“W… what the?”
A Local mage who was fighting with a Prisoner could not help but blink a couple of times as his opponent suddenly disappeared from his sight. He only felt a warm feeling slightly showering the corner of his face as he noticed that his opponent burst into pieces, leaving its feet still stomped on the ground.
“W… what’s happening?” He once again repeated. It didn’t stop there, however. The other Prisoners who were fighting with the Locals also started bursting into pieces. They could only see a slight blur, and what followed was a shower of blood and guts.
With Van finally truly joining the little war, the course of the battle was decided in an instant. He cleaved his way through the battlefield, trying to avoid the Enhancer types so that his charge will not be slowed down by their hard bodies. Instead, his hands were soaked in the blood of Mage and Evolution types.
He was unaware if the people he killed were on their side or not, but he tried to only also kill those who were currently in a battle with the Locals as much as possible. Some have actually already raised their hands in defeat, but those who were unlucky enough to be fighting Cynthia or Gerald were killed.
The little war was over. Van, however, still continued to run. There was a chance that Grant might still be alive, and he must make sure that he won’t be able to surrender as it would just make things complicated for him if he was kept alive.
And so, he ran. And finally, after what seemed like a few seconds, he found him… or at least what remained of him. He could only discern that it was him due to the numerous tattoos and piercings that littered his corpse.
And right next to Grant’s corpse, was a tall man, holding what seemed to be his crushed head.
The tall man had a distinct feature that made it hard for one to ignore him, not to mention he was almost as tall as Solomon. He had brown skin, slightly lighter than that of Latanya’s; his bones were almost sticking out of his skin, almost the same as skinny as Van when he was still living in the Relic Graveyard; a disheveled curly hair that rivaled Reed’s in length.
This was the first time that Van has seen this man, perhaps it was one of the Locals? No, the clothes they were wearing were too different. Perhaps he was one of the new Prisoners that was thrown at the same time as Gerald?
“…” No, it doesn’t matter who he was. What mattered was that Grant is dead now; the only thing he regretted was not being able to get his EXP.
Van let out a long and deep breath as he relaxed his body. He should be content with his harvest. But still, it was a shame that he was not able to collect the Souls of the people he didn’t kill directly. He could only imagine how many Souls he would have gotten if it was the case.
A hundred? Maybe more? But one should not be too greedy. What he has now is enough; all that’s left is finding a safe place to send all of the Souls he has gathered to the Afterlife. There was also the window that popped up earlier, about new information about his skill, [Gift of Hermes].
A small laugh silently breathed out from his mouth as he imagined all the EXP he would get. If only he also has an option to turn them into Crystals, that would be good too. He will be drowning in EXP and money.
“Fufufufu–“
“…Why are you so creepy sometimes?”
“Ah! Miss Nisha!” Van quickly cleared his throat as he saw Nisha approaching him, her eyes wandering across the battlefield.
“Seriously…” she muttered, “Just what level are you? As soon as you decided to join the battle, it was over in almost an instant.”
“…I’m around level 34, I think.”
“Psh, yeah right. What am I then, level 10?” Nisha let out a scoff as she stood in front of Van.
…But he was actually telling the truth this time. But it seems Nisha doesn’t have to know that. “So… I guess it’s over?” Van breathed out.
“Well… yeah. You killed a third of them,” Nisha also let out a long and deep breath as she removed her bandana, “…and your golden-haired friend over there–“
“Golden-haired friend?” Van could not help but squint his eyes as he looked in the direction Nisha was pointing to, only to see Gerald being pinned down by some of the Prisoners and Locals.
“…We had to stop him from killing the people who have already surrendered. I assume he is from the Academy as well?”
“…Yes, a sophomore,” Van answered nonchalantly as he gave Gerald no heed anymore.
“Just what are they feeding you in there? To create little monsters like you two…
…although he’s not really little compared to you and actually looks like a sophomore. Are you sure you’re a freshman and not an elementary student?” Nisha said as she nudged Van’s shoulders while chuckling.
“…”
“…”
“A…anyway, this will be a mess to clean up,” Nisha cleared her throat before scanning the battlefield showered in guts and blood. “…and you as well.”
“…Oh?”
Van’s whole body was covered in blood; and if Nisha was not mistaken, there was even an eyeball stuck in his hair.
“You should probably wash up as soon as possible, the others are starting to get afraid of you.”
“Are they?” Van looked towards the people gathering near him, only for them to quickly avoid his eyes. Van only shrugged in response as he turned his attention back to Nisha, “How are the others?”
“Well…” Hearing Van’s words, Nisha could not help but let out a long and sorrowful sigh, “Gil and Cynthia are alive…
…but Cynthia’s husband is dead.”
“…I see.” Van slightly took in a deep breath as he heard that, “Where is she now?”
“Right there.”
Van once again looked in the direction where Nisha was pointing; and there, Gil was standing beside Cynthia, who was currently groveled on the ground. Seeing her now, her cries finally reached Van’s ears.
He didn’t know Cynthia that well since she was always gone with her husband, but he didn’t think that she was capable of crying like this. Van could only close his eyes as he shook his head.
Here he was, celebrating all the rewards he received from this little war… completely forgetting that the price for the blood they have shed today was much deeper.
“…Let’s go.”
“…Hm,” Van could only nod as they made their way to Gil and Cynthia. “…Come to think of it, do you know the name of her husband?”
“…No.”
“Shit.”
They knew almost nothing about her besides the fact that she was always with her husband. Other than that, she was just someone who belonged to their roughly-made group.
They couldn’t pretend to mourn with her…
…All they could really do was stand beside her, and let her cries wash all the blood and rage that filled the entire field.
