Evening Bell Saint

"Awooo!!!"

A piercing howl erupted from the War Puppet. Still savoring the taste of its corpse servant, it cried out in pain and fell from the ceiling, its limbs flailing chaotically like a giant spider dropping from its web.

It was powerless to resist.

No matter what, a Sequence 8 supernatural creature was still made of flesh and blood. Caught off guard and struck by over a dozen rifle bullets, it could only be riddled with holes.

But this was clearly not the end.

The Flesh Spider twitched where it lay, yet it did not die--

Fresh flesh gradually filled the holes the stones had punched into its body. Before long, its wounds had been completely repaired.

However, the newly grown flesh was clearly far more fragile than before...

The flesh patching its wounds was pale and bloated, barely plugging the openings like inflated balloons, yet it seemed on the verge of splitting apart.

It would probably tear open again after just a few simple impacts, wouldn't it?

But the War Puppet was clearly too dim-witted to realize it had already been severely injured. It was merely a puppet creature constructed by a Superpowered through supernatural abilities.

It propped itself up with its countless limbs, then glared furiously in the direction the stones had come from--

A young man in prison clothes was calmly walking up the stairs, tossing and catching two small stones in one hand as though he did not care about it at all.

Human, arrogant... food!

It viciously widened the compound eyes formed from its heads. The eyes on those shriveled human heads turned blood-red as they stared hatefully at the man before opening their massive mouth and charging straight at him!

...But it could not keep up.

Its once-proud speed could not match the person before it. Wind sprang up from nowhere, repeatedly pushing the man away from its jaws.

It tried to spray scarlet hair-needles to seize him, but every time they reached him, they were inexplicably deflected. They curved back and stabbed dense bloody holes into its own body.

It was enraged, it was savage, it...

It could do nothing.

It was going to die.

After its movements had been distorted again and again by incomprehensible means, and after stone after stone had riddled it with holes, the intense pain finally crushed the War Puppet's fury.

Its survival instinct surged forth, making it cower in fear. It no longer dared approach him...

It opened its mouth and spat out one of the twisted corpses comprising its body, dropping it tentatively before the man--

Then, the corpse that had been shriveled and grotesque suddenly became rounded and full like an inflatable doll, seemingly returning to the appearance it had possessed in life...

She was a pitiful-looking girl. She kowtowed to the man and made meaningless, muffled sounds, as if begging for mercy.

If one did not know that her true body was the lump of spider flesh connected behind her, perhaps many people would have pitied her.

But Ron merely looked coldly at the "girl" before him, at her vacant eyes filled with the aura of death...

Then he snapped his fingers.

Ghostly green Necromantic Fire suddenly rose from the floor. On closer inspection, it had sprung up everywhere Ron had stepped.

Now, the Necromantic Fire formed a tightly sealed circular prison, trapping the War Puppet that was already at death's door within...

"Wuu..."

It only had time to let out one mournful cry before the ghostly green flames swallowed it, consuming it in a sea of fire.

The girl it had spat out was also engulfed by the ghostly green flames, but before she was burned to ashes, Ron could clearly see a trace of relief in her vacant eyes.

It was over.

Ron looked toward the Dimensional Update Manual--

["Setting: Personal Reality" was being worn away by excessive "Mysticism Influence".]

[Feature Damage: 43%]

[Warning! When this setting was unloaded due to damage, "Class: Superpowered" would also be damaged and unloaded.]

Ron had done his best.

He had done his best not to fight the War Puppet head-on, and had done his best to alternate between the [Gravekeeper] and [Superpowered] classes, but he had still suffered wear penalties for using classes with conflicting version settings.

Forty-three percent...

That was still within an acceptable range.

Next, he only needed to deal with that Saint. The remaining fifty-seven percent durability should be enough.

Still... the Sequence 8 War Puppet did not seem to exceed Ron's strength.

Ron had already felt it during the fight with the War Puppet. If he had been in Ideal City, where he could use [Vector Manipulation] without restrictions,

this monster that seemed so ferocious and terrifying would have been nothing more than a stray dog by the roadside before [Vector Manipulation], something he could kill with a single kick.

But in the "Potion Era," he had to limit the output of [Vector Manipulation] and restrict its number of uses, or version wear would rapidly set in...

Sure enough, in every version, abilities that conflicted with the version could only serve as temporary trump cards. The true foundation was still abilities that suited the version.

Ron pondered this as the coldly burning Necromantic Fire before him gradually died out. The deep green flames completely incinerated the War Puppet, reducing it to snow-white ashes.

The Dimensional Update Manual displayed a notification:

[Enemy defeated: War Puppet!]

[Because you defeated an enemy in the world of the "Potion Era," a new entry has been unlocked.]

Ron saw a new screen appear on the light display. The grotesque corpse spider hid in a dark corner, spitting out only a young girl's corpse and making her stand in the light to draw attention.

[Low-level Supernatural Creature: War Puppet]

"Sometimes, you would see vacant young girls or children seeking your help.

But behind them would be a supernatural creature drooling over you, its limbs dancing--

This was a War Puppet, a twisted creature stitched and bolted together from various human body parts.

[War] Supernaturals created them to tell everyone that so-called war... meant stopping at nothing."

Innate Settings--

[Mad Frenzy]: Sinful [War] magic infused vitality into the remains of the dead, constructing them into grotesque flesh puppets and filling them with rage to devour every life they could consume.

[Thousand Faces]: Countless remains provided them with vessels capable of unleashing cunning malice... Different corpses were fashioned into alluring bait, luring prey into their traps.

[First defeat of enemy "War Puppet." Extracting setting.]

[Setting Extraction: Thousand Faces

All cunning trickery required ever-changing masks. You twisted your own flesh, learned the puppet's trickery, and fashioned masks of countless forms.]

[After loading this setting, you would possess the War Puppet's special ability and could transform your face and body into any appearance you wished.]

Sure enough, killing the War Puppet gave him a new setting, just as killing the Corpse Shell had.

But [Thousand Faces]?

This did not seem like an ability that could help him in battle...

Ron pondered for a moment, then suddenly thought of something--

If he could alter his appearance through this setting...

could he disguise himself as the old magician and take part in the upcoming Magic commission?!

Ron had not forgotten that another problem, one that would soon erupt, was waiting for him in Ideal City.

He had actually been struggling with how to conceal the old magician's death. He had even considered where he should seek shelter if he were truly exposed to the Magician Association.

But now, none of that was necessary.

--As long as he used [Thousand Faces] to disguise himself as the old magician and completed the commission the old magician had accepted from the Magician Association, would that not prove the old magician was still "alive"?

At that point, the Magician Association would never realize that the old magician was already dead!

Ron could even make it more thorough--

If he casually took out the grimoire during the commission, let everyone know that the old magician had obtained the Forbidden Codex, and then suddenly disappeared...

then, in the eyes of the Magician Association, would the old magician not become a Sinner who had pocketed the Forbidden Codex and fled with the goods?

Their attention would probably shift immediately from Ron, the "master thief" who might possess the Forbidden Codex, and settle entirely upon the old magician who had long since died!

...What a timely setting.

A faint smile rose at the corner of Ron's lips.

When the time came, he would let the Magician Association search for a dead man who had vanished with the Forbidden Codex. They had better not interfere with his college life...

Still, this was not the time to think about what he would do after returning to Ideal City.

Although Ron had been very careful, the battle with the War Puppet had still made quite a commotion.

The knights lured away by the corpse servants would likely return before long to investigate what had happened here.

Ron was not afraid of them, but he did not have much setting durability left. He had to conserve it no matter what...

He did not want to waste too much time through a momentary lapse in attention, damage all his settings, and be forced to return to Ideal City to spend half a month repairing them.

--By then, it would be too late for everything!

When he reached the door, Ron knocked, but received no response whatsoever.

...Was the Saint not conscious right now?

Or had her ability to move already been restricted?

Ron considered this inwardly. After confirming there would be no answer, he kicked the door open.

He pushed open the door and immediately smelled a fresh fragrance resembling gardenias.

Soft morning light filtered through faded velvet curtains onto Ron's face. Beside him stood a mother-of-pearl-inlaid dressing table, where a gilded idol, a carved incense burner, and cosmetics lay in a cluttered pile, covering several draft sheets filled with numbers and symbols.

Looking around, there was only a bed, a wardrobe, and a dressing table... The cramped room could fit nothing else. Standing here, Ron actually felt rather crowded.

And on the small bed covered in silk cushions before him sat a young girl in a white robe threaded with gold, holding a cross and praying.

Morning light outlined her porcelain-white profile, making the pearl earring dangling from her right earlobe shine with a soft gleam.

Unfortunately, there were clear wounds on her arm left by a sharp blade, lending a hint of brokenness to her beauty.

Clearly, this was Idrila, the "Evening Bell Saint" of Scorched Earth Sanctuary.

...No wonder she was called a Saint.

Ron thought that if the word holy were personified, it might look like this girl.

But after examining her closely for a moment, Ron noticed something slightly off.

This Saint... why did she look so much like an NPC? She was practically an unconscious praying NPC.

How could a normal person react as though they had heard nothing after someone kicked open their door and entered wearing prison clothes?

She did not glance at Ron at all. She merely held the cross shaped like intersecting blades and muttered secret prayers...

Wait, prayers?

What exactly was she praying?

Ron frowned and listened carefully. At last, amid the Saint's murmurs, he made out what she was saying--

"Fire-Chasing... the Fire-Chasing Ritual..."

"Great Lord of War, beating heart of conflict, source of all strife..."

"With the flesh and blood of living beings as sacrifice... with [War] warriors as the guide..."

"I beseech you... bless me..."

"Let me become... one who inherits the flames of war..."

...What was she saying?!

Ron staggered back a step in shock, frowning deeply as he took out the secret letter and read it carefully once more.

That was right... according to the letter, this Saint should have been deceived. Why was she now saying something that sounded like the prayer of a sacrificial ritual?

Had she willingly chosen to sacrifice herself? What kind of joke was that...

Ron frowned in thought, suddenly remembering the two knights he had seen beneath the spiral staircase earlier, standing like statues.

Like this Saint, they too had unconsciously muttered things related to the Fire-Chasing Ritual.

Could it be... this Saint herself had fallen into a state of being controlled, just like those two knights?!

He immediately loaded [Ashes of the Age of Gods] and opened Magic Vision--

On this Saint, Ron saw not only the pale golden radiance flickering around her,

but also a cunning gray haze shrouding her forehead, utterly out of place amid that pale gold!

Presumably, this was the mysterious power influencing the Saint.

Someone else might truly have had no way to deal with this at such a moment, but Ron had come prepared...

Perhaps it was a complicated hypnosis spell, or perhaps it was some Superpowered's special ability.

But before [Fantasy Dissolution]...

all of it had to be honestly erased completely and vanish!

He stepped forward, switched to [Fantasy Dissolution] without hesitation, and flicked Idrila squarely on the forehead.

In an instant, Ron felt an unbearably intense impact, as though even his soul had been shaken by his actions...

A gray mist rose from Idrila's body, churning into a knight's lance that thrust toward Ron, only to nearly dissipate entirely at the last moment.

Only a trace of mist reached Ron, and he instinctively dodged aside.

["Setting: Fantasy Dissolution" was being worn away by an extremely excessive amount of "Mysticism Influence"!]

[Feature Damage: 100%!]

[This setting has been temporarily destroyed. Return to the "Superpowered Era" to repair this setting.]

...What was going on?!

Ron pressed a hand to his temple, suppressing the dizziness and searing pain in his head as he stared in shock at the girl, who had stopped praying and raised her head blankly--

What kind of ability had been affecting her?

[Fantasy Dissolution]... had shattered in one blow!

At the same time, inside an inconspicuous little house in Evening Bell City.

[The Evening Bell Saint fell because of her desire for power. During the Fire-Chasing Ritual, she sacrificed innocent Supernaturals and prayed for the blessing of the Heart of Conflict, becoming a god-granted "Firebearer," before being slain by the righteous Father Suul...]

The muttering voice broke off, only continuing a moment later:

[The Evening Bell Saint's desires were scattered by an escaped prisoner, and she once again became--]

But a gentle voice took over:

"She once again became the 'Saint' who suppressed her fallen nature, but once the seed of desire took root in her heart, it would sooner or later sprout..."

The voice slowly faded, gradually becoming indistinct.