Rod didn't examine the loot right away. The moment he confirmed it could be stashed in his storage space, he tossed it in and promptly left the battlefield.
Only after ensuring there were no other mages in the vicinity did he finally allow himself a moment to check his spoils.
What had once been a flickering violet flame was now extinguished. In its place was a cross, about the size of an adult's palm, glowing faintly with a deep purple hue.
Just holding it in his hand, Rod could feel an immense power brewing within.
"That old hag Augusta really wasted this thing."
If she had been able to unleash even half its potential, there was no way Rod could've taken her down so easily.
"I thought Sacred Gears were underwhelming, turns out the user was the problem."
Rod clicked his tongue.
Still, he had to thank Augusta for her incompetence. If not for her clumsy use of the Gear, he wouldn't have walked away with such an absurd bargain.
[Sacred Gear: Chief Mourner's Crucified Stand of Purple Flame/Incinerate Anthem]
Description: Originally an ordinary crucifix, it now houses the will of a long-forgotten saint. When wielded, it unleashes violet flames shaped like a cross, flames that burn with divine intensity. Highly effective against devils, reapers, vampires, and yokai.
Status: Unbound.
"Just as I thought, it auto-transfers hosts after death."
Normally, Sacred Gears can't be transferred. Upon the host's death, they seek out an unborn human somewhere in the world to inhabit.
There are exceptions, of course.
Like in the original story, where Lena forcibly extracted a Gear from its host using a specialized ritual. The process nearly always proved fatal to the host.
Then there were Gears like this one, whose design inherently allowed for post-mortem transfer.
This could happen in two ways: active or passive.
In active transfer, the Gear would automatically seek out a new host after the current one dies.
In passive transfer, like just now, someone could grab the Gear directly after its manifestation and forcibly refine it.
But Gears with this functionality were exceedingly rare, few knew they even existed.
Rod did, only because this particular Gear rang a faint bell. In the original story, it had three hosts: Augusta, then Walburga, and finally a six-winged reincarnated angel that didn't appear until the late endgame.
A Sacred Gear through and through, but one that changed sides more often than a mercenary.
Rod had only snatched it on a whim. To his surprise, it worked.
"No system quest this time, but the reward's way better than the usual stingy handouts."
The system, in all its miserly glory, really needed to take notes.
...
Meanwhile, back at the scorched battlefield.
Though Augusta had perished, the inferno she unleashed raged on.
These weren't ordinary flames. Even dousing them with water proved futile.
Around Augusta's scorched corpse, several mages now searched frantically, their expressions grim.
The ever-smiling trickster Walburga was notably silent. For once, her signature mischievous smirk was nowhere to be seen.
After the battle ended, she'd returned immediately with her companions, only to find their leader's lifeless body.
Strangely, none of them mourned.
Instead, they scattered, scouring the surroundings in desperation.
"Where the hell is the sacred gear?! It should've manifested once the host died!"
"Damn it! We've searched everywhere, nothing!"
"Don't tell me… he took it?"
"No idea. I was observing from afar. The moment Augusta died, that man vanished."
"Son of a-! Not only did we lose what we came for, but we lost the fire too!"
Their frustration was palpable.
This entire mission had been a complete and utter failure.
They'd come to claim a prize, only to lose everything.
....
Elsewhere.
Rod hummed happily as he tucked the auto-looted Sacred Gear back into his storage.
It was a damn good item, but not one he intended to equip immediately. Who knew what kind of trap might trigger during fusion?
Just then, a faint murmur stirred from his shoulder.
Lavinia was waking up.
The moment her eyes fluttered open, she saw Rod crouched beside her, his eyes staring intently, like a surgeon inspecting a patient.
"You're awake. Surgery was a success. You're now a very cute boy."
Rod delivered the line with genuine warmth, his acting so natural it nearly passed as truth.
Still disoriented from the trauma of battle, Lavinia jolted upright, her hands instinctively moving across her body to check for… unexpected alterations.
A few seconds later, she exhaled in relief.
No extra parts. Still fully herself.
Once she'd confirmed her body was intact, she turned to Rod, only to find him grinning like a troublemaker. Her previously expressionless face scrunched into a look of genuine indignation.
"That's not a funny joke."
"Lighten up. I was just trying to lift the mood."
The exchange was pointless, even silly, but somehow, it eased the heaviness in Lavinia's heart.
Rod shrugged.
Whether she laughed or not, he did.
"…Who are you? And why did you save me?"
Despite the emotional chaos, Lavinia hadn't forgotten the crucial moment when she'd lost consciousness, nearly struck down by Augusta's black magic, only to be pulled from the brink by a bespectacled teenager.
As for what happened afterward, she had no idea.
"Name's Rod. Freelance mercenary. As for why I helped you, well, I don't think saving people needs a reason."
Of course, he had a reason.
Had Lavinia been a wrinkled octogenarian like Augusta, or some crusty, foot-scratching brute, he wouldn't have given her a second glance, let alone carried her to safety.
Her gaze lingered on him, searching for signs of falsehood.
Finding none, her opinion of him, already high from being her savior, rose even higher.
In her years within the Five Great Houses, she'd seen every flavor of cold-hearted opportunist.
People like Rod were a rare breed.
"…What about Augusta?"
"She's dead."
"Dead?"
The words stunned her.
She had planned to recover first, then seek vengeance herself.
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