Like Ahti, Chalde misunderstood what he was seeing.
The corners of his serious mouth curled slightly.
Seeing someone step forward and throw away their chance to survive—for love—was rare, even for him.
In a world full of monsters and adventurers, very few people treated romance as something weightier than life and death.
"What blazing love… and I hate that sort of thing the most."
The young man in front of him reminded Chalde of a certain red-eyed brat from Zeus Familia—the weakest supporter in the whole group.
The one who got the darling of Hera Familia pregnant.
Damn that bastard.
Liking someone wasn't the problem. Even getting close wasn't.
But at the very least—couldn't he have taken precautions?
No exaggeration: that pregnancy almost made Hera Familia tear Zeus Familia apart.
Chalde raised his longsword and brought it down in one swift stroke.
Cid made him think of that hateful kid, and the swing carried a little personal grudge along with it.
On the other side, Cid didn't understand a word of what he'd just heard.
Blazing love? Who loves who?
The only man and woman nearby had been him and Ahti—so what, he was supposed to be in love with her?
Cid didn't dwell on it.
He fixed his attention on the incoming strike.
The blow carried the weight of a mountain; if he tried to block it, there wouldn't be a whole body left afterward.
And Cid had no intention of letting his "surface identity" truly die.
He needed that mob-character mask to remain intact—so that the existence of the Eminence in Shadow could be "complete."
So he had to reveal a little ability.
At minimum, he couldn't let that sword split him in two.
From Chalde's perspective, Cid used an oddly unnatural footwork against his strike.
His body didn't seem to change, yet he somehow made himself almost like a sheet of paper—thin to the point of being impossible to lock onto—slipping away from most of the damage.
In the end, he still sprayed a great deal of blood as he was sent flying.
But that was all.
Chalde stared at his sword in disbelief.
That slash hadn't bisected Cid…
It hadn't even killed him on the spot.
"Interesting footwork."
Chalde couldn't help savoring it for a moment.
The result looked almost ridiculous at first glance, but Chalde wasn't the kind of man who judged only the surface.
Pure technique—allowing a Level 2 to survive a serious strike from him?
In his eyes, if Cid possessed that kind of movement, then in terms of technique alone, he already far surpassed Ottar.
"Impressive. If you can grow… you might become a remarkable adventurer."
Chalde praised the "dying" Cid sincerely.
He didn't finish him off.
He didn't heal him.
He simply turned and walked away.
He had no interest in executing a heavily wounded adventurer.
And for a talent like this, he was willing to spare a life.
As for leaving him without treatment—the reason was simple.
If Cid was truly the kind of adventurer worth expecting something from…
Then he wouldn't die here so easily.
A great adventurer should possess vitality ordinary people could never match.
"…Is it time?"
Chalde heard the summons of the greatest evil.
Tonight's real "afterparty" was only about to begin.
Two minutes after Chalde left—
Cid, still playing dead, slammed a fist into his chest.
His heart restarted.
After a deep breath, he stood up.
"Shame. I only got to enjoy two minutes of playing dead."
He sounded genuinely regretful.
With his ability, he could've "experienced" death a little longer.
Playing dead was a basic survival skill for a proper mob character, after all.
But the situation didn't allow him to indulge.
"What an absurd wound."
Cid glanced at the gash across his body.
He'd avoided most of the attack, but the residual force had still carved him up like this.
It wasn't that he'd defended—he hadn't.
But the destructive power was still honestly impressive.
"I'll stitch it up, at least."
He condensed mana into thread and sewed the wound closed.
With his healing ability, he could have restored the injury completely.
But Ahti had seen him get hurt—if the wound simply vanished, it would be impossible to explain.
This way, he could just "remove the stitches" later.
Mana surged.
His slime equipment wrapped around him in an instant.
The mob character's time on stage was over.
Now it was Shadow's turn.
"It's time to play the true nocturne."
......
The deeper the adversity, the stronger Finn became.
Relying on the powerful skill Prum's Truth, he crushed Valetta and her barrier magic without even needing to go berserk.
"Finn—damn you!"
The holes punched through her body drove Valetta into a rage; she looked like she wanted to rush him down and fight to the death.
The Dark Faction had scored victory after victory—
And she alone had lost.
What was this humiliation?
Valetta couldn't stand it.
For a moment, Finn thought she really would charge.
But the next instant, she ran—vanishing without a trace.
"Even that insane expression was a lie… truly flexible."
Finn shook his head. Whether it was praise or mockery, even he didn't bother clarifying.
As the battle ended, Raul hurried to Finn's side.
"Commander—give the order!"
His words were full of forced calm.
With Ottar defeated and two top-tier executives down, anyone who could stay perfectly calm would be the strange one.
"A 'Tyrant'… so the Dark Faction hid a card like that. Are Riveria and Gareth still alive? What about the rest of the battlefield?"
Finn stayed unnervingly composed—only his thumb was pinched between his fingers.
A Tyrant had appeared, Valetta had been driven off—
But the pain in his thumb was getting worse.
That sensation meant something big was coming.
Finn almost wanted to laugh bitterly.
Orario was losing ground. Countless citizens were being dragged into the fighting. The Tyrants had crushed first-class adventurers—
And there was still something worse waiting behind it?
What could possibly come next?
"Report, Commander: the pigman was rescued by the War Chariot. The two executives were rescued by the All-Rounder; they're unconscious. The four 'Flame-Gold' warriors are heavily injured—rumor says they faced twelve Level 5s, and they can't fight for now. The black-and-white elves have a clear advantage. The monster elf still hasn't appeared…"
"Then give the black-and-white elves a bit more burden. Draw the Dark Faction's main force toward them."
"…!"
Raul shuddered—like he could already hear Hedin's hysterical screaming.
"Continue."
"…Yes, Commander! The two Tyrants are currently unaccounted for, and many Dark Faction members have also disappeared. We don't know what they're doing."
"Go find out. With that many people moving together, how can you not find anything?"
The stabbing pain in Finn's thumb intensified.
......
After prolonged slaughter, Astraea Familia finally cleared the enemies in their district.
The entire "Justice Familia" were elites. Not one of them died—most of them still had stamina and strength to keep fighting.
Ryuu took a couple of heavy breaths. Just as she was about to bring up the earlier topic again, Alise's expression changed.
"No… Lady Astraea is in danger!"
....
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