’One more to go.’
Bell could feel the path ahead beginning to shift. Crossing just one more threshold would grant him the ticket to Level 9.
But there was no need to rush just yet.
Ais’s battle would soon reach its conclusion.
’This side, though.’
Aria’s body and soul were beginning to reconnect—a serious warning sign.
If that link strengthened, all her previous efforts to sever her consciousness and soul would beco aningless.
’I need to deal with this.’
’Or we might miss our chance.’
Bell glanced at Aria’s ruined body and quietly placed his hand on the still-glowing lightning spear.
From his palm, a darkness as deep as an abyss seeped into the spear, staining it pitch-black from tip to base.
That blackness then spread, inch by inch, into Aria’s already-charred flesh.
But at that mont, the agony on Aria’s face vanished entirely. Everything froze the instant the darkness entered her body.
"Dungeon, you don’t want to lose control of Aria’s body either, do you?"
"If not, then fight my corrosion properly."
Bell’s corrosion wasn’t overwhelmingly strong, but it clung like bone-gnawing rot—impossible to remove.
After all, the Seven Deadly Sins originated from humans.
Humans, with their boundless desires, carried a darkness capable of staining anything—sothing a Dungeon alone could never resist.
As expected, while the Dungeon focused all its strength resisting the corrosion, its control over Aria’s body noticeably weakened.
"Be careful. If you don’t want your soul and body reconnecting, don’t put too much emotion into it."
"Unless you want to lose even the chance to et Ais."
These words silenced Aria’s spirit completely.
If there truly was a chance to et Ais—even once more in her life—it was far better than this.
But look at her body—utterly ruined.
She could feel the lightning constantly tearing apart her body’s structure and regeneration, preventing any recovery and even draining the Magic Stone within.
But her body? Worthless.
Aria had abandoned it long ago; she didn’t care for it at all.
She knew this body, now controlled by the Dungeon, no longer belonged to her—nor did her soul fully.
If the Dungeon’s corruption continued, she didn’t have much ti left before even her self-awareness faded.
What Aria truly feared now was whether her body could hold out until the mont Ais and Albert’s battle ended.
Yes—compared to herself, Aria was far more worried about Ais.
...
On the other side, Ais’s battle had reached its peak.
She had successfully severed Albert’s arm and taken his weapon along with it.
A complete disarmant—she’d removed his strongest tool, drastically lowering his threat level.
She had used an item, yes, but no one had ever declared them forbidden in real combat.
With inferior raw strength, Ais was clearly at a disadvantage.
As the challenger, Ais wasn’t thinking about the "righteousness" of her thods—only victory.
Victory often required abandoning fairness.
And for Ais, even if she had to be ruthless, she would win.
Ready and without hesitation, Ais wrapped her blade in a surge of wind.
Pushed by the storm, she appeared before Albert almost instantly.
Perhaps slowed by his regenerating right arm, Albert remained frozen. This was Ais’s perfect chance.
Shrouded in violent wind, Ais seized the mont and thrust straight toward Albert’s heart.
Albert didn’t move, appearing completely immobilized.
"Thud!"
The slender blade pierced his heart cleanly—yet in that instant, Albert moved.
His remaining left hand clamped down on Ais’s right wrist.
"!?"
The overwhelming force made Ais wince, and she instantly understood—he hadn’t moved earlier because he’d been waiting for this mont.
Her teacher had taught her to coat her entire body in magic, which was the only reason her father hadn’t crushed her hand instantly.
But she couldn’t keep this up.
Ais saw Albert’s right arm nearly regenerated. If she delayed, she’d miss her final chance.
Her teacher had said: against soone stronger, you only get one or two openings. If you fail to deal real damage in them, those openings vanish forever.
If she lost this mont, she wouldn’t deserve another.
With a sharp breath, Ais steeled herself.
"If you want it, then take that hand!"
Wind sliced clean through her elbow.
There was no pain on her face—only resolve.
Albert clearly hadn’t expected such fierce action. Holding the severed arm, he froze.
"Haaaahhh!"
Pouring every drop of magic into her blade, Ais abandoned defense entirely to seize her chance.
"Mini Hurricane!!!"
The storm swirling around her sword expanded instantly, swallowing Albert whole.
Everything around his heart was pulverized.
The horizontal hurricane punched through his body, devouring everything behind him.
"Ha... ha..."
But the Ais who inflicted that devastation was barely standing.
Her right arm was gone, and she’d poured nearly all her magic into that strike—only a tenth remained.
"Ugh..."
Pain surged from her severed arm.
Ais dropped to one knee, her trembling right arm letting go of the Blade of Despair. She was at her limit.
"Thud!"
A heavy footstep echoed.
Her face paled as she stared ahead in disbelief.
Albert... Dad. His right hand wasn’t fully regrown, the left half of his body had been blown apart, upper and lower body connected by only a strip of muscle. He should have been dead long ago—yet he was still standing.
The mutilated muscles began to squirm.
Ais knew exactly what it was.
’Regeneration.’
But why...?
Why hadn’t such overwhelming damage killed him?
...
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