"I'll lend you my hand."
The black-masked missionary—Nigun—said this without even glancing toward Gazef.
Gazef, in contrast, could not accept those words so easily.
Even the potion handed to him felt difficult to lift to his lips.
"…Why?"
Why—
there were too many reasons to count.
To Gazef, Nigun was the man who had ravaged the kingdom's villages,
the man who nearly slaughtered him and his subordinates—
an enemy he could never forget.
If she had not saved him back then—
Momon—no, Albedo—
he would surely have died to Nigun's Sunlight Scripture.
"Stronoff… I understand your doubts.
You must have countless things you wish to say to me.
But now is the time to be clever.
Judge things calmly.
In this situation—
what is the mission you must accomplish?
Who is the true enemy you must fell?
See it… with your own eyes."
"…"
He wanted to retort,
You dare say that with your mouth?
But he could not deny reality:
Had Nigun not appeared, Gazef would have been dead.
After a long hesitation, brows drawn in conflict,
Gazef drank the potion in one swallow—
a silent declaration:
I'll borrow your hand for now.
Nigun let out a short laugh.
Gazef scowled as if biting into a bitter insect.
"…Don't misunderstand.
I haven't forgiven you."
"That is fine.
I do not seek your affection."
"Then what is your goal?
Why help me?"
"Because my God commanded it."
"…Your God?
You mean the Six Great Gods?"
"Wrong!!!
Not those ancient, faded deities!
A new and noble God—descended upon this land!"
"What nonsense…
I've never been saved by the god you worship."
"Heh… still pretending ignorance, Stronoff?
Very well.
We will revisit that topic thoroughly later.
For now though…
it seems we have no leisure for chatter."
"Mm…"
Undead were closing in, groaning as they approached.
Above them, Davernoch and the other casters prepared their next spells.
He could not forget—
this was still the heart of a battlefield.
Talking could wait.
Gazef raised his sword.
"Stronoff.
Leave the casters to me.
You handle the ground."
"I won't thank—
…no.
I owe you."
"No need for thanks.
All I do belongs to my God."
Gazef could understand almost none of Nigun's ramblings.
But if he was offering help…
there were few allies more reassuring.
Back-to-back with the man he once fought to the death,
Gazef let out a battle cry from deep within his gut.
He leapt forward into the horde of undead.
Gazef vs Succulent
"Ooooooooohhhhh!!"
Freed of the poison's numbness,
Gazef fought like a demon god.
Cutting down undead after undead,
he drove Succulent into a corner.
To Succulent, this was intolerable.
The casters who should have supported him were pinned by a mysterious intruder,
and all aggro had shifted onto him alone.
(Don't screw with me—how am I supposed to handle that monster by myself!?)
He sent undead swarming and fled at full speed.
Against Gazef, the only strategy was misdirection.
A direct confrontation meant instant death.
But Gazef's blade cleaved skeletons like wet parchment.
They stalled him for only moments.
"Don't run."
"Gah—!"
Succulent barely blocked the strike with his dagger—
but the force blasted him backward like a rag doll,
sending him crashing through a warehouse window.
"Damn it…"
Rolling through the dark interior, shards of glass cutting into him,
Succulent crawled desperately across the floor.
And Gazef stepped through the shattered window after him.
"…It's over, Six Arms.
Your head is mine."
"Ghh…
But don't think it'll go so easily."
"What?"
Succulent's malicious grin sent a chill down Gazef's spine.
He hadn't been fleeing randomly.
He'd been running here—
to this warehouse.
Because here lay the trump card that could stand against Gazef Stronoff.
"Hey—
It's work time.
Kill him."
A man stepped out of the shadows.
A sword at his hip.
An unshaven chin.
A killing aura unmistakable in its sharpness.
Gazef recognized him instantly.
Memories surged up like lightning.
"You…
are you…
Brain Unglaus…?"
"Gazef…
Stronoff…"
Both widened their eyes.
A reunion too early—
or far too late.
They had only met once at the royal exhibition match—
yet neither could ever forget the other.
To Gazef, Brain Unglaus—
To Brain Unglaus, Gazef—
was a man carved into the soul.
Succulent spouted something and fled,
but neither swordsman gave him a moment's attention.
Silence settled.
Then emotion returned to Gazef's face.
And at last, Brain grasped the situation.
"So that's it…
The man Zero wanted me to kill…
was you, Gazef Stronoff."
"…What are you doing here, Brain Unglaus?
A man of your caliber…
have you fallen into Eight Fingers?"
At being accused of "surely not,"
Brain let out a faint laugh and shook his head.
"…No.
I haven't joined them.
I'm just a hired sword scraping by, making dirty coin with my blade.
Ever since the day I lost to you."
"…A waste of talent, Unglaus.
I thought you a man of greater spine."
"Say whatever you want."
Gazef meant it.
It was a genuine shame.
That such a swordsman—
his equal, perhaps even superior—
had let his blade rot in darkness.
If Brain had been the victor that day…
would their positions be reversed?
But speculation would not change the present.
"…Unglaus.
If you haven't willingly sided with Eight Fingers,
then there is no reason for us to fight.
This battle holds no meaning for you."
"…No.
I do have a reason."
"What?"
Brain lowered his stance.
His hand on his blade filled with killing intent.
"Gh—"
A spark burst between them as their weapons met—
the clash of two honed souls.
"…Taking the head of the Kingdom's strongest…
isn't a bad final souvenir."
His quiet words carried tangled emotions—
shadowed resolve long rotted.
Gazef understood instantly.
He shoved Brain back and raised his blade.
"Unglaus…
you intend to die."
"…Yeah.
Living for the sword just feels stupid now."
Brain laughed softly.
A laugh stripped of hope.
Words spilled from him like broken fragments.
"The day of that exhibition match feels so far.
Back then… I thought I was the strongest.
But after losing to you, everything changed.
I swore I'd climb back up no matter what—
lent my sword to anyone—
drowned myself in blood—
anything to be stronger than yesterday."
He looked at his palm.
Years of drifting among criminal organizations,
surviving countless traps,
cutting down the good and the wicked alike.
He did it all because…
"I became far stronger than I was.
Strong enough to think I could beat you.
I believed I'd finally become number one—
until then."
His fist trembled.
In his mind was the silhouette of that abyssal black female warrior—
the woman who crushed his everything in a single step.
That monster…
"Stronoff…
Our little exhibition match?
To a real monster…
it was children waving sticks."
"What…?"
"I've seen it.
A true strong one.
Someone we can never defeat, no matter what we do."
"Do you…
know Darkness—Momon…?"
The moment Brain said her name—
Gazef understood everything.
What Brain experienced.
How high the wall he faced was.
How deeply he despaired.
Gazef, who had been saved by Albedo/Momon,
could picture it all too clearly.
He nodded slowly.
"I know her."
"No.
You don't.
If you truly knew the depth of that woman's power,
you wouldn't stand there wearing that face.
You couldn't possibly call yourself the Kingdom's strongest."
"…I know.
I know all too well.
Her power… is something I could never match, even with a hundred of myself."
"What—"
Brain's eyes widened.
Choosing his words carefully, Gazef continued:
"I cannot speak in detail.
But she once saved my life.
And yes—
she is an existence I could never defeat.
I learned the vastness of the world."
Gazef smiled gently.
That smile—
serene, unwavering—
shook Brain's heart.
How could he smile…
after being so thoroughly denied?
"How…
how can you smile like that…?"
"What?"
"You and I…
all we had was the sword!
So why…
why can you smile after seeing that!?
Our strength, our skill, our talent—
she crushed it beneath her heel!!
How can anyone…
stay sane after that—!?"
His voice cracked.
Even now, Brain hovered at the brink of madness.
Tears trembled in his voice.
Gazef's eyes softened.
Compassion—never pity.
"…Unglaus.
Momon is immeasurably strong.
So what?"
"So what—!?"
"If you're not number one, does it matter that much?
Is it so unbearable that someone stronger exists?"
His tone was calm—
not scolding, not mocking.
That gentleness exposed the difference between them:
Those who saw Momon and despaired—
and those who saw Momon and rose.
"…I understand how you feel.
Knowing true strength makes your own seem meaningless.
Even I felt powerless."
The day Albedo saved him,
he had learned despair.
But he did not break.
He had made a promise—
as a man—
to grow strong enough to return her sword.
"…But don't misunderstand, Unglaus.
I am myself.
If I don't believe in the things I've built—
who will?
No matter how strong she is,
I will not disgrace my own effort.
I will not decide my limits for myself."
"You…
you intend to aim for that height…?"
"…Will you laugh?"
Brain did not laugh.
Because the man before him—
this was the Gazef Stronoff he had admired.
Gazef tightened his grip.
"I made a promise to Lady Momon.
That I would become strong.
So I cannot stop.
If I stop walking—
if I stop fighting—
then I am no longer a man."
"…Kh—
khkh…"
A laugh burst from Brain's throat.
A helpless laugh—
at Gazef's greatness,
and his own shame.
"Damn it…
damn it…
DAMN IT ALL!!!"
He screamed.
Not at Gazef—
but at himself.
"…I've decided."
Gazef spoke gently, yet firmly.
He raised his blue crystal blade.
"Come, Unglaus.
I will deny everything in you as you are now."
Like a father correcting a child—
Gazef answered with his sword.
Brain charged.
Outcome
"You're… strong…"
"You're just weak."
"…I see.
I'm weak…"
"Yeah.
If you're losing to the likes of me,
you've got a long way to go."
"…Heh…"
Brain felt strangely clear.
Since losing to Gazef the first time,
every day had been like breathing through mud.
But with this second defeat—
the murk finally shattered.
Even though he had wanted nothing but victory…
"Unglaus.
When all this is over, come find me.
I'll beat that twisted thinking out of you from scratch."
Gazef placed a potion beside the beaten man
and turned to leave.
"......"
Brain listened to Gazef's footsteps fade.
Outside, chaos still raged.
He stared blankly at the ceiling.
"…Pathetic…"
A tear slipped down his cheek.
A man who had lived in carnage—
crying like a child.
It was the first time since he was small.