Due to the fundamental nature of the open-world genre, in this world, players could interact with any target they encountered.
In other words, the ability to gain experience points wasn’t limited to just monsters; as long as they killed a living creature, they would obtain experience points.
Killing an opponent granted experience points.
This natural concept naturally exposed fake death clichés.
For example, a line like, “Did you kill it?”
“He’s not dead, so he’ll get up, right?”
In response to Ruon’s words, the man who had momentarily stopped moving suddenly burst into laughter.
“Son of a b*tch, what’s this?”
Unconsciously spitting out a curse, Kyle reflexively drew the dagger from his waist.
The man, who had slowly stood up, opened his mouth with the dagger still embedded in his forehead.
“How could a mere swordsman figure it out?”
“Will you even understand if I tell you?”
Narrowing his eyes at Ruon’s dry response, the man spoke.
“Tibella’s rotten shining sword. Looks like a holy knight, huh, ouch-“
Before he could finish speaking, he slumped back down with a thud.
An arrow was deeply embedded in his forehead.
“Will he still not die with this?”
Amella spoke to Ruon as he slung his bow over his back.
“Ruon, that’s nothing but a puppet.”
“Seems so.”
In the meantime, the man who had suddenly risen stood up again and began to rush toward the group like a madman.
Ruon was about to draw his Holy Sword when the man’s body swelled grotesquely as he closed the distance, and he instinctively stepped back.
“Kyle!”
At Ruon’s shout, Kyle quickly hid behind his shield, lowering his stance.
Meanwhile, Amella grabbed Ruon’s waist and pursed her lips.
Boom!
The man rushed forward with great force, and the explosion of his body and bone fragments swept forward.
As Ruon observed the sliding intestines and the gory remains on the translucent shield, he turned his head to the side.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Lowering his shield slowly, Kyle smiled lightly and nodded.
Kyle’s nightly training to guard himself in case the shield’s wavelengths interfered with Amelia’s magic had paid off in the event of an unexpected situation like this one.
“Well done.”
With a short praise, Ruon drew his sword.
Gazing at the lone leather shoe left in the midst of the blood that had splattered in all directions, Amella clicked her tongue in annoyance.
“What a vile creature.”
At that moment, an elderly man wrapped in a black cloak emerged from the stairs of the underground catacombs.
Holding a blunt-tipped wooden staff that advertised, “I’m a wizard”, the old man smirked at the group and held the staff out in front of him.
Before the man could do anything, Ruon quickly knocked him to the ground.
However, it seemed that the act of extending the staff was not in preparation but the final action of completing a spell. The old man’s magic was one step faster than Ruon’s attempt to subdue him.
A black mist poured from the end of the staff, enveloping Ruon’s body.
In an instant, his whole body felt as heavy as molten lead. But he resisted the pressure and moved forward.
Though his speed slightly decreased, Ruon, still full of momentum, smashed through the stone slab flooring and charged at the old man, who was taken aback and quickly retreated.
Despite his hunched posture, the old man moved so agilely that it was hard to believe. He extended his staff forward once again as Ruon approached.
Because he was ensnared by the mist, Ruon couldn’t react quickly enough, so he bent his upper body and crossed his arms.
An invisible force struck him fiercely.
However, the force of his body’s strength, having overcome the power of the fog, was able to break through the force in front of him.
Without needing to confirm, he knew it was because of Amella’s assistance. In an artificially liberated state, he increased his speed and closed the distance with his opponent in an instant.
As the old man hastily activated his protective shield, Ruon, who had already reached striking distance, brought down his elbow on the shield, simultaneously extending his bent arm.
The twisted shield was pierced beautifully by the Holy Sword, cutting through the arm holding the staff.
Black blood splattered in all directions along the path of the sword.
Looking down at the arm lying on the ground along with the shattered shield, Ruon raised his head.
“You run away pretty well for someone of your caliber.”
Hundreds of candles on the old chandelier were swaying anxiously.
Quickly murmuring a spell and escaping, the old man sat on the chandelier, clutching his shoulder where blood was spurting.
“…You, are you a monster?”
Ruon turned his head at the stupid question, which wasn’t worth answering.
“Amella.”
She understood the meaning contained in his words and raised her arm, clenching her lips.
A blue radiating semicircle shot upward from her hand, defying gravity, and cut through the thick chain connecting the ceiling to the chandelier in one swift motion.
The old man’s forehead sizzled and melted as he began to fall to the floor with the chandelier.
Just before his body hit the ground, the old man disappeared once again.
By the time the chandelier hit the ground and shattered, triggering a sharp noise, the old man had already moved onto the altar.
With a complex entanglement of black, red, and yellow symbols, the old man extended his single remaining arm towards the sky.
“Die!”
The reddish-black aura gathered around the screaming old man started to seethe anxiously before erupting with a tremendous burst, sweeping around the chapel with explosive force.
Bracing his legs for the impact, Ruon locked eyes with Kyle, who brushed right past him.
‘Take the lead.’
Reading Ruon’s unwavering expression, Kyle advanced forward, and Ruon followed right behind him.
“Aaaaah!”
Kyle yelled, throwing his arms out in front of him.
Ruon seized the momentary opening created by the clash of the two opposing forces as the raging storm clashed with the shield.
As Kyle staggered backward, Ruon leaped forward and swung his arm with all his might.
The Holy Sword, slashing through the raging storm, passed through the opponent’s face and emerged from the other side.
“Kuk.”
The old man, missing half his face, grunted and stumbled backward, foam forming on his lips.
‘It was worth the effort.’
Looking at the corpse of the man who had gifted him a considerable amount of experience, Ruon let out a satisfied laugh.
As he did, Kyle approached, stumbling and looking anxious.
“F***… Is he really dead this time? He won’t just jump up again, right?”
Saying that, he stabbed the dagger into the corpse’s heart. Confirming that there was still no movement, he let out a sigh of relief and sat down.
Ruon, looking at Kyle, who’d ripped up with all the flesh on his palms from how hard he’d clenched his hands to hold the shield against the destructive magic, commented.
“Maybe you should get a pair of gloves.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Damn, that hurts.”
“Uh-huh.”
At that moment, a faint light emanated from the pommel of the Holy Sword.
After it pulled the black smoke from the corpse into the pommel, Kyle widened his eyes.
“W-What’s this?”
“Is this the phenomenon you mentioned before?”
Amella, who had come closer without them noticing, said, “The sword that devours the power of demons… Do you feel any changes?”
To see if anything else had changed, Ruon gripped the hilt and nodded, realizing he could feel the power within the Holy Sword more clearly.
“I don’t know if this expression is accurate, but… it feels more familiar.”
“I’ve heard about equipment that resonates with its user. Maybe that sword is one, an Egosword?”
Ruon shrugged.
“Well, we’re not quite at the stage of communicating, so I don’t know.”
“I see.”
Amella turned her head toward Kyle, who was still perplexed, and took out a small vial emitting a red light from her chest.
“Give me your hand.”
“Huh?”
“I said give me your hand.”
With a firm response, Kyle hesitated before extending his hand. As the liquid from the vial, which was red and flowing, fell onto his palm, he winced.
“Ouch, it stings! Ouch.”
“Don’t be such a drama queen.”
“Isn’t this too much for both of you? My skin was nearly blown off…”
Muttering, Kyle’s expression changed when he noticed the reddish liquid starting to heal his palm.
Ruon asked.
“Is it a potion made from troll blood?”
“Yeah, I concentrated it to get just this much.”
Hearing that, Kyle looked awkward.
“You made something so precious, just to apply it on my palm…”
“Are you going to keep complaining even after you said it hurt like hell?”
Amella retorted with a smirk, standing up and extending her finger.
“I’m sensing something from the stairs below. Let’s go down and check.”
As if proving her words, there were bizarre symbols drawn on the floor of the underground catacombs.
Looking down at the symbols drawn with blood and bones, Amella briefly chanted a spell, and the symbols were cleanly erased. She said, “It’s done. Now that the caster of the ritual is dead, the villagers won’t go crazy anymore.”
Ruon added, “And even if the essence of the fragment returns, there shouldn’t be any immediate danger.”
The party left the church. The streets were still deserted. It was understandable, as the sudden noises from the church likely scared the villagers.
Still hiding behind the window, Kyle spat on the ground as the villagers glared at the group.
“I feel a bit frustrated. When you think about it, we’re the ones who saved them.”
Amella chuckled silently at his words.
“Did you want a hero’s welcome?”
“No, it’s not that. But still, the way they’re staring at us… it’s a bit much, isn’t it?”
Amella said, “For them, we are an unknown fear, neither beyond nor beneath. The gravedigger and the innkeeper will probably spread rumors, and if they’re favorable, the misunderstanding might be cleared.”
Ruon added, “And if the misunderstanding isn’t cleared, so what? We did what we had to do, and that’s enough.”
Looking at him as he wiped the blood off the Holy Sword and into the air, Amella nodded.
“That’s right, that should be enough. Let’s hurry. We’re finally close to the Tower.”
It seemed unlikely that the group would spend the night in town.
