Ackster successfully broke through Hansel’s spear and sank his fist into the latter’s ribcage, not far from the heart. Unfortunately, the sturdiness of Hansel’s ribcage and leather armor could compete with his spear, at least when it came to tanking blows. So, while Ackster’s puch was definitely debilitating and broke Hansel’s ribs hard enough to puncture a lung, it wasn’t lethal.

Hansel stared at the fist lodged in his chest with offense. It was like he couldn’t believe Ackster had really been rude enough to sucker-punch him hard enough to sink his fist into his chest.

“Heh.”

Ackster let out a cold laugh as he pulled out his hand and shook it free of Hansel’s blood.

Hansel dropped his spear pieces and clasped the wound since he could feel and see his heart pumping the blood out of the wound. The blood streamed out in pulses from the fist-shaped indentation in his chest. More blood trickled out and pushed apart the tiny wounds and torsions in Hansel’s skin, gradually worsening the injury.

It wasn’t enough to kill Hansel, at least not at once, but it was enough to put him out of commission, despite his experience as a veteran adventurer. There simply wasn’t much he could do. He didn’t even have his potions since they got in the way while he executed some of his flashier moves. And he hadn’t thought he would need any when he and his crew were in an area where the average rank of adventurers was far enough below them that they didn’t need to worry.

But here he was, on his knees and incapable of resisting. He could only look up at Ackster and wonder why he hadn’t finished him off yet.

In contrast, Ackster wasn’t even looking at him.

Ackster was looking behind Hansel into the tiny forest in the direction they had come from. His gaze pierced between the trees and locked onto the expanding golden-yellow light that softly spread through the grove like a second sunrise.

When he saw the yellow light in Ackster’s eyes, Hansel also turned around, despite his injury. He glanced at Ackster and confirmed that he was still taken by the radiant light. Without making a sound, Hansel knelt down deeper and lay on the ground. He pretended to be dead, hoping Ackster would forget about him.

Ackster snapped out of the daze that the combination of the brilliant light and winning against Hansel had put him in. The adrenaline was fading from his veins now that the fight was over, and he was no longer driven by an urge, powered by his survival instincts in the heat of battle, to kill Hansel.

Rationally, Ackster knew that he should kill Hansel to get rid of a dangerous enemy and root out any possible future trouble. Hansel also knew a lot about his fighting style, and though basic, Ackster wanted as little information spread about him as possible. He stood nothing to gain from sparing him but everything by putting him out of his misery.

But, on the other hand, Hansel was human. He wasn’t the nicest, but neither was Ackster. There was an intelligent and like-minded light in his eyes. Ackster could theoretically reason and communicate with Hansel. It was just that their current predicament and the circumstances that led up to it hadn’t fostered a benign relationship.

Most importantly, Ackster worried about the guilt that would assuage him later if he did kill Hansel. He had heard and read about people—murderers—who couldn’t sleep a blink without seeing the faces of their victims in their dreams.

Rest and so on was an integral part of Ackster’s growth. If it were incomplete or lacking, he could potentially lose out or fall behind.

Ackster couldn’t come to a decision, so he decided to put it on hold while he dealt with something infinitely more pressing. Karandiel. He could take all the time he needed to ponder on the moral dilemma of killing another human after he had secured one of the things that would help him put a stop to the end of the world.

“You should stop breathing if you’re going to pretend to be dead, idiot.”

Ackster bent down and grabbed the half of the spear with the bladed tip.

Hansel opened his eyes and started trying to crawl away in a panic. Since Ackster picked up the spear, there was only one thing he could be aiming to do. Hansel didn’t even bother trying to plead for his life. He knew better than anyone that it rarely ended up saving the one doing the pleading and only brought pleasure to the one pleaded to. Of course, the one pleaded to could also be uncaring or get their resolve strengthened by seeing their target squirming around like a stranded fish, begging for salvation.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Ackster hefted the spear half in a reverse grip and knelt while stabbing it downward.

Hansel closed his eyes and winced in anticipation of his death. But the sweet release of pain and the cold embrace of eternal darkness didn’t come for Hansel.

“Aaah! Fuck!”

Contrary to Hansel’s expectations, Ackster didn’t kill him. He just lodged the spear deep enough in his hand to make Hansel wish he had.

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The flat spearhead led the way through his hand and opened up for the round shaft to pin it down to the ground. His hand almost splitting in half was painful enough to make tears bead in Hansel’s eyes.

“Wuss.”

Ackster hadn’t quite experienced that kind of injury, but he had done worse to himself by breaking his hands and elbows against the rock lizard. And he was pretty sure the pain of practicing Nold’s secret technique was worse. Even now, it thrummed with pain.

Satisfied with the pin holding Hansel in place so that he could deal with him later if necessary, Ackster left for the golden glow that was Karandiel’s dome losing its power and seeping into the mortal world.

Fortunately, Hansel hadn’t driven him that far away, and he quickly stumbled upon the scene of surprisingly little carnage that was the other adventurers’ battlefield.

Since his fight with Hansel had been so intense, Ackster had expected the other adventurers to have gone through something similar. But, contrary to his expectations, there were only a few dead adventurers. Most had either retreated or were sitting by the sidelines and waiting or watching the ones still fighting. Not that there were many left.

It was only the three members of the Crimson Edge and a few of the adventurers who had sided with them that were cleaning up the battlefield and knocking down the last few remaining stubborn ones, including Tenrick and Willow.

The axe guy and the young man wielding a sword had done a bang-up job of beating Tenrick to a pulp. But, in spite of the blood dripping down his body like an opened sauce packet, Tenrick was still standing and adamantly refused to cave.

If the expressions and damage on his two opponents were any indication, he had also done a pretty good job at not keeping the beatdown one-sided. But it wouldn’t be long until the resilient martial artist succumbed to his physical limitations. Even if he had something akin to Ackster’s Limit Breaker, there were also intrinsic limits to skills like that, which would eventually put an end to Tenrick’s fight.

But it wasn’t for naught.

He had bought enough time for Ackster to return. And with the collapse, expansion, and diffusion of Karandiel’s dome, Tenrick was no longer the priority of the two Crimson Edge members.

Willow’s fight with Moira, the scimitar-wielding Crimson Edge woman, had been a little more one-sided, considering it was one heavy armor-wearing fighter against a fleet-footed and light-armored one. But while Willow’s armor was battered and showed clear signs of having taken a beating, she didn’t look like she was on the verge of death. All the damage her armor had taken was superficial. At most, Willow would be tired from the fight and trying to catch her opponent and limit the number of hits she took.

Moira didn’t even seem to have been that focused on Willow, as she was the first to react to the golden dome’s dissipation by carefully approaching it. All the others, Crimson Edge members and adventurers alike, just watched and waited for something to happen.

Ackster took in the situation at a glance. He organized his priorities.

It was a shame, but he would have to ignore Tenrick and his predicament since he couldn’t let anyone else get to Karandiel first. That meant making the most of his low-ranked skill, Soft Footsteps, to ambush Moira.

If Hansel’s combat proficiency was any indication, he didn’t want to get caught up in a proper fight with the other Crimson Edge members, especially when there were a bunch of other adventurers around, looking for the money in Crimson Edge’s pockets or the heavenly treasure.

So, he had to finish it quickly.

Fortunately, the dregs of power left behind by Limit Breaker were still flowing through his body. And the phenomenon caused by the heavenly treasure’s hatching was enough to distract even vigilant and experienced adventurers.

Ackster didn’t hold back. While the others were taken by the rapidly diminishing golden glow, he closed the distance between himself and Moira. He was clearly more ragged and tired than her, so he didn’t even consider pulling his punches and roused what he could of Limit Breaker and Strong Body.

“Watch out!”

The young man with the red sword noticed Ackster’s presence and shouted to warn his companion. But it wasn’t enough. The only thing his shout did was turn Moira’s head to the side and position it perfectly for Ackster’s fist, strengthened by Strong Body, Strike, Stone Fists, and Limit Breaker.

Ackster didn’t stop moving and continued charging forward to the pit, where Karandiel was. The sound of a body hitting the ground was as reassuring as the feeling of his fist decimating Moira’s jaw.

But even with Moira out of the game, Ackster still had to deal with the two Crimson Edge members still standing and the remaining adventurers still interested in a slice of the pie if they couldn’t get the entire pie.

“Limm, check on Moira. I’ll deal with that guy!”

The young swordsman shouted to the big axe-wielder as he took off toward Ackster.

“Be careful, Nash. Hansel isn’t back.”

“...”

Nash gritted his teeth and gripped his sword. He had also noticed the fact that Ackster returned while their leader hadn’t. That could only mean one thing. Hansel had lost either the fight or Ackster himself. Considering all the circumstances, such as the fact they were within a grove and Ackster wasn’t exactly stealthy as he ran around almost naked, it could only be the former.

And Hansel wasn’t exactly the leader solely because of his charming personality, even if he treated his companions with the respect they deserved.

Ackster was dangerous, and Nash had to be careful. So, even when there was a clear difference in their armaments, Ackster looked slightly weary and had several cuts on his body, and was looking at the indentation in the ground ahead of him, Nash was still gentle in his approach.

He didn’t shout or yell at Ackster about what he had done. He held his sword tightly while sprinting to catch up before Ackster could grab the heavenly treasure and take off.

However, although Ackster was focused on what was hiding beyond the edge of the pit, he didn’t miss the sounds his ears picked up. He had heard Nash and Limm talk, and he heard Nash’s footsteps and labored breathing. He could tell that Nash was trying to be quiet from his own experience doing the same, both just now and previously during his training in the wild.

But, most importantly, Ackster could tell that Nash was, maybe not scared, but, at the very least, wary of him. And that was all he needed to know that Nash wasn’t an expert at judging his opponents. That, or the fact that he had beaten Hansel and knocked Moira out, was enough to intimidate Nash.

In either case, Ackster held a psychological advantage, which he could easily turn into a physical one if it came to it. But that was after he confirmed Karandiel’s existence.