The large man clad in simple grey armor. Only now, his figure was completely and utterly destroyed. The armor now torn to pieces barely hung by his shoulders. Two holes clearly injured his body at the left ankle and left upper forearm—identical to the holes littering the knight. His entire being stood thoroughly bathed in blood to an almost unrealistic degree. His uninjured right arm gripped an enormous greatsword, lazily supporting his body as a makeshift cane.

What put Damian off, however, was not his looks, but his actions:

"...I can still hear fighting going on in the distance. Did you… ditch your companions?" Damian inquired, hiding his unease.

The large man paused, indifferently inspecting Damian's peculiar outfit. His face slowly grew into a subtle and relaxed grin before shaking his head in disapproval:

"You've got it all wrong merchant, I'm here to help out our injured friend over there. However, this does not mean I can't also be careful and make sure you don't rob the knight while he's injured."

"...And you think I was gonna run away with the relic, sir?" Damian asked, carefully hiding his suspicions.

The man chuckled:

"Yes, that's exactly what I think you're gonna do. Now please, just hand over the relic, so I can tend to my friend. I don't want this to be more difficult than it is."

'You think I'm dumb or something? While that acting is pretty damn good, it doesn't nearly live up to some of the more annoying con artists living around the outer ring that I've seen. Not to mention, that knight is very clearly dead. Even for a guy like me, if I literally see the light in your eyes go out in this kind of situation—I would be inclined to believe you've died. Especially with a bunch of holes in your body…'

"Come now, there is no need to be hostile sir, why don't we address the matter at hand? I hate to tell you this, but the knight is dead. For now, it would be best to return and provide support for your fellow travelers. I will help as well." Damian explained, showing concern for the others.

"That's not what matters now. What matters, is that you give me that relic." The man sighed, without a hint of concern.

An insulting grin formed from behind the golden mask:

"Haha… if I say no?" Damian asked in a fake and naive tone.

"..."

Not even a few seconds later, Damian broke into a cold sweat finally understanding what he had just said.

~Left~

'Oh god!'

Damian wasn't exactly sure what the voice was talking about, so all he could do was gamble that they had the same idea. Quickly, he lunged to the left. In the instance Damian had moved, a powerful shockwave sent him flying further in the direction of his lunge. Falling to the ground, he violently tumbled a dozen meters away. Eventually stopping, he weakly glared up at where he originally stood. What he saw sent him into a muted and hopeless panic: A prolonged meter-thick fissure of molten and destroyed forest etched itself deeply into the now-scarred land. Fires broke out around the great line carved within the forest soil.

The large man looked to have readjusted himself, swinging his blade in a simple and powerful upward arc from the forest ground. For a man on the verge of death, his movements still appeared inhumanly fast to Damian.

'..Shit…I'm really going to die here…'

As for the man in grey, he seemed pleasantly surprised:

"Huh! I guess I had nothing to worry about! Judging from the remarkable equipment you have on, I would've guessed that you were at least decent in combat. Who knew you were this… pathetic."

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With a grave expression, Damian swiftly turned to the voice. The large man slowly limped toward Damian without an ounce of fear. Even when injured beyond repair, the man still elicited a multitude of emotions from inside Damian. Some of fear, some of awe, but mostly of seething anger at the insulting words. He wanted to get back at the annoying man, but what could he do? What could a small janitor boy from the slums possibly do?

The man approached as each second passed.

"Alright, alright! Take the damn glass, not like I needed it in the first place!" Damian announced urgently. While he really wanted to get back at this irritating man, his life came first.

"Good decision." The man smirks.

Expectantly, the large man awaited his prize as Damian painfully forced himself off the ground. Standing meters apart, Damian closed the distance slowly—glass relic in hand. All that was left now was for Damian to just toss it over and then he could be on his way.

'...I really..really hope I'm making the right decision here…'

The large man watched the resigned merchant prepare to hand over the relic:

'While the original mission had become a complete disaster, this could still be seen as a success as long as I get the relic and somehow escape from that black monstrosity.'

However, the merchant stopped walking. He just stood there, not moving a muscle.

"...What the hell are you doing? hand over the relic, now." The man demanded, confused.

Fearfully, the merchant quietly replied:

"...T-The beast, it's behind you.."

The man's eyes grow wide, turning around in a cold sweat.

…But there was nothing there. In that moment of confusion, swift movements were heard from behind. He had been fooled…

'I'm an idiot for trying this, but I doubt he would've kept me alive either way!'

Watching the large man turn, Damian immediately made his move; diving for the knight's corpse nearby. Something he had noticed that he just couldn't ignore was the drastic difference in weaponry compared to the knight. While the large man held what seemed to be a simple greatsword, the knight's white blade felt truly extraordinary. Hovering around the strange blade when going through the knight's pockets earlier had even left Damian momentarily mesmerized. The chances were slim, but fighting back seemed like the only way out of this.

With haste, he reached for the white blade—lifting the beautiful sword with surprising ease. Unfortunately for Damian, in this moment of hope, a strange but rather significant issue immediately presented itself. The sword looked to be… clear? Unlike when he had first seen the glorious weapon up close. It now seemed like it was made of glass almost. In this brief moment of inspection, Damian realized something… problematic.

'Oh no… I really hope I'm wrong, but… I may be pressed for time now.'

The sword was vanishing in real-time. And all Damian could do was pray.

Weapon-in-hand, Damian scooped a pile of fine dirt into his empty palm and rushed toward the large man. Right when the man turned back around, he threw the dirt into his eyes, temporarily blinding him. Going in for a clean swing, Damian could only hope that this sword didn't just disappear from his hands at the last second. Regardless, the large man seamlessly dodged Damian's amateur sword swing and promptly punched him in the gut with his free hand.

*Ahck!?*

The impact crippled Damian, bringing him to his hands and knees—struggling to breathe. The large man glared at him with bloodshot half-open eyes and prepared to swing his greatsword. Staring at the man's feet, Damian noticed the sword lift from the soil, and more importantly: the man's mangled left ankle carefully hovering above the ground. With baiting breaths, he clumsily gripped the now barely present blade at the last moment; mercilessly piercing the injured ankle.

*AUGGH!!*

Dropping his greatsword, the large man fell into a kneel. Without a second to spare, Damian awkwardly pulled away from the injured man before immediately lunging forward. His blade pierced the damaged plates and leather, showing absolutely no resistance as he crashed into the large man. The two fall to the ground; Damian on top with his hand gripping a now invisible sword.

The large man appeared absolutely dumbfounded at the situation and his inevitable death. After glancing at the wound in his chest, he slowly looked up. Disgruntled, his eyes hazily met the familiar strange golden mask of the merchant. Damian chose to meet his gaze as well, whether he could see it or not. The large man after a pause slowly grew infuriated with each dying breath:

"YOU THI-...

His anger had inevitably been cut short as he suddenly felt a fresh and hollow feeling manifest from within his chest. Confused, he inspected the chest wound again; noticing that the sword, previously plugging his wound and stopping him from quickly bleeding out, had disappeared.

'...Where did that merchant's sword go?'

"Ah…n-...no" The large man attempted to utter his last dying words, tired and defeated.