CHAPTER 62: SHAME ON ME

My arm burst in pain the moment his gaze sharpened on me.

"Argh...!"

He slammed a fist into my jaw, sending me flying. Exhaling slowly, he twisted his hands in a fluid, deliberate motion.

What the hell kind of technique is this...?

Did he blow up my arm with his mind? No... High Magic couldn’t do something like that.

It was an explosion, but without sound. Without the explosion itself.

Saddler’s grin stretched wide, arrogant and feral, his teeth gleaming in delight at my trembling.

The wound burned. My thoughts scattered. My body froze like stone.

I tried to heal the wound—but nothing happened.

"What the hell...? Why... isn’t it working?"

"Ha-ha-ha-ha! What’s wrong? Can’t heal it? Guess you’re not as invincible as you thought."

"You filthy bastard..."

Sid’s eyes narrowed. He noticed a strange pattern in Saddler’s spiritual energy — it had been completely drained after using his ability, and was now recovering.

Sid realized it then—Rite of Crucifixion had a cooldown.

The ability wasn’t telepathic damage at all. It was a real attack — just invisible. Saddler had literally erased the presence of the blast he created.

Now, the Rite was recharging for the next strike.

Pah!

Saddler caught me and unleashed a flurry of blows. With one arm useless, defending was nearly impossible. I tried to shield my weak spots with barriers, but he pierced through them with ease.

And then it hit me — I was one step away from death.

In every way, Saddler outclassed me.

While I tried to avoid his strikes, he used everything to keep me completely cornered.

Blow after blow, I felt useless.

He wasn’t even letting me fall!

...

Sid’s eyes locked on my wound. Even with my passive regeneration — it wasn’t healing.

’No... it’s worse than I thought,’ Sid realized. ’The invisible strikes from Crucifixion aren’t just blasts—they’re compressed air thrusts that can cut through space itself. And inside those strikes... is something far worse. A curse.’

Rite of Crucifixion cursed any spot it hit. Simply put — I couldn’t heal those wounds. At least, not with a weak heal that could be easily dispelled.

Vwhooosh!!

Saddler halted for a split second.

In that instant, my eyes flared with rage. A desperate surge of adrenaline when a man has nothing left but survival instinct.

I summoned a glowing blade into my mouth, gripped it, and swung. The blade carved a deep line across his torso.

"Argh...!" He staggered back.

Blood seeped from both our wounds.

I grabbed the blade with my left hand... a hand I never used in combat.

We charged. His magic beams clashed against my swings.

My clumsy strikes made it clear — I couldn’t fight properly with my left. But it was my last chance.

Pah! He drove his palm up into my chin.

Vshhk! I stabbed the blade into his shoulder, aiming for his neck.

And just as I was about to swing again—

He crossed his forearms.

An instant later, my torso erupted — an invisible lance tearing straight through me.

Before I fell, I managed to leave a deep gash in his throat.

...

I collapsed like a broken doll.

Saddler skidded across the smoky floor. Mist curled over the arena.

He clutched his throat, gasping, blood pouring down and staining the ground crimson.

I couldn’t move.

My face was pale. My eyes frozen.

Half my stomach was gone.

"Khgh... khgh..."

Breathing felt heavy. Cold seeped in.

...Has winter come?

I should dress warmer... What kind of servant would I be if I got sick on the first day of winter?

Lirael will kill me. I barely spoke to her last winter... but this year is different.

Strange... why am I thinking of her now?

...

Her shy, sweet face lingered in my memory. Playing snowball fights with Meliora last New Year’s.

She was fifteen then. And since the day she summoned me, I’d always wondered—how the hell did she manage it at such a young age?

Vrrrrhhhhh—

The last remnants of my Light energy flared from my body, ready to obey my command.

When a mage masters an element to the level of an Archmage, they can fully control its flow within themselves.

That didn’t make me an Archmage—but my knowledge of Light was on their level.

"...Supreme Light..."

My voice was hoarse, barely audible. But both Saddler and Sid heard it.

One thought ran through Saddler’s mind — what the hell could I possibly still have left?

The truth is... like the heroes in the old tales, I was stubbornly hard to kill. Saddler, you just needed one more blow to finish me.

But between us, only one more strike would decide victory—and I was certain you wouldn’t survive it either.

"...God’s Winds."

PAAAAAHHHHHH!!

A colossal beam of pure Light roared from me, tearing the domain apart as it shot toward the heavens.

My body was lifted in its glow. My eyes burned like twin suns.

The curse on my wounds shattered, unable to withstand the flood of energy I poured into God’s Winds.

And as my body fully healed, the beam faded.

"...Goddamn it."

Saddler stared in disbelief. In front of him now stood me — drained of mana, but whole, as if the fight had never happened.

"You bastard... Atheron..."

Closing his eyes, he smiled.

In the blink of an eye, I lunged, conjuring one last Light blade — the only thing my mana could still form.

I grabbed his throat. Drove the blade in.

Then again. And again.

Farewell, Saddler. We were both ready to die. Our battle was legendary.

I kept cutting until I couldn’t anymore.

This... this is what victory feels like.

Blood poured like rain, dripping from my hair. Saddler was nothing but unrecognizable flesh.

But my eyes were empty as the void.

I lifted my gaze. Was this real?

Yes. This was the reality that saved my life. The reality I had prepared for.

And no matter what anyone says — I have no regrets.

Saddler fell by my hand. I killed a man. Shame on me.

Life is precious. And mine is more precious to me than every other life combined.

I will never change. No matter how hard they try to make me human, I will remain... a dragonslayer.

That night, I lost my humanity.