FSFSLU 35

Lize was running alongside Gott, chasing after Isabel, who had cast a blessing on herself and dashed ahead.

Before long, they found Tron, collapsed and unconscious on the street, along with Beth, Killian, and four other Gerolters.

Strangely, though all of them had fainted as if attacked, not a single one bore a wound.

“Did Isabel heal them before leaving?”

As Lize muttered while turning over their bodies to check, Gott—who had started climbing the mountain ahead of her—shouted in alarm.

“You two, over here!”

Lize hurriedly ran to him—and froze in shock.

Dozens of Gerolters lay unconscious on the steep, pathless mountainside. It looked as if they had tumbled down from above and gotten caught on tree roots or rocks on the way.

“What the… Are you all right?”

Completely flustered, Gott began checking them one by one, trying to wake each person.

But Lize had a different thought as she looked over them.

‘None of them are injured. Isabel must’ve healed them. Which means…!’

At that moment, Gott heard rapid footsteps and turned his head—Lize was charging up the slope alone.

“Miss Lize! It’s dangerous to go alone!”

She knew that. But if Gerolt’s men were lying here like this, that could only mean one thing: Isabel had clashed with Gerolt and his subordinates.

Lize didn’t know exactly what had happened while she’d been knocked unconscious by Dyke’s attack.

But she couldn’t help feeling responsible for Isabel being drawn into that confrontation.

If she hadn’t been stupid enough to get taken out in the ambush, she could’ve done something to stop it.

Maybe Isabel was already in danger.

‘Please… don’t let me be too late.’

She climbed as fast as she could—and then she saw it.

“Ah…”

A grotesque, half-melted mutant that had once been Gerolt.

And Isabel, gripping the demon sword in both hands, standing before the bisected corpse.

Demon Swordsmanship, Second Form — Farewell.

A clean slash that uses the nature of demonic energy to twist the laws of the world.

Its power was beyond imagination.

Her body was completely exhausted—she couldn’t even maintain her blessings because of Gerolt’s power that scattered holy energy.

And yet the attack had been that strong.

Then I heard Yuga’s incredulous voice inside me.

‘How… how did you do that?!’

“You helped me, didn’t you?”

‘I just activated it! The one who did it was the angel!’

“It wasn’t even a hard move.”

‘The move might be simple, but it requires the mind to resist demonic influence while simultaneously perceiving twisted reality and performing the same motion both internally and externally!’

“What are you even talking about?”

I had no idea what she was saying—but anyway, Gerolt was dead. Not even as a human.

Becoming a mutant through demonic energy meant his soul had already fallen below the level of humanity.

Still, I wondered—if the one who’d charged me had been the human Gerolt instead of a mutant, could I have killed him with my own hands?

Hmm. Thinking about it, maybe I could have.

Because I’m no longer Kim Sumin, a leukemia patient from South Korea—I’m Smiel, Isabel’s guardian angel. Maybe because I’ve lost my human masculinity and aversion to violence, the act of killing doesn’t hurt as much as it should.

It’s a relief, in a way. This won’t be the last time. I’ll probably have to fight people again someday.

If Isabel can’t bring herself to do something, then I’ll have to handle it myself.

Better that than letting her wield the demon sword directly.

‘So… what now?’

Yuga’s question made me pause.

Truth be told, I hadn’t planned this far. I’d descended without any real thought of what came next.

But if I admitted that, she’d never let me live it down.

Let’s think… I’ll return Isabel’s body, tell her we’ll discuss the sword and Gerolt’s death later, and remind Dyke—the only one who saw her draw the sword—to keep his mouth shut. That should—

And then my heart dropped.

‘What’s wrong?’

What’s wrong? Don’t be dense, Yuga.

We’re in big trouble.

The collapsed Dragon-Scale Cavern, Gerolt’s bisected corpse, the long straight scar gouged into the ground, and—

—the demon sword in Isabel’s hand.

I hadn’t cleaned up any of it. And now, staring straight at me from the top of the slope—was Lize.

She looked healthy, thank goodness, but my mind went completely blank.

In the first timeline, Lize had been one of the many subordinates murdered by Gerolt. I remembered her for being unusually sensible and upright, so I’d resolved to save her in this second run.

But that was all I knew about her.

Up to now, I’d been acting based on what I remembered from the first run. But now, facing Lize without any context… honestly, I had no idea what to do.

And then Lize, her eyes wide, started striding toward Isabel.

‘What are you doing?! That woman’s coming over! Wait—is she even a woman? She’s huge—’

That was when I read the emotion in Lize’s eyes.

She was worried for Isabel. Truly.

Seeing that, my mind flashed through memories like a film reel—Lize lifting Isabel up, cheering that “the priest purified the slime,” the bath they shared, the time she helped at the relief center.

Now I knew what to do.

“Hey, let’s go back.”

I muttered softly.

‘What? You’re not even going to clean up—whoa!’

Ignoring Yuga’s protest, I ended the descent at once—dragging her back with me into our inner realm.

Maybe because I’d rushed, we made it back safely but ended up tumbling into the sandy ground of the sanctuary. Yuga, unable to react, face-planted straight into the sand.

Apparently, she couldn’t interfere with this space, but physical contact like this still worked. Interesting.

“Is this really the time to be impressed? You could at least apologize!”

Yuga shot up, snapping at me. I barely kept from laughing.

“Apologize? To you? The one who tried to kill Isabel?”

She muttered something like “tch…” and started brushing sand off her clothes and face. Still not reading the room, that one.

I turned toward the glass wall.

No time to relax—Isabel must be utterly confused right now after I vanished so suddenly.

Still, this was better than me trying to act for her.

“……!”

Fortunately, the moment I ended the descent, Isabel snapped back to herself.

She looked around, taking in her surroundings. Then, seeing the half-melted remains of Gerolt before her—and Lize carefully stepping over the slime to avoid touching it—she seemed to piece things together.

“Sis!”

Hmm. Maybe not piecing it together—just happy to see her.

Isabel smiled brightly, and Lize stared in disbelief.

“Isabel? What’s with you? What is this cave? And that sword just now—what the hell was—”

Isabel couldn’t answer right away. She was clearly happy to see Lize, but didn’t know what to say.

I quickly pulled up several quest prompts in front of her eyes.

[Recover Gerolt’s remains following mutant-handling protocol. (0/1)]
[Report Gerolt’s death to Thompson at City Hall. (0/1)]
[Confirm whether Marcel has drawn the Holy Sword. (0/1)]

After a moment’s thought, I added one more:

[Get a good night’s sleep and talk with Smiel. (0/1)]

That should do.

There’s a lot I want to say to Isabel.

And I’m sure she has a lot she wants to say to me too.

Once we finish what needs to be done, let’s have that talk. Isabel.

Maybe she understood that thought, because Isabel gave the faintest nod while looking at Lize.

Lize wanted to pepper Isabel with questions.

What on earth had happened? She looked like she’d drawn the demon sword—was she really all right? How had Gerolt turned into a monster? She wanted to ask everything.

But Isabel was busy dealing with the mutant’s remains.

Mutation—the process where a warped soul is further twisted by demonic energy, reshaping the body to match that distortion.

So Isabel had to use holy power—the polar opposite of demonic energy—to draw out and purify the magic still clinging to the corpse.

Half-dozing with exhaustion, she prayed continuously, and with every prayer, black smoke rose from the near-liquefied corpse and faded away.

“……”

Lize knew it was important work, so she stood silently, though the situation left her burning with questions.

Then—

“Ugh…”

A groan from behind.

Lize turned and realized someone else was in the cavern.

“Dyke?”

She rushed to him. He was coughing painfully but looked up at her.

“Lize… you’re alive…”

Then he suddenly bent over and vomited.

Lize jumped back in horror. Black wisps—like the energy from Gerolt’s body—rose from the vomit. He was purging the traces of demonic energy still inside him.

When he finally finished and caught his breath, Dyke looked stunned.

Then he cautiously lifted his head—realizing this wasn’t a hallucination.

“You’re alive… Lize…”

“Yeah. Guess I am.”

“How… You lost a lot of blood…”

“Beats me.”

She was alive because she’d been bathed in Isabel’s holy light, but she didn’t know that—so she just shrugged.

Dyke bowed his head again. Lize thought he was about to puke again and took a step back—but instead, he said softly,

“I’m… glad you made it.”

Lize blinked, caught off guard, and joked awkwardly,

“Uh, that’s kinda heavy. Were we even friends?”

“…Not really.”

He gave a small, crooked smile and turned his head toward Isabel, kneeling nearby.

“Lize. That priest… did she heal you too?”

“Yeah.”

“She healed me too.”

“You were hurt?”

“Badly. Right when the cavern collapsed, some kind of dark fog hit me hard… That must’ve been demonic energy.”

“Then Isabel really did draw the demon sword?”

“Yeah. I saw it.”

He tried to stand, stumbled, and then just lay flat on the cavern floor with a groan.

“Gerolt…?”

“He was dead. In a weird state. I think Isabel cut him down with the demon sword.”

“Good riddance, that bastard.”

“What, you hated him too?”

“You didn’t know?”

“You were always by his side—I figured you two were close. You were his right-hand man.”

“Does a right hand have a will of its own? Gerolt didn’t want comrades. He wanted tools. I’m glad he’s dead.”

Both were utterly drained—Lize from her concussion, Dyke from demonic contamination. So they rested, chatting idly.

“…Hey, Lize.”

“What?”

“That priest drew the demon sword, right? But she looks fine.”

“I saw her holding it earlier. She looked… okay.”

And then—Lize suddenly shot to her feet, startled.

“What the—what is she doing?”

Dyke turned his head—and wore the same expression.

Isabel seemed to have finished purifying Gerolt’s remains. With even the last traces of demonic energy gone, only a pile of sticky residue was left, which she apparently intended to let decompose naturally.

But after finishing, she was now trying to drive her staff into the cavern wall, grunting with effort.

“Isabel! What are you doing?! You’ll fall over!”

“Oh—sis!”

Isabel perked up and waved cheerfully for her to come.

When Lize approached, Isabel pointed at the wall and shouted,

“Please help me pull off one of these scales!”

“Scales? These huge things are scales?”

“They’re dragon scales! I’m taking one with me!”

Lize blinked and reached out. What she thought were cracks in the rock were indeed scales—large ones, a meter wide each, covering the cavern like armor.

“…Why would a dragon leave its scales here?”

“Ancient people used this place to store the demon sword! The scales kept the demonic energy from leaking out!”

“And you need to take one? The angel told you that?”

“Yes! I need at least one!”

Lize sighed once, then tore one off with a heave. Isabel gasped.

“Ah! You shouldn’t strain yourself yet!”

“It’s fine. I’m not that fragile.”

Lize easily tore off a second one, just in case.

“Thank you, sis.”

“So, Isabel… what are you planning to—”

Her cautious question turned into a helpless laugh.

Isabel had fallen asleep standing up, leaning on her staff.

She was about to topple when Dyke hurried forward to catch her.

“……”

And just like that, Isabel was sound asleep in his arms, snoring softly.

Lize and Dyke looked at each other—and both smiled faintly.

“Lize, what about the other Gerolters? Gerolt rolled them all down the slope earlier…”

“So that’s why they were all sprawled out below. Old man Gott’s taking care of them now.”

“That old guy’s gotten tough, climbing all the way up here.”

“Shall we… head down too?”

Lize turned back for a moment.

The cavern now held nothing of Gerolt—not even his shape remained, the last of the demonic energy gone.

Should she bury what was left?

She met Dyke’s eyes.

“Leave it. It’s pollution.”

“I was just gonna say that.”

They both chuckled.

Lize took the two dragon scales; Dyke carried the sleeping Isabel on his back.

Bathed in sunlight, they both sighed softly.

Things were going to explode soon—Gerolt, the real power behind the city, was dead.

A demon sword had been hidden somewhere in the city; Gerolt had sought it, Isabel had drawn it. They’d have to tell the Gerolters that Gerolt’s “treasure hunt” was really a quest for the sword. That would be… complicated.

Still, thanks to Isabel, only one person had died.

And he was someone who deserved it.

So it was fine.

It would be fine.

Believing that, they carefully made their way down the slope.

Then—

“Sis! I’ve been looking everywhere for you—oh, Dyke’s here too! Everyone!”

They stopped, dumbfounded.

Jeremy—who’d been missing all this time—came running toward them, soaking wet and teary-eyed, carrying an unconscious Marcel on his back.

And the thing Marcel was gripping tightly, refusing to let go…

It looked just like Isabel’s demon sword—except it was white, not gray, and shimmered faintly with holy light.

A holy sword.

“…Why does Marcel have that?”

“…And why is Jeremy the one carrying him?”