The man’s breath came in quick, shallow bursts—a blend of fear and excitement. Tsav couldn’t help but marvel at how a disciplined assassin could have such a volatile temperament. The two aspects seemed incompatible, but they were perfectly intertwined. Tsav had found the imbalance oddly fascinating ever since he first met the man.
“Tsav, I’ll kill—”
“No, you won’t.”
Necrus leaped, swinging his blade in a wide arc. It was a heavy blow, but Tsav easily parried it. Then he countered, sweeping Necrus’s legs out from under him before slamming his foot into his chest.
He looked down at his former master, his blade at the man’s throat. “See? That was easy.”
“…And?” Necrus laughed. It was a harsh, self-deprecating chuckle. “Can you kill me? With that blade? I know I can’t kill you, but you can’t kill me, either.”
Tsav couldn’t believe Necrus was saying such things with so much smug confidence. This man really is hilarious, he thought.
“I know you. You killed the people who raised you like it was nothing, yet you secretly let your pet rat go. The more you know your target, the harder it is for you to kill them. While it’s hard to believe, you’re right about one thing,” Necrus spat. “You’re far too kind to be an assassin. Deep down, you’re a good person. I hate to admit it, but you’re right!”
He really understands me, thought Tsav, impressed. Necrus knew who he truly was, and that was probably why he was so confident.
“But…that’s also why…I know you can’t kill me. You know me too well.”
Necrus smirked.
“Tsav, tell me the truth. I bet you still don’t have a single friend, nor are you interested in what’s wrong or right. You’re a monster. And in that case…” The assassin’s gaze was fixed on something behind Tsav. He was looking at Xylo. “How about killing Xylo Forbartz?”
“My bro?”
“Is that a problem? Are you fond of him? Surely, you see him as nothing more than a fun toy. I can tell. So think about it. Who would be more useful to you, him or me?”
Necrus held a sword to his own throat. What a novel way to beg for mercy, thought Tsav. It was something he’d never do, at least. Necrus was holding himself hostage. Tsav burst into laughter.
“Wow, Necrus. You really are hilarious. Say, do you think we could talk about something? I’ve been really into collecting stuff lately.”
“…Like what?”
“Shed snake skins. And right now, that’s the most important thing in the world to me. I want to go home as soon as possible so I can organize my collection, and I promised my bro here that I’d show it to him, too.”
“What are you talking about? Snake skins?”
“One more thing. There’s this group I’m taking care of. They’re kind of like abandoned puppies, and they’re always causing trouble.”
Namely, Xylo Forbartz and his companions. If Tsav didn’t take care of them, they’d keep dying and dying until they all forgot who they were. Tsav felt sorry for them.
“Hold on. Tsav, don’t you dare look at me like that!”
“Heh-heh!”
Tsav let out a goofy laugh, then used his lightning staff to blow off Necrus’s left arm from the elbow down. Necrus screamed in agony and writhed around, as if to escape the pain. But Tsav stepped on his arm, as if to make sure he wouldn’t get any relief.
“But you’re right. I don’t want to kill you. I’m a nice guy, so I’ll stop short of taking your life.”
“Tsav…! What part of this…is nice…?!” Necrus screamed in pain. “You monster! How dare you?!”
“It’s okay. I know you’ll get through this.”
Tsav recalled a time when he’d let one of his targets escape. They’d had a really distinctive eye color—a shade Necrus would instantly recognize. For that reason, Tsav had to take meticulous care to fool him. For that reason, he’d carved out one of the target’s eyes and mixed it in with the pulverized flesh of some random bystander, before leaving the scene for his master to find.
Tsav had said these words of encouragement as he took his target’s eye:
“Believe in yourself! You’ve gotta be strong so you can move on to a bright future! Do it for your eye!”
For some reason, his targets took great pleasure in heaping abuse upon him at times like this, but that was only a minor inconvenience.
“I’m a seriously nice guy, and I’m an optimist. I believe in people, and that’s why I want you to believe in yourself!”
He gave his master a thumbs-up. His voice was completely sincere. Tsav knew Necrus had a fragile psyche, but he knew he’d make it through.
But just as he was about to replace his staff’s magazine and take out Necrus’s right foot, someone grabbed his arm. It was Xylo Forbartz. Tsav blinked. He was more surprised that Xylo had stopped him than that the poison had already worn off.
“Stop,” said Xylo. “He can’t fight anymore. You’ve done enough. Let’s just tie him up and bring him back to the surface with us.”
“What? But I think he’d be a lot easier to carry if we removed a bit more.”
Tsav thought he heard a sigh.
“No need… We’re good.”
“All right, then. If you’re gonna carry him, I guess it’s fine. But what’s the big deal? I’m not gonna kill him or anything.”
“Just being alive isn’t everything.”
“You can do anything as long as you’re alive. Wait. Hold on. I think I got that wrong. If you have the right attitude, you can do anything.”
For Tsav, these two things were intertwined yet distinct. The penal heroes’ punishment was a slow, deliberate destruction of the mind. Tatsuya was living proof of what became of one’s psyche over time. Tsav believed that death was the end of everything, but for the penal heroes, there was no such finality. They were trapped within their own deteriorating minds, and the thought of losing himself was what Tsav feared most.
“Anyway, just stop. There’s no point in torturing this guy further. Now, come on. We’ve got to stop the bleeding.”
“The point was that it would make him easier to carry. I— Okay, okay! I understand! Roger!”
Under Xylo’s menacing gaze, Tsav had little choice but to give in. The poison had mostly worn off, and even if it hadn’t, Tsav knew he didn’t stand a chance against Xylo.
“…I still have something I want to ask him.” Xylo glared down at Necrus. “You and your men were set up and left to die. You don’t owe the coexisters anything anymore, so tell me. Who’s the one giving orders to the Uthob Front, Unit 7110? Who were you working with, and what’s their goal?”
There was a sense of urgency in Xylo’s voice. He was desperate, like a parched traveler asking where he could find some water.
“Talk, Necrus. Who is it? Who used Gwen Mohsa?”
“I really think we need to torture this guy if we wanna get any information out of him, Bro. He might lie, but it’s better than this.”
“No… It’s fine. I’m done…”
Necrus was looking at Xylo, his lips twisted into something like a smile. “Xylo Forbartz, I will never forgive you. Goddesses need to be perfect. They are sacred havens, perfectly untainted. And you have desecrated them.”
“…Yeah, I guess so. Can’t take back what I did.”
Tsav was stunned at Xylo’s admission. He didn’t offer any elaborate justifications; he simply acknowledged his error, plain and simple. Hadn’t he been trying to get information out of Necrus? An answer like that seemed likely to make him clam up even more.
Xylo’s chilly detachment from his own mistake was beyond Tsav’s understanding. He must have an unbelievably low opinion of himself. And sure enough, a twisted smile crept across Necrus’s face, as if he were planning something particularly malicious.
“Xylo Forbartz, you are our enemy. Your existence is counter to everything we believe in. Even now, you continue to use the goddesses as weapons of war.”
“Yeah, that’s right. I’m the enemy of everything you believe in.”
“And yet you are trying to save me. Do you understand how humiliating that is? Heh… Heh-heh… Ha-ha-ha!” Necrus was laughing loudly and clearly—almost hysterically. “You’re going to take me prisoner, then torture me until I talk. I have no confidence that I can endure that. I’d probably tell you everything. And I can’t bear the shame should that happen.”
“…Tsav!”
Xylo immediately let go of Tsav’s arm, but Necrus was simply too quick.
“…Go to hell!” he shouted. “You can’t always get what you want!”
The sword carved a crimson path through his throat—a fatal wound. Necrus convulsed as blood erupted from the wound in violent gurgles. And with one last smile, almost tearful, he let out his final breath.