CHAPTER 71: Mercy, Not Salvation
Zodac watched them strain.
Their armor creaked under the pressure of their own mana. Veins bulged along exposed necks, and sweat poured freely beneath iron helmets, dripping onto the cracked stone below. Their faces—once filled with arrogance and authority—were now twisted with desperation, teeth clenched, eyes wide with disbelief as their swords screamed against the unyielding Hectogon shields.
This despair… it was intoxicating.
A slow, deliberate grin curved Zodac's lips beneath the shadow of his hood. His eyes glowed faintly, an ominous crimson light bleeding through the darkness as if the hood itself could no longer contain it.
*I wish this could last a little longer,* he thought.
Then pain struck.
It was sudden. Violent.
A sharp pulse tore through his left arm, spreading like wildfire, stealing sensation entirely. Numbness followed immediately—dead, heavy, wrong. It felt as though his arm no longer belonged to him, as if it were a foreign object crudely attached to his body.
"Aghhh…" Zodac groaned.
The sound escaped him despite his effort to suppress it. His right hand snapped up instinctively, gripping his left arm as his expression hardened. The amusement drained from his face, replaced by cold focus.
His time was running out.
"Playtime's over," he said quietly.
The words were not shouted. They did not need to be.
"Shelter."
The command echoed with authority.
In an instant, the four Hectogon shields blocking the knights' blades vanished.
The knights lurched forward violently.
Their swords—still flooded with overcharged mana—dragged them uncontrollably toward Zodac, their own strength betraying them. Panic flashed across their faces as they realized they could no longer stop.
"Wait—!" one of them shouted.
Too late.
A massive **Shelter barrier** erupted around Zodac, forming a semicircle anchored directly into the ground. It expanded outward rapidly—larger, thicker, brighter than before—its green glow intensifying until the air itself trembled.
Their mana-charged blades struck the barrier simultaneously.
Four explosions detonated at once.
The impact was deafening.
Shockwaves tore through the area, ripping chunks of stone from the ground and hurling shattered metal into the air. The earth cracked beneath the force, dust and smoke engulfing everything in a roaring cloud of destruction.
Then—silence.
The smoke began to clear slowly.
At the center of it all stood Zodac.
Unharmed.
His cloak fluttered gently as the last traces of energy dissipated around him. The Shelter faded away, leaving behind devastation—cratered stone, broken weapons, and bodies strewn across the ground.
The knights lay scattered like discarded dolls.
Some groaned weakly. Others struggled to even move, armor dented inward, swords snapped clean in half. None were capable of standing.
"Bastards," Zodac muttered.
His gaze shifted.
The knight leader lay a short distance away, half on his side, gasping for breath. His helmet had been knocked aside, his sword shattered near his hand. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and his once-proud posture had collapsed into something pitiful.
Zodac began to walk toward him.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Each step echoed louder than the last in the leader's mind. He tried to crawl backward, fingers clawing weakly at the ground, but pain surged through his body, locking him in place.
No.
No, no, no—
This wasn't how it was supposed to end.
He had been a knight of Sundara for over a decade. He had enforced the law, commanded men, instilled fear in criminals and peasants alike. He had stood tall beneath the king's banner, believing himself untouchable.
And now—
Now this Monster walked toward him without urgency, without rage, without mercy in its eyes.
Zodac stopped directly in front of him.
The leader looked up.
And froze.
Beneath the hood, Zodac's eyes burned—red, lifeless, vast. They did not glare with hatred. They did not burn with fury.
They judged.
Fear flooded the knight leader's body so completely that his hands began to tremble uncontrollably. His breath came in short, panicked gasps, chest heaving as his mind screamed at him to run, to beg, to do *something*.
"What was that you said earlier?" Zodac asked.
His voice was low. Calm. Terrifying.
The leader swallowed hard, his throat dry as sand.
"We'll see who has the final laugh," Zodac continued, tilting his head slightly. "But you're not laughing."
The knight tried to speak. No sound came out.
Tears welled in his eyes—hot, humiliating, unstoppable. He shook his head weakly, terror pouring from him in waves.
"I— I—" he stammered.
Zodac crouched slightly, lowering himself to the leader's level.
"Scum like you," Zodac said, each word sharp and deliberate, "are not worthy of the title 'knight.'"
The leader's breath hitched.
"Remember today," Zodac continued, his voice cutting deeper than any blade. "Remember this despair."
He leaned in closer.
"The only reason you're still alive," he whispered, "is because I willed it so."
The leader's pupils shrank.
"The only reason you still draw breath," Zodac said, eyes glowing faintly beneath the hood, "is because of my mercy."
The word *mercy* struck harder than the explosions.
Not forgiveness.
Not justice.
Mercy.
A choice.
Zodac straightened and turned away.
"Remember that."
The leader collapsed fully onto the ground, sobbing openly now, fear having shattered every last fragment of pride within him. He would never forget this day. The image of those eyes would haunt him for the rest of his life.
Zodac retrieved his cross bag from the ground and walked back to the carriage without another glance.
The carriage rider stood frozen, pale as death.
He had witnessed battles before—skirmishes, executions, even monster hunts—but never this. Never royal knights brought so low without their opponent even breaking a sweat.
Fear crept into his heart.
Relief followed closely behind it.
He hurried to the front of the carriage, hands shaking slightly as he took hold of the reins.
With a sharp flick, the horses moved forward.
The massive gates of Sundara Capital loomed ahead, slowly opening as the carriage passed through.
Inside, Zodac leaned against the seat, gazing out the window.
The city was alive.
Markets buzzed with conversation. Merchants shouted prices. Children ran between stalls. He passed a tavern where men sat outside, mugs raised, laughter bursting freely into the street.
"Hm," Zodac murmured.
"So this world has these too."
For a fleeting moment, memory surfaced—his old world, his landlord sitting with friends, drinking, laughing, speaking nonsense into the night. A strange warmth stirred… then vanished beneath pain.
"Excuse me," the carriage rider called. "Where should I take you to?"
Zodac considered his options carefully.
"Bose's shop…" he thought.
" If I take even a single decoction now, my arm will fail completely. I'd be at death's door again"
As if to mock him, his left arm shifted slightly.
Agony tore through him.
"Grgmmh…" He bit back a scream, jaw tightening.
"Take me to the Capital High Chapel!" he shouted.
"The High Chapel?" the rider echoed, surprise in his voice.
The carriage turned.
"Hope I'm not too late," Zodac murmured, fingers brushing his neck. Dark purple veins had spread further now, creeping visibly along the left side.
Later—
The carriage jolted to a stop.
"We're here," the rider announced.
Zodac stepped down and looked up.
The High Chapel towered above him, rivaling even the king's castle in height. Scaffolding surrounded parts of it, workers building additional towers that reached skyward. At its center, carved high into stone, was a massive symbol.
A circle.
Four diamonds.
Red. Blue. Brown. White.
"What the fuck…" Zodac muttered.
A small crowd gathered nearby, admiring it. He approached and tapped a man on the shoulder.
"Excuse me," Zodac said. "Do you know what that is?"
The man smiled proudly. "The elemental symbol. Fire, Water, Earth, and Wind. A tribute to our saviors."
Zodac's chest tightened.
"All except the Wood Elemental." He said inwardly.
Pain exploded through his arm—this time reaching deep into his chest.
"Grggghh—"
"Are you okay, sir?" the man asked, alarmed.
"It's nothing," Zodac replied curtly.
He turned and hurried toward the grand entrance.
"I don't have much time," he thought.