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Ryuu didn't blink. Her wide-open eyes no longer saw the Dungeon corridor before her, but something far deeper—something buried, yet never truly gone. The pieces began to fall into place, one by one, forming a picture that had long been fragmented.
The explosion just now.
That circular iron choker.
Its pattern.
Everything now made sense.
"...So that's it," she whispered, barely audible.
Shirou, still holding her shoulder, frowned. "Ryuu?"
But Ryuu didn't answer immediately. Her gaze remained vacant, her mind racing to the past, then back to the present—connecting two points that had long been separated without a bridge. She held her breath for a moment before finally exhaling with a thin, trembling sound. "That bomb... wasn't just a trap."
She swallowed.
"It was meant to damage the Dungeon."
Shirou fell silent, trying to follow her suddenly leaping train of thought. Ryuu continued, this time more clearly, though the weight behind each word grew heavier. "If the Dungeon is wounded... something will appear."
She didn't need to say its name.
Shirou already knew what she meant.
The Juggernaut.
That slaughtering creature—the dark shadow that continued to haunt Ryuu, even now. Ryuu's hands clenched, her fingers trembling, as if her body remembered something her mind tried to suppress. "Like back then..." she continued softly. "When the Astraea Familia..."
The sentence hung in the air, but its meaning was too clear to ignore.
Shirou gritted his teeth.
Ryuu lowered her head slightly; her mind continued to trace the pieces that were now falling into place. "That iron choker..." she murmured. "The one they used to control the monsters..." Something that had once seemed simple now became part of something far larger.
"That wasn't the main goal," she continued quietly. "It was preparation."
Shirou stared at her sharply. "Preparation for what?"
Ryuu lifted her face. This time, her eyes were no longer vacant—but far darker, as if she had seen something that humans were never meant to understand.
"For this."
Her breath was heavy, caught in her throat by the reality she had just pieced together. "The core of their plan... wasn't just to create chaos."
She paused for a moment.
Then she uttered it.
"Rather, it was to make the Juggernaut... submit to them."
Silence.
The statement hung in the air, sounding absurd—yet precisely because of that, it felt far more terrifying. Shirou felt a chill creep up Ryuu's body, slowly but surely.
If that was true, then what they were facing wasn't merely the remnants of an evil organization.
But something nearly impossible.
And what was worse—
That plan might not have truly ended yet.
Ryuu's body was still trembling, subtle yet clearly felt in Shirou's loose embrace. The tremor spread like something inside her that hadn't fully collapsed, hadn't truly stopped. Her breathing was unstable—short, stuttering—as if each intake of air required more effort than it should.
"Ryuu..." Shirou called softly.
He tightened his embrace slightly, just enough to provide a sense of security without holding her too tightly. His touch was careful, as if he knew that boundaries mattered, even in a moment like this.
"That plan has already failed," he continued. He made his voice as calm as possible. "The Rudra Familia is already destroyed. What's left... at most, bombs like these that they never had the chance to use." He glanced briefly toward the hole that had just exploded, stone fragments still emitting thin smoke that slowly faded. "No one is going to summon the Juggernaut again."
The words sounded convincing.
Yet, there was no response.
Instead, Ryuu moved closer.
Her embrace tightened.
Her body, which usually kept its distance, now pressed closer, as if searching for something—a certainty, an anchor—that she couldn't find on her own. The movement was not hesitant, but neither was it fully conscious, like a reflex from something deeper.
Shirou froze for a moment.
This was unusual.
Ryuu didn't like being touched. She always kept her distance, even from those she trusted. But now, she was the one drawing closer, embracing, holding on.
Slowly, Ryuu's voice was heard.
Very softly.
Almost like a whisper, afraid to be heard.
"Shirou..."
She took a breath, but this time it felt heavier, more unsteady. "Promise me," she continued. Her voice trembled.
Shirou furrowed his brow slightly. "Promise... what?"
Ryuu didn't answer immediately. Her fingers gripped the back of Shirou's cloak, tightly, as if afraid something would slip away if she relaxed. There was a quiet desperation hidden beneath that strength.
"Don't..." Her voice nearly broke. "Don't ever sacrifice yourself for me again."
The words fell heavily between them.
"Like that time," she continued softly. "When we faced Rudra..." The shadows of the past struck again—her comrades, the Astraea Familia, everything lost without a trace. And now, that shadow piled up with one more possibility, one much closer.
Shirou.
"Don't repeat it," she whispered. "I don't want to lose anyone again."
Silence enveloped them, heavy and still.
Asking Emiya Shirou to stop sacrificing himself was essentially an impossible request. Anyone who had ever walked beside him would understand that—Saber with her quiet resolve, Rin with her worry that had never truly been able to stop him, even Archer, the shadow of his own future self. They had all, in different ways, realized the same thing.
Shirou did not live for himself.
He lived for an ideal—to become a hero who saves everyone. A dream that was never realistic, yet he held onto it tightly as if it were the only reason he was still standing. In the world he built for himself, the only thing allowed to be sacrificed was himself.
And precisely because of that, he couldn't stop.
But before him now stood Ryuu—with her hands still gripping his cloak, with a voice nearly broken from the fear of losing something she had only just realized was precious. Not mere logic, not just the past, but a feeling she could no longer suppress.
Shirou exhaled softly.
His hand moved, patting Ryuu's hair gently, a simple gesture trying to comfort, even as he himself knew how complicated this situation was. "Alright," he said finally, his voice firm, almost like a promise he wanted to believe in himself.
He lowered his head slightly, even though Ryuu couldn't see his expression.
"I won't sacrifice myself for you."
The words came out without hesitation.
And Ryuu, slowly, loosened her grip. Her previously erratic breathing began to stabilize, her shoulders dropped slightly, as if the burden pressing on her chest since earlier had finally lessened, though not entirely disappeared.
"Thank you..." she whispered.
However, she didn't truly understand the meaning of that promise.
Shirou stared ahead; his eyes were calm, barely changing.
A white lie, or a half-truth, that once again deceived the elf girl.
Because everything he had done all this time was not for Ryuu, not for anyone in particular. Rather, it was for himself—for his dream, for the conviction he chose to hold, for the selfishness he called "justice."
A few seconds passed in an awkward silence. Ryuu slowly realized something—her position, her hands still gripping Shirou's cloak, and the distance between them that was... too close.
"...!"
As if waking from a dream, she immediately released herself and stepped back. Her face was slightly lowered; the tips of her pointed ears faintly reddened, contrasting with her usually calm demeanor. "Sorry..." she said briefly, almost whispering.
Shirou just blinked, then smiled slightly. There was a hint of amusement rising in his chest—not solely because of the situation, but because of Ryuu's reaction, which felt a little cute. "It's fine," he replied casually. "I'm still alive, right?"
His lighthearted joking tone was enough to erode the remaining tension hanging in the air. Ryuu let out a small snort, though she still didn't look directly at him, as if still recomposing her composure.
Shirou then turned toward the hole they had been digging. His expression turned serious again. "Shall we continue?" he asked.
Ryuu lifted her face. This time, her gaze had returned to being sharp; her focus was restored as before. She nodded without hesitation.
Shirou picked up the pair of pickaxes that had fallen. He tossed one toward Ryuu, and the girl caught it easily. They understood each other without needing many words—this wasn't just about digging again, but about neutralizing the threat still hidden underground.
"If that's the case," Ryuu said quietly, tightening her grip on the pickaxe handle, "we need to be more careful." She glanced at Shirou. Her eyes were serious. "You'll be my 'eyes'. Use your ability. Let me know before I touch something dangerous."
Shirou nodded. "Got it."
He knelt again, his palms touching the cold stone floor. His eyes closed, his breathing steady, and prana began to flow through his body, spreading into the ground like invisible waves.
Meanwhile, Ryuu began digging again.
But this time, each swing was executed with far higher precision—every movement calculated, every strike controlled.
And this caution could not fail again.
Their cooperation soon found its rhythm, flowing without needing much adjustment. Shirou knelt on one side, eyes closed, palm on the cold stone floor. Prana flowed, spreading like invisible ripples, penetrating the Dungeon's layers and capturing anomalies hidden within. Whenever he felt something strange, the flow seemed to bounce back, giving a rough idea of position and distance.
"Slightly to the right... two steps," he said softly.
Ryuu immediately adjusted her position. The pickaxe in her hands now moved carefully, no longer striking with full force, but scraping away the stone layer bit by bit. A soft sound repeated—tok... tok... krak...—a far more controlled rhythm than before.
"Slowly," added Shirou. "There's something underneath."
Ryuu slowed down further; her movements now resembled a sculptor's, not a fighter's. Each swing was calculated, each touch controlled. It took longer, but the result was certain.
Before long, the dark object was visible again—round, solid, and felt 'wrong' if stared at for too long. "Found another one," said Ryuu.
Shirou opened his eyes and approached. They exchanged a glance, enough to synchronize their next steps, before beginning to work together to separate it from the surrounding earth. Carefully, they dug a space around the object, ensuring no pressure or impact could trigger something.
"Lift it slowly," instructed Shirou.
Ryuu nodded, then used the pickaxe tip as a lever. Click—the object came loose with a small sound. They immediately moved it to the side of the hole, away from the main area.
Silence.
No explosion.
Both exhaled almost simultaneously; the tension that had been holding them back slowly eased. "Looks like we're getting the hang of it," Shirou murmured lightly.
Ryuu didn't answer, but her hands were already moving again, ready for the next one.
The process repeated. One, two, three—each bomb was found via Shirou's 'sonar', then excavated with precision by Ryuu. They worked without much talking, yet their coordination grew smoother, as if understanding formed without needing explanation.
After some time, Ryuu paused for a moment. She looked at the row of objects they had collected on one side, her brow slightly furrowed. "Most of the positions are close together," she said softly. "As if... deliberately arranged like this."
Shirou also observed, his eyes tracing a pattern that was beginning to emerge. "A chain reaction," he answered briefly.
Ryuu nodded. "Yes. If one explodes... the others will follow."
Shirou exhaled shortly. "That means we were lucky," he said. "The first one didn't trigger them all. If it had..."
He didn't continue, but the implication was clear—a chain explosion, the Dungeon floor destroyed, and something far worse emerging from the depths.
Ryuu stared at him for a moment, then said flatly, "Don't talk carelessly like that." Her tone wasn't angry, but firm enough to stop his train of thought.
"We'd better continue."
Shirou shrugged slightly. "Yes, ma'am."
He closed his eyes again, channeling prana once more. The wave spread into the ground, reaching farther than before into the depths. There was still a lot left.
An hour passed in a work rhythm that was almost uninterrupted.
Dust clung to their clothes. Their hands ached, but one by one, the dangerous objects were finally removed from the Dungeon floor. The large hole was now filled with excavation marks, while on the other side, about two dozen dark spheres were arranged separately, no longer touching each other.
Ryuu stood up, exhaling a long breath.
"The last one... done."
Shirou opened his eyes, stopping his prana flow. He looked at the row of bombs, then let out a low whistle.
"That's quite a lot..."
He crossed his arms, thought for a moment, then floated a half-joking idea.
"If this is the case... why don't we just throw them all at a monster horde? One throw, all clean."
Ryuu immediately shook her head without hesitation.
"Too excessive," she replied flatly. "And there's still a possibility of a chain reaction that could damage the Dungeon. That's precisely what we wanted to avoid from the start."
Shirou shrugged slightly.
"Yeah, you're right."
He looked again at the objects, then exhaled.
"So that means... we have to detonate them one by one, huh."
His tone sounded like a mild complaint, even though it was clearly the only option.
Ryuu nodded.
"Correct."
She stepped closer to one of the bombs, observed it for a moment, then turned toward the deeper corridor.
"I'll find a place safe enough to channel the explosion," she said. "An area that's not too narrow and won't trigger a major collapse."
Shirou nodded.
"Understood."
Ryuu stared at him for a moment, making sure.
"Guard these," she added.
Shirou raised his hand slightly as a sign of readiness.
"Leave it to me."
Ryuu said nothing more. She turned and began walking away, her steps quick and steady, soon disappearing into the misty corridor.
Shirou was left alone. In front of two dozen bombs ready to explode.
Shirou crouched in front of the row of bombs, observing each one with a serious expression. Their surfaces were dark and solid; there were no complex mechanisms like the modern bombs he had seen in documentary films from his original world—no wires, no trigger he could cut.
"Hm..." he murmured.
He touched one carefully, feeling its internal structure through his prana.
Solid.
Full.
Unstable.
"This is pure explosive..." he whispered. "If it's hit with a hard impact or even slightly wrong pressure..."
He didn't finish his sentence.
There was no way to disarm it.
It could only be controlled... or detonated safely.
Footsteps sounded from the corridor.
Ryuu returned.
"I found a place," she said briefly. "There's a deep pool. The water should dampen some of the explosion's impact."
Shirou stood up.
"Good."
He raised his hand.
"Trace on."
A simple container materialized—sturdy, large enough to hold all the bombs without touching each other. Carefully, Shirou began moving them one by one, ensuring no impact that could trigger a reaction.
Ryuu helped; her movements were precise and controlled.
A few minutes later, all the bombs were stored.
They moved following the direction Ryuu indicated.
The rocky corridor opened into a wider area—a white grassland typical of that floor, stretching wide, faintly shimmering under the Dungeon's light. In the middle, a pool was visible; its water was calm as a mirror.
Contrast.
Calm... in the midst of the surrounding danger.
They stopped at the pool's edge.
Ryuu crossed her arms, staring at the water.
"Now..." she said softly. "How do we detonate it safely?"
Shirou thought for a moment, then his eyes narrowed slightly.
"There's one way."
Ryuu turned.
Shirou crouched down and took out one bomb from the container. Then, with a light motion, he projected a long piece of rope.
"This..." he said, cutting a portion of the rope. "Is a fuse."
He tied one end of the rope to the bomb, ensuring the knot was strong.
"With this, we can light it from a safe distance," he explained. "One by one, we light the fuse and then throw it into the pool."
Ryuu watched carefully.
A few seconds.
Then—
She nodded.
"Understood."
She took another bomb, then copied Shirou's movements. Cutting the rope, tying it, and ensuring the fuse was secure.
Their movements were synchronized.
One.
Two.
Three.
Bomb after bomb was fitted with a fuse, transforming from a wild threat into something at least controllable.
After all the fuses were securely attached, Shirou stood up and dusted off his hands. He glanced at the row of bombs, which now seemed more "docile," then raised his hand casually. "Trace on."
A simple lighter appeared in his palm. He twirled it for a moment, then held it out toward Ryuu with a faint smile. "Go ahead," he said lightly. "The winner of the contest gets to light the first firework."
Ryuu narrowed her eyes slightly, her expression more sardonic than usual. "The contest that nearly got me blown up earlier?" she retorted, a little sharply.
Even so, she still accepted the lighter.
Click.
A small flame ignited at its tip. Without much ado, Ryuu bent down and brought the flame to one of the fuses.
Ssssss—
The flame spread quickly. Ryuu stood back up, her eyes focused, accurately estimating the timing. She lifted the bomb with one hand, her breathing steady, her mind counting in silence.
Too fast, and it would explode in the air.
Too slow, and it would sink before reacting.
One second.
Two seconds.
"Now."
She threw it.
The bomb flew in a clean arc toward the center of the pool. A fraction of a second later—
BOOM!!
The explosion hit the water's surface, shattering the calm with brutal force. The pool shook violently; water sprayed high, forming large waves spreading in all directions. Droplets fell like rain, while the echo of the explosion reverberated long through the corridor.
In the distance, monster roars were heard—panicked, wild, anxious because of the sudden source of danger.
Shirou stood at the edge, slightly raising a hand to protect his face from the splashes, then...
clap... clap...
He clapped lightly, as relaxed as usual. "Good," he commented lightly. "Perfect precision."
Ryuu lowered her hand slowly, staring at the pool's surface, which was still churning violently. "There are twenty-three more left," she said flatly.
Yet, there was something different.
A hint of satisfaction she didn't entirely hide.
And without needing a signal, they prepared for the next explosion.
Explosion after explosion echoed around the pool again. Shirou and Ryuu took turns in a rhythm that now felt stable—one lit the fuse, the other threw. Small flames licked the rope, bombs flew in arcs, then—
BOOM!
Water sprayed high, waves spread wide, and thin steam rose into the air. Some monsters that were too close immediately fled, their footsteps retreating in panic, disappearing into deeper corridors.
"Next," said Shirou, taking another bomb.
Ryuu nodded, lighting the next fuse without hesitation. However, amid the increasingly regular rhythm, Shirou started a conversation; his tone remained casual even if the topic was heavy. "Ryuu," he said softly, his eyes still on the burning fuse, "can you give me more details about the Juggernaut..."
Ryuu's movement halted for a fraction of a second—very brief, yet noticeable enough. Her chest tightened, her breathing slightly heavy. That name, even after all this time, was still like a wound that hadn't fully healed.
Without answering, she immediately threw the lit bomb.
"—Now!"
BOOM!!
The explosion was louder than before, as if venting unspoken feelings. The pool water churned violently, its ripples spreading all the way to the edge.
Ryuu lowered her head slightly, taking a deep breath before finally speaking. "...That monster," she said softly, her voice heavier than usual, "its body is like bone. Huge. Four-legged." She stared at the still-churning water surface, as if seeing something else there. "Its head... like a deer skull."
Shirou remained silent, giving space for each word to come out.
Ryuu continued, her hands returning to work, lighting the next fuse. "Its claws are fast. Speed that's unreasonable for its body size," she said. "And... there's something worse." She lifted the bomb, gauged the timing, then threw it.
BOOM!
"It can reflect magic," she continued after the echo subsided. "It has a barrier. Anything directed at it... will come back."
Shirou frowned. "That sounds troublesome."
Ryuu nodded. "And as you know... it appears when the Dungeon is wounded." She paused for a moment before adding, "According to the Guild, the deeper the floor it appears on, the stronger its form becomes."
Shirou looked at the bomb in his hand, his mind working quickly to piece together the information. "So..." he murmured, "Rudra Familia deliberately planted bombs on the early floors—like this tenth floor—to summon a weaker version."
Ryuu turned to him, understanding his line of thought. "Their way of trying to tame it," Shirou continued.
Ryuu nodded slightly. "That makes sense."
She looked at the remaining bombs, now just a few left, her expression turning serious again. "The problem is..." she said, "this might not be the only location."
Shirou fell silent.
Ryuu continued, her tone softer. "I haven't finished translating all their documents. It's possible... There are other bombs on different floors."
Silence hung between them for a moment.
Then—
sssss—
The last fuse was lit.
And one more explosion echoed, punctuating their conversation with a long boom that resonated throughout the area.
The once calm pool had now turned into a sorry sight. Very little water remained; most had spilled over or evaporated due to the continuous series of explosions. The surrounding stone walls were covered with impact marks—rough cracks, small holes, and scorch marks still emitting thin steam, as if residual heat hadn't fully dissipated.
The last ripples slowly subsided.
Silence returned, heavier than before.
"...Finished," Ryuu said softly.
She stared at the pool for a moment, then added in a firmer tone, "I need to speed up translating the other documents."
Shirou glanced at her briefly. Ryuu's expression had turned gloomy again—not the fear from before, but a burden silently pressing from within. He could see it clearly, even without asking.
"No need to rush," said Shirou casually. "Take it slow. No need to push yourself."
Ryuu immediately stared at him. "What if something unexpected happens?" she retorted quickly. "What if that man—Isama—activates bombs on another floor? The Juggernaut will appear... and other adventurers will become victims."
Her tone wasn't loud, but tense, like a rope pulled too tight.
Shirou clicked his tongue softly. "Isama?" he repeated with a dismissive tone. "That coward?" There was a rare hint of hatred in his voice. "If he had any courage, he would have done it long ago. The fact is, we were the ones who found and detonated the bombs on this floor first. He's clearly hiding, afraid of being caught."
Ryuu fell silent, but doubt still lingered in her eyes. "It doesn't always have to be intentional," she said softly. "There could be an accident. Monsters... or adventurers who don't know... could trigger the bomb by accident."
Shirou exhaled shortly, then looked at her again. When he spoke, his tone was casual, belying the content of his words.
"If that's the case... let me handle it."
Ryuu was slightly taken aback. "...How?"
There was a glimmer of hope in her eyes, yet at the same time, something troubled her—the feeling that she was once again depending on someone else.
Shirou crossed his arms, his expression as casual as ever. "There's one way," he said.
He mentioned it without hesitation.
"Caladbolg II."
The name sounded foreign to Ryuu's ears, hanging without a clear form.
"That weapon... can pierce through anything. Even a barrier like the Juggernaut's," Shirou continued.
His explanation was brief, without details, as if he didn't feel the need to explain further. Ryuu didn't fully understand what he meant, yet strangely, it didn't matter.
She trusted him.
Unconsciously, another image appeared in her mind—a possibility that never happened. If Shirou had been there back then, standing with the Astraea Familia...
Maybe everything would have been different.
***
Deep within the artificial labyrinth, far beneath the ground where light rarely reached, Knossos stood in silence. Its corridors twisted like a nest, filled with shadows and whispers that never truly disappeared. This was where the remnants of Evilus hid, piecing together something that should have long been destroyed.
And among them stood Isama.
The silver-haired dark elf was now inside a dim stone room, surrounded by members of the Ikelos Familia. Without the help of their indifferent and unpredictable deity, Isama settles in quickly. He didn't need much time to blend in—the right words, a measured smile, and an understanding of the same "tastes" made him quickly accepted.
Almost everyone.
Except for one person.
Their captain, Dix Perdix, didn't even glance at him. Too arrogant, too preoccupied with himself to care about the existence of an unproven new member.
But the others were different.
Initially, some of them intended to "test" Isama—a rough tradition usually given to newcomers. A way to determine his position in the unspoken hierarchy. But when the conversation shifted, touching on... lewd topics—
The atmosphere changed.
Quickly.
Laughter began, soft at first, then growing clearer. Knowing smiles were exchanged, glances full of understanding without needing words. They realized the same thing—that behind the new face lay inclinations not far removed from their own.
Dark.
Twisted.
Rotten.
A man stepped forward, large-bodied with a bald head and a tattoo circling his left eye. Gran. The level four vice-captain roughly patted Isama's shoulder, but with an insincere familiarity.
"So," he said in a deep voice, grinning wide, "that signature drug of yours... You can still brew it, right?"
Isama responded with a crafty smile; his eyes glinted dimly under the low light. Around them, several other members began to draw closer, forming a small, narrowing circle. Their gazes were filled with unhealthy enthusiasm, something easily read.
"We've already prepared the ingredients you asked for," one of them interjected. "Just waiting for you."
The room felt increasingly cramped.
Not because of the number of people, but because of the intentions settling within it.
Gran laughed softly, then leaned his body slightly forward, as if sharing a secret that didn't need to be hidden. "Here," he said, "we don't do things halfway."
Isama received the box handed to him without haste. The wooden lid creaked softly as it opened, revealing its contents—various rare herbs, some still fresh with the Dungeon's distinctive sharp aroma, others neatly dried. His eyes swept the contents carefully.
Complete.
More than enough.
"Quite thorough," he murmured. A faint smile played on his lips. "You even got this one..." He lifted a purplish herb, its smell strong and slightly pungent.
Gran grinned proudly. "We don't mess around when it comes to this."
Isama closed the box carefully again, then nodded slightly. "As a return," he said casually, "I have something."
His hand reached into his cloak and pulled out a small bottle. The clear liquid inside looked ordinary, yet it made him smile like that. "I'm giving you my last sample," he continued.
Gran took it without ceremony. He opened the bottle cap and brought it to his nose.
"Hm—"
He paused.
His brow furrowed slightly. "Strange..." he murmured. "There's almost no smell..."
Yet, within seconds, his expression changed. "My nose... feels numb."
Isama chuckled softly. "Careful," he said lightly. "Even a minotaur could lose consciousness if they ingest it."
Several members around them whistled softly, clearly impressed. A dwarf in the corner of the room licked his lips, his eyes gleaming with unhealthy interest. "Perfect," he said, grinning, "for 'training' stubborn xenos."
Isama laughed softly, just enough to make the atmosphere feel colder. "Yes..." he said. His voice lowered. "The victim will remain half-conscious."
He raised a finger, as if explaining something he found interesting. "They can feel everything."
His smile widened.
"But they can't fight back."
Silence enveloped the room for a moment.
Then he added, almost like a memory he enjoyed himself, in a tone too light for the meaning behind it—"Just like what I did to my pet harpy."
A pale-skinned elf leaning against the wall suddenly sneered; his eyes narrowed with mockery. "There you go again," he said lightly yet sharply. "Always showing off about that harpy. If it's really that beautiful... bring it here. Let us have a 'taste' too."
Several other members immediately laughed in agreement, their voices merging into a rough echo in the cramped room.
"Yeah, yeah!" chimed in another.
"Don't just talk!"
Even Gran nodded, grinning widely. "If it's really that good, why keep it to yourself?"
Isama was silent for a moment.
Then he let out a long sigh; his shoulders dropped as if draped in feigned sorrow. "Unfortunately..." he said with a mock-melancholy tone, "that harpy died a long time ago."
Yet, he conveyed it so dramatically, as if truly losing something precious.
"Boooh—!"
Complaints immediately erupted from various directions.
"Lame!"
"You must have been doing it too roughly!"
"It's already dead?!"
Some even clicked their tongues in annoyance, clearly disappointed by the answer.
Gran just laughed heartily. "Oh well," he said, lifting the small bottle. "In that case, we'll just use what we have."
He stepped out, followed by other members who immediately came alive again with new enthusiasm. Laughter, footsteps, and rough conversations filled the corridor as they left the room.
The stone door closed.
Thud.
Silence once again enveloped the place.
Isama was left alone.
He stood still for a moment, then slowly smiled faintly. "There," he murmured. "Nothing binds me anymore."
The name Rudra Familia now felt distant, like something he had cut away from his own life without hesitation.
He snorted softly. "To hell with the plan to tame the Juggernaut..." His tone was casual, almost satisfied.
"Now..." he whispered. His eyes shone with euphoria. "I'm in a far more enjoyable place."
His smile widened unnaturally.
"A heaven for me."
In the world of crime, there is a common pattern—an offender tends to return to the scene, whether due to obsession, satisfaction, or memories they can't let go of.
However, Isama, without realizing it, was doing something different.
By leaving behind all traces of his past, he was actually moving away from someone who had sworn to kill him.