Gabriel stepped into the formation, standing calmly, as if they had practiced this arrangement hundreds of times.
Alpha took half a step forward.
"Report," she said briefly.
She looked at Gabriel with a straight posture.
"All members of the Diablo Cult in this area have been eliminated. No escape routes were found."
Her gaze shifted to the white-haired man.
"One target remains."
Gabriel gave a small nod.
He slowly raised his right hand—a simple gesture. Alpha fell silent and stepped back to her position.
The Diablo Cult man let out a short laugh, gasping for breath.
"…So this is," he said hoarsely, "the damn kids who destroyed everything."
His gaze turned to Gabriel.
"You're the leader?" he sneered. "Still so young… but your aura is disgusting."
Before Gabriel could speak—
"Your mouth," Beta's voice rang out, calm and almost polite, "is no longer in a position to speak recklessly."
Beta stepped slightly forward, her silver hair catching the dim light.
"You stand only because we allow it," she continued softly. "And that sword remains in your hand not because of strength—but because of mercy."
The man gritted his teeth.
"Mercy…?" He laughed again, this time bitterly. "You think you've won? The Cult does—"
"Enough," Gabriel cut in calmly.
One word.
Yet the pressure in the air shifted.
All eyes—including the man's—reflexively turned toward him.
Gabriel looked at him evenly.
"Answer when asked," he said calmly. "Or remain silent."
The tunnel fell silent again.
For the first time since standing there, the white-haired man's hand trembled slightly.
"Tch."
He clicked his tongue, his face twisted with irritation and anger. His left hand immediately reached into his inner pocket, pulling out a small bottle containing four deep red pills—gleaming like round gems.
"Hm?" Gabriel murmured briefly, his gaze settling on the pills without the slightest change in expression.
"Heh."
The man grinned, then downed the entire contents of the bottle in one go.
In an instant, blood-red Mana lashed out around him like dark lightning. His skin flushed crimson, veins bulged grotesquely, and his frame swelled—nearly doubling in size.
The Seven Shades frowned in unison, their gazes sharpening.
Within seconds, the transformation was complete.
The man's Mana surged violently—surpassing Alpha's current level. Wounds across his body sealed themselves continuously, leaving only faint traces, as if his flesh had just been re-carved.
A wave of pressure erupted outward.
CRACK—!
The tunnel floor and walls split apart, shards of stone flying as the rampant Mana tore through the space.
"Hahaha!" the man laughed arrogantly, intoxicated by the overflowing power. "With this, you're all going to die!"
His eyes locked onto Gabriel.
"Before that, I'll kill your fragile leader—right in front of your eyes!"
Without hesitation, he burst forward.
His sword swept horizontally, tearing through the air with brutal Mana pressure.
Time seemed to slow.
In a fraction of a second, the Seven Shades retreated in perfect unison—without orders—opening a path and leaving Gabriel standing alone at the center.
At the same moment, a slime weapon flowed out from beneath Gabriel's right sleeve, shaping itself into a slender blade just before the strike reached him.
CLANG—!!!
A deafening impact rang out.
Gabriel blocked the attack with ease.
"What…!?"
The man froze for a split second, his eyes widening before his jaw clenched in irritation. He snarled and immediately unleashed a flurry of slashes at Gabriel, his movements brutal and heavy with Mana.
CLANK—!! CLANK—!! CLANK—!!
Every single strike was deflected.
Not with effort—but with absolute precision, as if Gabriel had known the direction, angle, and timing of every strike from the very beginning.
Gabriel's sword moved minimally. One step. One angle. Enough.
Elsewhere—
"Hah," Epsilon snorted, folding his arms with his large scythe resting on his shoulder. "His movements are still rough. Mana is being wasted everywhere."
Beta adjusted his glasses, his voice calm. "Drugs like that increase output, not technique. Without control, power only magnifies the gaps."
"But why doesn't Boss just finish him off immediately?" Delta murmured, confused, ears slightly drooping. "Delta is hungry."
"Because he's not a barbaric dog like you," Zeta replied flatly, without turning.
"What!? Delta is not a barbaric dog!" Delta shouted, offended, turning sharply. "Delta is a hunter!"
"You bite and pounce without thinking," Zeta shot back briefly. "That's barbaric."
"Zeta's mean!!"
"You're noisy."
Delta huffed loudly, tail swishing angrily, while Zeta returned his focus to the battle as if the argument had never happened.
In another corner, Eta yawned widely, patting her cheeks.
"…Still a long way to go?" she muttered, half-asleep.
Alpha stood tall, his blue eyes never leaving the battle. He observed every move of Gabriel and the enemy seriously, absorbing everything without a single word.
"…The speed of his swings increased by 23%," Gamma muttered nervously. "B-but the success rate of his attacks… zero…"
Amidst all that—
CLANK—!!
Another strike was blocked.
Gabriel didn't even change his expression.
He looked at the man calmly, sword still raised, his voice flat.
"As I suspected," Gabriel said quietly. "A sword isn't quite compatible with my style."
With a bit of focus, the pale white slime weapon in his hand trembled—then transformed into a shovel.
Without hesitation, he swung it.
SLASH—!
Time slowed once again.
The strike sliced through the man's right wrist with absolute precision. His sword and hand flew through the air, spinning before landing separately on the stone floor.
Blood spurted.
The man's expression froze—a mix of shock and disbelief.
Before he could shout, Gabriel retracted his shovel.
Pale white Mana flowed along the surface of the shovel, twisting in his hands, forming interwoven strands of light.
One step forward.
A straight thrust.
The shovel struck the man directly in the chest.
"Ash's Third Style: False Star River of the New Moon," Gabriel declared.
Trrkk—!
His ribs shattered instantly. Blood sprayed from his mouth as his body was lifted by the impact.
BOOM—!!!
A shockwave erupted, sending the man's body crashing into the walls of the underground chamber multiple times before finally collapsing, motionless.
Silence.
The battle was over.
Gabriel slowly lowered his shovel. He then turned, the trench coat draped over his shoulders swaying gently.
"Shades," Gabriel said, "after cleaning up the scene, we return."
Shadow Garden stood tall, stamping their feet in unison and answering: "Yes!"
***
Three days had passed since the raid on the previous night.
Cid had still not returned from his northern expedition, leaving only a clone of Cid, created by Gabriel, at home.
Meanwhile, Claire was attending her noble education class this afternoon.
With the house relatively quiet, Gabriel spent his time in his room. He sat at his study desk, calmly drawing magic runes—simply practicing his Mana Method.
Not far from him, on another desk, Morgan sat gracefully on a miniature chair and table, sipping tea with composed movements, as if she were in the drawing room of her own tiny palace.
Moments later, Morgan glanced toward the window.
Shortly after, Zeta entered quietly—entering without a sound had become her habit. In her hands, she carried a gift box.
In the stillness of the room, Zeta observed her surroundings for a moment. Her gaze briefly rested on Morgan, then returned to its usual blankness before finally shifting to Gabriel.
Morgan did not react. She simply resumed sipping her tea, as if Zeta's presence had been expected.
Zeta stepped closer.
Gabriel paused his rune sketching, set down his pen, and turned around.
"Zeta," he said calmly, "what is it?"
Upon reaching the young man, Zeta stopped in his tracks.
Without saying much, he raised the box in his hands and offered it to Gabriel.
"...This," he said succinctly.
Gabriel blinked slowly, then took the box. As soon as his hand touched the wooden surface, his brows furrowed slightly.
"...Smells fishy."
Zeta nodded once, his expression still blank.
"A gift."
Gabriel opened the box slowly.
Inside—fish. Many fish. Still fresh, their scales glinting faintly, some even still tied with a simple string.
Gabriel remained silent for a moment, then muttered softly.
"...Oh. So this is the result."
He recalled a brief report from one of the Beetles monitoring Zeta's movements: "Zeta went to the river. Caught fish. Purpose unknown."
"So you really went to the river," Gabriel said, looking at the fish. "Quite a distance from here."
Zetta nodded again.
"The fish there are big. They stay still. Easy to catch."
"...A simple evaluation method," Gabriel replied flatly.
Meanwhile, Zetta suddenly sniffed the air. Without warning, he turned and leapt onto Gabriel's bed.
Then, Zetta lowered himself, pressing his face into the mattress, sniffing deeply… before rolling over it with a satisfied expression, like a cat finding its favorite spot.
However, his attention was soon drawn to another familiar scent.
"...Smells like Delta."
Gabriel closed his eyes briefly.
"Yes. Delta often rolls around there."
Morgan, who had been silently sipping tea at her miniature table, glanced over without expression.
"I tidied that bed this morning," she said calmly. "If it gets messy again, tidy it up yourself."
__
Author's note:
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