broke into a run, figuring there would be no more trouble from this point forward. If the Inquisitor had entered Londan, it would spell disaster, so they must have been fighting outside.

Continuing to run, he soon spotted two distant figures. As he drew closer, he recognized them as Raydan Tanton and the child he often had with him. Before them, a horrific figure—presumably the Inquisitor—lay immobilized under a pile of human corpses.

"Could these corpses be a power derived from Foreign Entities?" he mused, finding the method both unsettling and oddly fascinating. "It’s already over, huh? That hole over there must be another trap for the Inquisitor. Guess I wasn’t needed after all."

The Hunter chuckled to himself and started toward Tanton, only to stop short. At a distance, he saw Tanton grab the child by the back of the neck and, without hesitation, throw them into the black hole. The child’s face turned pale, and though faint, a scream was heard. The hole mercilessly swallowed the child and closed as if this had all been a setup from the beginning.

The Hunter struggled to process what he was seeing, wishing it was all a terrible illusion. Tanton, showing a concerned expression, approached the Inquisitor’s gruesome form and gently touched it.

"…Ah."

The Hunter felt his world shatter. Trust, which had been so rare since his family, had been completely crushed. How could someone who killed humans and showed affection for a Foreign Entity be the same person he once believed in?

Tanton, noticing the Hunter, waved with his usual smile. But where once there had been an endearing clumsiness, now stood a monster with a sinister gleam, feigning innocence.

The ground beneath him was still hot, smoke rising where the Hunter’s shotgun had fired near him. His mind was reeling, unable to grasp why the Hunter would attack him suddenly.

The look in the Hunter’s eyes was painfully familiar—the same as when he had shared his past in a fit of rage. "Hunter?" he called out, only to be cut off.

"Don’t call my name with that filthy mouth."

He was shocked. How could the man who joked around with him after the war with Candle now be filled with such fury? Desperate to understand, he tried to explain, but the Hunter’s rage only intensified.

"Close that disgusting mouth! Another word, and I’ll silence you myself."

Confusion mounted as he realized how this could look to the Hunter—killing a human, seemingly protecting a Foreign Entity. He tried to clarify. "Hunter, you’re mistaken! I didn’t save that Foreign Entity!"

But it was no use. The Hunter’s loathing was evident as he spat, "You who lust after Foreign Entities, you probably see that monster as a person, don’t you?"

"It’s not a Foreign Entity!" he shouted back.

The Hunter, voice tinged with a sorrow he had never heard before, finally spoke his mind. "I believed in you. Even as you wallowed with those filthy Foreign Entities, I thought you had your reasons." He could feel the raw betrayal in the Hunter’s words.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, the Hunter turned and walked back toward Londan. "This is where we part, Raydan Tanton."

The weight of those words crushed him, and he tried to follow, but his body wouldn’t respond. "No…."

"Asti!" he heard a distant voice call out, and his consciousness began to fade.

The silence was deafening. His head ached, likely from overusing the Gardener’s power against the Inquisitor. It was always hard to gauge the cost, but there had been no other way to defeat her.

A soft sound caught his attention, and he turned to see Asti asleep by his bedside, now freed from the Inquisitor’s control. If only the transformation had happened sooner, the Hunter wouldn’t have borne such a grudge.

A strange red aura lingered near Asti. It was unsettling, evoking a deep sense of unease. "Asti?" he whispered as she stirred awake, her face betraying guilt and anxiety—emotions now visible on her face.

"Asti," he said gently. "It’s good you’re awake." Seeing her bow her head, he felt a pang of guilt. She deserved to be free from this, but instead, here they were, both haunted by the Inquisitor’s legacy.

"Maybe I can take on that burden," he thought, and as he gathered the red aura, a sharp pain spread through his body. He forced a smile to avoid alarming her, the pain feeling strangely familiar, like when the Inquisitor had gripped him during their fight.

Asti noticed, her face showing concern. "Master, what…?"

He met her gaze with a reassuring smile. "You always look best when you’re calm. Those sad expressions don’t suit you."

But as he spoke, more red energy swirled around her, and he reached out, absorbing it with resolve. Asti’s eyes widened as she processed his words. "Why won’t you let me even feel remorse?"

"Because I don’t want to see you like that."

She watched, worried, as he absorbed the remaining energy. "And don’t call me ‘Master’ anymore."

Asti blinked, a hint of fear crossing her face. "What should I call you then?"

"Just my name," he replied simply.

"Raydan," she repeated, a hint of emotion breaking through. Hearing his name in that soft voice, he felt a strange sense of closeness. "From now on, you can do what you want. You don’t have to be tied to me or your past anymore."

"Thank you," she whispered with a faint smile.

At that moment, he realized she was finally free. And that thought brought him peace.