Outside the cave, Surtr realized that Grim hadn't left.
"I only spoke the truth. Why are you so agitated?"
Carrying a travel pack, Grim shifted his position, always making sure to remain just beyond Surtr's striking range.
He had provoked her on purpose—not out of recklessness, but to observe Ishar'mla's reaction. That sword was no ordinary weapon; surely it could stir Ishar'mla's instincts.
Yet the black serpent within Skadi's body had felt nothing.
Still, the serpent was certain—Ishar'mla was not dead.
So that thing can sleep this deeply, huh…
For Kashchey, this was actually a relief. After all, he could not truly comprehend the thought processes of the Seaborn. That was why controlling their bodies always proved so troublesome and complex.
The vessels he possessed needed to share common traits with him. The more they had in common, the firmer his grasp.
Of course, if the host's will was as strong as his own—or even stronger—Kashchey could still exert some influence, but only to a limited extent.
That vessel called Ig had always felt sluggish under his control, as though there were a delay with every action, and the burden on him was enormous.
Thus, he often left that body dormant, avoiding unnecessary strain.
---
In the end, Surtr never did pummel Grim.
She claimed it was only because he had helped clean up her memory, so she was sparing his life.
But the real reason was simpler: Grim never stepped into her attack range, always lingering just outside of it.
For all his nonchalant airs, his physical prowess was undeniable.
Over the months they had traveled together, he had once suggested a sparring match.
He said there was a small question nagging at him—one that could only be answered through combat.
Surtr had agreed. She too was curious about the strength of this so-called traveler.
Besides, he had helped piece together her fragmented memories. Granting him such a request was hardly unreasonable.
Grim struck first.
Like a cannonball, he launched himself at Surtr, aiming to decide the match with sheer speed.
Surtr might not have been able to raise her sword in time—but the shadow behind her was another matter.
The dark figure moved with lightning speed, gripping Laevatain and bringing it down in a decisive arc.
This blow was never meant to cut Grim in two; Surtr had full confidence she could pull it back before it became fatal. Her control over the shadow was absolute.
Besides… anyone who's seen my power firsthand, yet still dares to challenge me, could never be that weak.
Just as Laevatain was about to connect with his fist, Grim slammed a foot into the ground and shifted direction, narrowly evading the strike.
What he truly wanted to know was this:
When someone like Surtr—whose body itself is not especially strong—faces an opponent with overwhelming speed and physical might… how does she intend to win?
Could he subdue Surtr before she even had a chance to swing her sword?
The answer soon revealed itself through the shadow behind her.
That phantom seemed almost inseparable from Surtr herself, amplifying her reaction speed to an overwhelming degree.
But… her movement speed doesn't seem that fast, does it?
What followed was an utterly frustrating sparring match for Surtr.
Grim danced constantly along the very edge of her attack range, slipping in and out, aiming to wear her stamina down.
The deadlock dragged on for quite some time—until suddenly, the shadow behind Surtr vanished.
A flaw.
Grim seized the moment and lunged.
His fist was just about to reach Surtr's body when—
The phantom reappeared in an instant, shielding her.
By then, Grim was already too deep within its range to retreat.
So that shadow… it can be switched on and off at will?
He took the brunt of more than a dozen blows from the phantom's Laevatain, never once even brushing Surtr herself. Yet at last, his question was answered.
Of course, the price was far from light.
Both he and Surtr ended up recuperating in a nearby village for two whole weeks.
Grim had to endure the searing pain of burn wounds, and on top of that, still spend effort calming the confusion in Surtr's fragmented memories.
This isn't the free-spirited journey I had in mind.
Lying on a bed, swathed in bandages, Grim could only watch as the culprit sat nearby, casually eating ice cream.
In such a remote village, ice cream was a rare luxury—expensive, too.
Surtr certainly didn't have the money to afford it, but Grim used "consultation fees" as an excuse to buy her some anyway.
Memory disorder… such a troublesome thing.
Kashchey had to admit, he felt a faint, indescribable trace of goodwill toward Surtr.
Perhaps it was because she allowed him to freely observe her memories, granting him a sense of control.
Or perhaps… because in her, he glimpsed a reflection of his former self.
The difference, however, was clear: Surtr's mind was disturbed by fragments of memories belonging to many different people—while what plagued Kashchey was another complete version of himself.
---
Inside Skadi's body, the black serpent finally found Ishar-mla.
It slithered carefully back and forth, probing curiously at Ishar-mla's current state.
Then suddenly—a tentacle lashed out, coiling around the serpent and binding it tight.
The serpent dared not move.
The power contained within it was far too small; even in Ishar-mla's weakened state, it stood no chance of resistance.
It had already resigned itself to becoming nourishment for Ishar-mla's recovery.
But Ishar-mla did not consume it.
"Ig…" she murmured unconsciously.
The tentacle held the serpent firmly, refusing to let go.
"Return to the sea, Ig."
---
"Kal'tsit, I've brought back the key."
Skadi stepped into an office, where Kal'tsit was immersed in paperwork.
"Skadi, I hope you remember the contract you signed with Rhodes Island. We do not allow our operators to fight each other. Out there, on this harsh land, conflict between people may be commonplace—but I cannot, and will not, let Rhodes Island become part of that cycle."
"…I will repay Grani."
"Compensation after the fact is always the weakest form of apology. I sincerely hope there will not be a next time, Skadi."
"There won't be… So, will you tell me what you know about the Church of the Deep Bishop—Judas?"
Just then, the door opened again. A white-haired, red-eyed woman, clad much like Skadi, strolled in.
"Yeah, we'd really like to hear about that Bishop too, wouldn't we, Skadi? Surely the all-knowing Dr. Kal'tsit wouldn't keep such juicy secrets to herself~"
It was Laurentina, better known as Specter, smiling brightly as she spoke.
"…You and your kind truly are laughable. All you're doing now is trying to make up for the recklessness and ignorance of your past. Tell me, what gives you the confidence to think that this key you've retrieved is valuable enough to earn information about that Bishop?"
Laurentina's polite smile stiffened at Kal'tsit's bluntness.
Unfazed, Kal'tsit continued:
"Still, I can tell you a fragment of what I know about Judas—but only on the condition that from now on, you obey Rhodes Island's commands and do not violate our principles."
"Hah, isn't that just a glorified slave contract? Selling both me and Skadi to Rhodes Island in exchange for possibly-false information? Hardly a fair deal."
"I can assure you, my information is accurate. Whether you accept this trade or not—that choice is yours."
With that, Kal'tsit returned the key to Skadi.
"I do not depend on fragments to piece together the world."
Laurentina and Skadi hesitated, but in the end, they agreed.
They knew nothing of the land, and if they wished to learn about the Church of the Deep's Bishop and find a path back to their homeland, they had little choice but to rely on this Feline who seemed to know so much about Aegir.
"Do not worry too much. Rhodes Island's orders will not force you to act against your principles. And besides—your worth is far too little for me to waste effort binding you to us."
Kal'tsit's voice was calm as she addressed the Abyssal Hunters:
"For now, what I can tell you is this: the Bishop Judas worships a unique Seaborn known as Ig."
She paused, then added—
"This being appears to be one of the higher entities among the Seaborns."