"Hahaha, come on, Blorg, we know you're filling your pockets with that easy job. Share the love a bit, wouldya?"

"Haha, you're a funny one. You know what? Hey, bartender! Give your finest booze to my friend here!"

"Hahaha, I mean, I would have never believed the Workshop would let you laze around with all the shit going on."

"Hehe, what can they do about it? I'm the only one who can hold this district! As long as I'm not getting caught by the other psycho—"

Crack!

Blorg and a few of his drinking buddies stopped talking as they saw the inn's door fly open, a thick scent of blood entering the establishment. Some customers didn't waste a second and left using the backdoor, while some took out knives and swords, ready to fight it out.

Plic. Plic. Plic.

A figure entered the inn, his eyes bloodshot and drenched in crimson. He was unarmed, but even without weapons, everyone in this inn had chills looking at him. Blorg stood up and grabbed his mass, pointing it at the insane bastard who dared interrupt his rest. Why would he be scared of this weirdo? There was only one individual he should be scared of, and it certainly wasn't this clown.

"Who the fuck are you?!?" He spat, standing his ground. The figure looked at him for a long time, before wiping off the blood on their face. More blood fell off, revealing the true color of their left arm, a strange, mysterious purple that seemed to pulse with wicked power. Blorg's mass slipped from his hand, and he took a forced step back.

Glenn, the Devil's Hand, stepped into the inn, leaving behind bloody footprints. Blorg was frozen in place as the young man covered in blood walked toward him. Glenn wasn't saying a word, but his eyes spoke plenty. And Blorg knew that this time, he had fucked up somewhere. He knew he had done something so unacceptable that he had managed to anger the most feared man of the Northern Town. A hero, a monster, not many knew. Those he saved described him as having a warm heart, but his enemies...

His enemies didn't speak of him, for they were all dead. Rumors had circulated; the Skinner Gang in the Eastern Town and the Thorn's Cult. Gone, erased from the Fringe and the Sewers. There were some remnants here and there, but nothing that could be compared to the organizations they once were. Blorg could only regret the day he chose to annoy the Devil's Hand, and the day he accepted the annoying work of being a Cleaner. Perhaps, if he had been less greedy, his Death wouldn't have come reaping so soon.

Glenn stopped before Blorg and grabbed him by the throat, lifting the lazy Cleaner in the air. The Gorilla was wearing his Cleaner uniform, the red crosses on the white contrasting with the bulging muscles. And despite that advantage of size, Glenn was lifting Blorg like he was weighing nothing.

"...You're a Blade of the Brotherhood of Blood and Iron, right?" Glenn softly muttered, his voice chilling every customer to the bone. Blorg gulped with difficulty, struggling to even breathe. He nodded as he tried to free himself from Glenn's steel grip. The young man threw him to the side, adjusting the position of his red leather gloves.

"Cough, cough...!" Blorg grabbed at his throat, desperately gasping for air. Glenn coldly stared at him, like a beast looking down on a prey not even worth chasing.

"...Do you have Divine Intervention: Duel? Whatever that is?" He asked as he crouched in front of Blorg, his bloodshot eyes widely opened. Blorg coughed and propped himself up.

"You...cough, how do you know of...?" Blorg's eyes widened as he recalled an order he had dutifully ignored. Taking care of an ex-Blade of the Brotherhood of Iron and Blood who had Corrupted. His name was Vladimir, wasn't it? Could...Blorg paled and his heart raced even more than it already was.

Had the Corrupted Vladimir used the Divine Intervention against Glenn? While being Corrupted?

Did...Did that mean that the Devil's Hand was close to Corruption? No, the question didn't even need to be asked. A glance at the terrifying figure drenched in blood standing above him was enough. Glenn was about to lose his mind to insanity at any moment. Blorg reached for his chest with a trembling hand and pressed it lightly, infusing Aura with a small magical tool.

"Yes...cough...I can also use Divine Intervention: Duel," Blorg answered slowly, trying desperately to gain time. Glenn smirked coldly.

"Use it on me, then."

Blorg blinked. What? Was Glenn willingly accepting a Duel? Those were under the watch of the Bloodblade, the Brotherhood's deity, and neither Mana nor Aura could be used. Soul weapons, magical tools, nothing could be used besides physical strength and martial arts prowess. Blorg felt his heart fill again with confidence. Fighting against Glenn at his full power?

He'd never be able to do that. But fighting him without his magic? That was another story. After all, he was pretty confident in his martial arts; those were the sole reasons he had managed to make it to this position. Being a Cleaner was the best he could achieve, and Blorg knew it. This bastard Glenn was set to rise much higher, unless... Unless Blorg ripped his wings off.

Blorg smirked and ripped away the fabric covering his right arm. In his shoulder, stabbed deeply, was a dagger the size of a hand which he ripped out. The Blade is a divine tool, specifically created by the Brotherhood of Iron and Blood to allow for a single Duel under the Bloodblade's watch. A ritualistic fight, in His honor.

"If you so wish, then, Glenn!" Blorg spat as he stabbed the dagger of Duel on the floor, aiming his Aura at the bloody young man. The surrounding area darkened as Divinity was used to create a contained zone specifically for the Duel. The Brotherhood of Iron Blood didn't hand these Blades lightly, and a huge service had to be given to receive those. Blorg had to work his ass off to get one and had kept it in case of such a situation. To face an opponent stronger than oneself, the Blade was the best solution, since it placed everyone on an even field. Of course, lower-ranked Aura users or Mages couldn't use those on higher ranked. Their soul would just break from using the Blade, or the divine tool itself would shatter.

But for a fight between a True Initiate and a Knight? This was perfect. The perfect tool. Blorg grinned widely, stretching and making his joints crack. Glenn was looking at his right hand in wonder.

"...So the voices came from the Corruption, then?" He muttered. Blorg sneered and ignored whatever nonsense this bastard was spouting. With a manic laugh, he dashed toward Glenn and went to kick him in the legs. Get rid of his mobility, then slowly but surely kill him off with light attacks, tiring the bastard out until he bled out. A painful death, which Blorg was more than happy to give Glenn. When he felt his feet connect with Glenn's left, he was ecstatic, but then, the next second, a loud crack in his neck shut down that confidence.

"...Disappointing..." The young man muttered as he dusted off his right hand. What use was there in doing such a thing? That bastard was drenched in blood! Why would he be bothered by a little...more blood?

More blood? Wait, why...

Why could he see his back? N...No! Blorg coughed and collapsed to the ground, the last thing he saw was Glenn leaving the Duel's area.

'Well, at least you won't see that ugly mug anymore. I sure wonder how you're going to explain this to the Workshop, though,' Diamanes said with a calm tone, his host's acts not bothering him the slightest. Glenn stepped out of the inn, ignoring the customers frozen in fear as they saw a corpse burning to ashes appear out of nowhere. As soon as his Mana came back, Glenn used a Solar Ray to get rid of any traces of that dung-eating gorilla. Hopefully, the next Fixer to step up to fill the hole left behind in the Cleaners would be better.

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"Urgh..." Glenn grunted before casting Aqua Mundare and getting rid of all the blood plaguing him since earlier. He wanted to use the spell before, but he was just so damned angry, he could only concentrate on his goal; making Blorg pay.

And Blorg had paid. A pressure that Glenn had been feeling was gently released, freeing him from his desires for violence. At this exact moment, Glenn paused and leaned against a wall, puking his insides out. He gasped for a moment, shaking at the realization that he just killed that guy, Blorg. And for what reason?

To make himself better? Glenn's eyes widened and he vomited once more, completely emptying his belly against the side of a house.

"What...the hell is wrong with me?" The young man muttered, questioning his sanity. Diamanes only laughed, not of mockery but of approval.

'Well, a lot of shit, but it's funnier this way, isn't it?'

Glenn coughed and shook his head, horrified.

"Fuck you, Diamanes! Damn it, I don't want to..." Glenn didn't finish his sentence, feeling disgusted with himself. No amount of insanity could explain pure brutality. Perhaps there was some influence from the Duel? When he "fought" Blorg, he didn't feel the same rush, the same primal need to rip and tear. Instead, he just lost his Mana and access to Nelg. Funnily enough, his Soulbound suit hadn't been influenced by the ban. Perhaps it didn't count as an external help? Who knows.

Then, the only reason he went to three brain cells mode must be the Corruption. There had to be a deciding factor there, and Glenn could bet that Corruption had acted behind the scenes, perhaps to influence the power of the Divine Intervention: Duel, or perhaps in another way, by Corrupting him.

There was no way, absolutely no way that this insanity, this madness came from him. Yes; Corruption was the culprit.

Nothing else. He was fine.

Glenn grunted and wiped his mouth off, stumbling in the Dormitory's direction. Diamanes continued to laugh, his voice echoing loudly in the young man's mind. He had lost Kevin at some point on the way, but he had no desire to see the skinny assistant right now. Perhaps he disappeared after he entered the Corrupted one's containment zone? No idea. Whatever Kevin did was none of his business. As long as the assistant did his work, that was more than enough.

Thump, thump!

He walked through the Workshop, ignoring the strange gazes the people threw at him. He was used to them. Or was he? Weren't they looking at him this way because he was a mons—The young man clenched his teeth as he dragged himself to the Black-Gold floor, struggling to even open the door to his suite. The Identification Dagger simply refused to stop trembling. Or was it his hand? No, it was the Dagger.

Thump, thump, thump!

"Hah...hah..." Glenn heaved as he clenched his chest, grabbing the nearest ledge to keep himself afloat. His heart was beating loudly in his ears with the same disturbing sound Blorg's neck made when it broke. He hurriedly went for the kitchen, pushing out the furniture in his way. He seized a Water Shard and activated it, feeding the Shard with Mana as water poured down his throat. Somehow, it felt like the heat was climbing up. Was there a fire somewhere? Glenn stumbled around, failing to find anything burning. He rubbed his forehead, finding it to be the one on fire.

"Shit, Diamanes?" Glenn grumbled a question, his ears still filled with the beating sound of his heart. The beats kept on accelerating, thumping faster, and faster, and faster...

"—enn! Glenn!" A voice pulled him out of his fever, a hand that pulled him out of the water he was drowning in. But the voice wasn't enough, and Glenn closed his eyes, losing consciousness.

"HAHAHAHAHA!" A thundering laugh woke Glenn up, a laugh so powerful, so inspiring, hearing it made his blood boil. Glenn shot to his feet, his eyes wide open and his Mana swirling around him uncontrollably.

"HAHAHAHA!" The laughter kept on ringing all around him, coming from every point in space. Glenn clenched his teeth and activated Mana Sight, determined to break this new illusion, but nothing happened.

"Haha, you're a pretty fun one! The Wench was right, you're a fun Earthling!" The voice continued laughing, only it spoke to Glenn this time. When the young man heard the mention of the "Wench", he almost instantly knew that the voice was speaking of Onnea.

Why was he so sure?

Well.

He just knew.

"Right? What a dumb bitch... Well, as long as it's not about some foolish, godly thing, she's quite nice to hang with." The voice agreed with Glenn's thoughts, before changing its mind. Glenn shook his head and looked at his surroundings. It was a massive plain plunged under the moonlight of the twin moons, a large field of vibrant green grass. A man was standing with his arms crossed, grinning from one ear to another. He was the spitting image of Genghis Khan as Glenn imagined him from history books, but with muscles carved from bronze. A long black staff, apparently made of obsidian, was strapped to his back.

"Hahaha, his, huh? Are you sure about this?" The man laughed widely, each of his chuckles lighting Glenn's desire to fight.

"Who are you?" Glenn asked, ready to cast all the spells he could to survive whatever encounter that was. The man laughed once more, before spreading his arms open, twisting something in reality. The peaceful grass plain became bathed in crimson light as the Blood Moon appeared, watching down on thousands of soldiers slaughtering each other brutally. Glenn took a step back, prepared to defend himself, but he soon found out that this wall was an illusion when an arrow passed right through him as if he didn't exist. Glenn paused and looked at the grinning muscular man.

"You...The Bloodblade?" He hesitantly asked, his doubts confirmed when he saw the man's grin growing even wider. The Bloodblade waved his hand and dismissed the sight of a war, instead conjuring two massive, black-robed horses. They were war-horses, for sure, and the reminder that Glenn never did any kind of horse-riding.

"Stop worrying and jump on. Let's have a walk." The Bloodblade frowned as he flicked his fingers and Glenn suddenly appeared on top of the horse. The animal began moving without his influence and automatically followed the Bloodblade. Glenn wanted to gulp and be afraid, but he had a hard time doing so. How many times had he met gods already? Three times? Would that make this the fourth? At first, it was surprising, but the more it happened, the more he got used to it.

"Are you thinking that this meeting will be boring?" The Bloodblade chuckled as he made the horse stop. Unbeknownst to Glenn, He led them to a headland that dominated the whole plains. Glenn didn't dare reply; and what was the use anyway? The God could just read in his mind for answers.

"Indeed," The Bloodblade admitted, "...But it's still more entertaining to have a real conversation. So let's do that, alright?"

Glenn moistened his lips and looked at the God, "What am I doing here? Why am I always getting pulled to meet Gods this way? I'm pretty sure there aren't many people who can flaunt the fact that they met with gods multiple times."

The Bloodblade shrugged, "Stop complaining. You're special; accept it, and get over it. I'm here because you defeated two of my Blades in a Duel. And thanks to that, I could take a quick look at you."

Glenn frowned, "What for?"

The God sighed and rubbed his large beard, "Do you not wonder why you almost went feral after that first Duel? The one with that Corrupted Blade?"

Glenn sneered, "Of course I do. But wondering about it isn't going to bring any answers, is it?"

The Bloodblade smiled, "I wouldn't be so certain. You see, I believe you could certainly go further if only you took a step back. Also, to go back on the subject of your insanity, I'm pretty sure you heard that quote in your original world..."

The God laughed as Glenn suddenly became all ear, "“He who fights with monsters should always be careful lest he thereby becomes a monster”. What a lovely quote, right? I love it. Too bad this Nietzche guy died, I sure wonder what he would have become if he fought some of the Limbo's monsters..." The Bloodblade trailed off, pondering. Glenn blinked. What kind of conversation was this? What—No, he should concentrate on using this opportunity.

"What should I do to...make sure what happened doesn't happen again?" Glenn demanded, his voice tinged with worry. Somehow, his mind was clear of the fog that clogged his head earlier and made it so hard to think. The Bloodblade rubbed his chin pensively.

"Do you have any idea of what makes a monster?"

Glenn blinked, unsure. "Uhm, an evil...entity? Something that kills a lot of somethings, but on an evil scale?"

The Bloodblade shook his head. "This can be true, but this can also be false. A war hero is the worst of monsters for the losing side. The man who slaughters an entire population of peaceful beasts is a monster to those, while, for him, these beasts are monsters that need to be eradicated."

The young man rubbed his forehead, feeling like he was holding onto something. Something that might change him forever. The Bloodblade laughed once more. Decidedly, this God sure loved a good laugh.

"Perspective makes a monster. You'll always be the monster in someone's life, and a hero in another. Anyway, I think that's enough bits of advice for one mortal. I have work to do, and I can't laze around too much or Onnea is going to try and piss me off." The Bloodblade took the staff off His back and held it high toward the sky. Glenn watched in awe as a large blade of crimson blood suddenly appeared on the staff, a blade so tall it reached beyond the sky.

Oh, so this staff wasn't a staff. It was a hilt.

Oh.

Good thing to know.

"It was fun meeting you, Paradox. See you around." With one, powerful downward cleave, the Bloodblade slashed, forming a crimson moon that cut through this reality.

The next thing he knew, Glenn was in his bed, surrounded by two very beautiful women.

Taking a step back? Being a monster was obligatory?

Too many concepts, and for once, Glenn would rather sleep it off. Thinking will wait for another time.

He was done feeling bad for the day.