Round 22: New Visitor

Forty-Seven turned around, trying his best to shield Moriel. Although Moriel often spoke to him in a commanding tone, this time was different. Her expression reminded him of his last moments in the Armored Mechanized Forces.

Jason, with a ferocious laugh, kept waving his hands as if conducting the Vienna Symphony Orchestra in the Golden Hall. The silver needles flew at speeds greater than ever before—not only in speed but also in the rate of firing—creating a sea of silver projectiles floating between Jason and Forty-Seven.

Moriel closed her eyes and chanted, preparing the most destructive spell of her life, aiming to eliminate this damned bastard before her.

Forty-Seven was like a traveler climbing a mountain against a blizzard. Under the intense attacks, he tried to maintain his balance to better protect Moriel behind him. His body was gradually collapsing; the tiny silver needles were eating away at every fragile metal part, leaving him unable to shield Moriel any longer. Clearly, Moriel’s magic power hadn’t yet gathered enough to cast her powerful spell—this situation was terrible.

A silver needle pierced Moriel’s arm, but she only swayed slightly, continuing her soft chanting. Her blood spilled onto Forty-Seven, and he seemed to feel its warmth.

Forty-Seven turned his head with difficulty. He needed the help of Blood Axe, even if just for a moment, to allow Moriel to complete her spell.

Blood Axe crouched there, holding his battle axe, right in front of the crimson magic circle with the floating scrolls. His eyes no longer held any light. The blood magic circle on the ground was taking shape, but aside from the dead Blood Axe, no one knew if it had been completed. Obviously, the magic circle hadn’t activated—otherwise, Blood Axe would have leaped up to use his new ultimate skill instead of staying silent.

Moriel finally opened her eyes, but Forty-Seven collapsed amidst the barrage of projectiles before her. It was all over.

“What will you do next, dear Moriel?” Jason stopped firing and crouched down to look at Moriel in the pool of blood.

Her body was pierced in three places, with the wound on her left chest being the most severe. Not only was it difficult for her to gather magic power, but even maintaining consciousness required great effort.

He reached out to touch her cheek, but she turned her head firmly, refusing him.

“Let it be. Goodbye, Moriel.” Jason raised his wrist, his expression showing reluctance.

A wave of heat came from behind, sweeping away the chill in the temple.

“This place is deadly. It’s too humid in the swamp! Look! There are leeches! Leeches on the walls! What kind of place is this?” Noise came from the entrance of the hall; it seemed there were other people there.

“How is that possible? There was someone at the entrance…” Jason turned to look.

Black, red, and white.

Count O’Sullivan walked at the front, holding a handkerchief. Ale continued to dry the environment. The last one Jason recognized was Mage Mishima.

“Jason? How did you end up here? Isn’t that a Blood Axe? Morriel is here too! What on earth is going on?” Mishima was clearly astonished by everything happening here.
“…” The silver needles melted mid-air.
“Jason, how do you know how to use such magic? So, were all the corpses we saw along the way your work?”
“Stop talking nonsense.” Jason had no tolerance left for unnecessary complications.
Silver needles covered the sky, but Ale stepped forward and melted them all.
“Troublesome guy.” Jason failed in his attempt and dodged Mishima’s magic projectiles with a quick move.
O’Sullivan leisurely looked around behind the flame barrier. He saw dwarves crouched, lifeless; a handsome short-haired mage still lying on the ground, not yet dead; and a pile of scrap metal in front of her.
He thought one of the iron barrels among the junk seemed familiar from somewhere.
It seemed Ale had noticed something too. Was there a woman by the wall? She carried the scent of Lumen.
“The problem now is how to subdue Jason. He’s completely different from before.” Mishima could only obediently hide behind Ale, unsure he could handle the mad conductor.
“Tch!” O’Sullivan unbuttoned the patterned buttons on his coat and kicked the stone floor twice.
The stones instantly shattered, creating a pit. O’Sullivan sent black lightning that bypassed Ale’s magic fire wall and stopped beside Jason, who kept firing silver needles. Jason suddenly saw someone crouched beside him and quickly turned around. He hadn’t expected this at all. He jumped back and tried to wave his hand to shoot silver needles—where were his hands?
Jason’s hands were beside the stranger’s feet, both of them there, one still holding the silver needle he had just intended to shoot. The stranger stood up with his back to him, buttoning his coat, completely unaware of when Jason had moved. Filled with rage, Jason ignored any sense of dignity and tried to shout, but his body started twisting uncontrollably.
He had at least eight severe wounds. If he were still human, each wound would be fatal. Fortunately, he was no longer human. Now, he just needed a little time to recover.
A massive, scorching red fireball reduced him and his plans to dust. Ale’s coordination was flawless.
“Go check on that female mage.” Mishima quickly went over to assess Morriel’s injuries. O’Sullivan, meanwhile, kept wiping his hands while scolding Ale for creating too much mess.
Thanks to the healing potion, Morriel’s injuries recovered quite fast. Besides, Jason’s attacks only harmed her body, not her magic. With both internal and external treatments, Morriel’s face regained some color.
“Let’s get back to our task.” O’Sullivan had wanted to eat an apple, but after glancing around, he decided against it. If he paid too much attention to the surroundings, he might soon have to flee in a panic.
“Those piles in front of you… how should I put it? Call them wreckage. Is this all the constructs you found in the swamp? Or were some already scattered elsewhere?”

Morrill didn’t respond. Her gaze swept over the three people in front of her, finally stopping on Ale.
“Ahem, Morrill, it’s been a long time since I’ve been back to Rain City… I really should advise you not to be so eager for adventure.” Mishima cleared his throat. “I’ve always admired your ability to find strange and wonderful things in the swamps, but there are some things you simply can’t handle… So I suggest you learn to let go. Of course, I won’t have you give up for nothing. You’ve always been interested in my alchemy, right? I can exchange it for a few spells…”
Morrill still didn’t answer. She even seemed to have forgotten about the 47 beside her. Suddenly, as if realizing something, her gaze quickly shifted from Ale to the 47, which had now turned into a pile of trash.
“You mean this?” Morrill’s voice was low, as if her throat were tightly squeezed. Mishima frowned but didn’t pay much attention.
“Yeah, that’s exactly it. I hope you’ll give these to me,” Sullivan said bluntly.
“I need a reason.”
“Do you think I need to explain anything to you in this situation?”
“…You’re right. Fine, take it. This has nothing to do with me anymore.” Morrill kicked a twisted piece of scrap metal toward Sullivan with her foot.
“That’s good. You’re a smart girl,” Sullivan said as he stepped on the rolling metal piece.
“I have conditions. I found these things; I can’t just leave empty-handed.”
“It was going so well—why start bargaining suddenly?” Sullivan was already preparing a bag to put the 47 in.
“Money,” Morrill said, as if seeing something in the metal piece. She found it unusual.
“Huh, you’re a good businesswoman.”
“Hmph, mutual respect,” Morrill ignored Sullivan’s sarcastic remark.
“Deal.”