Daion dove to the side, dragging Alaric with him, narrowly avoiding the creature's sword as it slammed into the ground with a deafening crash.
From the spot where it emerged, swarms of insects began pouring out. Daion stepped back and swung his blade—one strike was enough to kill them. Alone they weren't so dangerous, but there were hundreds. Alaric seemed to snap out of his daze when the scream of a villager rang out. With sudden resolve, he drew his rapier; it gleamed with blue energy as he lunged. A creature several meters away was pierced straight through and collapsed dead.
The villager hobbled away, clutching his wound. Meanwhile, the group of idiots tried to attack the monstrosity, but its movements were so erratic they could barely get close.
The Mute fought at its side, striking the centipede legs with his spiked gauntlets. Each blow sent shockwaves through the creature's body, fracturing its exoskeleton. Brut took advantage of the weakness, swinging his hammer to shatter multiple limbs at once. The abomination shrieked, then twisted its massive body and slammed Brut aside, launching him across the square until he crashed into the ruins of a house.
Ken and Amelie, meanwhile, distracted the upper torso. She wielded a strange weapon—an axe with a single curved blade, bone-like in texture. With a leap, she dodged the Guardian's twin swords and with a vicious slash severed its arm. The blade fell, still coated in that black matter that erased whatever it touched.
Daion watched in surprise. He was finding his rhythm now, cutting down insects with growing efficiency, their shells splitting apart with each strike.
Alaric fought just behind him, his speed astonishing. Daion understood now why he didn't wear armor: his strikes were so fast and lethal that no creature ever made it within two meters. He even found the time to cut down a few that threatened the villagers.
A cry rang out, followed by a sickening crunch that silenced the woman's screams. Daion whipped around. This time, there was no mistaking it: a pair of Corrupted emerged from the earth. Both resembled hyenas standing on two legs, their torsos grotesquely stretched, hands tipped with four elongated claws. They were devouring the woman's corpse.
Daion quickly scanned the battlefield—and blinked in surprise. Aelith was tearing through the plague creatures with her bare fists, shielding the other demi-human slaves. They stared at her in shock and awe. Daion smirked, then glanced at the soldiers, who stood back-to-back, weapons raised.
"Hey!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. The soldiers turned along with Alaric. "I'll deal with the Corrupted. You protect the civilians!"
The soldiers exchanged puzzled looks, but Daion ignored them. He pushed forward, weaving past the last of the insects. The hyenas noticed his approach and tossed aside what was left of the woman. Daion grimaced at her body but deflected it with his blade. Then, leaping high, he brought his sword down in a two-handed arc. One of the beasts tried to block with its claws—only for them to shatter. The strike carried through, cleaving the creature clean in half.
The other roared in shock at the sudden death of its companion. It lunged at Daion's back, but he sidestepped and cut its leg out from under it. Villagers gasped as they watched.
Damn, I've gotten strong. I should check my stats later. For now… He pressed his gem against the creature's back, focusing. I want to try this.
As he expected, Omega energy began flowing, siphoning out of the Corrupted into his gauntlet. Even while they're alive, I can drain them. The creature writhed as its strength bled away, its body shrinking and collapsing until it went still, dead.
Daion allowed himself a small grin before turning back to see how the others fared. He wasn't surprised: the soldiers were still ignoring the villagers while Alaric fought desperately to hold back the plague swarm. Daion moved to assist—only to be knocked down by a careless strike from one of the creatures.
He saw it clearly: its shape warped, forming a sudden maw that bit down on his blade. Snarling, Daion wrenched his sword free and slashed, the creature bursting apart in his hands.
He sprinted toward Aelith, cutting down a few that had slipped too close. He did his best to shield the demi-humans until a scream tore out behind him. Turning, he saw one of the slaves being dragged across the ground, a creature gnawing into his leg.
One of the soldiers was closer than Daion. He shouted for him. The man looked up, recognized the scene—and nodded once. But his gaze carried a cruel gleam. He glanced at the boy, then at the Summoned who fought recklessly, tearing the battlefield apart. Without hesitation, he drew his sword and slashed downward.
Yair's eyes went wide as the red blood of the demi-human splattered across the ground.
Daion froze in confusion. Why would he do that? He hadn't struck the beast—he'd cut the boy's leg clean through. The child screamed in agony, startling everyone. Even the idiot Summoned turned, surprised. Daion pieced it together quickly. There had been no reason for that. He could have struck the monster instead. Then he remembered—this was one of the bastards who mocked the enslaved Summoned before.
He glanced at Ken, who looked mildly satisfied and nodded.
The creature roared again, its severed piece darkening, sprouting additional legs from its twisted human torso. Daion surged forward to assist. Ken, meanwhile, danced around it with ease, his sword carving precise cuts that shredded limb after limb. He taunted the monster, forcing it to focus on him, while the other three pounded away at its legs to weaken it further.
Daion ended up right beneath the creature. Dropping flat to the ground, he wondered if its abdomen was as tough as the rest of its body. Raising his sword, he aimed at one of the gaps between the creature's segmented plates. He focused—he had been thinking of how to channel Omega energy without relying on skills, and now an answer came to him. His sword was suddenly cloaked in raw Omega energy flowing from his arm, and with a powerful thrust, the blade pierced through the beast with ease. Dark blood spilled across the ground, splashing dangerously close as Daion twisted the sword, tearing a deep wound inside the creature. It shrieked, and Daion barely managed to roll out from under it in time before it tried to crush him.
But he hadn't accounted for its bladed legs. They lashed out instinctively. He tried to block, but only managed to deflect—one stabbed into his shoulder, sending a sharp bolt of pain through his body. The creature twisted to face him. Fear surged in his chest—until Ken's voice cut through the chaos with a shout. The beast turned.
The Invoked had one of the soldiers by the neck. As before, he marked the man and hurled him at the monster. The guardian lifted its sword, eyes locked on the terrified soldier.
Before the blade could strike, Brut charged in, his hammer glowing with a greenish aura. As if stone erupted from it, he swung with all his strength, and the blow sent the guardian flying through the air, howling in pain. Ken leapt high, soaring several meters until he was directly in front of it. The creature tried to stab, but Ken flashed through the air, his sword slicing with a motion that seemed to distort space itself.
For a few endless seconds, nothing happened—then the monster split clean in half. Blood gushed from its body as the two halves collapsed with a thunderous crash, dissolving into nothing wherever they touched the ground.
Ken landed gracefully before the corpse. The plague creatures screeched in panic and fled. Aleric barely managed to stop them from abducting any more villagers. Aelith dropped to her knees, exhausted, her body drenched in blood—thankfully, not the same corrosive kind as the guardian's.
Daion fell to his knees as well, clutching his wounded shoulder, pressing hard to stop the bleeding while struggling against the pain.
"Well, does it hurt?" Ken asked.
Daion raised his head with a scowl.
"No, I just love how it looks with blood gushing out," he answered dryly. Ken tossed him one of the medicinal orbs.
He swallowed it with effort—the taste was as awful as ever. The bleeding stopped, and he gave Ken a strange look.
"Were you planning to kill him?" Daion asked.
Ken arched a brow, pretending not to understand.
"I mean the soldier."
"Whether he lived or not didn't matter to me," Ken replied flatly as he sheathed his sword. The soldier staggered back to his feet, glaring at him with contempt, then joined his comrades. "They're pathetic soldiers. Hypocrites…"
"So what—you're saying it's fine to be a psychopath as long as you're faithful to your ideals?" Daion shot back.
Ken smirked and walked off toward the other Invoked idiots. His glance said it all. You tell me.
Daion turned away and hurried to the demihumans. The boy—his face blotched, skin pale—was writhing as he clutched at his mangled leg. Daion quickly pressed against the wound, slowing the bleeding. He glanced around, then down at his own clothes, but knew he couldn't simply tear them apart. He clicked his teeth.
"Hey, Aelith, get over here," he called.
The girl was sitting on the ground, resting. She shot him a sideways glance, sighed, and muttered, "What is it—?"
"Cut the crap and come help!" Daion barked. She flinched and obeyed—she was still just a child, and frightening her was as easy as raising his voice. He instructed her to press down hard on the wound. The boy arched his head back, his face twisted in pain.
Daion stood, grabbed one of the villagers' corpses, and tore off the cleanest scrap of cloth he could find, praying it wasn't crawling with infection that would kill the boy.
The soldier who had amputated the limb approached as Daion worked.
"Why bother?" he asked. Daion ignored him. The soldier clicked his tongue. "It's just a demihuman. Not worth—"
Daion rose and glared at him, forcing the man to flinch back as he shoved past, slamming into his side. Aelith pressed down, staring in horror at the blood pouring out. Daion worked calmly, almost instinctively. Part of him wondered how many times he had done this as a soldier—his body seemed to remember every motion with precision. Another part wondered how many comrades he'd had to patch up in desperation.
He tied the cloth around the boy's leg, pulling it tight enough to stop the bleeding without tearing the fabric. The boy cried out once, then fainted. Aelith rushed forward, panicked, but Daion only checked his pulse. He was alive. The Invoked let out a sigh of relief and slumped to the ground.
Lifting his gaze, he saw the mute already heading after the fleeing plague beasts. The rest of the Invoked were bickering about what to do next. Daion didn't really care—he simply stood and went to finish absorbing the hound he'd forgotten.
Ken rejoined the others, addressing both the group and the survivors.
"Alright. The plague's not likely to come back tonight, so we'll rest. Once Marui—" he nodded toward the mute, "—returns, we head for the lair. Survivors who can't fight should retreat to the nearest city. You can leave once we're gone. For now, mourn your dead, I suppose."
"We can't," Aleric said. Ken didn't even bother to look at him, just tilted his head slightly. "Too many are wounded. And we still haven't gone after our kidnapped citizens."
"Even if they were alive, it's not my responsibility to save them—only to kill what killed them. You should consider them dead already," the soldier finally said.
Ken frowned and stepped in front of the Invoked, looking at him with clear irritation.
"What?"
"You can't do this. You can't just ask us to abandon them…"
"Tough luck, my dear noble," Ken muttered as he stepped closer, eyes locked on him. "But really, that's not my problem. Why should we sacrifice ourselves to save strangers? We need to survive too." He paused for a few seconds and sighed. "Sorry, but we can't help you."
"Then at least help us reach the border. Going through the Corrupted zone is suicide without Invoked—especially at night," the man complained. Daion wondered what exactly he meant. From what he had seen, it wasn't all that different from the fortress. Was it worse the deeper you went in?
"It's not our responsibility, and you can't depend on Invoked forever. If you don't learn to survive on your own, you'll never be able to defend yourselves," Ken replied coldly.
Aleric stood frozen, stunned, as Ken turned his back and left with the other idiot Invoked.
Hours passed. Night began to fall. Daion sat by the demihuman boy, checking for signs of infection in his wound. He had tried giving him a medicinal orb, but the boy spat it out, and Daion had no idea how to force it down.
Aelith sat beside him, hugging her knees, staring at the boy and trembling, still not understanding what was happening. Daion sighed at the sight. The soldiers whispered among themselves. Then, quietly, the Invoked removed his coat and draped it over Aelith's shoulders.
The demihuman girl tried to protest, but Daion gently patted her head to silence her before walking away. He moved through the camp, seeing the civilians packing their belongings and praying by the pyres for their dead. Eventually, he reached Aleric.
The noble stood before the guardian's corpse, watching with disgust and sorrow as it slowly began to dissolve. Amid the filth, what remained was a fully intact female body—the guardian's head. Aleric poured a bit of liquor over it, then struck a match and tossed it with visible grief. Flames rose high. Daion didn't complain—the corpse had no Omega energy anyway.
"I'm guessing she was someone important to you," Daion said, watching the body consumed by fire.
"Pretty accurate, don't you think?" Aleric replied.
"Well, unless you're part of Alcoholics Anonymous, I can't think of many reasons to waste liquor like that."
Aleric gave him a sad smile, took a swig from the bottle, then handed it to Daion. He accepted.
"Alcoholics Anonymous?"
"Oh, it's a… thing, for quitting drinking," Daion explained, surprised he remembered such a detail. "You talk about your problems with other alcoholics and support each other to stop."
"Sounds stupid," the noble muttered. Daion chuckled softly.
"Well, I guess that concept doesn't exist in this world. There's no such thing as too much alcohol here." He took another sip, coughed, and passed the bottle back. "Disgusting."
"No one drinks it for the taste," Aleric said. He glanced at Daion, then at his gauntlet, clearly questioning whether it was wise to trust an Invoked. "She was my fiancée."
Daion widened his eyes in surprise. He thought of making a comment, but decided it was better to stay quiet.
"We hadn't talked much—it was an arranged marriage. But I was ready to spend the rest of my life with her. And now she's gone. I want to feel worse about it, but…"
"You can't mourn someone you didn't really know," Daion finished for him. He knew that feeling—the impotence of wanting to feel something deeper, because surely that person deserved it. He patted Aleric on the back. "Don't blame yourself. From what I saw, her life was nothing but suffering. Maybe this is better."
"I want to go with you," Aleric said suddenly.
Daion looked at him in surprise.
"Look, it's not that you wouldn't be useful, but…"
"I have to. Someone has to fight for the lives of those still trapped out there."
Daion was taken aback. He was idealistic—surprisingly so. Daion liked that, though realistically there wasn't much he could do right now.
"Someone also has to fight for the lives right here," Daion countered, pointing at the survivors. "If you want to help, lead them to the border. If you want to fight, stop the Corrupted from advancing. As for me…" He hesitated. He was letting himself get carried away. He couldn't make reckless promises. "…I'll do what I can to save them. But I promise nothing."
"And how do I trust an Invoked?" Aleric asked.
Daion shrugged.
"I wouldn't trust one either. But it's your choice."
Daion said his goodbye and walked away. The noble clenched his fists in frustration, eyes fixed on the flames.
Crossing the ruins, Daion reached a small mound of stacked wood. Ken was sitting on top, overlooking the village. It was large—somewhere between SteelWall and Cadenar. Seeing it like this was… pitiful. Nearby, Daion noticed Invoked hauling barrels of liquor out of a hidden attic.
Ken grinned, as if to say it was valuable merchandise.
"This'll sell for a good price to those idiots at the border. And we'll have some fun ourselves."
"You were a psychiatrist, right?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Because you're still an idiot," Daion said, staring straight at him. "Did you really think I'd fall for some cheap, sentimental crap about needing to 'get stronger' as justification?"
Ken raised his head, shadows darkening his expression. Daion braced himself for a sharp reply—but instead, Ken only tilted his head with a look of genuine confusion, which unsettled Daion even more.
"Eh? What the hell are you talking about?"
End of Chapter 22.