Chapter 41

It was a stab to the abdomen—a fatal wound, without a doubt. Damage to the internal organs, the resulting blood loss, and the agony that followed... none of it could be endured through sheer willpower. Even a Master-level fighter, someone close to the pinnacle, would find continuing the battle nearly impossible in that state.

“Sir Conrad!” Leon shouted and charged forward.

He yelled not only to alert him but in the hope that hearing his voice might help Conrad hang onto consciousness a little longer. Of course, the exolaw wielders weren’t deaf.

“Enemy!” one shouted.

“One? No, two! There’s another on the ceiling!”

“Then I’ll handle this brat!”

A gaunt exolaw wielder stepped in front of Leon with smug confidence. He seemed to be underestimating him because of his youthful face.

One for me, two for Karen. Looks like the ones on the ground were taken out by Sir Conrad.

Leon assessed the situation calmly. It wasn’t a bad matchup. Even with the Holy Sword, his skill level was a few steps below Karen’s. If he had to fight two on his own, there was a real chance he wouldn’t even be able to take advantage of the sword.

Karen, on the other hand, was a top-tier assassin. With her mobility, ability to dart freely across walls and ceilings, stealth attacks via shadow, and near-supernatural throwing accuracy, she could probably win a two-on-one.

The exolaw wielder in front of Leon began muttering a bizarre incantation.

“ɥɦɚøɓ! ɓɡʋʨ, ɘʃɡɘ!”

Nonsensical, grotesque syllables poured out of him in rapid succession—sounds no human vocal cords should’ve been able to produce. There was no time to interrupt it. The man's bloodshot eyes gleamed red, and dark blue mist began spilling from his mouth as he chanted.

“ɢɣɤɥɘɚɜɜ!”

With that vile cry, the mist writhed as if coming to life, then actually became something alive. The fog shifted, forming the vague silhouette of a creature Leon had never seen before.

The caster giggled as he watched it form, muttering, “

Kehehe

! Consider it an honor. For a worm like you, to be killed by a ‘Wandering Wraith’—that’s a luxurious death!”

“Luxurious,

huh

,” Leon muttered under his breath, thinking that that was his line.

A scumbag like this wasn’t worthy of the Holy Sword. If he had the choice, he would’ve hacked off those scrawny limbs, locked him in a prison cell, then marched him to the gallows, not to die here in the dark, without anyone watching—but to face condemnation, scorn, and die with every curse of the people weighing on him.

Right now, Leon’s job was to be swift and decisive. Leon launched himself from the ground.

A spray of golden Aura flared behind him as his sword raised at his side to slice through the creeping darkness as he closed in. Against this kind of exolaw, it was an almost reckless charge, but he had something, or rather someone, he trusted.

El-Cid said, —There are two types of exolaw wielders. There’s the summoner type, who call on beings or principles from outside dimensions, and the mutant type, who use their own bodies as the base for their exolaw. Neither kind is exactly sane, but the latter’s more dangerous for you. Even if you cut them down, you can’t fully eliminate them.

Why not?

—Because they’ve fused with this world. They’re no longer entirely foreign beings, so the Holy Sword’s powers won’t work as completely.

That assessment had mostly held true. The ones who relied on barriers or other tricks weren’t much—but the one who grew thorned tentacles from his own body? That guy had been a serious threat.

Knowing the two types, summoner and mutant, gave him a rough idea of the enemy’s strength. The one he was facing now was a summoner.

Without hesitation, Leon slashed straight through the mist coiling around him. The exolaw wielder sneered at the move.

“Fool! You think some second-rate Aura Weapon can stop my Wandering Wraith?”

Normally, he would’ve been right. The so-called Wandering Wraith was a warped soul—one that had drifted endlessly through dimensional gaps and gone mad with hatred and longing for the living.

Most attacks didn’t even touch spirits, and a wraith like this, displaced from its dimension, would be even harder to affect. Only Masters capable of manipulating spirit particles—or those who used the world’s purification laws, like sacred spells—could deal with them.

With a splash, the blade cleaved the Wraith in two. It had burst apart in a single strike—forcefully returned to its origin.

This was exactly what the Holy Sword had been made for. Forged by the Goddess herself, El-Cid could unilaterally expel any interdimensional intruder. Even with some of its powers dormant, as long as the sword recognized its wielder as a hero, its authority activated.

“W-what?! No... no! That’s impossible! That shouldn’t be possible! How could a cheap Aura Weapon like that defeat my exolaw summon?!”

Leon didn’t respond. He used the momentum of his strike to close the remaining gap.

The exolaw wielder’s face twisted in panic as he screamed, “ɥɦɢɣɤɥɚøɓɘɚɜɜ...!”

Another summoning—another twisted incantation. From beyond the warped space, something monstrous reached its fingers toward him, but with a clean

shluck,

it too was cut.

The being that had tried to reach through the dimensional wall screamed as its severed limb flailed, but Leon heard nothing. Whether because the thing hadn’t yet crossed the boundary, or because its voice couldn’t be perceived by human ears, he couldn’t care less.

“Die,” Leon muttered and drove his sword forward.

It pierced the barrier and plunged into the caster’s heart. Eyes wide with disbelief, the exolaw wielder vomited blood, unable to accept his fate.

There was no regeneration. The wound had canceled out the power granted by exolaw.

“Y-you... are...”

At the wielder’s final mutter, Leon gave no reply but simply nodded. Finally understanding the reason behind this outcome, the exolaw wielder dropped his head with a last breath.

“

Urgh

...”

As Leon pulled the blade free, the body collapsed and dissolved into a mound of pale ash. There was no rest for those who gave their bodies to exolaw, not even the right to be buried in this world.

At that same moment, the sound of bones breaking echoed behind him. Leon turned to see Karen watching him—and behind her, the final enemy hung limply from the ceiling, like a corpse strung up for execution.

“What the hell, you beat me? That’s embarrassing,” Karen said, scratching her head sheepishly.

“Well, maybe this guy was just weaker. Forget what I said earlier.”

If Leon had slipped and said something like, “You had the harder fight. You were fighting two-on-one,” it might’ve tipped Karen off that he knew her secret.

He renewed his caution and asked, “What about Sir Conrad?”

“This way.”

He followed her to where Conrad had collapsed, the soles of his boots squelching in a pool of blood. It was a life-threatening amount of blood loss, and Leon’s face tensed as soon as he saw it.

As the two approached, Conrad opened his eyes. It seemed he hadn’t lost consciousness.

“What an embarrassing sight I’ve shown. Forgive me,” Conrad said. “I suppose I won’t be able to continue on with you like this. Don’t mind me—go on ahead. Even if I’m late, I’ll catch up once I’ve recovered...”

“Pardon my interruption, Sir Conrad,” Leon said. “How much longer can you hold out?”

“I guess you already know.”

“A wielder of Aura like yourself unable to stop the bleeding—that tells me all I need to know.”

The more proficient one was with Aura, the more control they had over their body. They could move only the bones while leaving the muscles still or compress blood vessels without pressure to halt bleeding. If even that couldn’t be done, it meant he no longer had any energy left to spare.

“An hour, perhaps. Beyond that, I can’t say.”

It was an awkward amount of time. Would they be able to finish the raid within an hour or not? And even if they did, could they guarantee immediate medical attention afterward?

Leon hesitated. If he were truly helpless, there would be no reason to hesitate—but he had the Holy Sword. Even sealed, its accumulated power could be used to cast a holy healing spell.

El-Cid,

Leon called internally.

—Got it.

Giving Karen a small nod, Leon stepped forward. He then knelt with one hand extended reverently and recited the prayer that El-Cid had taught him.

“O Goddess, bestow the light of mercy upon one who has devoted himself to justice. Let him not shiver in the northern winds of the valley of death.”

As divine radiance poured from Leon’s palm, Conrad widened his eyes to see the light for what it was. His wounds mended rapidly, and the bleeding stopped after a few final drops.

“Are you...?” Conrad muttered with his eyes widened. This was at least bishop-level healing.

“I see... They said you were the one who planned this raid. I believe it now. And I understand why Sir Caesare places such trust in you. Are you... perhaps a cardinal candidate of the Holy Church?”

Conrad spoke with a much steadier voice than before. He was not in a state to fight, but with some rest, he’d be back on his feet in under a week.

Leon gave a strained smile to that heavy assumption. The misunderstanding that began back at the Guild just kept growing—and it wasn’t like he could come clean, either.

Conrad gave an embarrassed chuckle at Leon’s uncomfortable reaction and apologized, “I’ve repaid your grace with rudeness. It seems this is not a matter you wish to reveal. Then I, Conrad, shall remain silent until the day you rise to holy office.”

“Thank you, Sir Conrad,” Leon replied. That was all he could say for the time being.

They moved Conrad to a spot near the wall and handed him a few recovery potions before retracing their steps. A few minutes passed in silence. Leon suddenly felt a prickling sensation on his cheek.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” he asked Karen.

“Hey, is it true?” Karen asked eagerly, eyes wide. “A cardinal candidate at your age? That’s unheard of! Then again, you’ve got the Sun Aura and bishop-tier healing. And you’re ridiculously good with your Aura Weapon. Who taught you?”

“I’m not a cardinal candidate.”

“Then what? A Holy Iron Inquisitor in training? Come on, teach me something. When there’s something I want to know, I can’t get my mind off it until I find out.”

She looped her arm around his in mock affection—if he hadn’t known her real identity, Leon might’ve gotten the wrong idea. However, knowing that the infamous Keeper from the slums was clinging to him like this was... not good for his mental health.

“I’ll tell you when we get to know each other better.”

“

Ugh

, so cold! Is everyone in the Church like this? I think I’ve got a pretty nice figure, don’t you?”

The problem was that figure was honed for murder.

“No one’s falling for such a blatant honey trap, Karen. Enough joking—let’s figure out what to do next. Do we find the others, or move in on our own?”

Leon asked seriously. Though they had managed to save Conrad, they had ultimately failed in their goal of reinforcing their fighting strength.

However, Karen just smiled brightly and said, “

Oh

, we don’t need to worry about that.”

“Why not?”

“You’ll see when we get there.”

She wasn’t wrong.

When the two returned to the corridor, they found Cesare and Khan standing amid the mangled remains of four exolaw wielders. It seemed they had found each other and worked their way through the labyrinth just like Leon and Karen.

“Brother Leon!”

“What the, it’s the kids?”

Caesare and Khan were a pretty deadly combination for exolaw wielders. Caesare, with overwhelming power and sacred spells; and Khan, a brawler used to chaotic brawls and ambush tactics—no mutated exolaw wielder could stand against the two.

“I’m glad to see both of you are safe.”

Even before Cesare could finish speaking, the shadows moved.

“Both...? What... about me...?”

“We didn’t even know you were here,” Caesare replied coldly.

“

Oh

...”

The shadow drooped in visible disappointment. Nevertheless, the final meeting began, and Leon and Cesare discussed how best to fight with this lineup.

“Sir Conrad is seriously wounded. He’ll recover in an hour or two, but we don’t have that kind of time,” Leon reported.

“I see. Then we’ll go with five.”

Khan chimed in, “Hey, lady, you’re an adventurer, right? Don’t you have any magic tools or something? If you’ve got ‘em, use ‘em. You don’t wanna die hoarding stuff.”

“Look who’s talking. You gonna empty out your stash, or what? Feeding off the slums all this time, you’ve got no shame.”

“What did you just say?!”

Karen and Khan bickered like old rivals. And in truth, they were, but only Leon and Karen knew it. A hitman who made a living off contract killing, and a thug who exploited others through brute force—of course, they’d hate each other.

Fortunately, the discussion wrapped up quickly.

Cesare, with high resistance to exolaw, would lead the charge. Karen and Khan would follow behind. Leon, kept in reserve as their trump card, would take the rear and strike when the enemy least expected it.

“Hey, Keeper! What about you?” Khan snapped.

“He’ll hold his own just fine. He’s done more than his share on the way here,” Leon answered instead.

“Yeah, he’s pulled his weight.”

Karen immediately backed Leon up the moment he did. She was clearly desperate to maintain her cover.

Cesare and Khan, initially skeptical, eventually gave their grudging consent. If he didn’t listen to orders, it was better to leave him be.

Once everyone had rearmed and reorganized, the group approached the corridor entrance.

“This place reeks of ominous energy,” Khan muttered, looking at the pit of utter blackness with not even a sliver of light.

He bared his teeth as if his beastlike instincts had picked up on something. However, rather than fear, it sparked a deeper fighting spirit. His muscles tensed, ready for battle the moment they stepped through.

“We’re going in.”

With the soft light of the Moon Aura illuminating him, Cesare stepped forward, and the moment he disappeared into the corridor, the others followed.

It was time to end this wretched raid.