Here stood one of the largest limbs of the monster, just a step away from its body.

In other words, not only had he failed to move farther from Aluka, but he had gotten even closer to her.

"But... why?"

Shouldn't the man throw Moen as far away as possible just to be on the safe side?

Moen hadn't even had time to think this through.

In his line of sight, the light suddenly dimmed.

The man reappeared in front of Moen, his gaze calm yet oppressive, as if a mountain were crushing him.

Moen's breath hitched, and he immediately flipped backward, his battle aura surging.

He needed to create distance.

Shadow Step!

Boom!

As soon as Moen began the movement for Shadow Step, the man suddenly stomped his foot.

In an instant, the entire limb of the monster shook violently, as though triggered by an earthquake of magnitude eight.

Shadow Step, being a specialized footwork technique, required contact with the ground. Losing his balance momentarily, Moen found his move interrupted once again.

This time, the man hadn't even used any combat skill.

Moen felt like a child in front of the man, his seemingly impressive techniques reduced to mere childish play—like a child swinging a stick aimlessly.

Flawed, and primitive.

So much so that even taking Moen seriously would be an insult to the man.

"Damn it!"

At this point, Moen had cursed countless times today. Being toyed with so casually by this man triggered the bloodthirsty drive inside him.

Without hesitation, he swung his dual blades, aiming yet again for the man.

However, if the man still possessed the emotions of a "human," he would likely sigh.

Sighing at the strategy Moen had chosen.

For during combat, being controlled by emotion—

Was a fatal mistake!

The man extended his hand again, moving toward the blade lights.

The blade light shimmered like two arcs of the moon, seemingly impervious even to water.

Yet the man’s hand eerily slipped between the gaps in the blade light, thrusting toward Moen's chest, and gently struck.

Terrifying inner energy surged outward from his palm, and Moen was sent flying once again.

"Ugh..."

Moen’s stomach churned, and he vomited bile.

Before he could curse again, the man took another step forward and appeared in front of Moen.

Another palm strike.

Once more, Moen was forced to fly backward.

The man seemed addicted to this move, repeatedly catching up with Moen, who had no opportunity even to stand upright.

Palm strike.

Fly.

Vomit bile.

Palm strike.

Fly.

Vomit bile.

And so the cycle continued.

"Young master!"

Seeing her own young master being tossed around like a rag doll by the man, Ann grew increasingly desperate, her desperation fueling even fiercer attacks on Aluka with her control over metal.

"Ahaha, Master, why are you so agitated? Could it be that Moen is the one you fancy?

No way! Master, you can only accept my love!"

Aluka laughed gleefully, even as countless limbs were shredded by steel, her joy remained unshaken.

"My initial plan was to have Moen also accept my love, but now it seems better to let him be killed directly by Rod.

Oh, Master, how about you surrender? If you do, I might consider sparing you. Maybe."

"Keep dreaming!"

Ann grit her teeth in rebuttal, taking a deep breath to force herself to stay calm.

The perfect composure of a true maid allowed her better control over her emotions.

And in moments of crisis like these, a calm mind was quicker to recognize any anomalies.

Thus, as her thoughts raced to find a way for her young master to escape, Ann quickly spotted something peculiar.

—Why, after being pummeled so extensively, did her young master seem completely unscathed, other than regurgitating last night's dinner?

...

"Ugh, I see now; I understand."

Moen leaned against the enormous body of the monster, expelling the last contents of his stomach. Looking at the man before him, he smiled bitterly.

"Even if the goal is to fool Aluka, couldn't you have chosen another method? This feeling of almost vomiting up my entire stomach–it’s truly unpleasant."

The man remained silent.

He simply stared at Moen.

His lifeless eyes revealed nothing.

Like a doll.

But who says dolls don't have a heart?

"Save her."

The man spoke for the first time in Moen’s presence.

His voice was hoarse, as though it had just emerged from the depths of hell itself.

"Sure."

Moen nodded seriously, without any hesitation.

"I will help her find release."

He didn’t dwell on the difference between "release" and "salvation," perhaps because the man already knew that for Aluka at this moment, "release" was synonymous with "salvation."

The man extended his hand once more, gripping Moen’s shoulder.

This time, Moen didn’t resist.

He allowed those vice-like fingers to squeeze his shoulder painfully, then lift him like a chick and throw him away.

At that moment, Moen was already quite close to Aluka.

But with the man giving all his strength, he flew much faster!

"Huh?"

Aluka finally reacted.

And her joy vanished in an instant.

She had been betrayed.

Betrayed by the one she loved the most!

"Why? Why!"

Aluka shrieked furiously:

"Rod, why you have to betray me?

Why? You’ve already embraced me, shared my love! Why doesn’t the power of the god of love work on you?

Why?!"

Amid her wrathful, anguished cries of betrayal, the monster's entire body trembled violently.

Hundreds of faces howled painfully in sync, and countless screams of "love" surged forth like ghostly cries piercing through the night, almost splitting the air apart.

The malformed flesh writhed in an utterly chaotic frenzy, countless grotesque limbs breaking through their fragmented surface, tearing through its skin crudely with blood spraying everywhere.

These limbs, drenched in rancid blood, ignored Ann’s relentless steel-driven assault and lunged directly toward the traitor and Moen with full force.

The man did not resist, allowing the twisted limbs to grab him, wind around him, and envelop him, slowly consuming him.

Soon he would merge back into Aluka's form.

This time, there would be no special treatment—he would become one of the hundreds of faces.

His eyes remained lifeless, yet deep within them was a faint flicker of something.

Just like before.

Why betray you?

Does it really need explanation?

Because I love you, Aluka.

I’m sorry for deceiving you.

I’m sorry for failing to stop you.

But in the end, at least let me the useless man show some uses, however minor.

As the final moment of his engulfing approached, the man raised his last remaining hand.

His fingers curled slightly, like the claw of a wild beast.

In that instant, it was as if thunder roared!

Invisible waves radiated outward from his palm, rapidly spreading.

But their target was not the limbs consuming him, but rather the ones pursuing Moen.

...

This is...

My final love.

...

Aluka’s sorrowful cries abruptly halted.

Because a figure had broken through layer upon layer of obstructions and finally arrived in front of her.

"Yo, Aluka."

Moen stood atop the writhing flesh, gazing down at her still-adorable face.

As though greeting an old acquaintance, he gently said:

"Good afternoon. Have you eaten?"

"That roasted lamb you treated me last time—it was delicious."