“Hah... haha, damn it.”

Barton gasped heavily, staring at the two severed bodies that excited him profoundly. He spat out angrily, “I was actually planning to spare your life for a while and toy with you in front of that Moen Campbell. Who told you to say those goddamn words?! Fine. I’ll take your remains and display them before him. Just imagining that scene feels... delightful.”

Taking a deep breath, Barton began to calm himself down. Although he can be easily provoked, the scent of blood capable of arousing his excitement always made his fury dissipate into nothingness.

Yes, as long as there was enough blood, like right now from the girl's mutilated body...

Huh?

Something suddenly caught Barton's eye, causing his body to stiffen. His eyes instinctively widened in disbelief.

“What... is this?”

The girl's corpse, severed neatly into two halves, indeed lay before him. However, from the cut at her delicate body—there was no blood.

Absolutely nothing.

Instead, there was... a dazzling golden light.

The light shimmered and transformed into countless golden butterflies fluttering their wings gracefully, softly dancing in the air.

Though stunningly beautiful, Barton felt a chilling cold run through him.

An illusion?

A clone?

But when?

As Barton stared in disbelief, suddenly—

“Whoosh—”

Amidst the dust and debris swirling around from a fallen giant tree, a burst of brilliant golden light radiated. The next moment, dozens of golden chains, each as thick as a finger, pierced through the haze, shooting directly at him.

Barton's pupils shrank sharply, his battle aura instinctively activating. But the golden butterflies that were previously dancing gracefully suddenly surged toward him in unison.

“[Divine Chanting]”

A serene and holy hymn seemed to echo—transforming the golden butterflies into radiant beams of sacred light that poured down on Barton, freezing both his spirit and his physical body, momentarily scattering his battle aura.

When Barton regained his senses, he found that his body, limbs, every movement—had already been bound tightly by these golden chains.

“What is this...?”

“I told you previously, didn’t I? That, I like reading.”

Finally, the girl's voice echoed.

Barton whipped his head around, glaring toward the dust-filled area.

“That's why... I'm not dumb.”

“As Mr. Barton, stated earlier, I’m not even a warrior. I’ve never truly fought anyone before—only ever hiding behind others doing some auxiliary tasks. Given how weak I am, what made you think I would recklessly engage in direct combat with you?”

“So this means...”

“Exactly. What you just fought so arduously against was nothing but a holy light projection I conjured. By the way, this idea was inspired by Moen.”

Barton's eyes burned with rage.

Now that the truth was revealed, the anomalies from before finally surfaced in his recollections bit by bit:

For instance, the moment the girl created a blade-like form out of the holy light before him without attacking—it may have been purposefully done to foster the illusion she might engage him directly.

Also, the holy light sword could completely ignore his battle aura—of course it could ignore it, because it was fake!

And—to think further—his so-called fierce confrontation with the girl earlier... In reality, neither of them had even touched each other.

Haha, damn it, yet back then, he had almost wet himself in fright!

“Damn it, damn it, damn it!”

Barton trembled with rage. Despite all these flaws, all those gaps, he had still been tricked due to the girl's deliberate deception.

Like a foolish prey, he’d been led step by step into this seemingly ridiculous trap by a cunning hunter!

Yet—it was he who was supposed to be the hunter, and she the hapless prey he sought to capture!

“But!”

“So what?”

Barton took a deep breath, steadied his mind, and roared toward the girl, whose silhouette remained obscured by the lingering dust:

“You’re merely wasting time!”

“... Ha-ha. You didn’t even try to escape during this limited opportunity. Or you're expecting someone to come save you again...”

“I’m expecting no one to save me.”

The girl interrupted Barton bluntly:

“And as I’ve told you over and over again, this time—I'm not running away.”

“... Fine. But what does that change!”

Barton hesitated for a brief moment, before continuing to roar:

“You think relying on these mere chains will be enough to bind me? Such trifling restraints—with my powerful martial skills and easily...”

"Clink..."

Before Barton could finish, even more chains shot through the dust, precisely wrapping around his... fingers.

“Eh?”

Barton's face turned deathly pale.

“What seems to be the matter, Mr. Barton?”

The sound of footsteps echoed, and Lea finally emerged from the swirling dust. Her figure was bathed in divine light, untouched by the surrounding dirt.

Her gaze was calm, her voice soft:

“You’re merely bound hand and foot. Surely your battle aura should still be working. Why not use... that powerful ‘martial skill’ of yours?”

“You...”

For the first time, terror flickered across Barton's face as he stammered, “How did you find out?”

“It wasn’t hard. Barton, sir, your techniques—they were too unusual, and far too powerful. So powerful they seemed... incongruous with other unimpressive abilities of yours.

As I pondered this, the answer became quite obvious.”

Lea raised a hand and pointed casually. The chains clinked as they forced one of Barton's hands to lift. His sleeve slipped down, revealing within... an ancient and rustic bracelet.

So that was it.

There are only a few known items capable of suddenly empowering someone so drastically.

Magical tools.

Magical scrolls.

Alchemical weapons.

But all of these would reveal detectable traces.

Which narrowed down the possibilities to just one: In the world of mystical artifacts, the most enigmatic and perverse of categories...

Ancient relics.

“And activating ancient relics usually involves specific triggers.”

Lea added, “Mr. Barton, your relic's trigger must be related to moving your fingers. How convenient—no wonder you could gain such notoriety across the entire empire with just this one technique.”

“You-you-you... Even if you figured this out—so what?!”

Caught facing the exposure of his ultimate secret, Barton desperately tried to regain his composure, snarling fiercely:

“Between us, there’s still a very real gap in level! I’m a formidable fourth-tier warrior. These puny chains—I can simply break out with only physical might, and...

Eh? Why... why won't they budge?”

His crazed expression transformed into pale despair.

Barton frantically activated his advanced fourth-rank battle aura, struggling endlessly, yet the seemingly fragile golden chains remained immovable.

“Of course you can’t break free.”

Lea traced the chains lightly with her fingers and said almost casually:

“The time just now was more than enough for me to inscribe 120 third-tier stabilizing runes onto these chains. Even as a fourth-tier warrior, I imagine it’ll take you some time to escape.”

“What... what?!”

Barton wore an expression of disbelief:

“120 third-tier stabilizing runes?! How is that even possible? Not even three minutes passed! That kind of speed—not even Fular can do it!”

“I can.”

“Just need to read more books.”

Lea said with utter seriousness, then began walking towards Barton.

This time, the sacred light in her hands gathered again, forming a blade sharper than before.

This time, it was no longer an illusory trick—but held an unmistakable intent to kill.

“W-Wait!”

Barton panicked, scrambling:

“Let’s talk—please, let’s talk!”

“It was all just a misunderstanding! I was wrong! I really, really was wrong!”

“I’m willing to pay any price—don’t kill me, please, don’t kill me!”

Lea kept walking forward.

“Wait! I can give you this ancient relic!”

“It bears my imprint. If you kill me, it’ll self-destruct!”

“This relic is invaluable—even a fifth-tier fighter can’t ignore its power!”

“Trading it for my life—you'll definitely make a killing!”

When Lea stood mere steps away from Barton, she finally hesitated, then glanced toward his wrist. Her gaze dropped slightly to the gleaming bracelet.

And quietly, she murmured:

“Ancient relic... valuable?”

“Yes, yes!”

Barton’s face lit up with hope, eagerly replying:

“It’s worth a fortune—priceless, in fact! Even if you don’t use it, you could auction...”

“Crack.”

The sound of something shattering echoed crisply, cutting Barton’s sentence off midstream.

Frozen in shock, Barton stared as Lea withdrew her holy light blade, glanced down at his wrist—and the ancient relic that had earned him the infamous title of Corpse Slicer, said to be worth at least one billion—a priceless artifact...

Lay in ruins.

“Wh-Why!”

Barton’s face twisted grotesquely, screaming at Lea, “Do you even understand what you’ve destroyed?! Do you understand how valuable that was?!”

“I do.”

Lea replied flatly.

“But... who knows what kind of tricks you would’ve tried with it.”

“...”

Barton stiffened completely.

“Besides, Ariel once told me—never accept something offered outright by someone else. Especially when it’s coming from a man!”

“Eh…”

Her words trailed off, and then Lea tilted her head slightly, her expression softening as if innocent:

“Did I actually contradict Ariel’s advice... oh well, Moen’s gifts are probably just fine, though.”

Lea raised the blade of sacred light once more—and pointed it directly at Barton’s chest.

“Wait... don't...”

Barton jolted violently, pleading in terror:

“Stop! Don't do it, please—I’ll do anything you ask, just—please don't kill me!”

At that moment, his terrified gaze caught sight of Lea’s trembling hands—and a flicker of hope shone in his desperate eyes:

“Y-Young Lady—Miss, beautiful Miss—you’ve likely never killed anyone before... Please spare me, I beg you, spare me! There’s no need to dirty your hands because of scum like me.

I swear I’ve changed. Truly, I’ve changed. I won’t ever again say or do such heinous actions...”

"You are so kind, so adorable, you definitely wouldn't..."

"Poof—"

The blade pierced into flesh.

Her hands were still trembling, but Lea clenched her teeth tightly. According to what the book had said, when facing an evildoer, she had to drive the knife deep into his heart and then twist.

"Ah... ah..."

Barton coughed out fresh blood. His eyes, gradually losing their luster, stared at Lea in bewilderment.

"You..."

"I don't want to kill."

The girl twisted the blade of holy light forcefully, her gaze fixed firmly on the holy light as it steadily burned Barton's flesh. She spoke with seriousness:

"But... you really wanted to kill Moen."

"I'm mad about this."