It took time for Sacrifice and the others to reach the scene.
When they arrived, silence had already fallen over the battlefield.
A low hill of wounded Sarkaz lay scattered across the dirt—groaning, unconscious, or too stunned to move. At the center of the devastation, Protector was locked in a savage duel with a single opponent. Their swords had long since been driven into the earth, abandoned. This fight had become something far more primal.
Protector twisted sharply and seized the Sarkaz's arm.
A precise pull.
A clean snap.
Bone fractured with a sickening crack.
But she did not scream.
Instead, she stepped forward and drove her fist into his exposed skull.
The impact shattered bone.
Protector didn't flinch.
Steel beneath flesh absorbed the force with a dull metallic thud.
Without hesitation, he lunged forward and head-butted her. The collision rang like iron striking iron, sending her skidding backward across the dirt.
She retaliated instantly—another blow, this time into his left eye. Blood splattered. The socket deformed.
He endured.
Protector closed the distance, sank his teeth into her shoulder, and rolled.
The two of them tumbled violently across the ground, grinding against stone and shattered debris. Dust rose in choking clouds as armor scraped and bone collided.
From the ridge—
[Mordred]: That… that brutality… It's terrifying.
The mercenaries stood frozen.
Even the wounded Sarkaz stopped groaning. They simply watched.
A silent question hung in the air:
Are you serious?
The duel had abandoned technique.
This was no longer swordsmanship.
This was annihilation.
Meanwhile—
Sacrifice walked calmly past the wreckage.
Past the groaning bodies.
Past the mercenaries whispering wagers under their breath.
She stopped before the small blond girl sitting alone near the edge of the ruin.
The child's wide eyes reflected the chaos behind Sacrifice.
[Sacrifice]: What is your name?
Behind her—
Protector hurled the Sarkaz into a collapsed pillar.
Stone exploded on impact.
She rebounded, lunged forward, and tackled him. They crashed to the ground. She straddled his torso and hammered down punches—one, two, three—
The mercenaries began betting openly now.
[Mercenaries 55]: Two silver he breaks her arm.
[Mercenaries 59]: Five says she cracks his jaw first.
Protector caught her wrist mid-strike.
His grip tightened.
He rose halfway despite her weight, seized her by the head—
—and slammed it into the hardened earth.
Once.
Twice.
The ground fractured beneath them.
The dust had barely settled when a small voice trembled behind Sacrifice.
[Liz]: Liz… My name is Liz…Can you make the beast stop hurting her?
…
Sacrifice was silent for a breath.
Behind her, the mercenaries had begun cheering.
Protector and the Sarkaz were still tearing into each other like rabid animals. She lunged upward and smashed her forehead into his—
A brutal headbutt that echoed like a hammer striking steel.
Protector answered in kind.
Iron met bone.
They staggered, then collided again.
No technique. No restraint.
Just impact.
Protector forced her backward, overpowering her at last. He rolled on top, seized her by the collar and throat, and dragged her toward a thick puddle of blood pooling beside the broken stone.
He shoved her face downward.
Forced her into it.
Red rippled outward as she struggled, thrashing violently.
She bit down on his metal fingers, teeth grinding uselessly against reinforced steel.
The mercenaries roared.
Some laughed.
Some shouted wagers.
Sacrifice stepped forward.
Her voice did not rise.
It cut.
At the same instant—
[Sacrifice / Liz]: Protector/Sister, stop!
The command struck harder than any blow.
Protector froze.
The Sarkaz stopped biting.
For a moment, there was only the sound of his internal mechanisms ticking beneath cracked bone and torn flesh.
Then slowly—
He released her.
The battlefield fell silent again.
And the "beast" lowered his head.
A long pause.
Then—
[Protector]: She started it.
The Sarkaz coughed, spitting blood and red-stained dirt from her mouth as she pushed herself upright.
[Sarkaz]: You almost cut us in half.
[Protector]: I wouldn't have. At worst, I would've broken your spine.
A few mercenaries snorted nervously.
The Sarkaz glared at him.
[Sacrifice]: Stop. Both of you.
The word was calm.
Absolute.
Sacrifice approached, Liz, resting quietly on her shoulder, small hands gripping fabric. The girl hid her face against Sacrifice's neck but kept one eye open, watching.
Protector straightened immediately.
The Sarkaz hesitated—but remained kneeling.
[Sacrifice]: You were trying to escape. And you were going to take her with you, weren't you?
The Sarkaz stiffened.
Her voice faltered.
Sacrifice's gaze did not waver.
[Sacrifice]: She told me how she was treated. She told me about you.
A beat.
[Sacrifice]: My name is Sacrifice. The one you were wrestling with is Protector.
Protector folded his arms. Cracked skull. Ruined eye. Blood clotting slowly around exposed steel.
The Sarkaz looked between them—calculating, wary… confused.
[Sarkaz]: …I wanted to save her. So she wouldn't have to suffer anymore. I almost made it. We would've escaped while they were distracted fighting him.
Protector gave a low, unimpressed grunt.
Sacrifice studied her for a long moment.
The word surprised everyone.
[Sacrifice]: You can leave. Take food from the caravan. Let me see those wounds first before you—
She moved.
Not backward.
Forward.
In the same instant—
Her arm snapped outward, and she hurled Liz toward Protector.
Protector reacted on instinct. He caught the child mid-air with one arm, metal fingers locking securely around her small frame.
A split second later—
An arrow pierced through Sacrifice's skull from the side.
The sound was wet.
Sharp.
Her body staggered.
For a heartbeat, she remained standing.
The shaft protruded cleanly through her temple, fletching trembling from the force.
Blood streamed down her cheek in a thin red line.
The battlefield froze.
Protector's expression changed.
Not panic.
Not fear.
Something far worse.
Behind them—
A bowstring finished humming.
[Somewhere dark]
Sacrifice opened her eyes and was met with Theresa again; she was tending to flowers.
[Theresa]: Ah, Sacrifice, nice to meet you again.
[Chapter end]
Sorry for the delay—and for the short chapter.
Turns out, being good at your job doesn't earn you a break. It just earns you more work. The moment I finished one task, two more magically appeared on my desk.
And to make things worse, my laptop's fan decided it had enough of life and just… stopped working. Completely. I had to spend my entire bonus fixing it. The rest of the money? Gone to extra shifts just to keep up.
So yeah. Between overheating hardware and an overworking boss, it's been a week.
I swear, sometimes I think the real final boss isn't in the story—it's my manager.