The earth spikes erupted without warning.
If it were anyone else, they'd probably be impaled instantly—skewered like a kebab before they even realized what happened.
But Steven?
He merely glanced at the incoming spikes, his expression caught somewhere between disappointment and pity—as if he were let down by their sheer incompetence.
The jagged crystalline spikes, gleaming with the same eerie light as the monsters' bodies, closed in on him in an instant.
And just as they were about to pierce him through, Steven simply raised his right arm.
The next second—
Thud. Thud. Thud
A series of dull, almost knocking-like sounds echoed out.
The seemingly unstoppable spikes bounced off.
As if they had just slammed into an impenetrable wall, they ricocheted in all directions.
Meanwhile, their intended target—Steven—lowered his off-hand shield at a leisurely pace.
"Sorry, not today."
The Minecraft achievement [Not Today, Thank You] popped up in his head, making him shake his head in disappointment.
And as for the "shield" in his hand…
Calling it a shield was generous.
Honestly, both in shape and design, it looked way more like a wooden door plank.
But hey, that wasn't his fault.
Minecraft's default shield was literally just this.
Sure, Steven had plenty of better-looking shield mods, but he couldn't exactly pull those out right now, could he?
Given the meager resources he had left, managing to craft even a basic wooden shield was already a damn miracle.
Luckily, even in its most primitive form, a Minecraft shield was broken as hell when it came to blocking projectiles.
And Steven highly doubted that this world's inhabitants had the foresight to enchant their spells and arrows with Piercing, a mechanic that only existed in Minecraft.
Seeing how even their combined Originium Arts attack had been so easily neutralized, the remaining monsters roared even louder out of rage, frustration, and maybe even fear.
Of course, these creatures had about the same intelligence as wild beasts.
If they had even a shred of self-awareness, they'd have run for their damn lives by now.
"Well, that was a nice little fireworks show."
Steven muttered, the curiosity in his eyes fading.
He had expected this world's Originium Arts to be something new and innovative, but now?
It was just another form of energy manipulation.
Nothing different from the magic mods or superpower mods he had seen before.
Just a different name for the same old thing.
Slightly disappointed, he dismissed his shield and ignored the few remaining stray spikes still flying toward him.
And then he moved.
His ghostly speed kicked in once more, and this time, he wasn't holding back.
In the span of a few short breaths, the battlefield was silent—
The last of the monsters lay dead, their lifeless bodies scattered across the ground.
Steven flicked his wrist, shaking off the greenish blood clinging to his Netherite Sword before stowing it away in his inventory.
And finally, he turned his gaze toward the white-haired girl who had been hiding in the corner the entire time, her violet eyes staring up at him, filled with admiration and absolute dependence.
"Alright." Steven sighed, as if preparing himself for the real challenge.
"Now, let's talk about what you did. I promise I won't spank you."
It was the kind of exasperated sigh a parent would give when dealing with a troublemaking kid.
Now he understood.
Now he finally got why parents were always so frustrated—
Because when kids messed up, it was the adults who had to clean up the mess.
At the sound of his summoning, Gladiia immediately bolted to his side, but the moment she heard him mention spanking, she froze, then looked up at him with puppy-dog eyes, as if begging for mercy.
Her delicate face was still streaked with the remnants of tears—evidence of her earlier fear.
Now, paired with those pure, childlike eyes, it was enough to make half of Steven's heart melt on the spot.
Seriously.
No matter what world you were in, looks mattered.
It didn't matter what you did—if you were good-looking, nothing ever felt out of place.
By all logic, Gladiia was supposed to be the strong-willed, dominant type—a classic cool beauty.
And yet, when she made that kind of expression?
Steven really couldn't handle it.
He had zero resistance when it came to cute and pretty things.
"Looking at me like that won't help."
Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose.
"I found you this time. I found you last time. But what if—one day—I just don't feel like it? Hm? What if I decide to be lazy?"
"Then what? Are you trying to faintly call out to me till death?"
He had fully intended to scold her—to discipline her properly.
But in the end, the idea of punishing her just… didn't sit right.
Sure, the thought of bending over a tall, proud girl and spanking her sounded fun, but it only worked if she wasn't a clueless, amnesiac idiot.
Otherwise, it was just bullying a child with a learning disability.
And even Steven had standards.
"I was wrong."
Her soft, trembling voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
Her lips pouted in guilt, eyes drooping as she genuinely apologized.
Not just her usual "Dad, Dad" routine—
But a real, serious apology.
Turns out, even among child-minded people, there were differences.
Despite her regressed mentality, Gladiia could still be reasonable when the situation called for it.
And with that, Steven had no real reason to keep scolding her.
A kid that admits their mistake so honestly—there was no point punishing them further.
"As long as you know."
Shaking his head, he sighed in reluctance.
"But if you ever run off without a word again, I will discipline you next time. Just like I said."
And no, not that kind of "discipline" from certain shady little books—
It would be a completely normal, healthy, parental kind of discipline.
Probably.
Just as he was about to leave this corpse-ridden, ruined church with Gladiia, a sudden thought struck him.
Pausing mid-step, he facepalmed—
"Oh, right. Almost forgot."
Turning back, he strode toward the headless corpse of the black-robed man.
Gladiia blinked in confusion as Steven crouched down, pulling his Netherite Sword back out.
Then, he stabbed the blade straight into the corpse's arm.
"Oi. How long do you plan on playing dead?"
A mocking grin spread across Steven's face.
"I almost fell for it, you know?"
His voice was dripping with amusement.
"As a reward for your brilliant acting, I'll be generous."
He twisted the blade ever so slightly.
"I'll give you a few more seconds to say your last words."
Then his grin widened—
"If not—well, don't blame me for cremating you alive."
He had intentionally avoided any fatal areas—going for the arm instead.
Because really, he was genuinely curious—
How the hell was this guy still alive after getting his head cut off?
Even those mutant fish monsters had given WAP upon death.
And yet, this guy?
Nothing.
Not even a sliver of EXP.
That's when it clicked—
This sneaky bastard was faking it.