(Paul POV)
I did it. I killed the Water God. I... I didn't... She gave me no choice. She was going to kill us.
At first, she toyed with me—a mistake that cost her her life. If she had taken me seriously from the start, I wouldn't be standing over her corpse right now.
Then again, who would ever expect an opponent to stop a blade with their teeth? Hell, even I could barely believe I pulled it off.
As I stared at her lifeless form, a strange hollowness filled my chest. I should feel relieved—grateful even—but all I could think about was how quickly it happened. How swiftly a life could end. She had laughed at me moments ago; now, she was just another body on the battlefield. If she hadn't pushed me this far… if there had been any other way…
The Water God wasn't just any opponent—she was a soldier of the Asura Kingdom. Her death wouldn't go unnoticed. Millishion would twist this into a crime, branding me a fugitive, a target of the two most powerful nations in the world.
But that didn't matter right now. I needed to take Zenith and Norn away from here.
I scanned the battlefield for them, but my vision blurred, disorienting me. Then, something strange happened—time faltered. Zenith sprinted toward me, yet her movements warped—surging forward one moment, dragging the next, as if reality itself couldn't decide on a proper speed.
What the hell is this? Is my perception breaking due to the wound on my head?
My detection flared—more people were coming from the church behind Zenith and Norn.
I dashed forward, slipping my sword behind Zenith's chest and deflecting an arrow aimed at her.
The warped reality snapped back into focus the instant Zenith crashed into me, as if my perception had been forcibly reset.
"H-Huh? Paul?!"
I steadied her, forcing my breath to even out. "Stay behind me. It's not over yet."
The Temple Knights arrived, their armored boots clanking against the stone. Their gazes locked onto Water God's corpse—shock, disbelief. But I barely acknowledged them. My priority was Zenith and Norn. I placed them behind me, away from immediate danger, then faced the knights.
I raised my sword.
Their silence was louder than any battle cry. Swords raised, postures stiff with unease—no words were needed. In their eyes, I wasn't a warrior. I was a murderer.
Fine. If that's the role they've given me, I'll play it.
I lunged forward.
The first knight barely reacted before my blade shattered his stance, sending him sprawling. The second fared no better—my strikes cut through their flimsy defenses—one by one, they fell, no match for my precision. Even the archers targeting Zenith weren't spared—I hurled fallen swords with enough force to knock them down where they stood.
It was almost pathetic. Their attacks were clumsy, driven more by fear than skill—desperate men pretending to be warriors. How could they ever believe they could stand against me?
Then I saw his face.
The last knight—young, too young. His armor was fresh, barely worn. His hands trembled as he raised his blade, fear radiating from his wide eyes.
I hesitated.
He was just a boy, following orders. Did I really need to cut him down?
Before I could decide, my detection flared again—Near Water God's corpse—three figures. Two of them had their hands on top of a large piece of paper beneath Water God, and a green light was beneath them—a Healing Circle.
The third, standing between me and the fallen Water God, clad in armor.
She turned, meeting my gaze: a girl, round face, long dark hair.
Her expression was fury and sorrow, her stance unmistakable—Water God Style.
Tears welled in her eyes, but her grip on her blade didn't waver. She wasn't just standing in my way—she was protecting her master.
She must be her student. And she just watched her master die at my hands.
They must've been waiting, biding time until I was distracted. Now, they were trying to save the Water God.
I exhaled sharply.
I loosened my grip, then sheathed my sword.
"Just so you know," I said calmly, meeting the girl's tear-filled eyes, "it was a fight to the death. She accepted her defeat. I'm not finishing this—not in front of my wife and daughter."
Her expression wavered, struggling between emotions.
I turned away. More knights were coming. I had no interest in spilling more blood.
I pushed past the searing pain in my head, sprinting toward Zenith and Norn, scooping them into my arms without breaking stride.
And then—it happened again. Time warped, sluggish yet sharp, my perception shifting unpredictably. The pounding in my skull dulled beneath an eerie clarity. Was this how I had matched the Water God? A fusion of brute strength and raw speed?
Damn it! What is happening? This confuses the crap out of me.
I needed to figure this out. Later.
For now, I had to get Zenith and Norn to safety.
In what felt like seconds, we reached an alleyway. I landed quietly, placing them down with as much care as possible.
But that was the last of my strength. I stumbled back until my back hit the wall, sliding down to sit.
Ah, crap. I feel like shit. This wound is killing me.
I touched it, and—
My fingers brushed against the wound, and my breath caught. The gash wasn't just bleeding—it was shifting. The torn flesh quivered, the edges writhing as if they had a will of their own, pulling together unnaturally.
A cold dread coiled in my gut. What in the hell was happening to me?
"P-Paul?"
Zenith's trembling voice. I looked up to see her horrified face, hands covering her mouth. My palm was slick with blood.
Black blood.
Was it even mine? Or was I losing the ability to see color due to brain damage?
"Dear Millis... Paul!"
Zenith knelt before me, hands shaking as she cupped my face, lifting it gently. Her wide, terrified eyes locked onto mine. Her lips moved, but I barely heard the words. My world was static.
"Paul…" she whispered, voice thick with worry.
I tried to speak, to reassure her, but my throat was dry, my body distant. Floating. Slipping.
She pressed her hands against my wound, whispering an incantation. A faint light radiated from her palms—the glow of Healing Magic.
Warmth spread through my head, dulling the pain. I wanted to tell her to save her strength, to focus on getting Norn to safety. But when I opened my mouth—
"Don't," she said firmly. "We can talk after I've healed you."
She was trying to be strong. For me. For Norn. I saw it in the way she forced her hands to stay steady, even as tears welled in her eyes.
"Mama… is Papa going to be okay?"
Norn's small, scared voice cut through my haze. She clung to Zenith's dress, her big eyes shining with tears.
Zenith didn't answer immediately. She focused on healing me.
But something was wrong.
The warmth flickered—then vanished entirely.
Zenith gasped, recoiling as if burned. Horror overtook her face.
"I don't understand... Why isn't it working?"
Norn whimpered, "Mama?"
Zenith pressed a torn piece of her dress against my wound, trying to stop the bleeding manually. I barely felt it. Numbness spread through me.
"Stay with me," she pleaded. "Paul, stay with me."
Footsteps. Approaching fast. I tensed, but my hearing failed me. Zenith and Norn reacted, but their voices were muffled.
Steel clashing? Fighting? Have some knights found us?
Then, a voice—clear, deliberate, in my mind.
'Paul? Paul, can you hear me?'
Kagami…? He's alive… Thank god... He can tell us where Rudy is…
'Well, fuck you too. You're lucky you're so important to me.'
I wanted to snap back at him, but I couldn't. I can't even see the world around me.
'It's your own fault for transforming with an injury. Any Healing Magic used on you is gonna think that wound is your default state.'
No matter what he said, his words were impossible to process.
Suddenly, a wave of heat washed over me, and my heart felt like it was about to explode from how fast it was pounding. Then, darkness enveloped me.
'Oh, shit! No no no no no no no no. Don't de-transform yet. Low rank Magic can't heal your lost blood! Paul?! Stay awake, man! STAY AWAKE! Don't you dare die on me!'
///