"Profit for you? That's an interesting word."
It didn't treat him as a living person, quite the opposite. This word treated him like a tool, just like a sword, a pair of gloves... or a pitchfork.
Personality, dignity... everything that once seemed so ordinary was crushed into insignificant fragments by this word.
Lann even chuckled softly because of it.
But in his amber cat-like eyes, the cold feeling was as sharp as solid ice.
Bordeaux saw it clearly, but he didn't care in the slightest.
He's almost dead, what else could happen?
He saw his apprentice, who was now burning with rage because of his words, and he was even a bit pleased.
In his final moments of life, the demon hunter experiencing emotions once again was deeply interested in conversation.
Every time he opened his mouth, blood mixed with pieces of his insides gushed out, turning his beard into a tangled mess.
Yet he had no intention of stopping.
"And what about you, Lann? Why are you here to kill me?"
Bordeaux's mouth was bleeding as he gave a bloody grin.
"Please don't say something like 'to rid myself of your oppression and exploitation'. Look at your skills in the battle just now, Lann. Precise, swift, steady... In the Bear School's castle, in Heinkawei, not even many newly trained novice demon hunters could do what you've done to this level!"
"Honestly, your progress has scared me."
"My oppression and exploitation made you uncomfortable, but death? Far from it for you! Compared to the guidance and protection I gave you, the negatives of my actions aren't worth you risking death by trying to kill me."
Bordeaux shook his head playfully.
"I'm almost dead, but you should at least do me a favor and tell me why I'm being killed, right?"
Lann tilted his head and smiled, looking at his mentor, now this once mighty man, even starting to stutter when speaking.
"Do you remember why you were wanted, Bordeaux?"
Two human lives.
Bordeaux recalled it without much effort because it hadn't been long.
Just before Lann completed his mutation.
In a small tavern in a village, two drunk farmers came to provoke a vile demon hunter, and both ended up beheaded in an instant.
Farmers with dung for brains couldn't understand why demon hunters endured their spit and disdain—it was to make living money peacefully, not because they couldn't fight back.
Bordeaux was about at his limit; due to blood loss, his mind started to wander.
The only thing sustaining him now was the desire to hear Lann's answer.
"Just because... of those two farmers?"
His body was growing cold, but Bordeaux only wanted to laugh.
Two farmers.
He had once taken commissions from nobles in magnificent palaces.
And also received tasks from mages in deep, mysterious mage towers.
He had killed countless people, countless monsters in his life, experienced more than an average farmer's family over five generations' worth.
And now, the person who killed him told him—your life was taken away because of two farmers!
"Bullshit!"
This was unreasonable.
No matter how you think about it, it's unreasonable!
But Lann was right before his eyes, looking at him with a half-smile, clearly telling him—that's just how it is.
"You just can't understand it, can you? Two farmers who dig in the dirt, with cow dung on their boots, dirty, crude, lowly... why would I risk life and death with you for them?"
Lann smiled and leaned closer to Bordeaux.
"My teacher, before I completed my mutation and became a shunned demon hunter, weren't we already together in the countryside woods of Velen?"
"We met the esteemed village elders."
One finger raised.
"We rescued merchants traveling by horse cart along roads."
Two fingers raised.
"We also inquired if there were any commissions to hunt monsters in many villages."
Three fingers raised.
"But was there ever a time, not even once... that people asked, 'Demon Hunter, who is this young man beside you'?"
Lann gave Bordeaux a half-smile, retracting all fingers into his palm, forming a fist.
"Not a single time, teacher."
"Even though people exhaust every means to slander demon hunters and non-human races. Of course, I can distinguish that most of these are slanders derived from ignorance and fear. But when they truly saw a young man brought by a demon hunter, no one even wanted to say a word."
"Even if they just reported to the local lord? Not even that."
"I understand, no one wants to ask for trouble, as life in this world is truly hard, truly dangerous. But..."
"Just when I was about to accept reality myself, two farmers, they asked this question."
Lann spread his hands, expression helpless.
But Bordeaux, whose eyelids were gradually drooping, gathered his strength to look back at him as he spoke.
The smile on Lann's face gradually disappeared, and his relaxed expression evaporated like water droplets on an iron plate.
Even the process of dissipating was explosive and shocking.
Now, that delicate face bore only solemnity and seriousness.
The expression was not like someone telling a story about two farmers; even playing ballads of emperors in the court wouldn't be more solemn than this.
Bordeaux widened his eyes in shock at this emotional twist.
"Two farmers, with cow dung and soil on their feet, and cheap homebrew stench from their mouths, their tongues even tied in knots."
"But it was them, only them, who pinned your shoulder in the Auridon tavern and pointed at me, saying 'Cat-eyes, whose child did you steal? You better let him go, or we will go find the Sheriff'."
Two pairs of cat-eyes met, Bordeaux had never felt such a clear emotion—anger.
A grand anger!
The apprentice pronounced his teacher's cause of death seriously, word by word.
"Then you chopped them down, so I decided to chop you down."
"I didn't know them at all, didn't even have a single conversation. But they spoke up for me and paid the heaviest price. So I must collect their debt; in our land, this is an unspoken truth."
Bordeaux was stunned.
As if he had seen a deity from the scriptures or some extinct monster, he was amazed by something he had never seen and never believed in.
"E-even though, you might die at, my, hands?"
And Lann nodded calmly.
"Before surviving the mutation, I hesitated, but after a narrow escape... yes, I am just like this."
Bordeaux slowly lowered his head with an incomprehensible expression.
The movement was so stiff that Lann almost thought he had already died from excessive bleeding.
But then, suddenly, he jerked his head up, staring fiercely at Lann's face.
"You're not from this world, right, Lann? You didn't come over through a teleportation accident, but through the conjunction of spheres."
The young man first froze at these words, but then quickly returned to his relaxed demeanor.
"Why do you say that?"
There was no one else around, so Lann had no reason not to admit it.
Bordeaux's gaze was intensely emotional, and Lann couldn't discern what it mixed with.
Hatred? Longing? Jealousy? Admiration?
Everything was there, but mixed together, and yet seemed like nothing at all.
"Your world must be as beautiful as heaven. So much so that you believe this... knightly code you adhere to is an unspoken truth."
"Cherishing life, valuing feelings, huh... where you come from, have you not witnessed your kind slaughtering each other firsthand?"
Bordeaux's voice was gentle and drifting, as if exploring some distant, unknown land.
Lann answered calmly.
"We have only been at peace for less than a century, four generations."
"Ha, I'm already a hundred and thirty. Less than a century to drive bloody doctrines from your minds, what a... beautifully messed up world."
Bordeaux chuckled dryly, slowly lowering his head again. This time Lann could tell that his blood had truly run dry.
The questioning just now was the last bit of strength in this Demon Hunter's life.
"The alchemy bag has a compartment. That's mine, a few storerooms with some money. Go find them, repair this armor, it's yours."
Cat-eyes began to dilate, Bordeaux's voice was faint.
Lann nodded plainly, indicating he heard. "Why help me?"
"Help you? Hey, this isn't helping you, Lann, it's not..."
"For enemies, we in this world always curse them to Hell. But for you, you descended from a heaven."
"Now... you're already in hell."
"Lann, I curse you. I curse my enemy to live long and safe in this world. I curse my enemy to uphold his morals and will."
In the end, a robust man, yet his voice was so low it was barely audible.
"Because just by living here, you will constantly feel pain. It's truly intriguing, heh heh, heh."
And Lann, remained calm watching his teacher the whole time.
In this world crisscrossed with Chaos Magic Power, the activation of magic is irrational.
In places with magical chaos, maybe a declaration of love or a shout filled with hatred could become a curse. Bringing about fairy-tale effects.
Did Bordeaux's curse succeed? After all, not far away was a fog full of magic of unknown origin.
Lann had not yet learned, he didn't understand. But fortunately, he didn't care either.
Lowering his head, the pool of blood at his feet was deep enough to cast a shadow of both person and light.
The young man looked at his reflection in the blood-red and gave a light, indifferent laugh.
"Yes, teacher..."
"I'm already in hell."
Lann stretched lazily, then reached out to take the Roaring Bear Head Necklace from his mentor's neck and hung it around his own.
...
And at that moment, a soft chime echoed in Lann's mind.
It was a gender-neutral AI voice.
It said, "Sir, the analysis is complete."