"Captain Ina!" I stared at the corpses littering the floor, feeling a wave of nausea. "There was no need to kill them. They were just trying to... uh, at least they didn't deserve death."
Only I protested—the other two were speechless. Mistflower looked frozen in shock, while Anan had already vomited. Captain Ina, however, scanned the warehouse with a satisfied smile.
"We can't reveal our identities. It's critical. They knew we were Angels, so they had to die. Otherwise, they might leak intel. If it were just harassment, I wouldn't mind playing along—as long as it didn't delay the mission." Captain Ina seemed unusually cheerful, or perhaps she was lightening the mood with a joke. I found nothing funny about it.
"Now we have a place to stay tonight." She turned to the others. "Your mental fortitude needs work. Anan, why did you vomit? Rest up—you'll adapt. But Mistflower, you only look startled. Are you in shock?"
"I... I've seen this before..." Mistflower whispered, closing her eyes tightly.
"Captain, you mean sleeping in this hellhole?" Anan's voice trembled weakly. "Here? With all these dead bodies..."
"Nonsense. I've slept in sewers, graves, even mid-flight." Captain Ina scoffed. "Scared of corpses? Simple—dispose of them."
"Dispose of them... how?"
"Easy. Loot valuables first. Then options: dump them in a ditch, use corpse-dissolving powder like I used to, or burn them." Her tone carried a strange amusement—teasing rookies was a habit even she couldn't resist.
"Get to work. It's part of the mission, a test. Don't expect me to help." Captain Ina urged.
Hearing it was a test, we reluctantly crouched to search the bodies. My nausea had faded, but touching corpses still sparked instinctive disgust.
These low-level thugs wore shabby clothes with no real armor. No storage items—just a few dozen copper coins in their pockets, too little but worth taking. Some useless-looking potions.
After finishing one body, I glanced up. Anan and Mistflower had barely started, moving hesitantly. Shaking my head, I moved on. An hour later, we were done—I'd handled sixty percent. Captain Ina watched, looking half-asleep.
The "loot" on the floor: a few thousand copper coins, a couple dozen silver coins, cheap trinkets, only six communication disks. The boss's necklace and cleaver were the only decent gear—worse than my own.
"Rules say you keep non-mission loot... at least as souvenirs. Split it." Captain Ina gestured dismissively.
"I don't want any!" Anan backed away in disgust.
"These thugs are so poor. They probably starve. Pitiful." I couldn't stand the pile. "Mistflower, take it. Buy some pastries."
"Ah... me? Okay..." Before she could refuse, I grabbed her hand and stuffed everything into her ring. She froze, too timid to resist.
Disposing of the bodies fell to me—Anan and Mistflower were useless here. I didn't want to touch the filth again. During looting, I'd planned this. I drew my ritual dagger and whispered:
"Breath of the Sun, grant your servant a small holy flame."
A faint red flame flickered on my left hand—my newly learned Divine Art: Solar Wheel Fire. Days of practice only yielded this much.
I held the dagger horizontally, gently brushing the blade. The flame clung to it. I stabbed a corpse, transferring the Solar Wheel Fire.
My skill wasn't enough for free control—I had to channel it through a weapon. I focused hard: burn only the corpse, not the warehouse.
The thug's body slowly turned to ash. The flame stayed thin, flowing precisely. Only ashes remained; nothing nearby was scorched.
"Hmm, efficient. And excellent control." Captain Ina praised. I moved to the next corpse with the burning dagger.
Soon, the warehouse was spotless. I even burned some eyesores. Now it looked habitable.
"Good. Yawn... I need rest too. The downside of reincarnating as an Angel—even with stimulants, I get sleepy at night. Do as you please, as long as identities stay hidden." Captain Ina, truly drowsy now, fell asleep instantly. She hovered mid-air, wings flapping rhythmically. Steady breathing filled the silence.
What next? I wasn't sleepy yet.
