1

3 Late Fire Moon (September) 12:07 PM

“The place is behind this door. According to the assassins, there’s also an entrance in that building over there.” Standing in front of the brothel, near the same door Tsuare had been thrown out of, Sebas pointed to a structure a few doors down. Brain and Climb had been there when he’d acquired the information from the assassin, but they had never been to the brothel before, so they listened deferentially to his explanation.

“Yes, he did say that. This entrance could serve as an escape route, and they have at least two people guarding it. Maybe we should split into two teams. What if you handle the front on your own and Climb and I attack from over there?”

“I have nothing against that. What do you think, Climb?”

“No objections here, either. But Sir Unglaus, what will we do when we get inside? Search together?”

“I’d really like you to start calling me Brain. Sebas, I’d be happy if you’d do the same. As for your question…really, it’d be safer to go together, but we need to search the building as fast as we can while Sebas is keeping them occupied with the head-on attack. There might be secret passageways the assassins didn’t know about.” Then he softly added, “Sometimes there are hidden corridors that only the leaders know about,” as if he was remembering something.

“So you mean we should split up inside?”

“…If we’re going in there with an understanding of the danger, we should probably operate in a way that will give us the best results.”

Sebas and Climb nodded at Brain’s remark.

“Then since you’re stronger than me, Sir Un— Brain, do you mind if I ask that you do the search?”

“That sounds good. I’ll have you camp at the exit.”

Naturally, there was more danger awaiting the one who searched inside the building because of the higher chance he would encounter an enemy. Since Brain’s strength far surpassed Climb’s, it made sense for him to do it.

“Then we’re all set for our final preparations, right?” Sebas asked.

They had discussed a rough strategy on the way over, but there had been certain things they couldn’t decide without seeing the place. Now that they’d decided, there were no objections.

Sebas took a step forward toward the thick metal door. Climb would never be able to open it, but before Sebas, it looked as flimsy as a piece of paper.

Only a single man was going to assault the front gate, the most highly guarded area, but there was no need to worry—the one attacking was said by Brain Unglaus to be stronger than him and Gazef Stronoff put together. The only word to describe him was exceptional.

“Okay, then. Let’s go. For that entrance, according to what the man said, the sign that you’re friendly is four knocks in a row. Not that I think you’ve forgotten it but just in case.”

“Thank you.” He hadn’t forgotten, but Climb thanked Sebas.

“Then I’ll be taking prisoners to the extent possible, but if I meet resistance, I’m planning to kill without mercy. Are there any problems with that?”

Sebas was smiling kindly, but Climb’s and Brain’s spines both froze.

It was an utterly normal approach to the situation, not wrong in any way. They both thought they’d do the same under similar circumstances. What sent the fear creeping up their backs was the sense that Sebas had a dual personality.

An extremely tender gentleman and a hard-boiled warrior… Extremes of both generosity and heartlessness coexisted within him.

If they let him go in without comment, it was possible he’d kill every last person in the place.

Climb nervously addressed him. “We should try to keep needless loss of life to a minimum. We’re outnumbered, so some casualties can’t be helped, but if there is anyone who seems like one of the Eight Fingers executives, could you please do everything you can to restrain them? If we can catch and interrogate them, we can reduce the harm they can cause in the future.”

“I’m no fan of murder. It’s not as if I came here to kill everyone, so never you fear.”

His gentle smile was a relief to Climb. “Then please excuse me. Shall we get going?”

“All right then. Let’s annihilate them all at once here to buy some time.”

If they crushed this brothel, the thugs would stop interfering with Sebas, at least temporarily. If they were lucky enough to get ahold of top-secret documents, the Eight Fingers might put so much effort into dealing with that, they could very well forget about Tsuare completely.

Worst case, Sebas would buy some time and create a chance for her to escape. Or he might find some better way to handle things.

“There was that kind merchant who reached out to me in E-Rantel. I wonder if I could enlist his help…” Even if Tsuare recovered mentally, she would still probably be happier if she had someone she could trust.

Sebas faced the thick iron door once more. Remembering how Tsuare had been tossed out here before, he touched the massive door of iron-plated wood. A glance was enough to tell that it wouldn’t break down easily without some tools.

“I wonder if Climb will be all right.” He didn’t feel like he needed to worry about Brain Unglaus. Even if Brain fought Succuronte, Sebas felt he had a good chance of winning. But not Climb. Climb had next to none.

He was the one who offered his cooperation in storming the brothel, so he was surely ready for whatever would happen. Still, Sebas thought that losing his good, young life would be a waste.

“I’d like that sort of boy to live a long life…” He voiced a thought appropriate to one who had lived a long time himself. Of course, Sebas had been created elderly, so if one counted the time between his creation and the present, he would actually be younger than Climb.

“I suppose it would be much better for me to be the one to dispose of Succuronte. I hope they don’t run into him.” Sebas prayed to the Forty-One Supreme Beings for Climb’s safety.

If Succuronte was the strongest power in this facility, there was a good chance he would attack Sebas, but if he was acting as someone’s bodyguard, he might focus on protecting his charge while trying to escape.

Feeling a bit anxious, Sebas grabbed the knob and turned.

It moved a little, and then his hand stopped. Of course the door of an establishment like this would be locked.

“I’m not very good at picking locks… No way around it. I’ll have to pick it my way,” Sebas murmured with chagrin and lowered his hips. He drew his right hand back, formed a striking edge with it, and held his left hand forward. It was a collected posture with a core as solid as the trunk of a thousand-year cedar.

“Hup!”

What happened next seemed impossible.

His arm pierced through the iron door—through a hinge, at that. No, that still wasn’t all. It thrust farther and farther in, scraping along the wood and metal.

The hinge gave a scream and bid farewell to the wall.

Sebas casually opened the door that had lost all means of resistance.

“What! …The hell?!” Inside was a hallway, and at the end of it, a large bearded man stood outside a half-open door, stupid, wide-eyed, and agape.

“It was rusty, so I took the liberty of using a bit of force to open it. I recommend oiling your hinges,” Sebas addressed the man as he closed the door. Well, it would probably be more accurate to say he stood it against the frame.

As the man stood there completely stunned, Sebas moved unreservedly into the building.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“What was that noise?”

From behind the man came other male voices.

But the one looking straight at Sebas didn’t respond and addressed the terrifying visitor instead. “Uh…w-welcome?” The utterly bewildered man watched in a daze as Sebas approached him. As an employee in this sort of place, he was probably used to violence. Still, what he just witnessed was beyond the common sense he’d lived with his whole life.

Ignoring his allies’ questions, he smiled in an effort to appeal to Sebas. His survival instincts seemed to convince him that flattery would get him furthest. Or perhaps he was desperately trying to assure himself that Sebas was a butler in the service of one of their customers.

The bearded man, cheeks twitching as he forced a grin, was not a pretty sight.

Sebas smiled. It was a kind, gentle expression, but his eyes contained not the slightest hint of goodwill. Their glint was more like the mysterious, bewitching sparkle of a sword.

“Could you move, please?”

Ba-boom. Or maybe, guh-bang. A stomach-turning sound.

The robust, fully armed, grown man probably weighed a good 180 pounds. He flew to the side, spinning comically through the air at a speed human eyes could barely register. Then his body smashed into the wall with an impressive watery splat.

The building shook as if it had been pounded by a gigantic fist.

“…Shoot. If I had killed him a bit farther in, he would have made a good barricade. Well, it seems there are others in the back. I’ll just be more careful from here on out.”

Telling himself he’d better hold back, Sebas stepped around the corpse and continued down the hall.

He opened the door wide, entered the room, and scanned it with elegance. He acted less like he was invading enemy territory and more like he was taking a stroll through an empty house.

Inside were two men.

They were staring speechlessly at the crimson blossom staining the side of the hallway behind him.

It took but a moment for the reek of organs, their contents, and blood to mix with the room’s smell of cheap booze one would never find in Nazarick and create a nauseatingly unpleasant aroma.

Sebas consolidated the information he’d gathered from Tsuare and the assassins and tried to recall the layout of the building. Tsuare’s memories were in pieces, and she didn’t remember much, but she did say the real brothel was underground. The assassins had never been below, so their information wouldn’t help him past this point.

He looked at the floor, but he couldn’t find the stairs leading down. Perhaps they were ingeniously hidden?

If he couldn’t find them himself, he simply needed to ask someone who knew.

“Excuse me. I have a question…”

“Eegh!” One of the men he’d addressed shrieked hoarsely, suggesting the option to fight was already out of his mind. That put Sebas at ease. It seemed like whenever he remembered Tsuare he couldn’t hold himself back and ended up doling out instant death.

If they didn’t want to fight, breaking both their legs would be plenty.

The trembling men pressed themselves against the wall, trying to get even a little farther away from Sebas. Eyeing them emotionlessly, Sebas smiled with just his lips.

“Eegh!”

Their terror intensified. The smell of ammonia filled the room.

I guess I scared them a little too much. Sebas frowned.

One of the men’s eyes rolled, and he crumpled to the ground. The extreme stress had caused him to lose consciousness. The other man looked enviously down at him.

Sebas sighed. “I mentioned I had a question… Actually, I have some business down below. Could you tell me how to get there?”

“…Th-that’s…”

Sebas saw the fear in the man’s eyes as he hesitated to betray the organization. The assassins had been the same way. It seemed they were afraid of being ejected from the organization. Recalling the behavior of the first man he’d met, the runaway he’d given money, Sebas figured that must mean death.

As the man faltered (Should he say it? Should he not?), Sebas ended his hesitation with a single remark. “There are two mouths here—I don’t necessarily have to hear it from yours.”

The man’s forehead oozed sweat, and he shuddered. “I-i-i-it’s over there! There’s a trapdoor!”

“Over there?” Now that he knew, he saw scuffs on the floor in the area. “Aha. I thank you. And now your role is done.” Sebas smiled, and the man intuited the meaning behind his words. He turned pale and shivered.

Still, he harbored a tiny flame of hope and put it into words. “P-please…don’t k-kill me!”

“That won’t do.”

The room froze at the immediate reply. The man’s eyes bulged—the human expression of denial in the face of something unbelievable.

“But I talked, didn’t I? C’mon, I’ll do anything—just spare me!”

“That’s true, but…” Sebas let out a breath that was part sigh and shook his head. “…No.”

“You…gotta be kidding me!”

“You can believe I’m joking if you like, but there is only one outcome here.”

“…Oh gods…”

Sebas remembered how Tsuare had been when he found her, and his eyes narrowed slightly.

There was no way someone who had contributed to something so horrible had the right to make entreaties to the gods. And to Sebas, the Forty-One Supreme Beings were the gods. He felt like it was an insult to them.

“You reap what you sow.” With those words of steel, which cut off the discussion, the man sensed his impending death.

Run? Fight? The moment the choice was thrust upon him, the man unhesitatingly elected to flee.

He knew what would happen if he fought Sebas. If he ran, he had at least a sliver of a possibility of surviving. He was right to act as he did with those calculations, because as a result, his life span lasted a few seconds—no, a few fractions of a second—longer.

He darted for the door, but Sebas caught up to him in an instant and lightly spun him around. A gust of wind rushed around the man’s head, and his body collapsed like a rag doll. A sphere whapped against the wall, leaving a bloody splotch, and bounced to the floor.

A beat later, the man’s headless neck began flooding the ground with blood.

It was the technique of a god. The roundhouse aimed specifically at the man’s head and its unbelievable speed and power were awe-inspiring enough on their own, but the most horrifying part was that the shoe on the foot he’d kicked with remained spotless.

Heels clicking, he approached the man who had fainted and brought a foot down on him. Together with a sound like a dead tree snapping, his body convulsed. After several spasms, it stopped moving completely.

“If you think back on your actions up until now, it was only logical that this would happen, don’t you think? But take peace of mind from the fact that you’ve compensated with your life.”

Sebas went to collect the corpses. The bodies were mutilated in ways too horrible to behold, so by lining them up by the stairs, he could scare anyone trying to escape this way and make them think twice. That was the deterrent Sebas had thought up for the case where he wasn’t able to destroy the entrance.

After placing the corpses, Sebas stomped the trapdoor.

With the sound of metal fittings breaking, the floor opened up. The broken door made an unexpected racket bouncing and sliding down the sturdily built stairs.

“I see… If I destroy these stairs, then it will be impossible for anyone to escape this way.”

It wasn’t a very big room.

The sparsely furnished space contained a wardrobe and a bed, nothing more.

The bed wasn’t a humble affair of straw with a sheet over it but a cotton-stuffed mattress. The frame was well-made, like something a noble might use. But, favoring function over form, it had no decorative elements whatsoever.

On top of it sat a naked man.

He was likely long past middle age. His indolent physique was perhaps the aftermath of an insatiable appetite. Although his face might have been nearly average, it lost a dramatic number of points for the sagging excess flesh on top of it. Anyone who saw him would describe him as a piglike man. Pigs are by nature clever, charming animals who love beauty. But the image of the pig in this case was the basis of the word’s more insulting meaning—dim-witted, greedy, and unsanitary besides.

His name was Staffan Heivish.

He pounded his raised fist down toward the mattress.

The sound of flesh on flesh followed.

An expression of delight appeared on Staffan’s sagging face. Along with the sensation of the body warping under his hand, he felt something pleasurable creep up his spine. He shivered.

“Ooh…”

There was sticky red blood clinging to his fist as he slowly brought it up.

Staffan was on top of a naked woman.

Her face was hugely swollen, and here and there, the skin was mottled from internal bleeding. Her nose was crushed, and the blood that had run from it had coagulated there. Her lips and eyelids were seriously inflamed, and her once-pleasing features were now nowhere to be seen. The signs of internal bleeding on her body were not so bad compared to her face. The sheets around the pair were also discolored with blood.

Up until a little while ago, the woman had been desperately holding up her arms to shield her face, but they now flopped limply on the bed. The way her hair was spread out over the sheets made it look like she was floating in water.

“Hey! What’s wrong? Done already? Huh?”

It didn’t seem like she could possibly be conscious.

Staffan raised his fist and brought it down.

He slammed it into her cheek and the bone beneath it, and pain shot through his hand.

He grimaced.

“Tch! That hurt, bitch!”

In his anger, he hit her again.

The bed creaked, and there was a splorting noise. The woman’s skin, swollen like a ball, had popped, and he got blood on his fist. Fresh, thick red blood spattered the sheets, dyeing them crimson.

“…Urgh.” The woman no longer moved even when she was struck, and her body barely responded.

This was enough beating to be life-threatening. The reason she was still alive was not because Staffan was going easy on her; it was because the mattress was absorbing some of the shock. If she had been taking these blows on the hard floor, she probably would have died already.

But Staffan wasn’t hitting with all his strength because he knew about the effects of the mattress—it was because he knew that even if the woman died, it was not a problem. If he paid a certain amount for the disposal fee, the matter would be considered settled.

In fact, he’d already beaten several women to death at this establishment.

It was possible that thanks to the dent in his pocketbook from those accumulating disposal fees, Staffan might have been unconsciously holding back a little, after all.

Gazing at the woman’s body, which didn’t so much as twitch, he licked his lips.

This brothel was the best place to satisfy special kinks. In a normal brothel, this sort of thing would never be allowed. Well, maybe it would have been, but Staffan didn’t know.

It had been great when there were slaves.

Slaves were assets, so there was a tendency to view those who used them roughly with disdain, in the same way that people earned contempt for spending their fortunes in showy, wasteful ways.

But for Staffan and others with peculiar fetishes, slaves were the quickest way to satisfy their lust. With that avenue taken from him, all Staffan could do was come to a place like this for relief. What would have become of him if he hadn’t found out about this?

Unable to bear the desire, he probably would have committed a crime and been imprisoned.

He couldn’t thank the noble—his master—enough for introducing him to this brothel. Although in exchange, he had to use his authority to do his master’s illicit biddings.

“I’m grateful to you, master.”

There was a calm in his eyes. It might have been hard to believe considering his fetish and personality, but toward his master, and only his master, he was truly, deeply grateful.

But…

A flame steadily grew in the pit of his stomach—fury.

The emotion he felt toward the woman responsible for the loss of slaves as an outlet for his desire.

“That little bitch!” His face flushed with rage, and his eyes took on a bloody tinge.

He saw the face of the princess he was supposed to be serving superimposed over the woman he was straddling. He concentrated the irritation building inside him in his fist and hit her.

With the sound of flesh being pounded, fresh blood went flying.

“I wonder how amazing it would feel to crush her face…”

He punched the woman’s face again and again.

Perhaps it was due to a cut inside her mouth from the impact of his fist on a tooth, but a surprising amount of blood suddenly flooded out of her burst lip.

Now she only twitched when he hit her.

“Phew…” After the flurry of punches, Staffan’s chest was heaving. His forehead and body were covered in an oily sheen of sweat.

Staffan looked down at the woman beneath him. She’d gone past looking awful, even half-dead, and was a few steps away from lifeless. She was a puppet with broken strings.

Staffan swallowed audibly.

Nothing aroused him as much as sex with a woman beaten ragged. The more beautiful she was before the beating, the better. Nothing satisfied his sadistic hunger more than destroying beauty.

“How great would it feel to do this to her?”

He remembered the haughty face of the mistress of the house he visited earlier. She had a beauty equal to that of the princess, and the princess was said to be the loveliest woman in all the kingdom.

Of course, he knew he’d never get to do anything with a woman like that. The only women who would satisfy his fetish were the ones who had fallen far enough in life to end up in this brothel and were one step from being thrown away.

For a woman that gorgeous, one hell of a noble would have to spend one hell of a fortune to buy her and keep her locked up in his domain so word of the sale wouldn’t get out.

“I’d like to hit a woman like that someday…beat her to death.”

How fun, how satisfying that would be.

Needless to say, it was an impossible dream.

He glanced at the woman beneath him. Her bare breast was moving faintly up and down. Confirming that, he curled his lips into a nasty smile.

He clutched at her breasts, and they deformed to extremes under his grip.

She didn’t react at all. She was no longer in a state where she could register even such excessive pain. The only difference between the woman beneath him and a doll at this point was that she was soft.

But Staffan found this lack of resistance ever so slightly dissatisfying.

Help.

Forgive me.

I’m sorry.

Oh, stop.

He heard the woman’s cries again in the back of his mind.

Should I have fucked her while she was still screaming?

Feeling a hint of regret, Staffan continued kneading her chest.

Most of the women who ended up in this brothel were mentally absent, their spirits broken. Considering that, he could say the woman he’d been with today had been on the normal side.

“Was she like that, too?”

The woman he recalled was Tsuare. He didn’t want to know what fate the man who’d let her get away had met.

But he couldn’t hold back the sneer that came over his face when he thought of the butler he’d met at that mansion earlier.

The woman had been fucked by any number of men, possibly even some women and nonhumans—how could she possibly be worth protecting? It was all he could do to not burst out laughing at how that butler had seemed ready to shell out several hundred gold pieces for her.

“Now that I think of it, that runaway screamed nicely, too.” He sifted through his memories and recalled her shrieks. Yes, she’d been fairly normal for someone he’d been with at this brothel.

Staffan grinned and moved to satisfy his animal desire. He grabbed the women’s legs and spread them wide. He could see the bones in them, they were so thin, and his hands could wrap completely around them.

He shifted himself into the space of her gaping nether regions.

Then he grasped his member, now hard with desire, and—

He heard a click, and the door slowly opened.

“—The hell?!” When Staffan looked toward the door, there was an old man he’d seen somewhere before. He realized immediately who it was: the butler from that mansion.

The old man—Sebas—strode casually into the room, his steps clicking against the floor. His movements were so natural Staffan was speechless.

What is the butler from that mansion doing here? Why is he coming into this room? Faced with a situation he could not account for, his mind went blank.

Sebas stood next to Staffan. After glancing at the woman beneath him, he fixed him with a cold gaze.

“You like hitting?”

“Huh?!”

The strange atmosphere compelled Staffan to stand up and move to grab his clothes.

But Sebas went into action faster than he could.

There was a smack, and Staffan’s field of vision lurched violently.

A beat later he felt his right cheek growing hot as a throbbing pain spread across it.

He’d been hit—no, in this case slapped was the word—he finally realized.

“You pastarrrd. You think you can—”

The smack against his cheek rang out again. And it didn’t stop.

Left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right…

“Zdap it!”

Staffan was used to hitting, not being hit, and tears formed in the corners of his eyes.

He brought both hands up to guard his face as he retreated.

Both his cheeks were flushed with stinging pain.

“You pasdawd! You zink you can ged away wizzis?”

Talking made his red, swollen cheeks hurt.

“I can’t?”

“Of couwse nod! You idiod! Do you know phoo I am?”

“Merely a fool.”

Easily closing the distance Staffan had created, Sebas created the same sound from his cheek. Smack!

“Sdap it! Pleazsdap!”

Staffan shielded his cheeks like a child being beaten by a parent.

He liked violence, but the people he’d been hitting had always been helpless. Sebas may have looked like an old man, but Staffan was too scared to hit him. He couldn’t strike anyone unless he was absolutely sure they wouldn’t strike back.

Perhaps having inferred as much, Sebas seemed to lose interest in him and turned to the woman.

“This is simply awful…”

Staffan slipped past Sebas as he stood next to the woman.

“Idiod!”

His mind was feverish. What a foolish old man.

I’ll call everyone in this building, and they’ll teach him a lesson. He’s not going to get off easy after doing all this to me. I’ll give him a good dose of fear and suffering.

In the back of his mind was the butler’s master, that beautiful woman.

A subordinate’s failure is the master’s responsibility. I’ll have both master and servant take responsibility for this pain. I’ll make them understand exactly who he hit!

His flabby stomach jiggled up and down as he jumped out the door.

“Somepodyyy! Issomepody dewre?” he shouted at the top of his lungs.

If he screamed, some employee or another should have come immediately.

But that expectation was betrayed. He realized it when he went into the corridor.

It was completely silent.

Not a soul was there.

Staffan, stark naked, glanced around anxiously.

The peculiar atmosphere in the corridor—the silence—terrified him.

There were doors to either side, but it was only natural that no one would come out of those. The rooms of this establishment, for people with peculiar—or even dangerous—fetishes, were completely soundproof.

But there was no way the employees couldn’t hear him.

When he’d been led to this room earlier, he’d seen a number of them. They were all hardy, well-built men who Sebas’s old body would be no match for.

“Why awn’t you coming?”

“Because they’re either dead or unconscious,” a quiet voice responded to Staffan’s scream.

Flustered, he turned around and saw Sebas standing there with a calm expression.

“It seems like there are a few people in the back, but most of them are asleep.”

“D-dad can’d be! Dewre’s lods of people!”

“…There were three people who appeared to be employees upstairs. Ten downstairs. Then there were seven others like you.”

What is this guy going on about? Staffan’s expression asked as he stared at Sebas.

“In any case, there is no one in the vicinity who is able to come to your rescue. Even if the employees have regained consciousness, I crushed their legs and snapped their arms. All they can do is crawl around like inchworms.”

Staffan’s face registered his surprise. What Sebas was saying shouldn’t have been possible, but the oddly quiet atmosphere in the building told him it was true.

“Now then, I don’t feel any need to leave you alive. I’ll have you die here.”

He didn’t draw a blade or hold up any other weapon, nothing like that. He approached silently at a leisurely pace. Those utterly normal movements frightened Staffan. It dawned on him that Sebas was serious about killing him.

“Waid! Waid! Led’s megh a deal. You won’d wegwed id.”

“It’s hard to make out what you’re saying. A deal I won’t regret, you say? I see… I have no interest in that.”

“Why awe you doing dis?”

There is no reason for this to be happening to me. Why should I have to be killed? Finally, Staffan’s thoughts on the matter reached Sebas.

“…Think about the kinds of things you’ve done. Do you still not know?”

Staffan reflected on his behavior. Have I done something wrong?

Sebas sighed. “I see.” As the words left his mouth, his front kick slammed into Staffan’s abdomen. “So this is what being unworthy to live looks like.”

Several of Staffan’s internal organs burst, and an unbelievable amount of pain assailed him. Although one might have expected him to faint and die on the spot, he was somehow still dimly conscious.

It hurts!

It hurts!

It hurts!

He wanted to writhe around screaming, but the pain was so intense he couldn’t move.

“Go on and die like that,” a cold voice said to him.

He tried to shout, “Save me!” but his throat wouldn’t move.

Sweat ran into his eyes, and his vision blurred. Through the haze, he saw Sebas walking away.

Save me!

Save me!

If it’s money you want, I’ll give it to you—just save me!

There was no longer anyone to respond to his voiceless pleas for help.

Slowly but eventually, Staffan died in the agonizing pain coming from his abdomen.

2

3 Late Fire Moon (September) 12:12 PM

“Climb, I’m going to kill the guys upstairs. We don’t have anything to tie them up with, and if they call for help, it’ll be a pain. We could knock them out, but as long as there’s a chance they’ll wake up, it’s gonna be dangerous to take control of this place, since we know so little about it… What’s wrong?”

“Oh, uh, it’s nothing.” Climb shook his head and cleared away his anxiety. His heart was pounding as if he’d been sprinting at full speed, but he did his best to ignore it. “Please excuse me. I’m all right now. I can go anytime.”

“Are you sure? …Mm, seems like you got your game face on. You’d been acting a little weird since we got here, but now you look like a warrior. I understand you’re nervous. There are powerful enemies here who you can’t beat as you are now. But don’t worry—I’m here and so is Sebas. You focus on surviving—for the one who keeps you going.”

Brain gave Climb a hard pat on the shoulder and, blade already in hand, knocked four times on the door.

Climb gripped his sword tightly.

They heard someone clomping over and the sound of locks turning. Three of them.

The moment the door began to open, Climb acted according to their plan and yanked it as hard as he could.

Brain rushed the man faster than he could raise a puzzled shout. Climb heard the sound of flesh being severed and the thudding of something crumpling to the ground.

He jumped in a moment later.

Ahead of him, Brain was cutting down their second opponent. There was one other man in the room, with a short sword and leather armor. Climb closed the distance between them in one swoop.

“Wha—?! What’s with you, ya little shit?!” The man panicked and tried to stab Climb with his short sword, but Climb parried it easily. Then he brought his sword down from overhead in one swift motion.

The man tried to block it with his short blade, but it was certainly not going to take the weight of Climb’s entire body in that heavy blow. Climb’s sword knocked away his opponent’s weapon, sliced into his shoulder, and came out near the base of his neck.

As the fallen man groaned in pain, a profusion of blood spread across the floor, so much that one might wonder where it had all come from. The body jerked and twitched before lying still in death.

Judging it to be a fatal blow, Climb kept his momentum and forged ahead into the room while still on guard. There were no enemies lurking to bring their swords down on him. He heard Brain racing up the stairs to the second floor behind him.

All that was in the room was commonplace furniture. After confirming that, Climb ran into the next room.

One minute later…

Having inspected their respective floors and determined there were no other enemies, Climb and Brain met up at the entrance.

“I took a look around the first floor, but I didn’t get a sense anyone was there.”

“The same for the second floor. There weren’t even any beds, so no one spends the night here… There must be a secret passageway to the place where people sleep.”

“Did you find it? I doubt it would be on the second floor, but…”

“Nah, I didn’t see anything that looked like a trapdoor. But if what you said is right, then it’s down here.”

Climb and Brain exchanged glances and then examined the room.

Climb didn’t have any thief skills, so he couldn’t discover a hidden door by glancing around. If he’d had a fine powder like flour and some time to thoroughly search, he could have found the door by sprinkling it around and blowing. The powder would have collected in the door’s crack and made it easier to find. But he didn’t have any powder, and he didn’t have any time to scatter it. So he took some magic items from his pochette.

They were small handbells he’d received from Gagaran of the Blue Roses. “It’s dangerous to go adventuring without a thief, but sometimes you just have to. At times like those, having these will make a big difference,” she’d said to him. He considered the pictures drawn on the outer surfaces of the three bells and chose the one he needed. It was called the Bell of Secret Door Detection.

As Brain watched him with intense interest, he rang it once. A clear tone audible to only the owner of the item echoed throughout the room.

Responding to the bell, one corner of the floor began to glow a pale blue. It blinked as if to say, Here’s the trapdoor.

“Wow, that’s a handy item. Everything I have is for making me stronger or to use in combat.”

“Isn’t that normal for a warrior, though?”

“A warrior…”

Climb moved away from Brain and his wry grin, remembered the location of the reaction, and took a spin around the rest of the room. The effect of the item’s magic lasted only a set amount of time. He needed to investigate as thoroughly as possible before it wore off. He circled the area, but there was nothing besides the first spot.

All they had to do now was open the trapdoor and sneak inside, but Climb squinted at it. Then he sighed and took his bells back out.

This time he chose one with a different picture on it and rang it like the other one.

The tone was similar to the first’s but different: the Bell of Trap Removal.

He was being very careful. Climb didn’t have the ability to detect and disable traps, nor did he have any means to escape one were he to get caught. If they’d had a caster with them, they could treat him if he got hit with paralysis or poison, but he and Brain were only two warriors. Climb once heard that there was a martial art that granted temporary immunity to poison, but he didn’t know it, and he didn’t have an antidote. He had to consider himself out of commission if he got a bad status.

A case like that called for using a magic item without hesitation, even if it could be used only a limited number of times per day.

There came a heavy clunk from behind the trapdoor.

Climb stuck his sword in the door’s gap and pried it open.

One big corner of the wooden floor came up and clapped down onto the other side. There was a crossbow attached to the underside of the door. The tip of its quarrel shone in the light, reflecting it in a strange way different from the way plain metal would.

Climb changed positions and stared at the crossbow.

A highly viscous liquid was slathered on the tip of the bolt. It was almost certainly poisoned.

If they had carelessly opened the door, they’d have been shot with poison.

Exhaling with a bit of relief, Climb tried to see if he could take the crossbow off the door. Unfortunately, it was attached pretty well, and he would have needed tools to remove it.

Giving up on that, he peered past the door.

A fairly steep staircase led down, but he couldn’t see where, due to the angle. The stairs and their surroundings were solidly built out of stone.

“So what are you going to do? Wait here?”

“I’m not very good at indoor combat. If possible, I’d like to go down and take up a position in a more spacious area where it would be easier to fight, if there is one.”

“In a one-on-one fight, it’s to your advantage to wait at the top of the stairs, but if you end up fighting here, I might not be able to hear the commotion from farther down. And if reinforcements show up… Yeah, maybe we should skip that idea. Wanna go together, then?”

“Yes, please.”

“I’ll go in front. Follow me, but keep a little distance.”

“Understood. And about that item I used to remove the trap, I can use it up to three times per day but not in a row. I have to leave thirty minutes before I can use it again, so we can’t rely on it.”

“Gotcha. We’ll be as careful as possible. If you notice anything, let me know.”

With that, Brain stepped down into the staircase. Climb followed behind him.

Brain descended step by step, tapping each one with his katana first, just in case. At the bottom of the stairs, the floor was well-laid with cobbles, and the walls were also fortified with stone.

Several feet ahead they could see a wooden door with iron reinforcements. Brain didn’t really think there would be more than the crossbow booby-trapping this emergency escape route, but he’d heard too many stories about heavily armored warriors being rendered helpless by a single pitfall. He definitely had to avoid that.

It was only a short distance, but Brain took his time, stepping cautiously, to reach the door.

Climb stood by at the bottom of the stairs so he wouldn’t get caught up in an accident if there was one.

First, Brain poked at the door with his sword. After a few times, he seemed to make up his mind, grabbed the doorknob…and turned it. Then he stopped moving.

Climb was worried something had happened when Brain turned around and said pathetically, “…It’s locked.”

Of course it was. It made sense for the door to be locked.

“Do you have any way to open it? If not, we can break it down, but…”

“I do, actually. One moment.”

Climb rang the third handbell at the door.

They heard the faint noise of the latch opening by the power of the Bell of Unlocking.

Brain turned the knob and opened the door slightly to peek inside. “There’s no one here. I’ll go in first.”

Climb entered after Brain.

It was a large room.

Around the edges along the walls were cages and wooden boxes big enough to fit a person inside. Was it a storage room? It seemed a little too big for what was there.

Across the room was a door without a lock. Climb strained his ears and heard some noises like a faraway commotion.

Brain turned around and asked Climb, “How about here? It fits the bill for space…but you might end up having to fight multiple enemies at once.”

“If a group shows up, I’ll open the entrance door and fight near the stairs.”

“Okay. I’m gonna take a quick look and be right back. Don’t die, Climb!”

“I won’t. You be careful, too.”

“Do you mind if I borrow those items?”

“Of course not. I’m sorry I didn’t offer.” Climb handed all three bells over to Brain, and Brain tucked them into a pouch on his belt.

Then with a proper warrior-like bravery on his face, Brain said, “Okay, I’m going in,” and advanced deeper into the brothel.

Climb, on his own now, looked around the room. First, he checked to make sure there was no one hiding in the shadows of the wooden boxes and no secret passageways. It was only a warrior’s search in the end, but it didn’t seem like there were any hidden doors. Next, he examined the countless containers.

If possible, he wanted to acquire some information about other Eight Fingers facilities besides this one. If there were smuggled or otherwise illegal goods here, that would be great. Of course, a general search would be done after they’d occupied the building, but he figured he should investigate as well as he could on his own first.

There were large boxes and small ones, but he decided to approach the largest. It was probably almost seven feet to a side.

He inspected it to make sure it wasn’t booby-trapped. Of course, like before, Climb had no searching abilities, so he couldn’t even begin to pretend to be a thief.

He put his ear to the box and listened.

He didn’t think anything was shut inside it, but there was no telling what could happen in an underworld place like this. It was possible they were smuggling some kind of animal.

Unsurprisingly, he didn’t hear anything. Next, he moved to take off the lid.

It didn’t open.

It wouldn’t budge.

He scanned for something like a crowbar or a poker, but from his cursory investigation, it didn’t seem like there were any tools like that in the room.

“Oh well…”

He tried the next box, which was about three feet to a side.

This one opened with no trouble. There were all sorts of clothes inside, from simple sack dresses to garments fit for the daughters of nobles.

“What’s all this? Is there something hidden under all these clothes…? Doesn’t look like it. Is it spare clothing? This is like a laborer’s outfit, and here’s a maid uniform… What the heck is this?”

Climb racked his brain, unable to figure out what all the clothes could be for. He picked up a piece, and it seemed utterly normal. If crime was involved in some way, the only thing he could think of was that they might be stolen, but that wasn’t evidence that would let them take out the brothel.

Deciding to leave alone things he didn’t understand, he moved on to the next box, which was as big as the first. Then a loud bang suddenly echoed throughout the room.

There was no way. He’d searched every corner and made sure there was no one. Then he came upon a realization: What if someone using Invisibility was here from the very start?

Climb shivered at the thought and whirled to face the direction the noise had come from—the unopened seven-foot box. One side was flush against the wall. The side opposite that had come off.

The exposed contents were not cargo but two men. In the back was a tunnel. What should have been a wall was actually a hole. The wooden box, of course, connected to a secret passageway.

Climb blinked furiously in genuine surprise as the two men came out.

An unpleasant sweat ran down his back.

One of the men fit Sebas’s description perfectly. His name was Succuronte. He was their biggest obstacle in this infiltration mission as well as their prime candidate for capture.

One of the Six Arms, who were equivalent to adamantite-rank adventurers… Grasping a drawn blade, the enemy Climb had no chance of defeating narrowed his eyes and said, “We knew from Alarm there was an invader, so we came through the secret passageway specifically to not bump into them… I guess we should have made some other way out?”

“Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now,” the man behind him answered in a high-pitched voice.

“Hmm? I’ve seen this kid somewhere before.”

“Considering our circumstances, I’m going to be angry if you tell me you slept with him.”

“Oh, come on, Succuronte. That couldn’t be it. But I do believe he’s the little pet of the female who pisses me off more than any other in the world.”

“Oh? So he serves the princess?”

Succuronte flicked his eyes over Climb from top to bottom as if he were lapping him up.

The eyes of the man behind him were filled with unsettling lust, but Succuronte was estimating Climb’s strength as a warrior or, perhaps, like a snake, trying to judge whether this prey would fit in his mouth.

The man in back licked his lips and said to Succuronte, “I want to take him with us. What do you think?”

A chill went up Climb’s spine, and he felt a twinge in his anus. Ugh, this guy’s…

“It’ll cost extra.”

Disregarding Climb’s mental screams, Succuronte turned to face him. There had never been any openings, but now Climb was beset by the feeling he was facing a solid fortress.

Succuronte took a purposeful stride forward.

Climb took a step back from the encroaching pressure.

Perhaps this was obvious, but a fight between two clearly different powers never lasted very long. Still, Climb would have to make it happen.

If I maintain a defensive posture and focus all my efforts on blocking, I should be able to buy time till one of the others gets here.

But there was something he had to do first.

He took a deep breath.

“Heeeeelp!!!” he screamed at the top of his lungs, using up every last bit of air inside them.

Winning the battle on his own was not victory. Victory meant capturing both these men. Or to put it another way, losing either of these powerful men and their presumably ample intelligence ultimately meant a loss.

So what reason could there be for hesitating to call for help?

Succuronte’s face grew stern.

The scream gave his opponents an urgent need to finish the battle in a short amount of time. It was extremely likely that they’d pull out the big guns.

Climb continued observing their every movement.

“Coccodor, it seems it will be a bit troublesome to bring him with us. We need to settle this before he gets backup.”

“Huh? You’re one of the Six Arms, aren’t you? You can’t even knock out one little brat? The title ‘Illusion Maniac’ weeps!”

“Well, if you’re going to put it that way… I’ll do what I can, but please remember that as long as you escape, we win.”

Climb continued to stare down Succuronte, trying to figure out why he was called Illusion Maniac. He wouldn’t have a nickname that had nothing to do with his abilities. So if Climb could figure out the reason for the nickname, he might get a clue about what kind of abilities he could use. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could learn from his appearance or equipment.

He knew he was at a disadvantage, but he roared to encourage himself. “I’m protecting this door with my life! As long as I’m still standing, neither of you will leave this room!”

“We’ll know if that’s true or not soon enough—when you’re shamefully flat on the floor.”

Succuronte slowly brought his sword up.

Huh?! Climb did a double take—because the sword flickered. It wasn’t some kind of trick. The strange phenomenon ended right away, but he definitely hadn’t been seeing things.

It must be some kind of martial art…

Perhaps it had something to do with being an “illusion maniac.” In that case, he was probably already using some kind of power. Climb wasn’t off his guard, but he did need to bring it up a notch.

Succuronte charged, brandishing his sword overhead.

His technique didn’t seem worthy of an adamantite-rank adventurer. It was a little sloppier than Climb’s. Climb held his sword up to block, in line with the trajectory of the incoming blade, but a creeping sensation made him jump to the side.

Suddenly a sharp pain ran across his flank, and he was knocked back.

“Kha! Guh!”

He staggered into the wall behind him. He didn’t have time to figure out what had happened. Succuronte was already right in front of him.

He was raising his sword again like last time. Climb held his blade up to protect his head and did a diving roll to the left.

A sharp pain ran across his upper right arm.

Coming out of his nimble roll, he swung his sword behind him without bothering to look.

He sliced air.

Realizing there wouldn’t be a follow-up attack, he held his right arm and turned around. Succuronte was running for the door that led to the stairs while keeping one eye on him. Climb ignored the man’s attempt to open the door and instead focused on Coccodor. He had a hunch that this would be enough to stop Succuronte, who was responsible for Coccodor’s security—and he was right.

Succuronte’s hands stopped. He took up a position between Coccodor and Climb and clicked his tongue in frustration. Then he looked at the exit, Climb, and Coccodor in turn and grimaced. “We’re trapped! You’ll have to excuse me. I’m killing this boy here.”

“You can’t be serious! He’ll be a great asset against that little bitch if we keep him alive.”

“He tricked me. Taking up a position to protect the door, saying he’d protect it with his life…that was all part of his plan. This little brat…messed with my head!”

Yes! He bought it. So I guess they don’t know what’s going on outside this room. Now they can’t run.

With only one escort, it was a bad plan to run while Climb was still alive and able to fight. And if Climb had friends upstairs, they’d be caught in between. For the same reason, Succuronte couldn’t let Coccodor run on his own before finishing the boy off.

When Climb had immediately abandoned the door he would supposedly protect with his life and made a move toward Coccodor, Succuronte fell for the bluff. Now he was probably convinced someone was waiting on the other side to catch them in a pincer attack and capture Coccodor.

He had to have judged that the only way to escape safely was to take out Climb now. Of course, that was assuming he wasn’t aware of conditions outside the room. If he knew the truth, he would open the door and run away.

Climb, having won his bet, raised his sword against Succuronte’s growing desire to kill. “Ngh!” He had to bear the pain in his side and right upper arm. He might have had a few broken bones, but he was lucky he could still move. No, if that pervert weren’t lusting after him, he probably would have been killed. Wearing a mail shirt wasn’t enough to completely block a slice.

But what is that attack, anyway? Is he swinging again really fast? I don’t think that’s it, but then what could it be? Gazef’s face flickered across the back of Climb’s mind.

Gazef Stronoff’s original martial art, Sixfold Slash of Light, was six attacks at once. So was this some lesser version of that, like a Twofold Slash of Light?

But in that case, Succuronte’s art was a weird one where the first attack was normal speed and the second was superfast.

It doesn’t match up. If I can figure out what kind of attack it is, I should be able to do something about it… All I know is that a defensive battle is not going to go very well. Guess I should attack?

Climb swallowed hard and broke into a run. His gaze moved from Succuronte to Coccodor.

Succuronte’s face warped like he’d bitten down on something bitter.

When you’re acting as security, you hate it when the one under your protection gets targeted, even if it’s merely as a threat. I’m the same way, so I know how it goes. Executing a tactic he’d hate to have to deal with himself, he closed in. A maniac of illusions… I can imagine… Well, maybe his name is misleading…but it’s worth testing.

Once in range, he brought down his sword, but Succuronte unsurprisingly deflected it easily. Climb braced through the shock and struck again. He wasn’t swinging from overhead, so there wasn’t a ton of power behind it, but it was still enough.

Succuronte’s blade deflected his again, and Climb took some distance with a satisfied nod. “It’s an illusion, not a martial art!”

He’d felt something off the moment his sword was deflected. It felt like the block occurred a little bit in front of the blade he could see.

“Your whole right arm is an illusion. The real arm and sword are invisible!”

In other words, the sword he’d blocked had been an illusion, and the real one had cut into his flesh.

Any hint of emotion disappeared from Succuronte’s face, and he began to speak in a flat voice. “…That’s right. It’s nothing more than the combination of a spell that can make parts of things invisible and a spell that causes hallucinations. I’m an illusionist and a fencer. It’s a lame trick once you know the secret, right? You can laugh.”

There was no way he could laugh. Sure, putting it into words made it sound so simple he wondered why he hadn’t thought of it, but there was nothing scarier than an invisible sword in combat where one hit could mean death. And being able to only half see through it was as confusing as it sounded.

“Since I diversified my abilities, I might be less of a warrior than you, but…” Succuronte flourished his sword. But was that even really his arm? It was entirely possible that this was an illusion and his real arm had a dagger out and was waiting for the right time to throw.

The dread of illusion set in, and Climb broke out in a cold sweat.

“Illusionists can only use spells that belong to the illusion tree of arcane magic. In the upper tiers, some illusion attacks fool the brain to death…but I haven’t gotten there yet.”

“That seems fishy. What proof do I have that’s true?”

“Right.” Succuronte laughed. “Well, you don’t need to believe me. Anyhow, what was I trying to say? Oh yeah. Because of that, I can’t cast strengthening spells on myself and I can’t cast weakening spells on you. But can you tell the difference between illusion and reality?”

As he finished speaking, Succuronte split into multiple Succurontes. “Multiple Vision!”

One would think the real one was in the center, but there was no guarantee of that.

Why did I give time to a caster?! It was Climb’s goal to buy time, but giving a caster leeway to cast support spells was too dangerous.

Climb screamed a battle cry, used an art to boost his abilities and perception, and closed the gap between him and Succuronte all at once.

“Scintillating Scotoma!”

“Ugh!”

It was like a part of his field of vision had gone missing; however, the effect disappeared immediately. Apparently, he had successfully resisted the spell.

Charging forward, he swung his sword to mow down all the Succurontes at once, but only one of them was in range. To get them all, he’d have to be fighting at extremely close quarters. Climb wouldn’t be able to get enough momentum behind the blade at that distance.

The unlucky Succuronte fell to the side in halves, but no blood spurted out, and the sword moved smoothly through him.

“Better luck next time!”

A chill slithered up from Climb’s bowels. He was suddenly hot near his throat. He brought his left hand up to protect the hot area.

A sharp pain coursed through his hand, and he felt the awful sensation of fresh blood soaking his clothes. If he hadn’t sensed the killing urge, if he had hesitated to sacrifice his hand, his throat would have been slashed. Relieved to be alive, he gritted his teeth against the pain and swept his blade sideways.

Again, it met no resistance and slashed only air.

It can’t go on like this. Realizing that, Climb switched arts and used Evasion as he backed away. His field of vision contained the two remaining Succurontes raising their swords at the same time. Knowing that both blades were illusions, he focused all his attention in his ears.

The mail shirt he was wearing and the beating of his heart made a racket. Right now the only things he wanted to hear were the sounds of the man in front of him.

No… No… There!

It was definitely not the sound of a sword being brought down. The faint sound of something slicing through wind was approaching his face from an empty space in front of him.

He rushed to turn his head, and along with the searing sensation that streaked across his cheek, he felt his flesh being painfully torn off. A hot liquid flowed down his cheek and ran down his neck.

“There’s a fifty percent chance!”

Spitting the blood that had welled up in his mouth, Climb bet all he had on a single attack.

Because he’d used it as a shield earlier, his left arm was pure agony from the wrist down. It was possible the nerves had been severed, so he wasn’t even sure his fingers would work right. Still, if he could line them up, he could grip the hilt of his sword.

An explosion of pain coursed through him, and he grit his teeth. But his left hand moved and gripped the hilt. The limb probably felt swollen only because of the excruciating injury.

He grasped his sword tightly with both hands, mustered all the strength he could find, and brought the blade down from overhead.

Blood spurted. He felt the blade cut into something hard, and the sticky red sprayed up like a fountain. It seemed he’d nailed the real one this time.

Apparently, he’d hit a vital point, and Succuronte thudded to the floor. Climb couldn’t believe he’d won against someone said to be adamantite equivalent, but it was definitely true that the man was lying on the floor. He suppressed the joy welling up inside him and returned Coccodor’s stare.

It didn’t seem like he had the will to run away.

Perhaps because Climb had relaxed a bit, the pain in his cheek and left hand was enough to make him feel sick. “I can’t…quite call this victory.”

Taking Succuronte prisoner would have been best, but it had been impossible for him. Still, if he could capture a man escaping with the protection and assistance of the Six Arms, they should be able to get plenty of intelligence.

As he stepped forward to capture him, Climb felt something was off in the man’s expression. He seemed too composed.

Why?

At that moment, a searing sensation ripped through his abdomen.

The tension drained from his body all at once, leaving him limp as a puppet. His vision went black for a moment, and when he came to, he was on the floor. He couldn’t understand what had happened. A pain filled his abdomen, like a burning iron rod had been shoved into his stomach, and he exhaled roughly. All he could see was the floor, but then a pair of legs entered his field of vision.

“Unfortunately for you, I can’t let you win.”

Climb strained to look up, and what he saw was a nearly unscathed Succuronte.

“Fox Sleep. It’s an illusion for after you get injured. That hurt! You probably thought you’d finished me off, right?” His finger traced a straight line across his chest. It was the path Climb’s sword had followed.

Climb’s breath was coming short and rough. He could feel the blood flowing from his abdomen, soaking into his mail shirt and clothes.

I’m going to die.

Pain was tearing at his consciousness, but he frantically held on before he lost it.

If I black out, I’ll die for sure.

But even if he stayed conscious, it was only a matter of time, and the probability Succuronte would finish him off was extremely high.

He’d done battle with a man on par with an adamantite-rank adventurer. He’d probably even put up a good fight. There was nothing left to do now but give up. It meant the gap in their strength was indisputable.

But he couldn’t give up.

There was no way he could give up.

Climb clenched his teeth so hard it seemed like they would break.

He couldn’t stand to allow someone to die, or die himself, without Renner’s permission.

“Kugh! Gngh…gyngh…g…g…” Groaning and grinding his teeth, he steeled himself, although he’d almost lost to the intense pain.

I can’t die yet. There’s no way I can die yet.

He desperately remembered Renner. He wanted to go home to her today like always…

“We don’t have time for this, so I’m gonna go ahead and finish you off. Later.” Succuronte turned his sword on the groaning boy.

His prey was fatally wounded and death was only a matter of time, but Succuronte had the feeling it would be better to finish him off here once and for all.

“…Hey, why don’t we take him with us?”

“Please, Coccodor, no. There’s a good chance this brat has friends on the other side of that door. And even if we take him with us, he’ll die before we get to a safe place. Please give it up.”

“Then let’s at least bring his head. We can arrange it with some flowers and send it to that female brat.”

“Okay, okay. I guess that’s fi— Uh, whoa!” Succuronte leaped aside.

The boy had flashed his sword.

For a boy on the edge of death, it was a sharp, steady swing.

Succuronte had been gazing at his pitiful prey and its frantic resistance with contempt, but now his eyes widened.

The boy leaned on his sword and stood up.

That should have been impossible.

Succuronte had killed more people than he could count on his fingers, and in his estimation, that blow should have been fatal. The boy should not have been able to stand.

But the scene before his eyes betrayed the knowledge born of his experience oh so easily.

“H-how can you stand?”

He felt sick to his stomach. The boy was practically an undead.

Before his pale face and the long string of drool hanging down from it, Succuronte could only think he had ceased to be human.

“I ca…di…ye… I…nee…retur…avor…to…cess…R…ner…”

Faced with those strangely twinkling eyes, Succuronte caught his breath for a moment. He was afraid. He was frightened of this boy who had done the impossible.

The boy staggered, and Succuronte returned to himself. What washed over him at that moment was shame.

He couldn’t believe he, one of the Six Arms, had been afraid of a lesser opponent.

“You half-dead trash! Die already!” Succuronte charged. He was sure the boy would die if he stabbed him.

But he was taking him too lightly.

Certainly, the total gap between them was overwhelmingly obvious. However, Succuronte was an illusionist and a fencer, while Climb was a warrior. In terms of pure combat ability, Climb was no weaker than Succuronte—more than a match for him, in fact. It was only because of magic that Climb was at a disadvantage. Without magic protection, Succuronte was the weaker of the two.

His blade descended with a roar, followed by a shrill clang.

The reason it had been possible to block the boy’s overhead swing was because his movements on the brink of death were sluggish.

A cold sweat ran down Succuronte’s face.

His opponent was nearly dead. That thought had distracted him, clouded his vision, but now his eyes popped open. As a fencer, he’d trained to evade his opponents’ attacks; the reason he blocked the boy’s strike with his sword was because it was that extraordinary.

That was not the attack of a person on the verge of death. Those words flitted across Succuronte’s mind in his panic. No, his sword is actually moving faster than when he wasn’t hurt!

“What the heck? What’s with this kid?”

He was standing in another realm of combat. It wasn’t impossible, but Succuronte had never seen someone like that in real life.

It felt more like something had come undone.

“What’s going on? Are you using a magic item? A martial art?” His voice was distraught. He was cornered, unsure who was superior anymore.

What had happened to Climb? It’s simple.

Thanks to Sebas’s training, his sense of self-preservation was confused. His determination to live overlapped with the death he’d seen before him in Sebas’s training, and his brain’s limiter had come off in the same way as then to unleash hysterical strength.

The training had consisted of being shown only one move, but without it, he would have died here and now, helpless.

A hard blow sent Succuronte flying.

The shock of slamming into the floor traveled through his back and rocked his stomach. His orichalcum mail shirt absorbed some of the impact, but even so, the wind was knocked from his lungs and he couldn’t breathe for a moment.

What happened? As the one who’d received the blow, Succuronte couldn’t understand, but to Coccodor, who was standing to the side, it was obvious.

He’d been kicked.

The moment his overhead swing had been blocked, the boy had unleashed a kick at Succuronte.

Still not sure what had happened, Succuronte hurried to his feet. For fencers, who pride themselves on their agility, lying on the ground was the same as being in the jaws of death.

“Shit! This kid uses his feet! That’s not very soldierly! If he would fight by the rules…!” Succuronte whined with a click of his tongue as he rolled and rushed to steady himself.

This wasn’t the fighting cultivated by soldier training; that dirty style made this feel like a battle with an adventurer. So he couldn’t underestimate him.

Succuronte began to feel anxious.

He thought at first that it’d be an easy win, that he’d be able to kill this little brat no problem. But now he felt that confidence ebbing.

Now on his feet, he saw the dangerous-seeming boy slowly crumple to the ground and held his breath.

From the boy’s complexion, it looked like the previous exchange had expended the rest of his life. No, that was exactly what had happened. He’d exhibited the power of a candle flaring the moment before it goes out.

But now so much as a light push would probably kill him.

Succuronte felt slightly relieved to see that, but confusion and rage soon overtook him at the fact that he, one of the Six Arms, the strongest members of the Eight Fingers, could feel this cornered by a single soldier. At the fact that he’d worried at all. But now the fight was decided. All that was left was to kill him and escape.

But—

“I’ll have you stop right there.”

It seemed like he’d made it just in time.

Climb lay on the floor, his face clammy with sweat and paler than white. Nevertheless, he was still alive. But the wound in his abdomen was fatal, so he’d die if there was any delay in getting him treatment.

With no sense of relief, Brain charged into the room.

There were two men there. One seemed entirely incapable of fighting.

“Don’t worry about that shady guy. Just kill the kid!”

“He’ll charge and kill me instantly if I do that. He isn’t like that brat. I can’t win against him unless I focus and fight with all my might. If I let my guard down for an instant or get even a little distracted, it’ll be over.”

Brain understood that the one who’d replied was Succuronte. He did fit the description he’d heard. The warrior could have deduced the man’s identity from his double and blood-splattered sword alone, but now he knew for sure.

Brain walked briskly forward without a word, drawing his katana and striking in one fluid motion, but Succuronte had already jumped away. The sword sliced through nothing but air. Brain had swung it only to get him away from Climb anyway. He stepped over the fallen boy and took up a position protecting him.

“Climb, are you okay? Do you have any healing items?” he asked quickly, with no time to lose. If he didn’t have something, they’d need to come up with another plan as soon as possible.

“Agh,” he panted. “Y…ye…s.”

Brain glanced down and saw that Climb’s hand had let go of his sword and was moving. “Okay,” he answered, feeling deeply relieved. Then he turned a severe stare on Succuronte. “Starting now, I’m your opponent. I’ll be taking revenge for him.”

“Given the katana, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you’d be so confident. Those rarely find their way this far north… I’ve never even heard of one in the kingdom. Can I ask your name?”

Brain didn’t feel like answering.

He and Climb had the same objective—they were comrades. With Climb half-dead, how could he answer a question like that as if nothing had happened…? Brain suddenly wondered to himself, Was I always like this?

Hadn’t he abandoned everything besides growing stronger with a sword? He cocked his head slightly and laughed to himself. Ohhh, I see.

His heart, his dreams, his goals, his livelihood, his very way of life—it had all been broken by the monster Shalltear Bloodfallen. The boy called Climb must have wedged himself into those cracks the moment he’d earned Brain’s admiration for being able to withstand the mysterious Sebas’s brutal intent to kill when Brain himself couldn’t, despite being weaker. He’d seen the brilliance of this young soldier who had something he did not.

He stood in front of Climb and exchanged glares with Succuronte. Can I get Climb to see the same thing in me as I saw in him that time?

His old self would have burst out laughing, saying, You’ve gone soft.

He used to think that bearing the burden of another made a warrior weak. He’d thought warriors needed to be sharp.

But now he understood.

“This is another way to live… I get it, Gazef…but I may never make it to where you are.”

“Did you not hear me? How about I ask you again? What’s your name?”

“Sorry. I don’t think it’ll matter if I tell you, but sure, I’ll answer… I’m Brain Unglaus.”

Succuronte’s eyes opened wide. “What?! The Brain Unglaus?”

“No way! That’s him?! He’s not impersonating him?”

“No, Coccodor, there’s no doubt about it. A valuable weapon shows a warrior’s rank. If he’s really who he says he is, a katana makes sense.”

Brain grinned bitterly. “The fact that most of the people I’ve met today know who I am…might have made my old self happy. But now I can’t really say I care.” Succuronte’s smile of goodwill confused him, but his questions were cleared up immediately.

“Hey, Unglaus! Why don’t we quit fighting? A man of your caliber should be one of us. How about it? Want to join? I’m sure you’d be able to be one of the Six Arms. I can tell you’re that strong by looking at you. You’re the same as us. You want power, right? I can see it in your eyes.”

“…Well, you’re not wrong.”

“In that case, the Eight Fingers isn’t a bad gig. For people with strength, it’s the best place to be! You can even get your hands on powerful magic items. Check out my orichalcum mail shirt! My mythril sword! My rings! My clothes! My boots! They’re all magic! So, Brain Unglaus, join us—be one of the Six Arms with me!”

“…Is that all? Sounds lame.”

Succuronte’s face froze at Brain’s unbelievably cold, insulting answer.

“What?”

“You didn’t hear me? I said that a bunch of guys with nothing but strength doesn’t sound like such a great group.”

“Y-you bastard! …H-hmph. If that’s what you think, then you must not be so tough, either!”

“You’re right. I don’t think I’m strong. Not someone like me who’s seen a real monster.” Brain took pity on the frog sitting comfortably in his well, thinking he was powerful, and gave him a genuinely compassionate warning. “And that goes for you, too. We may be about equal—which is why I’ll warn you. We’re not that great at all.” Brain turned to check over his shoulder on Climb, who had just finished drinking a potion. “And I’ve learned something. Strength for someone else’s sake surpasses the strength of one alone.” Brain smiled. It was a friendly, pleasant smile. “Maybe it’s only sunk in a little, but I know.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about… It’s too bad, Unglaus. I can’t believe I have to kill the genius swordsman who once gave Stronoff a run for his money.”

“I wonder if you can really kill me, swinging your sword only for yourself.”

“Yeah, I can. I can kill you without breaking a sweat. I’m gonna kill you, and then I’m gonna kill that brat lying on the floor. I’m not playing anymore, and I’m not holding back. I’m going all out.”

Without taking his eyes off Succuronte, who had begun casting a spell, he cautioned Climb when he sensed movement behind him. “Don’t move, Climb. You’re not fully healed, right?”

The movement stopped.

Brain smiled and, with the same surprise he’d felt at himself earlier, said, “Leave the rest to me.”

“Thanks.”

Brain smiled instead of responding and sheathed his sword. As he lowered his hips, he flipped his sword and sheath upside down.

“Please be careful. Succuronte uses illusions. Not everything you see will be real.”

“Hrm… That does make him a tricky opponent…but that’s fine.”

Brain silently, motionlessly watched Succuronte. At some point, five images of him had appeared. Not only that, they appeared to contain magic sparks, shrouded in something like mantles of shadow.

He had no idea what kind of spells those were.

“Thanks for the prep time! Give a caster a little time and they can become even stronger than a warrior. Your defeat is certain, Unglaus!”

“Yeah, don’t mention it. Now that I talked with my friend here, I know for sure that I’m not gonna lose!”

“Shut your mouth! You didn’t move because you’re protecting that brat? How nice of you.”

He heard Climb shift on the floor.

The boy must have felt bad for giving their enemy time to cast. And that was why Brain announced, loud enough for Climb to hear, “One hit.”

“What?!”

“I said I’m finishing this in one hit, Succuronte.”

“Just try it!”

Succuronte charged at Brain with his afterimages trailing behind him.

He came into range, and Brain turned around, calmly showing Succuronte his defenseless back. Then at a godly speed, he attacked over Climb, drawing his sword with a flash into space, where there was no one.

There was a crash, and the walls shook.

Climb, from the floor, and Coccodor turned toward the source of the noise.

It was Succuronte. His body was on the ground, not so much as twitching. His sword lay nearby.

Brain’s single blow had knocked Succuronte back, slamming him into the wall with unbelievable momentum. If he hadn’t struck him with the back of his blade, he surely would have been cut in half, even with his orichalcum mail. Or so one might think after witnessing such a blow.

“…It doesn’t matter if an opponent is invisible, my martial art Domain can still detect them. Using auditory illusions to draw my attention forward while attacking from the rear… That’s a great plan, but it wasn’t going to work on me. And it was stupid of him to go for you, too. He was probably going to kill you and then say, ‘See, you couldn’t protect him,’ but he diverted too much attention from me to target you. Did he forget who he was fighting?” Brain smiled at Climb. “See? One hit!”

“Magnificent.”

Another voice’s “Magnificent” overlapped with Climb’s. The two of them were taken by surprise—it was Sebas’s voice, but that wasn’t what shocked them. They were startled at the direction it came from for a reason.

They both looked to where Coccodor had been standing and found Sebas with Coccodor crumpled up on the ground.

“When did you get here?!” Brain asked.

Sebas answered calmly. “Just now. It seems like you didn’t notice because you were both so focused on Succuronte.”

“Oh, I see…,” Brain answered, but he didn’t really think it could be possible. I was using Domain! It covers a small area, but if he ran in a straight line in front of me, he should have been in it. But I didn’t detect him…? The only one who could move like that so far was Shalltear Bloodfallen! I thought so when I felt that killing intent before, but is he on that monster’s level? Who is this guy?!

“I went ahead and saved all the prisoners. Also, apologies to Climb, but several people put up quite a bit of resistance, so I was forced to kill them. Please forgive me…but I guess I should heal him before I say all that.”

Sebas went over and put his hand to Climb’s abdomen. It was only for a moment. He’d barely touched him when he was already pulling away. But the effects were dramatic. Even with the potion, Climb’s face had been pale, but color returned immediately.

“You healed me… So you’re a priest?”

“No, I didn’t heal you with the power of the gods. I poured chi into you.”

“A monk! I see, that makes sense.” Now Brain understood why Sebas didn’t have any armor or weapons, and he gave him an affirming smile.

“What are you two planning on doing now?”

“…I’ve come this far. I’ll stay with you till this is finished.”

“Well, first I’m going to run to a guardhouse, explain what’s happened here, and see if we can get some soldiers to help us. I’d like you to hold the fort down here while I do that. But it’s possible that reinforcements from the Eight Fingers will come.”

“That sounds fine to me. But could you leave me out of your explanation? I originally came to this country for business, so I’d rather not poke my head any further into its underworld.”

“It’s fine to mention me if you want. You can tell them Stronoff will vouch for me.”

“Ah. Understood.”

3

3 Late Fire Moon (September) 7:05 PM

Climb finally returned to the castle as night began falling on the royal capital.

His wounds were completely healed, but his body was utterly exhausted. Partly from the battle, but all the things they’d had to coordinate had taken a lot of time, too. In the end, the reason things went well wasn’t because Climb was the princess’s servant but because the guards’ fear of the Eight Fingers made them indecisive. A particularly major issue was who would report the incident.

There was an extremely good chance, not just a vague worry, that the Eight Fingers would kill those responsible for this as examples. For that reason, they’d had a soldier deliver to Princess Renner a piece of paper with a summary of what had occurred and gotten her permission to list her and Climb as joint reporters.

Of course, there were downsides to this plan, but there were at least two benefits.

One, naturally, was that it would be good for Renner’s reputation.

Having her personal attendant spearhead the exposure of an organization that sullied their country, whose members were doing something as awful as slave trafficking, would earn some recognition for a princess who rarely left the palace.

The second was that it would shield Sebas and the woman he was protecting, who had been exploited by the brothel.

They didn’t seem to want attention, so by taking responsibility for the incident, Climb could conceal them from the retribution of the Eight Fingers.

I was practically useless during the raid, so I should at least do this much…

Brain had said he would explain everything to Gazef himself so Climb didn’t have to worry about it.

With all those things floating around in his head, he knocked on Renner’s door.

Really, he had permission to enter without knocking, but it was late, so he modestly refrained. One time she’d been dressed in light silk…

She understood his reasons.

Before he heard her response, he sniffed himself.

He had wiped himself down, but his nose was accustomed to the smell of blood, so he couldn’t be sure if he’d gotten rid of it or not. He had no business entering the princess’s room like this, but he urgently needed to tell her of the day’s events from his own mouth.

The most pressing issue was the women who had been held at the Eight Fingers facility. They’d been entrusted to a guardhouse for the time being, but they needed to be moved somewhere safe in the next few days. Also, some of them were injured, so they would need a priest or someone else who could cast healing magic.

Princess Renner is so kind, I’m sure she’ll lend a hand to these suffering people.

It pained him in many ways to cause trouble for his master. He found himself wishing impertinent things. If only I were stronger… The reason I have such a wonderful master, the reason I’m able to live the way I do—it’s all thanks to her… Huh? No response?

He didn’t hear anything like permission to enter.

There was no night guard in front of her door, and she was usually still awake at this time. Did she go to sleep without alerting her guard?

Climb knocked again.

This time he heard a faint voice granting him entry, so he went in, relieved. The first thing he needed to do was obvious. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

He bowed crisply.

“I was worried!” Her voice contained distinct anger. That was surprising. Climb’s master was almost never angry. Even if someone insulted her, he’d never seen her get upset. She must have been truly worried.

Enduring the heat creeping into the corners of his eyes, he kept his head down and repeated his apology.

“I was really worried! I thought maybe the Eight Fingers had made the first move and done something to you… So what in the world happened? I got your brief report, but can you give me the details?”

Climb started to talk as he stood, but Renner invited him to sit in his usual spot. Steam rose from the tea she poured out of her Warm Bottle into a cup set in front of him.

Thanking her, he raised the perfectly hot tea to his mouth and drank.

He told her everything that had happened. Of course he did—there were people he was depending on her to help.

“So what did you think when you saw them?” Renner’s first question after hearing his explanation was a strange one. But since she had asked, he had to answer.

“I felt sorry for them. I thought if I were only stronger, I could have saved them from having to suffer so much.”

“I see… So you pitied them.”

“Yes.”

“I see. You’re so kind, Climb.”

“Princess Renner, if you ever need someone to guard them, I’m prepared to go at any time.”

“…If it comes up, please do. More importantly, I should tell you: Tomorrow or the next day at the latest, we’re going to attack the Eight Fingers facilities listed on the parchment that Lakyus brought. With this raid on the brothel, the more time that goes by, the stricter their security will become.”

“My apologies! I’ve acted imprudently!”

“No, don’t worry about it. You made up my mind for me. Besides, I think very highly of your actions. We captured Succuronte, one of the Six Arms, and Coccodor, chief of the slave-trafficking division. That has to have shaken them to their foundations. That’s why I want to hit them again now.” Renner threw an adorable punch with zero speed and strength. “One more punch before the news leaves the capital!”

“Understood! I’ll go immediately to rest up for tomorrow.”

“Thanks. It’s going to be a big day. Take care.”

Climb left her room. She sensed the smell of blood abate somewhat.

“It must have been tough for you, Climb. Now, then…”

Draining the rest of her lukewarm tea, Renner stood up. Her goal was a handbell. It was a magic item that rang its linked mate in the next room when she jingled it. She brought to mind the face of the maid standing by in the next room and smiled coldly, thinking how lucky it was that she was the one on duty today.

“Oh, right, what expression should I make?” She stood before the mirror wobbling her cheeks up and down between her hands. She was human, so it wasn’t as if she could change her face by doing that. It was more like an autosuggestion.

She pulled her hands away and smiled.

“No. This is the smile I make when I see someone as the princess…” She imitated the expression and then smiled again. After trying out several different smiles, a pure, innocent one appeared on her face. “This’ll be best.”

Her preparations complete, she rang the bell.

A maid promptly knocked on the door and entered.

“I have a favor to ask. Could you boil some water for me?”

“Of course, Princess Renner.” She curtsied and smiled at Renner. “What is it? You seem in high spirits. Did something good happen?”

Now that the fish had bitten her hook, the princess smiled happily. “Oh, it’s amazing! Climb’s done the most amazing thing!” She talked like a little girl, an appropriately stupid tone for someone blabbing important information.

“That’s wonderful.” This maid wasn’t a fan of Climb, and although she tried to cleverly hide the fact, her true feelings came through.

I’ll kill her.

I’ll kill this woman, too.

I’ll kill everyone who looks down on my Climb.

Renner didn’t show that she’d noticed—because right now she was a naive princess. She wasn’t supposed to be perceptive enough to catch on to people’s malice, and she forgave the maid’s rudeness. That was the kind of simple-headed—ditzy—princess she played.

“Yes! It’s just amazing! Climb beat up some really bad guys! And he freed some people who were held captive and left them somewhere…at one of the guardhouses. Now we can punish the nobles who were working with the bad guys!”

“Is that so? Quite amazing. I’d expect nothing less from your Climb. Will you tell me more details about his amazing feats?”

Renner poured her poison into this idiot, who didn’t suspect anything because she thought the princess was a fool.

Renner held everything in the palm of her hand. She would get what she wanted.

3 Late Fire Moon (September) 10:10 PM

A mysterious group had melted into the dark of night.

Each of them was outfitted differently. They didn’t seem at all like soldiers. They most closely resembled adventurers.

Standing at the head of the group was a brawny man. Next was a delicate man and a woman dressed in light silk. Then there was a figure in a robe and, at the end of the line, someone in full plate armor.

The group was peering through an open door into a space engulfed in darkness. There was no sign of any human presence. No matter where they looked, it didn’t seem like there was anyone around.

That was strange. Certainly, all the goods inside the brothel had been carried out and taken to a guardhouse. But just because there was nothing left inside didn’t mean there shouldn’t be someone on lookout. And near the entrance on the empty street, they could see the fire of the night watch burning brightly.

The reason there was no one around regardless was because they had used their authority to keep the soldiers away temporarily.

The boulder-like man in front—Zero—cast a stern look at the fallen brothel and snarled in a hateful, low voice, “How idiotic. I suppose we’ll have to apologize to Coccodor. We lent him Succuronte of the Six Arms, and the place went down this easily. And on the same day we dispatched him…what a laugh.”

Zero sent a sharp glance over his shoulder at the snickering.

Keenly familiar with Zero’s personality, the silk-clad woman quickly spoke. “Oh, uhh, so then, what should we do, boss? Should we kill Succuronte, since he’s been caught? We can’t send brute muscle as long as he’s at a guardhouse, so we’d have to borrow some assassins from a different division… What should we do?”

“Not that. He’s a handy fellow. I’ll ask the count to have him released today… That’ll cost a fortune. Draw up a list of things the count likes.”

“What should we do about Coccodor?” the slight, delicate man asked.

“He can use his own connections. If he asks, we can pull some strings as an apology. What happened to the customer list? Do we know if the guards got ahold of it?”

“Haven’t heard anything like that. Rather, there aren’t any details yet.” The dark voice from beneath the robe carried a spine-chilling, hollow echo, as if it were emanating from an open grave.

“I’d really like to get our hands on that list. We could blackmail so many people.”

“Don’t be stupid. We’ll look even more suspicious if we get it. They’ll think the whole thing was our plan. If we find the list, we should hide it in a safe place and then return it to Coccodor later when we apologize. Besides, they write in a code that can’t be cracked so easily, so we wouldn’t be able to use it anyhow.”

The delicate man shrugged at Zero’s remark and said, “Anyhow, we’ll go in and figure that out later. If it’s there, it’s probably in a hidden safe… Still, this is crazy. How did they make this hole? Doesn’t seem like a weapon… Magic?”

“A fist.”

Everyone’s eyes gathered on Zero. He repeated himself.

“A fist? What a guy!”

“Don’t be stupid. This is nothing.” Zero interrupted the woman’s admiring words, steadied his breath, and struck at the door with his hand. His fist pierced the iron as if it were ripping through paper. He slowly withdrew it to reveal a hole like the one Sebas had made.

The delicate man opened his mouth in astonishment. “We can’t have you being the standard, boss… Anyhow, he’s strong enough to punch through an iron-reinforced door and take out Succuronte, one of the Six Arms, albeit the weakest one. I suppose we should consider this a fairly powerful enemy?”

“What are you saying? Just because Succuronte lost doesn’t mean the enemy is strong.” The voice under the hood scoffed. “Once you see through his illusions, his abilities can’t measure up to ours. He’s tough in a fight where he is clearly superior, but against someone at the same level or where he is even slightly inferior, defeat is inevitable. I believe you all knew that.”

Someone laughed quietly in agreement with that opinion, ridiculing the less powerful man.

“So keeping that in mind, I’ll ask the question: What should we do? Stay out of it? Even if we confront this, I can’t imagine the benefits can balance out the losses,” the hooded figure continued.

“Don’t be stupid.” The irrepressible anger was showing through here and there in Zero’s speech.

“If we don’t make the guy who attacked the brothel into an example by killing him, it’ll be bad for our reputation. Now’s no time to think about losses. The Six Arms need to move together to kill the raider. Undead King, Davernoch.” The figure in the robe thrust out a hand. The hand, which was not that of a living thing, contained an orb that gave off a strange aura representing the owner’s emotions.

“Spatial Slash, Peshurian.” The figure in full plate armor who had been silent up until now pounded his fist against his chest with a violent clang.

“Dancing Scimitars, Edström.” The woman dressed in light silk gave an elegant bow, and the golden bangles on her arms jangled.

“Thousand Kills, Marmvist.” The delicate man clicked his heels together.

“And me, Fighting Ogre, Zero!”

Everyone around Zero nodded in agreement or maybe understanding.

“First, let’s bail out Succuronte and the other captives and get info from them. Once that’s done…get together some guys who can perform torture. We’ll show the raiders what a hell this world can be. We’ll make them regret the foolish things they’ve done!”

3 Late Fire Moon (September) 5:42 PM

By the time Sebas finished everything and returned to the mansion, the sun was already going down.

Climb will protect women who were being held captive. Succuronte and the place’s manager have been arrested. Things are probably a mess on their end, so perhaps we’ve bought some time.

So what to do about Tsuare? He thought it would be best to take her somewhere safe, but as far as he knew, no such place existed. Sebas was worrying about all these things when he reached the mansion.

His hand stopped as he went to open the door. Someone was standing immediately behind it. The presence was Solution’s, but he couldn’t tell why she was right inside.

Some kind of emergency?

With some trepidation, Sebas opened the door. What he found was so unexpected, he froze.

“Welcome back, Master Sebas.”

It was Solution in her maid uniform.

A chill went up Sebas’s spine.

She was supposed to be acting the part of a merchant’s daughter. A human who knew nothing—Tsuare—was in the house, and she was wearing her maid uniform. That meant either she didn’t need to act anymore or there was some reason she needed to wear her maid uniform.

In the former case, it meant something had happened to Tsuare. In the latter…

“Master Sebas, Lord Ainz is waiting for you inside.”

Registering what Solution’s quiet voice had said, Sebas’s heart skipped a beat.

Sebas was unfazed before a powerful enemy or a guardian-rank being, but a visit from his master made him nervous.

“Wh-why…?” His tongue tangled on the word.

Solution only looked at him. “Master Sebas, Lord Ainz is waiting.”

Her attitude told him she had nothing else to say, and he followed after her.

His footsteps were as heavy as those of a man being led to the guillotine.