NOVPUBDeon’s condition was critical—so severe that it wouldn’t have been strange if he died at any moment.
The wounds were bad, yes, but it was the blood loss that was worse.
‘With injuries this grave, even the magic I use can’t heal him.’
The recovery magic Ludger used was the sixth Sephira of the Tree of Sephiroth—
Tipheret.
A spell known as the healing of the gods, imbued with the power of Archangel Raphael, capable of mending nearly any wound.
It was this same magic that had erased the scar once engraved on Violetta’s face.
But not even that was enough for Deon.
‘He’s lost too much blood.’
Even if the wounds were healed, the blood he’d spilled couldn’t be replaced.
Blood is the weight of life.
A body without blood is no different from an empty shell—a vessel from which the soul has fled.
He had to choose another method.
“Seal technique, release.”
Fwooom.
Mana surged outward from his body.
If he hesitated, Deon would die.
Flinch!
Covered by Ludger’s hand, Mastella unconsciously trembled.
‘Cold...’
It felt like the temperature around her had dropped by several degrees in an instant.
And then, she heard something.
A rustling, scraping sound—like insects crawling—echoing in her ears.
She was about to instinctively raise her head when Ludger’s voice came at her ear.
“Stay still.”
Mastella froze at the command.
“Do not look at it, child. Cover your ears with both hands.”
She didn’t understand why she was being told to block her ears.
But she obeyed without hesitation, tightly pressing her hands over them.
Because her instincts screamed at her to do as he said.
Ludger watched her cover her ears, then slowly lifted his gaze.
Above his head was a black void.
Looking up at it, Ludger spoke.
“I need assistance.”
From within the pitch-black hole came a reaction.
A dry, crackling sound.
A sickening, otherworldly noise, like things twisting and locking into place.
Ludger didn’t so much as blink.
“I want you to heal this man.”
Creak.
The response from the darkness came slowly.
Its tone was almost petulant—as if asking why it should help some random human.
It wasn’t disdain toward Deon, but more a sulky protest over the time Ludger had once forcefully slammed the door shut and banished it.
“If you refuse, that’s fine. I’ll summon someone else.”
Snap!
The being beyond the portal flared up at those words, reacting like it had been insulted.
“What will it be? If you’re going to waste time, forget it. I’m busy.”
Creak...
In the end, it was the being beyond the gate that surrendered first.
From the start, this had never been a negotiation between equals.
To this entity, Ludger was a fascinating, irresistible human—perhaps the only one of his kind.
To Ludger, this entity was just one of many interested in him.
“Of course, I won’t ask you to do it for free. I’ll give you a small reward.”
Snap.
That word—reward—was enough. The being agreed.
The deal was struck.
Shhhhk.
Countless tendrils slithered out from the opened void.
They moved slowly, coiling around Deon’s body.
Mastella trembled, as if sensing something—something wrong.
Ludger, silently shielding her eyes more firmly, watched the scene unfold.
Eventually, the tendrils withdrew back into the hole, and what remained was Deon—fully healed, with no trace of injury.
His labored breathing had stabilized.
“Well done.”
Snap.
The hole closed with a click, along with a warning to keep his promise.
Ludger reabsorbed the mana he had scattered and began reconstructing the seal binding.
He hadn’t used it for long, but his head was spinning.
“It’s done.”
He removed his hand from Mastella’s eyes.
She felt a brief moment of relief, glad the strange sensation was gone.
But then her eyes widened.
“G-Grandpa Deon!”
Just moments ago, Deon had been on the verge of death—now, he was perfectly fine.
His severed arm, the blood he lost, every wound—
Gone. As if they had never existed.
“H-How? How did these wounds...”
“Mastella?”
Deon, who had been unconscious, opened his eyes.
He too seemed shocked to be alive, looking between his unharmed body and Mastella.
And then past her—at Ludger.
“Owner...”
“Rest, Deon. Your body’s fine, but the mental shock hasn’t healed yet.”
“...Thank you.”
As Deon expressed his gratitude, Mastella suddenly realized her earlier outburst and quickly bowed her head.
“I-I’m sorry, Owner. I disgraced myself in front of you.”
“Mastella.”
“...Yes, Owner?”
“There’s no need to always act like an adult.”
“...Huh?”
Mastella slowly lifted her bowed head.
Her face showed utter confusion, as if she hadn’t understood what Ludger meant.
Ludger spoke to her gently.
“Sometimes... it’s okay to just be a normal child.”
“...Ah.”
At those words, emotion surged within Mastella.
Big, heavy tears rolled down her cheeks—and she didn’t even try to wipe them away.
“Thank you... for saving Grandpa Deon.”
“That’s enough.”
At that moment, the door opened, and a group of people burst in.
“Boss! Are you all right?!”
Hans appeared, leading the people of the slums, having heard about the attack.
But upon seeing the already resolved situation, Hans looked dumbfounded.
“H-Huh?”
“It’s all over already, Hans.”
Ludger rose and stepped outside.
While the others stayed behind to clean up, Hans followed after him.
“Boss. You’re leaving?”
“Why?”
“...No, never mind.”
Hans sighed.
“I’ll inform the others and have them prepare.”
“No need. I’m enough on my own.”
Ludger walked off into the distance. Hans said nothing, just stared at his back.
Then Violetta, arriving late, rushed up to Hans.
“Mister Hans. What’s the situation? What happened?”
“What happened is—thanks to the boss, we got through it with minimal damage.”
“Where’s the Owner going now? Don’t tell me—”
As she moved to follow Ludger, Hans stopped her.
“Don’t. It’s better if you don’t follow him.”
“What? But—”
Hans shook his head.
From Violetta’s perspective, her concern was understandable. But Hans, having known Ludger for a long time, knew better.
“There’s no point trying to talk to him right now.”
“No point?”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him this angry.”
Angry?
Violetta looked toward Ludger, who was growing smaller in the distance.
His face was as expressionless as always, showing no emotion.
At most, the air around him felt heavier than usual.
Hans, sensing her confusion, explained.
“Remember this. When the boss is truly angry, his face doesn’t show a single thing.”
“...The Owner is angry?”
“Of course. He’s still human—he laughs, he gets mad. But keep this in mind above all: when it comes to children, he’s more sensitive than anyone.”
“Children...?”
“There was something in his past. Maybe even further back—maybe a trauma from long ago.”
“Trauma...”
Violetta found it hard to believe that Ludger might carry trauma.
He always seemed like someone untouchable—unshaken by anything.
But in the end, Ludger was just like them.
Extraordinary in ability, yes—but still someone who could feel anger and sadness like anyone else.
Even a man like him had his own story.
“Which is why there’s no need to worry. In that state, no one can stop the boss.”
From their perspective, it was a relief.
There was no longer any reason to live in fear, wondering when the next attack would come.
“And on the other hand, we should probably pray for the other side’s souls. Not only did they mess with the wrong people—they went and enraged the one person they should never have provoked.”
* * *
Rederbelk was vast.
Not all its districts were equal, and naturally, some places remained out of the public eye.
Most of those were slums or factory zones.
But there were also places unseen for... different reasons.
Waaaah!
Heat and howls.
Greed and despair twisting through the air.
The underground arena—Rederbelk’s hidden criminal underbelly.
At its highest VIP seat, Carlone sat watching the fight below, sipping a glass of wine.
Inside the iron cage, two men were fighting with savage intensity.
Surrounding the cage was a crowd packed shoulder to shoulder, clutching betting slips and shouting themselves hoarse.
“What are you doing?! Knock him out already!”
“Kill him! Kill him!”
“I bet my life savings on you, damn it!”
Some cursed. Some cheered. Others begged for a win.
Carlone couldn’t help but laugh at the sight.
“Look at that. People throwing their lives at someone else’s feet.”
The subordinate refilling his wine chuckled along.
“Indeed, boss. Fools, the lot of them.”
“Same goes for the two down there. Men who could’ve made a name for themselves as knights... now throwing bare fists in a filthy pit because of gambling debt.”
Both fighters in the cage were knights.
Both bloodied, drenched in sweat, their fists swinging wildly.
“Even with bodies beyond normal human limits, once they're bound by money, they become worse than dogs. What a ridiculous world.”
Such was the power of money.
The reality of a world where even once-noble knights ended up with blood-soaked fists, brawling in pits.
But Carlone didn’t mind.
It was thanks to such people that he shined.
His underground arena business had been booming lately.
Look at the spectacle: desperate people lost to gambling, crying and screaming below.
Meanwhile, the wealthy sat above in glass-walled rooms, watching it all unfold.
This wasn’t just about watching fights.
It was about witnessing despair, collapse, and ruin.
Watching people destroy themselves in a pit of addiction.
All of it was part of the show here.
Just then, the door to Carlone’s VIP room opened and someone °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° stepped in.
“Boss. The task you assigned has been completed.”
“Oh? How’d it go?”
“We smashed the presses and set fire to the factory. Took out a few of them for show.”
“Good, good. That should send a clear message.”
Carlone nodded in satisfaction.
“And...”
“What else?”
“N-Nothing. It’s nothing.”
The subordinate had been about to mention that more than ten of their own had been killed—but stopped.
His boss was the type to follow his mood.
Saying something unnecessary now might sour that mood—and he’d be the one paying the price.
Besides, those who died were just meat shields anyway. Their loss meant nothing.
“They’re probably scared stiff by now. Shall we send an envoy?”
“You’ve informed the boys already, right? To be ready at a moment’s notice?”
“Yes. We’re on standby.”
“Good, good. Now it depends on how they respond. Of course, even if they crawl to me with heads bowed, blood will still be spilled.”
Carlone’s eyes gleamed with chilling light.
The subordinate beside him felt goosebumps crawl over his skin.
This was his boss... but sometimes, he wondered if the man was even human.
“Well then. Good entertainment, good news—I’m starting to get hungry. Time to return home.”
Right on cue, a winner was declared in the pit below.
A man with a mashed face raised his fist in victory.
Some in the crowd roared in joy; others slumped in despair.
“It really is amusing.”
Carlone drained his wine and left the underground arena.
Night had already fallen outside.
He climbed into a black vehicle and returned home.
His residence stood on a massive estate, far from the city.
Illuminated by streetlamps, the mansion was where Carlone lived.
As the black vehicle approached, Silver Sun guards at the gate opened the heavy doors.
Clank.
Once the car passed through, the gates shut again, and the guards returned to their posts.
* * *
Mark was one of the Silver Sun guards.
His job was to watch the mansion’s front gate in case of any surprise attacks.
But even saying that felt laughable.
‘Who the hell would dare attack Silver Sun?’
Maybe an assassin, sure—but no assassin in their right mind would come through the front gate.
In truth, this gate duty was just for show. A dull task.
Two hours until shift change.
Mark was already dreaming of hitting the bar when something entered his line of sight.
“What the...”
“What is it, Mark? What do you see?”
“There. Look. Over there.”
As Mark pointed, his partner Lupton turned his head.
Their eyes focused on the road leading to the mansion’s gate.
Something stood beneath the glow of the streetlights.
At first, they thought it was a wild animal.
They were a bit removed from the city center, so it wasn’t unheard of.
But it wasn’t an animal.
“...Is that a person?”
The moment Mark said that—
Flick.
Darkness dropped in front of them.
“...Huh?”
Mark blinked, confused.
The streetlights went out all at once.
“Hey. Lupton. What the hell—”
He turned to look at his partner—and his face went pale.
Lupton’s head was no longer on his shoulders. It was rolling on the ground.
“Wh-Whuh?!”
As he stammered, something black rose before his eyes.
A shadow cloaked in darkness stared him down with glowing red eyes.
Its wavering outline flickered like flame.
“W-Who are you?!”
The shadow rippled, like a wave crashing—and spoke.
“Jack.”
And then the shadow swallowed Mark whole.
He didn’t even resist. His body was paralyzed with fear, his mind frozen.
Silence returned to the gate.
The shadow turned its gaze toward the massive mansion gates.
Then its body slowly melted into the darkness—
And darkness descended over the mansion.
