Zeke cursed. He'd lost the element of surprise.
He knew that face. The body was different, but the face was the same.
It was the B-Rank fatty, Li Zhanliang.
"THAT GUY!" a voice screamed from the back line. It was Yaoshi. "HIS TALENT BURNS FAT FOR A MASSIVE STAT BOOST! THE WOMAN IS A HEALER!"
Li Zhanliang's expression turned venomous. He'd been exposed.
But he was a pragmatist. He counted the numbers. Zeke. The blood-soaked (but still standing) Liedao. Yaoshi. The villagers.
The math was bad.
He forced a smile, already backing away. "Brother," he said, his voice smooth, "we have no quarrel, right? This is Peaceful Mode. You get nothing for killing me."
Liedao didn't move. She was bleeding out, but she'd won. The villagers were safe. She let him go.
Zeke was fine with that. He wasn't a murderer. He'd rather go kill demon wolves. He needed to know if they dropped loot.
He sent the villagers to Yaoshi's makeshift aid station. He walked to Liedao.
"Need help?"
She was too weak to speak. She just nodded.
And collapsed.
He caught her, supporting her, and carried her and her sword to her brother.
"Thank you," Yaoshi said, his voice raw. He didn't ask for permission, just started applying bandages. "I'm Yaoshi. She's Liedao."
"Zeke." He watched them for a second. Respect. He'd picked this path because he was a Prophet. They'd picked it because they were good.
He had to be sure.
He nodded at Yaoshi's... unique... ahegao-covered shirt. "Your... armor."
Yaoshi didn't look up, his hands working fast. "Custom. 2D-battle-armor. Cost a fortune." He paused. "But I've never heard of 'Frieren.' I read raws, man. This isn't in any database. I came into this world blind. Just... following her."
He pointed with a bloody hand. "Seven minutes left on the timer. The wolves have a chance to drop white-grade chests. If you want to farm, you can borrow her sword."
Zeke went silent.
The Prophet was confirmed.
But the victory felt... thin. Yaoshi had just... told him everything. Everything Zeke was planning to trick him into revealing. This kid wasn't a fool. He was just as smart, just in a different way.
Zeke's pride vanished. A chill.
Never, ever underestimate anyone.
He took the sword. He took one step toward the river.
The world stopped.
A mountainous, crushing pressure slammed down on the village. It was pure, unadulterated mana. He couldn't breathe.
A deep, drum-like voice echoed from the village center.
"The Demon King's experiment... it actually succeeded."
In the blink of an eye, a shadow moved. Schlack was in front of him.
His helmet was cracked, revealing his monstrous face.
He dropped the half-dead, broken body of Grandpa Voll at Zeke's feet.
He crouched, bringing his face inches from Zeke's. The smell of gore and ozone was overwhelming.
"Tell me," Schlack's voice rumbled, "my new kinsman... born from a human..."
"What is 'empathy'?"
Zeke was pinned. Paralyzed by the pressure. He couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Couldn't even stall for time.
But his mind was screaming.
One minute. One minute until the timer hits 25:00. One minute until Himmel arrives!
"You can't say?" Schlack mused. "Fine. I'll help you."
He vanished. Reappeared.
He threw the small girl—the one from the house—at Zeke's feet. He tossed a dagger down.
"Mahat would do this..." he mumbled to himself. "Yes. This should work."
"Duel. Only one of you lives."
The crushing pressure on them vanished. Schlack's voice was calm, with no hint of malice.
He genuinely believed this was an act of kindness. A way to help Zeke remember.
Monsters. They're just monsters.
Zeke gritted his teeth. He started counting. Fifty-nine... fifty-eight...
The little girl, her face a mask of tears, pushed the dagger away.
She sobbed, "Big brother... thank you... for saving my mommy..."
...
A nameless emotion boiled in Zeke's demon blood.
But he kept counting. Fifty-seven...
"Too slow, kinsman."
Schlack was bored. He appeared at Zeke's side, grabbed his sword-arm, and forced it toward the little girl's neck.
Death was here.
Zeke's mind flashed—a quote from the manga.
"Magic is the world of imagination."
He screamed in his mind. [MEMORY MAGIC]!
Not a desk. His other near-death experience.
The black sports car. The red light. Seventy miles per hour.
His mana hemorrhaged. Drained. Gone.
IMAGINE! he screamed, breaking the limits. He imagined the mana. He willed it.
And the magic brought reality.
The black, shimmering grille of a sports car materialized from thin air and slammed into Schlack at 200 MPH.
"Ngh?!"
CRUNCH.
Schlack was thrown like a stone, skipping off the ground, crashing deep into the forest.
Agony. Zeke looked down. His right arm, the one Schlack had held, was gone. Torn from the socket. Blood fountained.
[You have taken Tearing Damage! HP -20%!]
[You are BLEEDING. -1% Max HP per second!]
Two seconds. Schlack exploded from the forest, his rage a physical force.
"I! WILL! EAT! YOU!"
A massive hand reached for Zeke's head.
Zeke, bleeding out on the ground, looked up... and started to laugh, blood bubbling from his lips.
His one minute was up.
He'd won.
A silver flash. Ten meters wide.
It sliced through the ocean of fire. It sliced clean through Schlack's outstretched arm. It buried itself in the forest beyond.
Thud.
Footsteps. Calm. Unhurried.
The blue-haired hero stepped over the flames, backlit by the dawn.
He stood over the fallen boy.
"You've endured," Himmel said. "Leave the rest to me."
As darkness took him, Zeke heard the voice. Just as he'd imagined.
Like a spring breeze blowing through a field of flowers.