Round Three: Gains

“Stop! Abominable creature!” With a furious cry, a force utterly opposite to Forty-Seven’s surged forward— an aura filled with holiness and courage. The mercenaries, trapped in fear, strained to move closer to the newcomer, bathed in invisible holy light. Their condition improved significantly; as if granted immense confidence and encouragement, they maintained a calm and noble demeanor despite their fear.
“Everyone, get back! It’s a semi-Purgatory creature!”
Josen gathered all his strength, swinging his long sword to channel a holy warrior’s faith and perseverance into his strike, determined to inflict maximum damage on this evil being—though he couldn’t yet determine its race, he was certain it carried Purgatory blood!
Forty-Seven effortlessly blocked the attack with his giant sword. In terms of raw power, the opponent was nowhere near comparable to the Devil’s attacks—practically insignificant. Yet some brilliant, surging energy passed unimpeded through the sword and struck him, causing excruciating pain in the flesh parts composed of countless Purgatory creatures. It seemed those flesh parts still harbored the souls of devils and demons, which were revived by this attack, awakening and howling in rage and pain, venting eternal hatred.
This pain was unprecedented—Forty-Seven had never felt anything like it in his previous lives. He stepped back, then charged forward. His casual attitude suddenly turned into overwhelming fury that nearly overwhelmed his mind. A fierce flame erupted on his sword as he swung it at the warrior before him.
Josen raised his shield to block. With a deafening crash, it felt as though he had been struck by a mammoth. The immense force knocked him to the ground, sending dust flying. Half of his body went numb, and his arm bones were nearly broken—
Forty-Seven raised his giant sword again, ready to strike.
A blinding white light came from the side, enveloping Forty-Seven with some mysterious force that pushed him back, slowing his movements. For a moment, the white light turned his vision white and bright, leaving him unable to see anything. Relying on instinct, he sensed an attack coming at his waist. He bent sharply and jumped backward, the sword blade cutting through the canvas and grazing his waist.
The strike wasn’t deep, but Forty-Seven felt as though his waist might break—there was no doubt that a solid hit would split him in two. A sharp sound came from above as the opponent launched a second attack. The holy pressure made Forty-Seven’s entire body tense, and this sudden predicament was something he had never faced even in fierce battles!
He swung his sword to counter. With his body still bent, his sword lay diagonally on the sand. As the flaming blade was raised, the terrifying wind pressure and hot sand formed a monstrous sand beast that rushed forward with it.

“Milia!” Jason cried out in alarm as he watched the slender figure swallowed by the swirling sand. But soon, Salon exploded with a loud noise, and she flew out as if spat out, landing lightly beside Jason. Her hands gripping the sword trembled slightly, and the white light on the great sword had dimmed considerably, no longer shining with its former intense brilliance.

The cloak had fallen away. Forty-Seven clutched his waist, with dark red liquid, resembling oil or grease, seeping through his fingers and dripping onto the sand before solidifying.

“Blood? Or oil?” Forty-Seven raised his hand, vaguely examining the liquid on his palm. It seemed like melted tin, coagulating into tiny flowing droplets that reflected his equally dark red eyes.

Jason struggled to stand upright, putting himself in front of Milia.

“Lord of Eternal Glory… please grant me the courage and light to repel evil…” Jason prayed softly. The holy light of courage around him seemed to grow stronger, emitting a visible glow that flowed around him, healing the shock and dizziness caused by the heavy blows. Milia also raised her twin swords again, their lights blazing fiercely like white lightning.

Forty-Seven watched the two of them. The aura surrounding the man and woman disgusted him deeply. He couldn’t explain why, but he simply hated it.

His waist hurt terribly. Forty-Seven touched his great sword—covered in cracks but still held together by the flames burning upon it. The blood from his hand smeared onto the blade, causing the flames to dance even more wildly as if doused with fuel.

“Be careful… this guy is far stronger than I thought!” Jason stared at the red flames hidden beneath the cloak, feeling disgusted by the presence and gaze of the other party.

Forty-Seven’s vision had fully recovered. Like a Balor demon, he swung his great sword and stepped forward, ready to chop those two radiant wretches to pieces and let their flesh emit a burnt smell—

A sudden voice interrupted this tense standoff.

“I know where Agus is!”

Forty-Seven whipped his head toward the source of the voice, staring at the fat man with a bulky figure, protected in the middle by fully armed mercenaries.

“Tell me!”

Jason found it utterly unbelievable to see Freys gesticulating wildly and spouting nonsense in front of that terrifying Half-Purgatory traveler. Milia, on the other hand, wore a look of disgust. In her eyes, even getting close to that guy was a desecration of kindness, let alone now—these two were actually working together, studying a parchment map!

“See—we should be here now. Head southwest. It’s a half-month’s journey to the Cold Wasteland, assuming everything goes smoothly. Then cross the trade route between the Cold Wasteland and the Sleeping Forest known as the ‘Forest of Trees,’ and turn south to reach Agus…”

The cold sweat that had appeared moments ago due to being near Forty-Seven now turned into a shiny sheen on his forehead. Freys used his thick fingers to point around on the crude map, as if Forty-Seven were just an ordinary passerby.

“If…” Forty-Seven’s fingers traced the map like a soldering iron: “What if I take a straight route?”
“That won’t work, sir. The Desert of Noise and the South are separated by the Great Mountain Range… I’ve never heard of anyone crossing it alone! And even if we avoided the Great Mountain Range, this route would require passing through the Sleeping Forest right in the middle. Believe me, it’s no easier than traveling through the Desert of Noise. Besides, those damned Night Elves will shoot arrows at anyone who steps into the forest. Their conflict with Agus has lasted over a century, and it seems to be intensifying these days. It’s foolish even to approach the Sleeping Forest at such a time!… Oh, I mean no offense. See, I too have to endure hardships for a little profit, right?”
Night Elves? At war with Agus? That was interesting news.
Forty-Seven helped Freys roll up the map: “Very good… Thank you for the explanation. Is our misunderstanding resolved then?”
“Haha… Resolved! Completely resolved!” Freys laughed heartily, slipping the map under his arm. “It’s all because of my people. How could someone like you be interested in a small caravan like mine? Please forgive them—they’re just a bit nervous because of the desert…”
“Including those two guys?” Forty-Seven glanced at the two paladins who were still on high alert. That gesture almost made them attack, but the other mercenaries had become more relaxed. Aside from keeping watch around them, they had lowered their bows and stood there more casually, waiting. According to their experience, once Mr. Freys started talking to someone, they would find common ground in ten minutes and become as close as old friends in an hour…
“Oh—” Freys’s chubby face, tilted slightly upward, was filled with a smile as he lowered his voice. “As you know, those paladins can’t stand anyone but their own companions… I have no connection with them; I’m just passing by… Oh, hey! Mann! Bring me that long package from my tent! Hurry up!”
The young man who rushed over carrying the long package as if it were a log didn’t seem to have any combat training, but he was quick and agile. Though he was a bit afraid of Forty-Seven, he handled the obviously heavy package without any mistakes. He handed it to Freys, causing his arm to sag heavily. Freys muttered, “I can’t imagine how anyone could use something like this in battle—”
A quite pleasant compliment.