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Van sat in Magus’s grave, his back against the goddess statue. Curled into a ball, he clutched his hair tightly. Memories surged: times with Magus in both worlds, Amoria’s confession of love for Magus, joyful moments in the demon realm shattered by seeing Alicia with another, countless deaths and tortures by the royal knights, lonely nights, and the haunting descriptions of his passives, Dark Soul and Untrusted.

He remembered the two faces that had shown him affection, revealed as manipulations by Salem Dyke. His body shivered, tightening as he recalled Magus’s plea for visits, a chance for friendship lost to his insecurities.

Van pressed his head harder, muscles tensed, trying to shield himself from the painful memories. Despair overwhelmed him, shaking violently, blind to the world, destined to remain in perpetual shadow.

“Van…?” A soft voice pierced the gloom.

Van slowly raised his head, surrounded by an oppressive darkness.

“…Van…? I’m here…” The voice echoed once more. He scanned his surroundings, but no one appeared in his shadowy realm.

“Van… Please raise your head and look at me…” The voice continued, its plea soft and resonant amidst the silence.

Gradually, Van stood up.

His expression was blank and weary as he searched the darkness for the source of that compassionate call.

“…I am not leaving this place without you. So… Please, look at me…” The voice implored gently.
Amidst the shadows, Van noticed a tiny flicker of light. Persistent, it glowed defiantly against the overwhelming blackness.

Van stood still, observing it with curiosity, half-expecting it to extinguish.

But the light persisted, beckoning him repeatedly to raise his head and stand up, gently yet insistently, as if possessing more life than the immortal Van himself.

‘Well…’ Van mused in the darkness, his eyes fixed on the speck of light.

‘I’ve got nothing else going on… Might as well see where it leads,’ he casually said, his voice echoing in the dark realm as he began taking clumsy, weary steps towards the light.

Like a lost traveler drawn to a lighthouse, he moved through the darkness.

He then realized he was walking beside a small figure. His gaze dropped to his own hand, led by the figure’s gentle grasp, guiding him out of the depths of Magus’s grave – into the morning light outside.

Blinded by the brilliance of the sun, Van’s eyes instinctively twitched. He lowered his gaze to the person guiding him through the light.

He recognized her immediately, despite only looking at her from behind. Despite not seeing her in over 16 years, he knew who that was. It was Amoria.

Her golden hair shimmered under the clear sky, her movements so graceful it seemed as though the world itself shifted to accommodate her steps.

Suddenly, Van became aware of the birds chirping.

The wind grazed the grass below and gently caressing his bare skin.

He could smell the earth, the grass, and the flowers as they basked under the sun’s rays, with the breeze acting as a conduit, delivering the scents to him. The most dominant fragrance was the scent of chamomile emanating from Amoria’s glistening, smooth hair, mingling with the gentle lavender from her clothes.

This time, Van was certain. Certain that he had woke up from a bad dream, rather than believing he was currently in a good one.

Without any particular questions coming up in his head, or ideas for chatter… He just remained silent and followed her gentle lead obediently and casually.

Before long, Van was enveloped by the sounds and smells of the city: the chatter of passersby, the clanging of metal, the gusts of wind from people bustling past, the aromas of bread baking and meats sizzling. Guided by Amoria, he looked around, realizing he was deep within the city as he observed the buildings surrounding him.

They entered a church. Inside, Amoria gestured for him to wait and approached the altar to speak with the grand priest. Van’s gaze lingered elsewhere; he was too slow to meet her eyes. As Amoria conversed with the priest, Van, draped in a familiar black cloth, scanned his surroundings.

The grand priest, looking concerned, quickly approached Van after speaking with Amoria.

Both Amoria and the priest extended their hands towards the weary Van. He placed his palms in theirs without hesitation, led by Amoria on one side and by the priest on the other. They guided him to the altar, where the priest removed the cloth covering Van and began to pray alongside Amoria.

His body was momentarily bathed in a golden light, but as quickly as it came, it vanished—the seals on his body stubbornly remained.

Van, not fully grasping the situation, understood the basics: they had attempted to remove the seals that Salem had placed on his body. However, due to his passives, which barred divine intervention, their efforts were in vain.

‘We need a Dragonkin Priest to remove the seals,’ Van sighed internally, ‘It’s not like I wasn’t cursed before… She’s supposed to know that. Did she think it would work despite it?’ Van thought in curiosity.

The grand priest sent a remorseful look to Amoria, signaling that nothing more could be done. As Amoria sighed in frustration, the church doors burst open. Rika was seen escorting Lalyn from a distance. After she walked in, Rika disappeared from sight immediately.

Upon entering, Lalyn hesitated at the sight of Van, particularly the potent seals marking his body. Nevertheless, she continued forward, approaching the altar as Rika faded from view.

“…It seems like I made it just in time. Any longer, and they would’ve been permanently a part of him,” Lalyn murmured, her gaze lingering on Van’s weary expression.

She then shifted her attention to Amoria. “…He has no other curses bound to him?” she asked, her eyebrow raised in inquiry.

“No… None other than those runes,” Amoria replied, her tone serious.

“Amoria, focus, please. The spell I’m casting is complex. It requires one to be at peak condition. Physically, mentally, and spiritually. If it wasn’t our meatshield here, I wouldn’t dare cast it. Understand?” Lalyn emphasized, her voice stern.

Amoria flinched under Lalyn’s sharp gaze as she recalled Van at the cemetery, but before she could respond, Van cut in.

“…Whatever it is you’re trying to do…” Van interjected, his voice raspy, drawing Lalyn’s attention as she turned to face him.

“Just do it. I’ll manage. Even if I starved for weeks, I’d make it,” Van declared, his resolve clear despite the exhaustion shadowing his features.

Lalyn’s eye twitched slightly as she re-examined his weary demeanor and empty gaze. Amoria anxiously fiddled with her fingers, her eyes filled with concern as she watched the exchange.

“There’s no other curse on me besides those runes… And the passives I had when I came into this world. You need to do it fast too, don’t you?” Van added.

Lalyn clicked her tongue, her expression mixing frustration and a hidden tinge of admiration. “Fine. You’re one sturdy meatshield, after all. And, time is of the essence, so there’s no time for preparation. Brace yourself,” she instructed coolly, readying herself to cast the spell.

Lalyn then stood beside him and began to chant in the Dragon tongue. Suddenly, the head of Arlyn, her dragon, emerged from a portal, gently touching Van’s forehead.

[Van… I really wanted to spend my energy asking how you’ve been and catch up. But it seems our reunion must be brief. I will use my strength, combined with the magical power of everyone here, to unseal you.]

Van weakly nodded, his forehead still pressed against Arlyn’s. A circle of frost magic began to encircle them both.

[This method would have killed anyone else due to the extreme cold… And overwhelm their minds, driving them to insanity solely due to the intensity of this magic. Thank goodness for your resilience.] Arlyn communicated as the frost sealed the runes on his skin, causing them to gradually flake away into nonexistence.

Van looked around as the ritual continued, his expression tinged with confusion.

[Van,] Arlyn’s voice came through as the portal’s strength waned. He turned his attention back to her.

[…I sense great turmoil within you.] Arlyn commented as the Ritual neared its peak, [Dark thoughts and urges have shadowed you for a long while… I have also felt this since our days as Party members… Frankly, I do not blame you for having those thoughts and feelings, considering the situation you were put in, throughout your time in this world. Even if you were to surrender yourself to the darkness, I would be the last to judge you for it.] she began, her tone softening.

[But I am proud of you for nurturing the light in your heart, allowing it to prevail even in your darkest hours. This confirms what I’ve learned to recognize about you all those years ago… That at your core, you are a good man. One worthy to be happy.] Her voice carried warmth.

[Even if the source of your light is… eh… a little questionable… Haha,] Arlyn quipped, a faint humor slipping into her tone as she sensed the subtle influence of the Demon Lord within Van’s heart.

Van chuckled softly, surrounded by a whirlwind of ice, the cold gnawing at the runes etched into his skin.

‘Oh, I’m more than just questionable, Arlyn,’ he thought, a resigned grin curling his lips.

[Van!?] Arlyn’s voice shifted, startled by the sudden shift in his demeanor.

‘Wanna know something crazy?’ Van’s thoughts probed, locking onto the dragon’s gaze. ‘Your master—she was involved with Magus romantically. Hell, her and everyone else.’

[I… I know about that… You know I know that! I… I always thought it was strange, but as long as Master was happy, I—]

‘She was brainwashed,’ Van cut in, sneering. ‘Magus had her under his spell.’

[W-what…?] Arlyn’s mental voice wavered, the magic between them faltering.

“Something’s wrong!!!” Lalyn’s sudden outburst echoed, catching Amoria and the priest off guard.

“What’s happening?!” Amoria demanded, alarmed.

Lalyn’s face contorted with worry. “It’s Arlyn—her focus is slipping!” she shouted, panic creeping into her voice.

‘Magus had passive skills from our so-called Goddess. Skills that made every woman adore him… And I knew it all along,’ Van continued, his mind sharp and relentless.

The dragon’s expression twisted into fury, her teeth bared within the storm as she glared at him, the intensity between them mounting.

[…]

‘Well, Arlyn?’ Van thought, his resigned smile unwavering as he locked eyes with the raging dragon. ‘How’s that “light in my heart” looking to you now?’

Amoria was in the midst of her morning duties at the guild, distributing quests to incoming adventurers, while Marcilla and Misa handled orders.

“Haah… The guild is much busier today,” Amoria sighed, looking over the crowd.

“Yeah… Arutol’s corpse that’s just outside the city walls must have drawn more people to the capital,” Marcilla replied, sharing Amoria’s sense of weariness.

“News travels really fast these days…” Amoria remarked.

“Hey, did you hear what the guards who were there said?” Marcilla asked as they continued their work.

“Oh? They saw something?” Amoria inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“Heh… According to the Varolon Daily, the very respectable Sir Hicks claimed to have heard the goddess’ voice herself promising to save them. And shortly after, Arutol was sliced in half,” Marcilla recounted, her tone laced with skepticism.

“Woah…” Amoria’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I know, right? What a load of bull. Where was that divine intervention when we battled the Demon Lord?!” Marcilla scoffed.

“I wouldn’t dismiss it as nonsense, Marcy,” Amoria countered firmly.

“What…?”

“I mean, the Goddess acts differently for each of us, always with our best interests in mind…” She said, her voice slightly trailing off, uneven as her gaze flickered away briefly, “… If they genuinely believe what they’re saying, then there must be a reason behind it,” Amoria explained.

“Ahh… forgot you’re a priest for a second,” Marcilla rolled her eyes but continued her tasks.

Two teenage girls rushed in side by side, one resembling Amoria with golden hair and delicate eyes, the other mirroring Marcilla with tanned skin and sharp, rugged features.

“Mom..!!” they exclaimed. Amoria’s daughter wrapped her arms around her, while Marcilla’s daughter embraced her mother.

“Thank goodness you’re okay…!!!” Amoria’s daughter cried, nearly in tears as she clung tightly.

“I… wasn’t worried or anything… Just… wanted to make sure you don’t need anything… Especially after last night,” Marcilla’s daughter said bashfully as she hugged her mother, not quite as vocal as her friend.

Amoria and Marcilla exchanged a glance and chuckled softly at their daughters’ actions.

“Were you scared, Liz?” Amoria soothed as she stroked her daughter’s hair, smiling warmly.

“Yeah… I’m so glad you’re okay…!” Liz murmured, her voice muffled by Amoria’s shirt.

“Come on, your mom’s strong enough to take care of herself,” Marcilla reassured with a smile, holding her daughter close. “No need to be such a worrywart, Anne.”

“W-who’s worrying… I just wanted to make sure you’re okay, that’s all…” Anne mumbled, tightening her grip on her mother.

Just as the two were absorbed in comforting their daughters, the reception table’s bell rang.

Marcilla, without opening her eyes and still focused on her daughter, called out, “Give me a second here, fella…” Her voice was soft, murmuring as she reassured her child.

The bell rang again, immediately and insistently.

“Hey, pal, I told you to wait for a second!” Marcilla raised her voice, lifting her head to address the impatient visitor.

She squinted, trying to make out the figure standing across the reception table.

“M…Mika..? Is that… Really you…?” she murmured, recognition dawning as she spotted the young-looking assassin.

At the mention of Mika’s name, Amoria’s head snapped up, her eyes widening in recognition while still holding Liz close.

“Mika…!! It’s been so long…!! Y-you… You haven’t changed a bit…!! How are you? Where is Rika?” Amoria exclaimed, her voice filled with joy upon seeing Mika. Both daughters turned their heads to see the figure their mothers were addressing.

“10 years, in fact…!” Marcilla added, still in disbelief as she scrutinized Mika.

“Aunt Mika…!!” Liz and Anne exclaimed, their eyes lighting up at the sight of her.

Mika stood before them, her dark attire blending with the shadows, her expression unreadable. She held herself with a quiet stillness, hair gathered tightly in a knot, the weight of unspoken thoughts heavy in her posture.

“Where’s Rika…?” Amoria asked, leaning in as unease flickered across her features. She could sense something was off. ‘Something’s… wrong with her!’ Amoria thought, concern knotting in her chest.

“Rika is… doing a different duty at the moment… But that’s… not what’s important right now…” Mika muttered, her voice strained and her presence somber.

‘I’ve… Never seen her like this before. For her to openly show emotions… And in a public place like this… Something is clearly wrong!’ Marcilla thought, observing Mika’s expression closely.

Mika then raised her gaze to meet Amoria’s, “Amoria… I need to speak with you about… something…” Her voice trailed off.

“S-Sure..!! Speak and—” Amoria started, already attuned to the distress in Mika’s tone.

“…Alone… Please…” Mika interrupted.

“Aunt…?” The girls chimed in, picking up on her discomfort.

“Reunion… can surely… come at a later date…” Mika added urgently, her gaze lifting up; piercing into Amoria’s eyes.

Amoria’s expression hardened as she picked up on Mika’s urgency.

“Marcy…” Amoria said, turning to Marcilla.

“Right… I’ll take over until you’re finished. Since you two brats are here, you’re helping me and Misa with the customers,” Marcilla instructed, her tone firm. Without further hesitation, Amoria stepped away from the reception desk and followed Mika upstairs. They entered an unoccupied room, closing the door behind them for a private conversation.

Van clumsily trudged through the open fields, making his way back to the city.

His thoughts remained clouded from the earlier encounter. Though he could walk, breathe, and function, his mind felt heavier than ever, as if weighed down by a fog that refused to lift.

‘Haah… If not for my resistance and vigor, I’d be dead by now… he mused, glancing at the faint seals etched into his skin. I could probably keep going like this—without food, water, or sleep—for four months before it starts to kill me… even with these cursed seals binding me.’

‘I’ll need to find a Dragonkin Priest to undo these seals… Now, if I could just earn some money and find a priest at the highlands, I could probably get those—’ His thoughts were abruptly interrupted as he stumbled upon something, crushing it with a loud booming noise.

Van slowly looked down to see what he had trampled.

It was a concrete grave marker.

‘Ah… I’ve stumbled into the capital’s graveyard… I let my mind wander too much,’ He realized as he looked around, surrounded by thousands of graves.

He sighed, ‘It’s going to take a while to get out of this place…’ He thought, frustrated as he continued walking, carefully avoiding the other graves.

As he moved deeper into the graveyard, the graves became more orderly, neat, and clean.

‘Yep. Pecking order, even among the dead,’ He mused as he navigated.

Near the exit of the graveyard, a tall building blocked his path. He had to circle around it.

‘What’s this…? Too elegant and regal to be a morgue…’ He wondered as he walked around it.

‘Holy damn, I think this is a grave… What kind of person gets a church-sized grave…!? Who did this person impress to get a grave this big!?’ He thought to himself as he came full circle to look at the name carved at the front of the church-sized tomb.

Van froze as he read the name engraved on it.

‘What is the meaning of this…?’ He thought, his eyes widening as he saw the words:

||HERE LIES A LOVING HUSBAND, FATHER… AND A FRIEND. THE HERO, MAGUS VEIL||, with the date of passing listed as two years ago.

“What the fuck!?” Van’s eyebrow shot up, his expression more animated as he leaned in, double-checking the sign, making sure he hadn’t misread it.

“Don’t bullshit me! HE’S NOT DEAD! What the FUCK IS THIS!? No one could kill…!” As the words spilled from his mouth, memories he had tried to bury clawed their way to the surface.

A memory of Magus’s hand trembling as he reached out, desperately touching Van’s.
A memory of Magus begging him not to leave.

‘Why the FUCK am I remembering this now!? What does this have to do with anything!? He ain’t dead! He CAN’T be dead! He’s the strongest guy in the universe—NO ONE could kill him!’ Van thought, his breath hitching as the fog in his mind churned violently, building into a storm.

“Oh…? A visitor at the Hero’s grave this early? Greetings. I am the attendant of this—” a calm, elderly voice remarked as its owner approached… Before being aggressively cut off by Van.

“HEY, OLD MAN!” Van snapped, jerking around at the mention of the grave, startling the figure. The old man wore black, ragged robes, his slow, slouched movements deliberate and measured. He glanced back at Van, taking in the sight of the furious young man who had called out to him with such force and intensity. Unease stirred within him.

“What’s the meaning of this bullshit!?” Van snarled, his vision swimming with rage. “WHERE’S MAGUS VEIL!?”

“Haah… Another one of these fanatics,” the old man muttered under his breath, exasperated. His eyes drifted over Van’s body, mistaking the seals etched into his skin for tattoos. Yet, he couldn’t help but notice the sharp definition of Van’s physique—muscles sculpted for both strength and agility.

The unease within him deepened as he continued to scrutinize the enraged youth.

‘Just in case… I’ll prepare a binding spell. I may be past my prime, but I am an A-Rank Sorcerer. Few humans could face me head-on,’ the old man thought, slipping his hand beneath his robe. Glowing binds spiraled from his palm, wrapping around it, ready to strike. He aimed the spell directly at Van.

Once more, he scrutinized the young man. ‘So, he’s reliant on physical strength? The build of a Knight… I will never be toppled by a Knight. Except maybe Marcilla Veil or Greatknight Sir Nickelson…’

“Begone, ruffian,” the old man said, standing his ground as his eyebrows furrowed. “I shan’t entertain your fanaticism, nor will I allow you near this grave if that is your intent. Leave now, or face judgment,” he declared, his tone stern as his gaze locked on Van.

Van’s breath grew heavy, a low growl rising from his throat as his grip on sanity slipped. The haze in his mind churned violently, dragging him deeper into the storm of rage. “I am not… in the mood,” Van muttered darkly. “Answer me… immediately… OR ELSE…!!! What is the meaning of this!?” His teeth clenched, his fist tightening until the air around it began to hum and vibrate with pressure.

“Tsk, tsk… Dismissive of your elders and issuing threats?” The old man sneered, shifting his weight. Beneath his robe, his fingers flexed, channeling the spell. ‘It’s locked onto his vile aura… It won’t matter how fast he is—he’ll never avoid it.’

Without hesitation, the old man fired the spell. “YOU SHALL BE PUT IN YOUR PLACE BY MY HAN—”

The words barely left his mouth when the spell shot toward Van. But Van moved—blindingly fast. The glowing binds struck his body, but they ricocheted off him harmlessly, as if his very presence rejected the magic.

Before the old man could even comprehend what had happened, Van was already upon him. His hand shot out and clamped onto the old man’s throat with terrifying force, whipping his head backward with a brutal snap.

“GAAAAHH!!” The old man coughed up blood, his eyes widening in disbelief.
‘He… deflected it…!? No, he didn’t even need to do anything… His resistance is simply… Way, WAY too high! I MISCALCULATED—!’ The thought raced through his mind in panic as Van slammed him into the ground with crushing force, the impact forming a small crater. The old man gasped, coughing more blood as the world around him spun.

“I am seriously… not in the mood for games, old man,” Van growled, glaring into his eyes with seething rage.

‘W-Who… Who is this!? Not even Sir Nickelson is this strong!’ the old man thought, his vision swimming as Van’s hand pinned him down. Terror seeped into his bones.

“Right now,” Van snarled, his voice low and menacing, “I used my other hand to stop your head from smashing into the cobblestone. I won’t do it… a second time.” His grip trembled, his fingers stained with the old man’s blood as they tightened around his neck.

The old man looked up at Van, dread filling his eyes. He gasped softly, thoughts scrambling.
‘You mean to tell me… He even held back…? Who… who IS this person…!?’

“Answer me,” Van demanded, his voice rising with fury. “Why is there a grave for Magus Veil!? That harem fucker couldn’t have died, not with all his overpowering skills! WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!? WHO KILLED HIM!?” Van bellowed, the storm in his mind raging uncontrollably.

Panic fully gripped the old man now. His survival instinct kicked in—there was no room for hesitation. He knew: if he wanted to live, he had to answer.

And fast.

The words formed in his mind, truth tangled with disbelief. The story the entire kingdom knew, the one whispered in disbelief and sorrow.

“S-… Su…”

“Suicide!” the old man finally stammered, the word slipping weakly from his lips.

Van’s face paled instantly, the word triggering a memory he’d long buried.

A fleeting image of Magus—forcing a smile during their last encounter sixteen years ago.
His solemn words echoing in Van’s mind.
“Come visit me when you can, alright?”

“N-no…” Van whispered, the air catching in his throat.

“No…”

“H-he…” His voice wavered.

“He wouldn’t…”

“He… has a harem… W-why would he…” Van stammered, his grip on the old man weakening until his hands slipped free entirely. He staggered backward, unsteady on his feet, the haze of disbelief clouding his mind.

Clumsily, Van rose to his feet, each step heavy and unsteady. His body swayed as he staggered toward the grand grave of Magus Veil, drawn as if hoping—praying—for answers that couldn’t possibly be true.

Behind him, the old man exhaled sharply, relief washing over him. He leaned back, coughing out the remaining blood until his breath began to steady.

But then, something caught his eye.

‘Wait… Those markings on his back… They’re seals…! Ridiculously powerful ones, too…’ His thoughts raced as recognition flooded in. ‘It’s been so long since I’ve seen these that I almost forgot…! Those seals—meant to bind ancient dragons—not people! With those on him, he shouldn’t even be able to breathe, much less perform physical feats like that…!’

The old man’s eyes widened in disbelief, his pulse quickening.

“Hey… Harem bastard…!” Van called out, as the old man struggled to his feet. Van’s voice echoed across the quiet graveyard, cutting through the stillness. With trembling legs, the old man followed Van, who made his way toward the towering, church-sized grave.

In the midst of the church-sized grave, rows of statues lined the path leading to an imposing statue of the Goddess cradling a concrete coffin.

“F-found you… You stupid fucker… You girlfriend stealer…!!! You died to… You did that just to shag the goddess too, right!!!? You’re actually alive down there, aren’t you? Fooling everyone while she milks you dry, huh!?!!? Nah, I bet you ain’t even there!! Exploring the world to expand your harem, BRAINWASHING SOME MORE INNOCENT GIRLS!!!” Van shouted, his voice echoing within the walls of Magus’s monumental grave as he advanced towards the coffin.

The old man struggled to his feet, his mind urging him to call for security, yet his instincts propelled him to follow Van inside.

He entered, watching Van stride towards Magus’s grave.

“HEY…!!! YOU FUCK…!!! WAKE UP!!! YOUR BEST FRIEND JUST CAME TO VISIT YOU…!!! WAKE THE FUCK UP!!!! WHERE’S YOUR MANNERS, YOU FUCKBOY!!!?” Van bellowed at the top of his lungs.

‘Best friend…? No way… Is this young man…’ the old man pondered in astonishment as he observed Van with a mix of curiosity and awe; the earlier uneasiness beginning to fade the more he looks at Van’s rawness.

Van then placed both hands on the concrete lid of the coffin, forcefully sending it flying through the grave’s window. He peered inside.

“FOUND YOU, YOU SON OF A BITCH…!!!” He yelled, leaning over the coffin with a manic smile, looking at the perfectly preserved body of his best friend, dressed in his hero uniform, appearing as if he were in his 40s or 30s, with his eyelids closed, as if merely sleeping.

“Haha… You fucker. You really fooled everyone, huh..?!” His voice cracked as he lightly slapped his friend’s cheek.

“Come on… Wake up…!” He whispered with a strained smile.

“Young man… Or should I say… Van Hellix…” The old man called softly as he approached from behind, “Magus Veil… The hero… is dea—”

“SHUT UP!!!” Van roared, still facing the corpse.

“You’re fucking blind, old man…!!! One foot in the grave does that to people, huh!?” He shouted as he turned, his eyes filled with denial, meeting the old man’s sympathetic gaze.

“LOOK AT HIM!! LOOK!!” He screamed, signaling the old man to inspect the dead body more closely, “HE’S SLEEPING!! HE’S JUST SLEEPING WHILE THE GODDESS SUCKS HIM OFF IN HER HEAVEN OR WHATEVER!!! LOOK AT THAT SMILE!!! LOOK AT HIM..!!! HE’S HAVING THE TIME OF HIS LIFE…!!!” Van reasoned, frantically pointing at the deceased Magus.

The old man’s gaze merely softened as he observed Van.

“THAT SELFISH BASTARD WON’T WAKE UP EVEN TO GREET HIS BEST FRIEND WHO CAME TO VISIT HIM AFTER 16 YEARS….!!! HERE… IF I SLAP SOME SENSE INTO HIM, HE’LL JOLT RIGHT BACK UP…!!” Van argued, turning swiftly to Magus, repeatedly slapping his cheek.

“Wake up, bitch!” he called as he slapped him, each hit slightly harder than the last.

“Young man… Cease this…” the old man implored softly.

“I SAID WAKE UP…!!!” Van screamed, his hand crashing down with a brutal slap. A sickening snap echoed through the grave as Magus’s neck jerked violently to the side. Yet, his closed eyes and serene smile remained unchanged, undisturbed by the force.

The sound froze Van in place. He stumbled backward, his legs giving way as he tripped and collapsed onto the cold floor, his gaze locked on the lifeless body inside the coffin, disbelief etched into every inch of his face.

The old man stood nearby, watching in silence. His stern gaze softened.

“Young man…? I think you should—” he began, stepping closer, his hand reaching out gently to offer comfort.

“Leave me alone…!!” Van muttered, swatting the old man’s hand away without looking up, his eyes wide and unblinking, fixed on the grave.

“Youn—”

“LEAVEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!” Van roared, his voice shattering the stillness as his trembling gaze remained glued to the open coffin.

His voice lowered to a whisper, breaking under the weight of his emotions. “Just… leave me alone… Please… Just this once… let things go my way… in this fucking world… Let me have what I want… for a change…” He curled into himself, wrapping his arms tightly around his knees, burying his face against them. His uneven, ragged breaths warmed his skin, each exhale trembling with despair.

The old man stood quietly for a moment, realizing that no words could reach Van in his grief. With a solemn nod, he bowed his head and stepped back.

He turned and walked away, his footsteps slow and measured, the soft echo fading into the distance. And with that, the old man left Van alone in the Hero’s Grave—alone with the weight of what could never be undone.

Van turned to Mika and Rika, feeling a surge of control as he looked at their submitted expressions. Their eyes that yearn for his command.

‘Now then… These two… I…’

Van swallowed hard, as that sense of control began to overwhelm him.

‘…I have control over them… I can ensure… every day is like earlier. No one will know, I can hide the slave mark. I could have a woman cook for me every day… while being embraced by the other… No complaints… No pain… No arguing…’

Van clenched his fist tightly.

‘No betrayal… EVER AGAIN.’ He thought, the emptiness in his eyes igniting with a frenzied flame as he envisioned a perpetual bliss with Mika and Rika, while flashes of Amoria’s confession and the sight of Alicia in another’s embrace haunted his mind.

‘That… That could work. That could actually work..!’ His thoughts raced frantically, his breath heavy with burgeoning lust and possessiveness…

Yet…

Like a beacon in the darkness, the memory of Alicia and Varlog’s smile pierced through the shadows of his mind, dispelling the sinister thoughts swirling within.

Just then, nausea and disgust welled up inside his stomach as he recalled what he almost did to the enslaved Mika and Rika just now. Van rushed aside and vomited, as if purging the dark desire from his being.

His expression returned to one of hollow emptiness as he wiped away the last traces of bile.

Clumsily rising to his feet, Van walked around the room, his steps echoing softly against the blood-stained cobblestones. He found two clean large cloths scattered about and picked them up, bringing them to Mika and Rika, who were still topless.

He draped the cloths over each of them, one after the other.

“Now then… Mika, Rika,” he muttered shakily, looking into their eyes.

“…I order you to tell me the incantation that would grant each of you the ownership of your own slave marks,” He instructed, his voice raspy, exhausted.

‘Rather than freeing them just like that… I’ll… I’ll make sure that they can’t be controlled ever again…’

‘…Even by me, if I ever lose my mind… Like… Earlier.’

Without delay, Rika began to answer

“Yes…”

“-Master. To grant Mika ownership of Mika’s own separate mark, chant…”

“-Sifuruah, Malovus, Mika Dyke Re Mika Dyke. This makes Mika…”

“-Her own master.”

“For Rika, it is…”

“-Sifuruah, Malovus, Rika Dyke Re Rika Dyke.”

“With these incantations, each of us will…”

“-Regain our free will and still…”

“-Retain the slave mark.”

They concluded.

‘…Just to make sure…’

“Does this have any benefit for you?” Van asked, his tone flat.

Without hesitation, Mika replied.

“Yes, it will…”

“-Ensure that neither of us…”

“-Will be susceptible to…”

“-Rebranding, effectively making us…”

“-Immune to any further attempts at branding us…”

“-Again.”

Van internalized this information. ‘So, it does act like a permanent Passive that shields them from further slave branding while also granting them freedom. Good…’

“Alright…” Van inhaled deeply.

“Sifuruah, Malovus, Mika Dyke Re Mika Dyke,” he chanted with clarity.

“Sifuruah, Malovus, Rika Dyke Re Rika Dyke,” he repeated for Rika.

Gradually, he watched as a spark returned to their eyes. They crumbled to the ground, their knees buckling under the weight of newfound freedom, speechless as they looked up at Van.

Van observed their reactions, interpreting their silence as fear. He immediately looked away in shame.

‘Of course, they’re scared… I was about to use them as slaves again… And after using the demonic tongue… They probably can only think of how to escape me,’ Van thought, mistaking their overwhelming emotions for terror as he looked at his bloodstained hand.

However, tears of relief began streaming down their faces as they choked on words of gratitude that they couldn’t quite articulate, freed from a decade-long captivity.

“V-…”

“-a..”

“-n…” They stammered, their voices cracking and weak as they sat, breathless.

‘…I better leave. It seems like they’re about to pass out from the stress… Well, it’s not as if I actually want to stay here with them anymore… Good to actually know the feeling is mutual this time around,’ Van mused, his face marked by defeat and emptiness as he climbed the stairs out of the cellar.

Mika and Rika both reached out towards Van, their hands trembling with a genuine desire to embrace him, but their strength failed them, and their voices faltered. As they tried to shout, pleading with him not to leave, they collapsed to the floor in unison. Despite their desperate attempts, their pleas went unheard as Van continued up the stairs and out of the cellar door.

Van found himself in a secluded, run-down cabin in the middle of open fields just nearby the inner capital city.

“Just in case, I’ll watch from a distance. I want to ensure they make it out safely without any interference,” Van said coolly as he hurried to a remote spot and sat down, waiting to see if the duo would leave the cellar.

Two hours later, the door briefly opened, and the two of them emerged together. Their expressions were unreadable from afar. After a moment, they vanished from sight.

‘Looks like they used their skill to disappear… Alright,’ Van thought, sighing in relief.

‘I haven’t thought about it when I met them… But they looked really young, just as they did back then… I wonder how?’ He pondered.

‘Best not to dwell on it… At least they made it out,’ he thought as he started to walk away.

‘…I was seriously about to use them as my slaves… even though they were captives for 10 years, subjected to that pig’s every whim… I’m…’

‘…The worst.’ He concluded, feeling nausea build up once again. He then bent over, vomiting at the thought.

As the sun began to rise above him, casting long shadows across the fields and illuminating the path ahead, Van’s solitary figure stood stark against the dawn light. Clad only in canvas pants, he remained topless under the warming rays of the early sun.

Mutah glanced at Salem, clearly puzzled.

“Huh? Must not have been deep enough. Press it harder, MUTAH!!” Salem commanded, his tone firm.

Mutah then turned to Van, pressing the seal onto him once again with even more force. Yet, the seal dissipated immediately upon placement, just as before.

“…What the..!?” Salem uttered in disbelief, while Van maintained his stoic demeanor.

“Salem Dyke, was it..?” Van said with a deep sigh as he effortlessly pulled apart the chains binding him.

Both the orc and Salem stared in shock. Mika and Rika clung to their master as Van casually stood up, his body still covered with runes intended to seal his prime strength.

“Your appraiser died for nothing…” Van stated softly, his voice flat as he looked down.

“MUTAH!!! KILL HIM!!!!” Salem screamed at his orc servant.

In a frenzy, Mutah swung his iron staff. But before he could complete the movement, Van reached out and snapped his neck as if it were brittle twigs. In an instant, the orc fell to the ground, the slave mark still present onto his now lifeless body.

“I-IMPOSSIBLE..!!! H-HOW!!!? I SEALED YOU!!! EVEN WITH OVER 200 STRENGTH AND RESISTANCE, THERE WAS NO WAY YOU COULD HAVE BROKEN FREE FROM THAT AND RESISTED THE SLAVE MARK!!!!! WHAT ILLUSORY TRICK IS THIS…!!?” Salem shouted, collapsing to the ground as the two master assassins still embraced him.

Van looked down, his expression weary, defeated, and hollow.

“Misinformation. No more, no less. Your appraiser was just wrong about my stats, that’s all,” he reasoned, his steps measured as he slowly walked toward Salem.

“HE COULDN’T…!!! HE COULDN’T HAVE BEEN WRONG!!! HE SACRIFICED HIS LIFE ESSENCE TO MEASURE YOUR STATS!!! YOUR RESISTANCE PEAKED AT 999!!! I AM CERTAIN OF IT!!!” Salem continued, his voice trembling as he shivered.

“Yep… It definitely showed 999… I won’t deny that one,” Van replied, looming over Salem as the two looked up at him in disbelief.

“…But that’s because 999 was all it could show.” Van continued, a somber smile crossing his face.

Salem’s face went pale as Van’s figure suddenly seemed as tall and grand as the horizon, unreachable for mere mortals. Van brought up his status window, glancing at it briefly.

“Hmm… Those runes did take a lot of my stats though… If it weren’t for them, my Resistance stat would have been well over 15,000…” He murmured, eyeing his stats:

VIG: 999 (+9521) [HYPER SEALED]

STR: 999 (+6252) [HYPER SEALED]

RES: 999 (+7876) [HYPER SEALED]

DEX: … [HYPER SEALED]

MANA: … [HYPER SEALED]

….

.

Salem’s jaw dropped as Van revealed the true extent of his stats. His grip on Mika and Rika loosened, and in his terror, he lost control, urine staining his robes uncontrollably.

‘Even with these stats, Alicia killed me like it was nothing. So, they just kept rising every time I died at her hands… Honestly, I also expected the stats to peak at 999. But then they just… Didn’t,’ Van mused internally, reflecting on his continual resurrection and growth.

‘And when I killed that dragon… The stats increased even more due to the huge leap in my level…’

‘That makes sense, I guess.’ He concluded calmly.

“Ah… Ah…!” Salem stuttered, his words caught in his throat, too weak to even move his eyelids.

‘H-have… I… A-angered… A-a… God…?!’ He thought in utter disbelief, trembling as his hair seemed to whiten in real time, his breaths short and panicked.

“I shall give you that, however; I’m nowhere near as knowledgeable about runes and magic… Or life essence as you are, nor about traps and drugs as these two,” Van continued. His voice was hollow and weary as he briefly glanced at Mika and Rika.

“I… I… I-I Apologize…!! I… I shall grant you everything that you want…!! J-JUST SPARE ME..!!! SPARE MY SOUL, OH… DEAR GOD…!!” Salem’s voice quivered with fear.

‘Not even the holiest of runes could stop him… The goddess herself would need to intervene to even the odds..!!’ he thought, cowering in fear.

Van looked at him calmly.

“…Fine. I will spare you. I give you my word…” He said with an empty smile as he addressed the trio.

Relief began to wash over Salem.

“…But I would appreciate if you were honest with me now. Mika and Rika… I see no slave marks on them. Stop the deceit and make those slave marks visible,” Van instructed him calmly.

‘Despite how these two will never be doing anything for me out of their free will, they’re not the type to bow for a pig like that. They’re better than that,’ Van thought, determined.

‘H-he knew..!! He knew they were slaves despite the lack of the SLAVE MARK!!! N-No… It must just be a hunch of his…!! I cannot let him take away… MY KITTENS….!!’ Salem thought in panic, recalling how he had branded Mika and Rika slightly over 10 years ago.

“T-THEY REALLY ARE NOT MY SLAVES!! AS THE TWO BEST MASTER ASSASSINS AND INTELLIGENCE OFFICERS OF MY DEPARTMENT, THEY ARE JUST THIS LOYAL T-TO ME!!! I KNOW, I KNOW!!! I SHALL MAKE YOU THE DEPARTMENT HEAD OFFICER!!! THEN, THEY WILL BE COMMITTED TO YOU—” He argued desperately, sweat streaming down his face, as Mika and Rika clung tightly to their master.

But Van then started to squeeze Salem’s foot with his palm, slowly; Salem began to scream in agony.

“I asked you to be honest…” He muttered with a tired sigh.

‘Well, he wouldn’t be the department lead if he was a blabbermouth; spilling secrets like that just because I threatened him a little,’ He reasoned.

‘Hmm… I suppose that will work…?’ Van mused, recalling Varlog’s demon-tongue lessons.

Van then began to speak in a dark demonic tongue, and the entire room seemed to darken, shadows dancing ominously around them. 

“I shall… indulge in beverages… while eating lettuce… with your lifeless chicken, I shall send a dark prayer as I converse with the… Architecture of the embers downward spiral. Ensuring you… feed me garlic through each cycle for all maternal as you ride on the way of the soup and be reborn as one of eggs and rice… That is… Unless you tell me the truth, thus saving your sinful human barley.”

Van intoned in the foreign language as he crushed his foot. Blood began spurting out as Salem roared in agony and tears.

‘T-This… is… Demonic tongue…!!! Even *I* Have limited knowledge…!! How does he know this language…!?’ Salem thought, his expression—and that of Mika and Rika—darkening. They could feel their life essence being forcibly extracted as they listened to the demonic incantations.

‘Demons would never teach their tongue to a mere human… He must be in league with the Queen of Darkness herself… A demonic god!’

Van then resumed speaking in his normal tone. “Unless you wish this curse to befall you for all eternity… I command thee to be honest with me,” he demanded as he applied further pressure to his foot, bones now protruding grotesquely as blood gushed out like a fountain.

In desperation, Mika and Rika leapt up and unleashed their full arsenal on Van—kunai, poisonous smoke, and drugs—while their master screamed in unbearable agony.

“Mika… Rika…” Van mumbled, seemingly defeated and exhausted, yet unaffected by their onslaught.

‘Good… Good, my kittens…!! You just need to stun him as you did earlier… That actually worked on this monster… Then we will run… run as far as we can… I will use all of my contacts to hide from… from this… evil god…’ Salem thought desperately, clinging to a flicker of hope as Van maintained his grip on his mutilated foot.

“…The reason your drug worked on me earlier…” he mumbled, his voice tinged with sadness.

“Was because I allowed it to,” he concluded, indifferent to their continuing attacks, inhaling the poisonous gas and absorbing the drugs.

“It was because I chose to let go… Because I genuinely believed you wished to be with me,” he said quietly, even as they persisted in their assault.

“But don’t you worry,” he added, lifting his head slightly.

“…I don’t repeat my mistakes, remember?”

“…And trusting you actually give a shit about me is something I’ll never repeat.” Van asserted firmly, intensifying the pressure on Salem’s foot while beginning to grasp the other.

Mika and Rika’s faces twitched ever so slightly, their expressions reflecting a mix of sorrow and guilt, unnoticed by Van. Despite this, compelled by their master’s commands, they continued their assault on him.

Salem was on the brink of fainting from the intense pain.

“Now… Salem Dyke. Be honest. And if you pass out, you will wake up in the embers below…” Van warned coolly.

This jolted Salem back to alertness.

“M-MIKA, RIKA…!!! USE YOUR ADRENALINE DRUG ON ME…!!! MAKE SURE I STAY CONSCIOUS NO MATTER WHAT!!!” He screamed desperately.

They immediately ceased their attacks and rushed to his side. Mika supported his head, while Rika gently administered the adrenaline drug, pouring the liquid into his mouth.

Revitalized by the adrenaline, Salem’s pain momentarily subsided, sharpening his focus.

“Now… Do as I ask,” Van commanded.

“Appeuhurs, Vark Melaver!!” He chanted in a commanding tone. Instantly, slave marks appeared on their chests.

Van observed Rika and Mika, noting the slave crests now visible on their bare chests.

“I… I WILL GIVE YOU OWNERSHIP OF THESE TWO KITTENS… J-JUST SPARE MY LIFE…!!” He pleaded in agony.

Van merely met his gaze and nodded silently.

“…S… Sifuruah, Malovus… Mika Dyke Te… Rika Dyke… Re Van Hellix..!!” Salem muttered reluctantly and remorsefully. Moments later, Mika and Rika’s gaze shifted from Salem to Van.

“Do I now have ownership of these two?” Van asked, noting the change in their focus.

“Y-YES… S-SINCE DEMONS ARE BEINGS OF THEIR WORD… Y-YOU PROMISED… YOU WOULDN’T KILL ME…!! THESE KITTENS… A-ARE NOW YOURS… YOUR KITTENS…” Salem muttered, frowning as tears welled up in his eyes, like a child weeping over lost toys.

“Yeah,” Van acknowledged,

“I did promise that.” He stood up and approached Salem, who sighed in relief.

And then Van stomped on his head. Salem’s head burst upon impact, scattering like a watermelon smashed with excessive force.

The slave mark on Mutah’s body then dissipated alongside Salem’s death.

‘…I often hoped that my adventures with Magus would be filled with nothing but excitement, like something out of an Isekai story. Unfortunately, reality hit hard, and we found ourselves in situations where we had to kill others to survive. I had never taken a life until I teamed up with Magus. Accepting killing as a necessary part of this world was a grim reality we had to face to keep moving forward. As for the curse, I’m pretty sure I spewed nonsense. Despite that… I still hope that pig ended up in hell.’

After giving Salem a final, weary, and hollow gaze, Van turned to Mika and Rika, who were once again focused entirely on him.

“…Now then…”

Van was then led to the dining table by Rika, feeling dizzy and weary. 

‘To think… I’d grow this weak… from crying too much… They really do know my weaknesses, huh…?’ He thought, managing a weak chuckle as he sat down, a juicy steak placed before his groggy eyes.

“Are you… not eating with me…?” he asked weakly, noticing that Rika and Mika were just sitting beside him, watching intently without touching their food. His voice faded as his body felt heavier with each passing moment.

“No, we…”

“-are not hungry,” they muttered reluctantly after exchanging a glance.

“I see… Then… I’ll help myself…” he murmured, too weak to even lift his head. He gingerly picked up the fork and knife, cut a piece from the steak, and looked at it.

‘It smells so good… Has anyone ever done something like this for me…?’ he wondered. Then, a memory flashed through his mind—dining with Varlog and his family at his and his wife’s 582nd anniversary.

“Ha… Ha…” He chuckled softly before eating the piece, savoring every chew and swallowing it, smiling at the memory.

‘Why… Did I forget… I… t…’

After swallowing, he no longer had the strength to hold himself up and slumped onto the table. ‘Haah… So… Tired…’ he thought as his vision blurred.

Then, from the shadows, a snickering figure emerged.

“Hehehe… Good job…” A fat man appeared from behind Rika and Mika as they looked downward, a blank expression on their faces. “My little kittens~…” he leered.

‘The… Fuck…’ Van thought, his consciousness fading entirely.

Indeed, no matter how strong one is, vulnerability remains.

Van awoke groggily, a moment seeming to stretch. The first thing he saw was a dark circle drawn around his body in a red room. As he lifted his gaze, he noticed he was bound by black metal chains that dangled from the ceiling, his body forced into a kneeling position. Odd symbols and rune markings were inscribed all over his skin.

While Van was not deeply versed in the Arcane, he recognized these markings for what they were—potent magical and physical seals.

With his mind still clearing from the fog of unconsciousness, Van scanned his surroundings. He spotted a muscular orc, shirtless with a distinctive mark on his chest, standing nearby, eyeing him with a piercing gaze.

Van understood immediately—the mark was a slave mark. He met the orc’s menacing look with a calm, weary gaze of his own, noting the slave branding iron staff in his hand.

“Oh, awake are we~… Mr. Hellix..” A lecherous voice echoed through the room from beside him. Van turned his head to see a corpulent man with a mustache seated on a plush velvet chair. Flanking him were Rika and Mika, scantily clad from the waist up, attending to him with feline-like affection, licking at his throat and face.

Van observed the scene impassively, his expression unreadable.

“Oh, like what you see, Mr. Hellix?” He taunted as he slammed his palms onto the butts of the two women, pulling them closer to himself. Van, however, offered no reaction.

The fat man’s expression turned to one of frustration upon noticing Van’s indifference. “Who are you?” Van asked calmly, his voice still hoarse from fainting.

“Hmph. I suppose introductions are in order. I am Salem Dyke… The Royal Capital’s greatest Runemaster… And Shadow Lord,” he proclaimed proudly, rising from his seat and approaching Van with a sneer.

‘Shadow Lord… That explains their affiliation to him, I suppose,’ Van reasoned internally.

“And right now,” Salem continued, standing so close that his crotch was almost in Van’s face—a show of blatant disrespect. Van continued to gaze into the man’s eyes, his expression unchanging and blank.

“…you are going to be my personal slave. After Mutah here brands you with a high-quality slave mark that not even a mighty Dragon as Arutol himself could resist…”

“I see. I suppose those runes around me are to ensure that I can’t resist or escape, huh?” Van commented dryly.

Salem clicked his tongue at Van’s ambivalent response. “…I understand where your sense of assurance comes from, Mr. Hellix. We had you appraised by my trusted associate. Your high level of 207 and peak stats of 999 in Vigor, Strength, and Resistance are indeed terrifying—it actually killed the appraiser when he assessed your stats solely due to the magic it required.” Salem explained.

‘207…? Hm. My level increased quite a lot after killing that dragon…’

“…I instructed him to sacrifice his life essence to appraise you, so at least he got the job done before he croaked. Thanks to you, I have to find a new appraiser. One might say you are now stronger than your former best friend, Mr. Veil who, at his prime, reached the max level of 500, with his stats averaging over 800…” His eyebrow twitched in annoyance at the mention of the name as he began pacing back and forth.

“…Also considering you destroyed Arutol in a single strike… You are a force to be reckoned with,” he added.

“But such strength… And your loathsome passive Untrusted must’ve been granted to you by our dear Goddess to balance a being such as yourself, giving you such a pathetic weakness…”

‘Arutol… The Dragon’s name, huh…? He knew I killed it? I guess that’s the intelligence department for you.’

“…Such as the pathetic, fleeting warmth of a woman’s touch.” He concluded, his lips curling into a wicked smile, mirrored by the orc standing beside him.

Van glanced at the sisters, maintaining his gaze on them. Their expressions were blank as they stared back at him.

“Oh? Quite fond of these two, aren’t you?” Salem mocked, noticing Van’s focused attention. He walked toward the sisters again.

“My cute kittens, loyal to me for over 10 years now… Despite that, they even went out of their way to warn you when you first met them. Told you how you can still be caught off-guard, even with prowess like yours when I ordered them to seduce you as best as they could to catch you off your guard… Isn’t that sweet?” He said, spreading his arms wide. Without a word, the sisters ran to his side, embracing him more intensely than they had embraced Van.

“They told me everything about you… Your weaknesses, how you pathetically donned your helmet to avoid seeing them with your best friend, how your friend took your dear little girlfriend… Everything. Aren’t they loyal to their master, spilling these delicious secrets…?” He sneered, watching Van for any reaction.

Salem’s frustration grew as he failed to elicit any response from the stoic Van.
He forced a chuckle.

“But seriously… your resistance was just too high. They had to drug you constantly for hours with the most potent sedatives, all magically enhanced. They’ve been doing that since you met today. No matter how high your resistance, constantly inhaling that drug was bound to take you down eventually.”

“…I see,” Van muttered blankly, his gaze dropping.

“I see? That’s it!? Do you not grasp your situation!?” Salem snapped, his grip tightening on Mika and Rika’s shoulders, causing them slight discomfort.

“Thanks to these runes, your colossal stats have been reduced to merely a fifth of their usual strength, AND THAT’S BEING RIDICULOUSLY GENEROUS!!! I METICULOUSLY PLANNED FOR YOU TO BARELY BE ALIVE WITH THOSE SEALS!!! And the resistance you need to resist the slave mark is 700! And after you’re branded, even if you somehow break these runic seals, you will still bear the mark and be my slave FOREVER!! EVEN AFTER YOU DIE AND RESPAWN, SINCE THE SLAVE MARK BINDS ITSELF TO YOUR SOUL!!!” He shouted, his voice echoing with triumph and anger.

Van held Salem’s gaze evenly. 

“…Okay,” he muttered nonchalantly.

“Tsk. I guess these kittens of mine broke your spirit to this extent, huh…? Do not worry. I shall ‘discipline’ them shortly~…” Salem said with a leer as he turned, Mika and Rika in his embrace, and began walking away.

“Mutah, brand him. After he’s branded, you may do as you please with him as your reward. He shall be beneath you in the chain of command. His punishment for boring me,” Salem instructed while walking away.

The towering orc smirked lecherously, the branding staff hovering an inch from Van’s chest.
As Van observed the staff, he murmured calmly,

“Before you brand me…” His words caused Salem and Mutah to pause in their tracks.

“May I ask Mika and Rika one final question…?” he asked softly, yet with firmness. Mutah turned to Salem, seeking permission through a silent exchange of glances.

“…Whatever. I shall allow this as your last act as a free man,” Salem conceded dismissively.
Van turned to Mika and Rika.

“Was… Anything of what you said… Or did… Was any of it… Genuine?” he asked, his voice low, eyes flickering with a mix of hope and resignation.

Salem chuckled darkly as he grasped their bare breasts. “Answer truthfully now,” he commanded.

After a brief pause, they responded:

“No… None of what…” 

“-We said…” 

“-or did, was out of…” 

“-concern for your…” 

“-well-being.” 

“It was all for the sake of…”

“-our beloved husband…”

“-And master…”

“-Salem,” they finished, clinging tightly to him.

Van took a moment to look at their bare chests, noting the absence of any slave mark that might compel their loyalty.

——Flashback—— 

“-You make our times better,”

“..Please don’t leave,” Rika mumbled as she embraced him tightly.

—————————–

“I understand… So, it was all an act. Alright,” Van replied, his voice trailing off as he looked down.

“Heh. Carry on, Mutah,” Salem instructed, signaling Mutah to proceed with the branding.
Van then looked to the ceiling.

“As I thought… Of course it was just that. After all…” Van murmured as the hot brand touched his skin. The orc snickered triumphantly as he applied the staff, embedding the seal onto Van’s chest…

…But then the mark instantly dissipated into thin air.

“… I don’t have a passive that makes you care about me,” Van concluded, his tone melancholic yet empty.

“W-what!?” the orc exclaimed in confusion as the mark vanished immediately after it was placed.

“Are you…”

“-Feeling better now…”

“-Van?” They asked in unison, settling next to Van on a secluded bench.

Van remained silent, overwhelmed and still processing the unexpected depth of emotion from their encounter.

“Or do you need…”

“-To be held a bit longer…?” They offered gently, noticing his stillness. Van slowly turned towards them, his helmet obscuring his face, but not his vulnerability.

“We’re here…”

“-With no reservations if you need…”

“-To feel our closeness…”

“-without the physical barriers we don.”

Van maintained his gaze, thunderstruck in his suit of armor.

“…What if I said yes?” His voice broke slightly, the earlier tears still heavy in his tone.

“Then we would…”

“-Be honored to provide…”

“-Your solace.” They responded softly, ready to offer him the comfort he scarcely admitted needing.

‘Honored…? To… be intimate with… me…?’ Van thought, his mind teetering on the edge of disbelief, half-convinced he was dreaming.

“W-wait…” Van stuttered, feeling his heart rate spike at the prospect of a closer encounter with the two as he breathed heavily, yet weakly as his strength began to elude him.

“Y-you have… Magus…” Van managed to say, his voice low, the mention of Magus causing a subtle twitch from the sisters.

“Speaking of which… I came to visit him as well as you two… Do you know where he’s staying? So that… I might visit…?” he added, trying to navigate the sudden spike of his feelings and their implications.

The two exchanged a brief glance.

“That can…”

“-Wait until tomorrow, you…”

“-Must be tired.”

“How about you…”

“-Stay with us tonight, and…”

“-We’ll take you to…”

“-Magus tomorrow?” The two offered as they extended their hands toward Van, inviting him to follow.

He stared at their outstretched hands, his emotions swirling inside as his heart yearned for closeness.

‘Magus… Is… Is this what you felt when Milina died…? Is this what you experienced when you were comforted by Amoria…?’ Van pondered, his thoughts deepening as he placed his hands in theirs, allowing them to lead him away.

‘Because… If this is what you felt… If this is what Amoria made you feel… Then…’

‘…Frankly, while it made me sad… And angry… I don’t blame you for taking her away from me.’

He concluded, surrendering to the moment, fully entrusting himself to Mika and Rika’s care.

Without taking note of his surroundings, Van soon found himself in a cozy, enclosed space, almost as if he had teleported there with Mika and Rika. 

‘There are so many things I want to discuss with them… Right..?’

“H-hey…” Van began weakly, but Mika and Rika quickly took the initiative.

“-I shall prepare a meal…” Mika started.

“-While I’ll hold you on our sofa,” Rika finished for her.

Van fell silent, lacking the energy to offer any suggestions. He simply nodded softly, allowing Rika to guide him as Mika hurried off to the kitchen.

“Shall I help you remove your armor?” Rika offered, reaching towards his helmet. Van twitched slightly, hesitantly halting her hand.

“Do… you wish to keep this on?” she asked gently.

Van met her gaze, then slowly lowered his arms, giving her permission to help him remove his helmet.

Rika’s eyes widened in surprise as she lifted the helmet off while Van settled onto the sofa.

“You look…”

“-Exactly the same…” they both whispered in unison. Van could almost hear the genuine astonishment in their voices as they took in his face, unchanged from sixteen years ago.

“It really is..”

“-you, Van,” they murmured, glancing at each other in bewildered frustration.

Van’s voice dropped even lower, almost a whisper, “Are you… disappointed with this face?” he asked, looking down.

Rika shook her head, her expression earnest. 

“We just wish to…”

“-Have met you at…”

“-A less hectic time,” they finished together, their brows knitted in concern.

“I see… W-would you like to talk about it?” Van asked, noting their furrowed brows.

‘Seeing them this troubled… Two women trained to mask their emotions… Have they grown out of their old habits, or is there truly that much weighing on their minds these days? And yet, they still make such an effort for me… I had no idea I meant so much to them…’ Van reflected, feeling a deep sense of humility.

‘I feel as if I’m intruding… It must be that,’ Van concluded.

“I… Could come back at a better time,” Van muttered, beginning to stand. Rika quickly moved to his side, pressing her weight against him, her face hidden as she leaned against his chest armor.

“You are..”

“-Making our time better…”

“-Right now, so…”

“-Please don’t leave,” they pleaded. Rika’s weight on Van felt heavier than any burden he had carried so far. He found himself sinking back into the sofa.

‘I have never seen them this vulnerable. Only around Magus, maybe… Am I really that cherished in their eyes?’

He pondered as Rika gently removed the armor he wore, and the scent of a delicious meal prepared by Mika began to fill the room. Once his armor was off, he was left sitting on the sofa in his undershirt, unsure where to look or what to say, his eyes cast downward.

Rika then gently lifted his chin with her palm, urging him to meet her gaze.

“You have the eyes of someone… Who is alien to this kind of warmth,” Rika murmured softly.

Van shyly looked away, unable to hold her intense gaze.

“Have you not…”

“-Met anyone who could introduce you…”

“-To this kind of closeness…”

“-In the past sixteen years…”

“-Since we’ve been apart?” they gently inquired.

Van’s eyes drifted to his thigh, noticing Rika’s tender caress. He remained silent for a moment.

‘…Not even Alicia gave me something like that… It was only something I dreamed that she would sometimes do with me… But… She chose to do that with…!’ He thought in frustration as he recalled her in the embrace of another.

‘… Even as just a scheme… It still hurt,’

He sighed as he looked into Rika’s curious eyes. Letting his frustration and anger drown in her gaze.

“I… have that passive after all. No helping it, I guess…” He whispered, his voice barely audible as Rika then pressed her body against his armourless self, unannounced. He gasped in shock.

“Your body is.. Warm…” Rika whispered as she clutched her arms around him, closing her eyes as she savored this closeness.

He could sense the individual strands of Rika’s smooth black hair rustling on his chest, the odd friction of her rough, yet gentle fingertips as they pressed against his skin. The natural dampness of her eyelids grazing against himself. The tickling sensation of her nose nuzzling against his abdomen, and the tease of her soft lips brushing him as she pinned her head onto him.
Once more, he felt tears welling up in his throat.

“It must have been..”

“-difficult being…”

“-this lonely.” They chimed. A hammer that once more broke the dam of tears in his eyes.

‘Damn these two, saying what they like. I’m not some lost dog…!! I’m not…! I had friends…’

He gritted his teeth in defiance before loosening his body once more as he looked down.

‘… Just friends…’

And as Van wrestled with his thoughts, another order slipped through. A figure concealed in the shadows observed, a wicked sneer curling across his lips as he whispered,

“Very good, my kittens… Keep it up. Keep releasing that drug. Even someone like him will break eventually. Just keep cuddling up to him… like you know best.”

Mika and Rika both twitched, their stomachs churning with revulsion. Yet their chests burned painfully, the slave mark flickering to life, etched faintly into their skin—a grim reminder of the punishment that awaited any defiance.

And so, they silenced the rebellion in their hearts…

…and continued as commanded.

“Hah… Well, now what…?” Van mumbled to himself as he leaned under a bridge.

“At this rate, I’ll become an overnight sensation. Saved the city from that comically large dragon, then a damsel in distress, what next, fighting a horde of assassins sent my way—” Just as he mused that, two kunai-shaped knives clanged against his helmet from seemingly nowhere.

‘I did not mean that literally,’ Van sighed internally as he dodged more incoming kunai with narrow escapes.

‘Too tight a space. I can’t see where they’re thrown from, so they must have high Dex and higher perception than mine… I need to get outside to the moonlight to see better, and..’
Van noted the moonlit exit from under the bridge—the only path clear of the barrage of kunai.

‘Yes… That way’s clear. Now I can—’

——-FLASHBACK——–

“Remember…”

“-Meatshield…” The sisters chimed in.

“If you’re being…”

“-Overwhelmed by attacks, and you see a way out in your panic…”

“-That’s a feint. That is usually where the deadliest trap awaits you because when you are in panic…”

“-You can’t really see anything. Your sight, at that point, is controlled by your enemy, so..”

“-Stay on your guard.”

——————————–

“Right. The way outside is most likely a feint, so I shouldn’t go there.” Van thought to himself, yet he straightened his posture and calmly walked that way anyway.

‘But that was relevant back when such attacks could actually hurt me. Did I forget my +999 STR/RES/VIG Stats..? Those kunai need to be shot by someone like Magus or the Goddess, or Alicia for them to actually damage me.’ He thought as the kunai simply bounced off his armor while he casually strolled outside.

“Alright…! I’ll—” Van started, but his words were abruptly cut off as a massive boulder crashed down upon him, completely engulfing him.

Two shadowy figures approached the scene.

“That wasn’t…”

“-Van Hellix…”

“Yes. Van actually…”

“-Learned from our lessons and…”

“-Never repeated his mistakes…” The shadowy sisters finished each other’s sentences with practiced ease.

“We need to…”

“-Report this intruder to Master, and—”

Their discussion was suddenly interrupted by a voice emanating from within the debris.

“Ah… So nostalgic hearing you two talk like that,” the voice said, momentarily catching the sisters off guard. Moments later, the boulder exploded outward, its fragments hurtling in all directions except toward the sisters. Van then stepped out from the remains of his stony prison, casually dusting himself off.

“I did learn from your lessons. I saw that panicky way out just like you told me and noticed it before I actually fell for it, but there was just no point in applying your lesson right now. You couldn’t have hurt me if you tried, so there’s that.” He said as he turned to the two, only to see them vanish from sight.

“Aaaaaaand they’re gone. Of course,” Van groaned in exasperation.

“The one—well, two—friendly and familiar faces I come across, and you just run off? Come on..” Van exclaimed as he turned around, only to find himself alone.

‘Ahh, screw it. They’re already gone, so…’

“You know, I’ve been feeling quite lonely these past few days, and I could REALLY use a hug from my TWO favorite instructors…!” he said, spreading his arms wide.

‘Hah, always wanted to act like an overpowered Chuck Norris in front of assassin ninjas that came to kill me.’ He chuckled to himself, his voice carrying a hint of genuine loneliness.

‘Well… Whatever. I better keep moving.’ He thought as he lowered his gaze, and then gradually lowering his arms, ‘Maybe I’ll see them again?’ he thought, closing his eyes and keeping his arms wide open.

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted as he felt two slender, feminine figures press tightly against his body from both sides out of nowhere.

‘…’

‘What…?’

 Van stood frozen, thunderstruck, as the two nuzzled their faces against his armor.

‘Am I being… Hugged, right now…? F-for real…?’ he thought, too stunned to speak.

“Van, you can…” one of the sisters began, her voice still cold and mechanical, yet now there was an unexpected softness that Van had never noticed before.

“-Never know if we could hurt you for real. It doesn’t matter how…”

“-Strong you become… There’s always someone who can…”

“-Hurt you… So, please…”

“-Be careful for us.”

“-Be careful for us.”

The sisters echoed each other, reinforcing their concern in unison.

As the two sisters softly voiced their concerns, Van felt an unfamiliar wetness fill his eyes, and soon a tear streamed down his cheek.

‘What…?’ He thought to himself, puzzled by his own reaction.

‘Why does this make me feel… so… Warm?’

“C-can… I… uh…” Van stammered, his voice catching with emotion as his arms remained extended in the air.

“You may…”

“-Place your hands on our bodies…”

“-As well,” they said softly, their embrace still tight around him.

Van gasped softly, overwhelmed by the moment as he slowly lowered his hands onto the two, gently resting them there.

“….”

His breath was shaky, trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible, aware that their heightened senses would catch every subtle sound.

‘D-damn it…’ he thought, repeatedly swallowing whenever he felt a tightness at his throat; as if resisting an outburst of emotion that may breach his exterior. ‘Why are they… Being so weird…’

…Yet at the back of their minds, a specific order lingered, gnawing at them as they bit their lips, hidden from view. They made certain that Van wouldn’t notice…

But just as Mel’s face lowered in defeat, with the spirit laughing triumphantly above the roar of the flames, a sudden, loud whooshing noise reverberated from the spirit’s palm.

In an instant, the fiery hand vanished into thin air. When she looked again, she saw Van standing unharmed, his palm raised upwards as if he had just completed a swinging motion. An intense burst of hot wind flew toward her, the force of Van’s swing so powerful that it felt like a tangible wave of heat rushing over her.

“W-what…!?” Mel stammered, her confusion evident as she struggled to comprehend the sight before her, feeling the residual heat ripple through the air.

“Hmm… The weather report didn’t mention this…” Van quipped as he effortlessly grabbed Bernard, severing his connection with the spirit, and tossed his limp body onto the grass beside the walkway.

“Now then…” Van sighed, clapping his hands together as if dusting off after touching Bernard, before turning back to face Amurah.

“WHO ARE YOU!!!? MY FLAMES SHOULD HAVE BURNT YOU TO MERE CINDERS!!!” Amurah bellowed, its voice filled with denial and rage, yet Van approached calmly, the intense heat not even singeing his armor or dampening his spirits.

“Burn me to cinders? Someone as weak as you? Please… Alicia’s flames are about 10,000,000 times more painful and hotter than yours. And I endured them almost every day for two years. Some pathetic candle spirit like yourself couldn’t even dream of grazing me. You’d be more useful as a heater,” Van retorted nonchalantly.

‘He just insulted one of the strongest fire spirits… and compared it to a heater… What… What IS that guy?’ Mel thought, dumbfounded by Van’s audacity.

“ME…!!!?! AMURAH, REDUCED TO A MERE HEATER…!!!!! UNFORGIVABLE!!!! YOU SHALL SUFFER AT MY HAND, HUMAN!!!!! I SHALL EMBRACE YOU WITH EMBERS HOTTER THAN THE PITS OF HELL!!!!!!” Amurah roared, its maw gathering flames for a devastating fireblast.

“RUN..!!! MISTER THAT IS STRONG ENOUGH TO DESTROY SEVERAL BLOCKS!!!!” Mel yelled in panic, foreseeing the catastrophic potential.

“You see… I’m usually numb to such threats… But that’s the SECOND time you’ve compared yourself to Alicia… And for some reason… It really ticks me off. How about…!” Van murmured, drawing his greatsword.

“You just chill!” he muttered, swinging his greatsword like a giant fan. The movement whipped up a fierce gust of air that fanned Amurah’s flames into nonexistence, its screams fading into a wisp of smoke. The force of the air nearly sent Mel tumbling backwards.

Mel’s legs felt weak as she witnessed the impossible: the fearsome fire spirit Amurah, blown away as effortlessly as a child blows out a birthday candle. Before she could fully gather her senses, Van had already sheathed his greatsword and was walking towards her with a calm demeanor.

As she was still trying to process the events, Van extended his hand toward her again.

“Do you need help to stand?” he asked calmly.

Reluctant, she eyed his glove warily.

“What now?” Van asked, a hint of exasperation in his voice.

‘This accursed passive again…’ he thought internally, understanding her hesitation.

“Nothing, it’s just… I’ll burn my hand if I touch it,” she replied, her voice cold, still wary of any residual heat.

“….”

‘…Clever girl,’ Van thought, acknowledging her caution.

“Well, it’s cooled off when I fanned away that Amun-Ra or whatever his name was, if that’s what you were worried about,” he said casually, trying to reassure her.

‘Well, she’ll find some other excuse not to touch it—’ Van started to think, resigned to her continued apprehension, when suddenly Mel placed her hand atop his own.

“Hm?” Van hummed as he saw her hand atop his own.

“Well..? Lift me up,” Mel muttered quietly.

“Ah, right.” Van replied, helping her up to a standing position.

They stood in silence for a minute as Mel dusted herself off, gathering her thoughts to express gratitude.

“Tha—”

“…What about that guy?” Van unintentionally interrupted her, nodding towards the unconscious Bernard.

“…I shall stay with him until the Royal Knights arrive. The magical spike and the pillar of fire surely drew their attention. Even if he wakes up, he’s drained all his magic, and this time I’ll be ready for any tricks he tries,” she explained with resolve.

“I see. Well, good luck then,” Van said quickly, turning to leave.

“W-wait, that’s it!?” Mel asked, her voice tinged with confusion.

Van stopped and turned back around, “Well, I was hoping you’d be a bit older so I could ask for some coin and directions after saving you… But I don’t feel right doing that to a minor. Just take it easy,” he reasoned as he turned to walk away again.

“W-wait!! As thanks, I could give you some coin…!! And… A… Minor…?” She called after him, puzzled.

“Just ignore that word… It’s just a figure of speech where I came from. I’ll find my coin elsewhere,” Van casually dismissed her as he continued walking.

‘Father… Used that term as well at some point…’ Mel thought to herself.

“W-wait!” She exclaimed, rushing to his side and blocking his path.

“What is it?” Van asked, his tone hinting at impatience.

‘If I’m not outta here before the knights show up, they’ll arrest me for sure!!’ Van thought anxiously.

“What’s your name?” She asked, curiosity in her voice.

“Uh, it’s Van. Nice to meet you. Well then, I’ll be off,” he replied briskly.

“V-van..!?” She murmured, her eyes widening in shock as Van seized the moment of her delay and dashed away, disappearing from sight.

‘That white-haired girl… She reminded me of Lalyn when we first met… Maybe a bit younger… It couldn’t be… Right?’ Van mused as he vanished.

‘Wasn’t Van… Father’s best friend that he always talked about…?!’ Mel pondered, watching the space where Van had disappeared.

‘Wait, it couldn’t be him… Van Hellix is supposed to be in his 40s, the same age as my father… This guy sounded young…!! Like, MY AGE young! Probably just a coincidence that he has the same name…’ She reasoned, recalling the familiar term.

‘Though… It wouldn’t have hurt to ask for his last name…’

From a distance, Lalyn observed quietly.

Her gaze flickering between Van and Mel.

[Master, your tasty worm is getting away… What shall you do next?] Arlyn queried teasingly.
Lalyn clicked her tongue, her stance shifting as she walked towards Mel.

‘Another time… I’ll have you work overtime later to track that meatshield, Arlyn…’ She communicated telepathically to her dragon.

[Haha… Sure thing, Master.] Arlyn replied with a satisfied, and proud smirk as Lalyn approached Mel, who now sat beside the unconscious Bernard.

“M…Mom..?” Mel asked as Lalyn approached her.

“Y-you… Bastard…!!” she cried, a tear escaping her eye as she curled up, recoiling from him.

“Hehe… What, are you crying…!? Going to tell your DAD!!? Ah, right, I forgot; he’s de—”

“What, it’s just a couple of kids…” Van sighed in resignation as he approached from behind. With a swift motion, he grabbed the assailant by the shirt collar and flung him backward, sending him several meters behind them, tumbling across the ground.

“Hey,” Van called casually as the girl, still reeling from the encounter, cautiously sat down.

“Can you stand?” He asked, extending his armored hand toward her.

Hesitant, she reached out but paused, sensing an uneasy aura around Van.
‘Haah… The passive. Of course,’ he sighed inwardly, grasping her arm and gently pulling her to her feet.

“A-ah!!” She gasped, surprised by the sudden motion.

“Are you lost? Where’s your parents, girl?” Van inquired, trying to ease her evident distress.

“M-my mom..!! S-she should be—” she started, her eyes darting nervously as she gauged Van’s every move.

Her reply was abruptly interrupted by a surge of magic energy behind Van.

“M-mister..!! Look out..!!” she cried out, warning him of the impending danger from the hoodlum he had tossed aside earlier.

“Hey… Older Mister… Do you even know who the fuck I am…!? I am the son of the Duke!!” the hoodlum spat out, his voice thick with manic pride as he gathered his stolen magical energy.

‘This energy…!! Is he using his own and the portion he stole from me…!! Damn it…!! If only I could use my magic…!! This guy is in trouble!!’

“Yeah?” Van responded nonchalantly as he turned to face the threat.

“Because to me, you just seem like a brute with absolutely no class, nor a plan in that empty head of yours. Now, while I might not have a plan most of the time, and tend to be a brute myself… And I could use some lessons about having class…” Van continued, slowly approaching the fuming young man.

Both Mel and the hoodlum listened, expecting something profound.

Mel: “….”

Van: “….”

Hoodlum: “….”

Van, finding himself at a loss for words, fell silent.

‘W-WHAT!? THAT’S IT!!? I THOUGHT HE WAS GOING TO SPEW SOMETHING SUPER INSIGHTFUL!! SO, YOU’RE JUST THE SAME AS HIM!!?’ Mel thought, shocked and slightly disappointed as she stared at the speechless Van.

‘Ahh… I’m not good with speeches…’ Van admitted to himself.

“MAKING A FOOL OUT OF ME, ARE YOU!!!? YOU FUCKING BASTARD!!! YOU’LL REGRET THE DAY YOU DARED TO LAY YOUR HAND ON ME, BERNARD VON BRAYLE!!!” the young duke’s son screamed, his body overflowing with magical power.

‘Brayle… Hah. The kid is as blind as they come, huh?’ Van chuckled to himself, unfazed by the outburst.

“CHRCH… YOU FUCKING BASTARD!!!!!!” Bernard roared, his voice reverberating as a fiery whirlwind began to envelop him.

“Whoa… You can make ’em pretty tall, eh, juvenile sex offender?” Van quipped casually, observing the spectacle with a raised eyebrow.

‘What’s wrong with this mister…!!? We need to call the Royal Knights…!!! Bernard’s mind must have gone berserk from trying to control so much magic power all at once..!!!’ Mel thought frantically, her eyes wide with alarm.

“Hey. Girl.” Van’s voice cut through the chaos, calm and authoritative as he positioned himself firmly in front of the swirling inferno.

She immediately snapped her attention to him.

“…I get that you don’t trust me. Not many people do. But stay behind me. Those flames seem pretty hot,” he instructed, his tone leaving no room for doubt. He then slightly turned his head towards Mel as he added, “You understand me?”

Caught in the urgency of the moment and with no other options, she simply nodded, her actions driven by the instinct to survive the impending onslaught.

Van then sighed internally, ‘That was quick… Good. Is it me, or people have been much more reasonable during the night..?’ He thought to himself as he turned back to Bernard.

‘Alright… I guess this will sting…? Nah,’ He thought as Bernard morphed into a firey demon of some sort.

Mel grimaced at the sight, ‘That crazy bastard!! He summoned Amurah, the fire celestial!!? That’s a C-Ranked Fire Spirit!!! He’s nowhere near enough talented to control it… He’ll get burned inside it!! And… That mister, he’s going to die if that thing as much as grazes him!!’

“HA, HA, HA!!! THANKS TO THIS WEAK HUMAN, I, THE GREATEST FIRE USER AMURAH, AM FINALLY FREE TO WREAK AS MUCH HAVOC AS I WANT…!! I SHALL USE THIS FLEETING FREEDOM TO KILL AS MUCH AS I CAN IN THIS BLASTED REALM!!” Bernard’s voice boomed, no longer his own as the fire spirit Amurah spoke through him, his laughter echoing maniacally.

“Well, aren’t you frantic, you cute little candle spirit. Come here, boy!” Van retorted, his tone cheerfully mocking as he clapped softly, taunting the fire spirit.

“YOU… YOU INSOLENT FOOL!!!!” Amurah roared, its fury palpable as the flames around it intensified and it raised its fiery palm.

“MISTER, RUN AWAY!!!” Mel screamed in terror as Amurah slammed his palm down, a massive wave of fire enveloping Van entirely.

“NO!!!!” Mel’s scream pierced the air, her face drained of color as she dropped to her knees, watching in horror as Van’s form disappeared into the inferno. Despair gripped her heart, her mind reeling at the sight of the consuming flames.