"But Cursed Arm Hassan, you knew you were going to die, and you still led us here...?" Mash showed a somewhat shaken expression as she looked at Cursed Arm Hassan, kneeling silently on the ground.
Cursed Arm Hassan merely stared at the floor without saying a word.
The dim candlelight could not illuminate the Temple of Azrael, but it was enough to reveal the approaching hour of death.
"Why did you make that decision?" Fujimaru Ritsuka turned around, seized Cursed Arm Hassan by the shoulders, and said sternly, "If gaining combat strength means trading a companion's death for it, then there's no need to make such a simple exchange at all!"
"...I see. You never told these people about your own ending, did you, Old Man of the Cursed Arm." The red light in King Hassan's eyes flickered, and his killing intent seemed to grow even denser. With King Hassan behind him, Fujimaru Ritsuka could barely even move.
"Foolish."
King Hassan gave his assessment of the matter.
"Death has brought you no growth, Old Man of the Cursed Arm. Your eyes remain incapable of seeing through this world."
"Raise your head. You can no longer... conduct yourself so disgracefully."
Though he said that—
"...Huh?" Fujimaru Ritsuka felt the pressure from behind him vanish, and he instinctively turned around.
The red glow that represented death had already dispersed. Within that skull mask now shone the usual blue light.
The greatsword in King Hassan's hand was also planted against the ground as usual, letting out a crisp sound.
"First Hassan...?" Cursed Arm Hassan raised his head in confusion and looked at King Hassan.
"Go fulfill your duty alongside these people. You still have unfinished business. Once everything is over—"
"I shall cut off your head."
Cursed Arm Hassan froze for two seconds,