The church was utterly silent now. The battle-scarred walls, the lingering scent of blood and medicine and the soft, steady sound of breathing from two exhausted warriors.
Akira cracked open one eye. He lazily waved his hand, drawing a glowing system panel into the air.
[Personal Information]
Name: Akira
Age: 13
Level: 39
Status: Tired → Recovering
Class: Mage (Male)
"…LV39, huh."
Akira blinked, then frowned.
"That's it? Only twolevels?"
He stared at the panel, indignant. "Uncle, your worth is really not much more than a few monster rexes."
Sure, he understood the logic. He hadn't killed Zald, just defeated him.
But still.
Couldn't the system have at least bumped him to 40?! Just one more level, damn it! He grimaced, clenching his fists as he glared at Zald.
"Got chopped, slammed into walls, crushed by sheer force, nearly had my organs rearranged… and I only get two levels? Are you kidding me!?"
He grumbled, half-tempted to give the unconscious man a few bonus punches for good measure.
"…This world's leveling system is rigged." Akira sighed deeply, defeated by life itself.
A moment passed. Then, Zald stirred.
Perhaps the poison purge had kickstarted his regeneration, or perhaps his legendary endurance was finally kicking in. Either way, his fingers twitched. His chest expanded more deeply. A soft groan slipped from his throat.
Then—
His eyes slowly opened. A haze of confusion passed through them as he stared at the dim ceiling above.
"…I'm… still alive?" His voice was hoarse and faint, but filled with disbelief.
At first, he had only intended to serve as a stepping stone, facing the youth Alfia had set her eyes on.
He expected to be defeated but not to survive and certainly not to be healed.
He blinked several times, as if trying to grasp reality. His thoughts drifted.
That battle…
That brat…
He thought he had been prepared to die, prepared to give his final breath as nourishment to the rising generation. In his final moments, he'd felt peace. A strange calm. No regrets.
But now…
He smelled it.
The faint scent of medicine.
He glanced down at his hands—unarmored, clean, and untainted. His skin, his muscles… they were no longer rotting. He touched his face. His body… had recovered.
Zald's brows furrowed slightly as he turned his head and then, he froze.
"Um…!!!?"
His eyes snapped wide open, his pupils dilating in disbelief as if he'd just seen a ghost.
He slowly raised his arm, gaze trembling as it landed on the exposed skin beneath his armor. What greeted him wasn't the grotesque, rotting flesh he'd grown accustomed to but smooth, unblemished skin.
Firm. Whole. As if it had never known decay.
Zald's breath caught in his throat. He immediately shut his eyes and focused inward, sensing the condition of his own body. Although he was clearly still weak, there was no mistaking the change.
The poison… Behemoth's curse...
It was gone.
Completely.
At that moment, Akira, sensing movement, sat up from the bench and grinned slyly.
"Oh? Uncle, you're awake? How do you feel?" He asked, voice playful, though a hint of anticipation shimmered beneath it.
Zald stared at the boy, awe and emotion overtaking his face. "Did… Did you do this, Akira?"
His voice trembled with emotion. The calm, death-accepting demeanor from earlier was gone, replaced by a fervent excitement—like a man who had just grasped a life preserver after drowning in despair.
No one could blame him. To wake up and find a terminal illness cured, anyone would react the same.
Zald, who still had many unresolved grudges, who once thought his path had reached its end, now saw a future again. A real future.
Not only was he healed but he felt something deeper stirring within—an opportunity, perhaps, to challenge the threshold of level 8.
How could he not be excited?
Akira scratched the back of his head and replied, modestly smug, "Ah, yeah, I helped out a little. Didn't think it'd actually work, to be honest."
He made a small gesture with his fingers, thumb and index pressed together. Then, standing up and dusting himself off, Akira walked over and gave Zald a hearty smile.
"You really are lucky. Congratulations, uncle."
Hearing that, Zald braced his hands against the floor and slowly sat up. His legs trembled slightly as he stood, his balance still shaky, but his eyes gleamed with strength. He looked down at his palms as though confirming reality itself.
Then, suddenly, he burst into booming laughter.
"Hahaha! Hahahahaha!"
The sensation of being free, of being whole again, it had been so long.
Too long.
The poison had tormented him for years, eating away not just his body, but his very spirit. Watching himself rot day after day without being able to stop it, without hope, had left a scar deeper than any wound.
But now…
Relief washed over him and with it came hope. He no longer needed to act as a stepping stone for some future hero. No longer had to bow to fate. No…
If his body was truly cured, then given just a few more years, he believed he could surpass even Albert and challenge the Black Dragon once more.
Even more than that, a thought burned bright in Zald's heart.
If Akira could heal him… maybe, just maybe, he could heal her too.
If Alfia could also be saved, freed from her terminal illness, then the two of them, with Akira at their side, could wage war against the Black Dragon.
No need to rely on the gods. No need to wait for others. The three of them, together, would be enough.
As that thought crystallized in his mind, Zald's laughter slowly faded, replaced by a serious, intense gaze.
He turned to Akira, eyes burning with conviction. "Akira… if you can cure me, then surely—"
Before he could finish, Akira held up a hand.
"I know what you're thinking, uncle." He interrupted, expression calm but firm. "But Alfia's condition is… different from yours."
"She's not poisoned like you. From what I've seen, her illness may have already touched her soul."
Akira spread his hands and gave a helpless shrug. "So... all I can say is, we can try."
Zald fell silent. He digested the words, then slowly nodded. "Understood. Tomorrow… I'll bring her to see you."
Akira gave a small nod of approval.
"Now that we've settled that…" Akira's tone shifted, playful again as he held up his thumb and index finger, rubbing them together.
"Uncle, you got this, right?" His eyes gleamed with mischief and anticipation.
Valis.
If Zald didn't understand, he'd be an idiot. After all, healing a dying old man with four bottles of top-tier potions wasn't cheap.
Akira could already hear the sarcastic remarks from his girls.
"Spent our funds saving some old man, huh?"
Besides, he doubted those stories he'd read in ancient records about noble familias banding together to slay ancient beasts. Those were just fairytales for children.
Even three of them, Zald, Alfia, and himself, might not be enough. Unless, of course, he summoned Loki herself.
Zald raised an eyebrow, confused. "What do you mean? Akira, if you need something, just say it."
Akira exhaled, patted his chest, and said in mock frustration, "Of course I mean Valis. I used four bottles of top class potions to save your life."
His voice cracked slightly near the end.
It wasn't that he was greedy, it was basic economics. Still, he somehow felt a little… ashamed?
Zald stared blankly for a beat, then erupted in laughter once again. "Haha! Akira, you're too careful."
"You saved my life. You think I'd only repay you with the price of a few bottles?" His voice was rich with warmth, not mocking, but sincere.
"Don't worry. I'm not some ungrateful bastard."
Zald had half-expected Akira to start interrogating him about his purpose in Orario, or maybe ask about the Black Dragon or their past. He hadn't expected him to ask about… payment.
Was it naive?
Or honest?
Zald couldn't decide but it was amusing either way.
His gaze softened as he looked at the boy. He had seen many adventurers in his life. Ruthless ones. Scheming ones. Eyes always on the prize.
But Akira's shamefaced demand for Valis, despite having just saved a man's life, was refreshingly straightforward.
If all he wants is money, I can give it.
Two billion Valis.
Zald wouldn't even flinch. After all, Akira had done what no one else in this world could. He had given him back his life.