All of Hans’s attacks came to naught.

The assaults born of black magic disappeared soundlessly upon touching me, and even conventional spells were rendered impotent against my resistance.

Panic-stricken, Hans unleashed his magic, his expression one of disbelief.

“How can this be? What’s with your body…!”
“Healthy living, I suppose. If you’re envious, try going to bed early and waking up late.”
“Stop joking around…!”

The furrows on Hans’s brow trembled. Sweat cooled on his palms, and his spells grew less accurate.

He was desperate.

Would the Imperial Army, alerted by the noise, come running? Would the Tower Master be searching for him? Above all, he feared how long the monster before him would spare him.

The composure once colored by his self-assured gestures, now filled with darkness, and his prime techniques of attraction and repulsion from the novel vanished into nothingness. Hans, altering his course, began to hurl the structures surrounding us.

-Crunch.

Walls cloaked in shadow were yanked out, obscuring my view.

A casual flick of my sword Tirbing sliced through the air, and the menacing wall, bereft of its magic, collapsed powerlessly.

Undisturbed, Hans maneuvered the fragments of the broken wall to mount another attack, but to no avail.

Tirbing was a sword meant to slay mages, after all.

Controlled by Hans’s power, the shattered stone fragments lost their force to another swing of my blade and scattered across the ground.

As the remnants of the wall began to stir a cloud of dust, the remnants of the heretics at Hans’s side began to move.

Was this their game?

I spoke to the heretics, who were exuding killing intent.

“Is it your move now?”

A heretic knight edged closer to me. Despite being outnumbered, I felt no fear.

“Hans is your superior in rank, right? Heretics seem to be an idealistic group, judging by ability.”

I tossed a playful jest their way and, with a subtle warning, spoke to them.

“If you move, you die.”

A red aura began to rise from my fingertips. The aura, transmitted through the blackened blade of Tirbing, started to glow crimson.

As the sinister energy enveloped the sword, Tirbing began to quiver, emitting a low ‘woong’ sound.

Like a dog biting its owner, Tirbing was being insolent, attempting to corrupt its wielder’s mind with grating sounds.

“Shut up before I break you.”

At my harsh curse, Tirbing quieted down, making a ‘wooing’ sound. No matter how well-made a sword is, if it bites its owner, it’s worthless.

“If you bark one more time, I’ll melt you down.”

My sincere threat calmed Tirbing’s rebellion. The flow of magic it unleashed astounded everyone.

The heretic remnants, clutching their swords warily against the wicked magic, and…

“Madman.”

Hans, unable to keep his mouth shut.

I replied with a light smile.

“No response?”

My small provocation kicked up dust as a heretic lunged towards me. Their attacks, calm and precise despite their overwhelming might, targeted vital points with individual flair.

It was a villainous onslaught.

Each of these skilled swordsmen, coordinating their attacks, presented a formidable threat, even though I felt a vast disparity in power and remained unshaken.

If Michail or Ruin were in my place, they’d be turned into porcupines.

Tragically for them, I was neither Michail nor Ruin.

I wondered if their death warrant was signed the moment they provoked a selfish swordsman who didn’t care about the means to victory.

I sensed where the heretics were as they charged.

One above.
One behind.
Three in front.

And the culmination of Hans’s all-out magical strike.

Though I didn’t know the name of Hans’s spell, it was clear that it was a massive one aimed at sweeping me away with the heretics.

A soulless brute.

Even willing to kill his own comrades, his sense of camaraderie was non-existent.

The moment Hans’s black magic sparkled, I swung my sword, engulfed in aura, wide.

The crimson magic within the blade sliced through the air, and the sound of flesh being torn was accompanied by the ‘thud’ of heretic bodies hitting the ground, turning into dust as cold corpses.

Five bodies dropped.

Despair tinged Hans’s voice.

“You monster!”

The magic Hans had been preparing vanished into Tirbing’s blade. A shadow of futility cast upon Hans’s face as he stared at his hands.

“It’s rather harsh to call a sane person mad, don’t you think?”
“This can’t be happening. The knights of the order…”

Hans looked at me with trembling eyes, despairing the overwhelming difference in power, his head bowed, failing to achieve his goal.

I offered him some encouraging words, hoping to give him strength.

“How about dropping out of heresy and enrolling in prison? They’ll let you graduate as long as you show up.”

Attend and graduate – such a fantastical school. No need to worry about being rejected for lack of credits.

“I can pull some strings for you.”
“Shut up.”

Hans exhaled a long sigh and pushed his black horn-rimmed glasses up with his middle finger.

“You speak of consideration, and yet you act like this. It’s disappointing.”
“…”
“You don’t want to die, do you?”

Hans’s shoulders shuddered at my deadly jest.

I approached Hans, intending to retire. I thought to kill him, but for the sake of the novel’s future, I decided to let him live.

Perhaps just chopping off an arm would suffice. Or maybe crippling his magic circuit so he could never cast spells again wouldn’t be too shabby an idea.

After all, Hans was the villain in the later part of the novel who realized his mistakes and sacrificed himself to protect the protagonists.

So, I decided to spare him.

Leaving him with just enough breath.

Thud. Thud. As the shadow of death loomed over Hans, he began to struggle desperately.

He squeezed out every last drop of magic to escape the crisis, and while I felt a pang of pity for him, unfortunately, once a decision was made, it was hard to reverse.

With minimal courtesy, I asked Hans.

“Which hand do you use the most?”
“…”
“Then I’ll take both.”

“It might be best to break your magic circuit if time allows.”

Hans, facing my impassive yet deadly expression, spoke with a trembling voice.

“Shut up…!”
“Hmm. Maybe I should take both your legs.”

To prevent any future retaliation, as the black sword gleamed in the moonlight, Hans pulled out a dagger and stabbed his own finger with a grim smile.

“Next time, you die.”

Offering his finger as a sacrifice, Hans gained dark power and a black gate opened behind him.

As the black gate consumed Hans and vanished, I swung my sword to block his escape.

“You should settle your debts before leaving.”

My sword rose again.

This time, with the determination to not let him escape, I aimed for Hans’s wrist, but…

“Let’s stop there.”

An old man’s voice from behind halted me.

A familiar old face stood at the entrance of the alley. Hans, seeing the old man, began to succumb to fear as well.

The Master of the Tower.

The Tower Master stood looking at me.

“I’ll take him.”

I spoke to the Tower Master.

“That won’t do. I have an account to settle.”

A dangerous magic surged from the Tower Master’s hand.

“I’ll take him. I’ll settle the debts later.”

I exhaled deeply.

“You better keep your word.”

*

At the site of the intense battle.

After sending away Hans and the kidnapping Tower Master, I sighed deeply, looking at the gaping hole in the wall.

“Who’s going to pay for the repairs?”

“Can’t bill the heretics, and can’t bill the Tower…”

With no laws against damage caused by unauthorized organizations rioting, I looked around and muttered softly.

“Let’s just go.”

It’s better for one’s mental health not to meddle in unknown affairs. Having previous experience of property damage with the lady, I knew it was better for my wallet if there were no witnesses.

I looked around one more time and slowly approached Yuria, who was leaning against the wall, asleep.

Drunk Yuria had succumbed to sleep, unable to overcome the effects of the alcohol.

“Snore…”

Sleep well.

I had been worried that Yuria would wake up during the fight, but relieved by her deep slumber, I sighed.

“Time to go.”

As I was about to carry Yuria on my back, a familiar pain gripped my right hand.

“Ah…”

I had forgotten something momentarily.

The scars from my past, forgotten due to my increased resistance to black magic. I should have expected a backlash from using the breakthrough, but the problem had slipped my mind, given its severity.

I stealthily gazed at my right hand, feeling a stinging pain.

It was turning black.

The old scars were coming back to life.

Though they’d disappear once the penalty ended, I couldn’t predict what Yuria would say if she saw them.

Let’s just sit until the pain subsides.

I leaned against the wall, swallowing the pain.

And then…

Disturbed by a voice breaking the silence, I was stunned.

“Uh…?”

Yuria was looking at me.

With trembling eyes.