Chapter 76: Emotions

  Septima stared at the massive plume of smoke rising from the explosion. Her breathing was heavier than usual; parrying that strike in a controlled manner had cost her dearly. In the corners of her eyes, a flicker of genuine curiosity took hold.

  'That saber is a truly fantastic weapon. He was incredibly lucky to create something like that.'

  A slight ripple in the air confirmed that her opponent was still capable of fighting. Contrary to her expectations, however, he didn't launch a sneak attack. He revealed himself with confidence, standing tall as the smoke slowly dissipated and the effects of the reflected attack became visible.

  That was what caused the corner of her mouth to twitch upward into a faint smile.

  'Perhaps Maleficius was right and I really can learn something useful here.'

  Justinian was not only far from being seriously wounded, but the only thing that had noticeably suffered was the sleeve of his outfit. Soon, his exposed arm began to shimmer with a metallic, iron sheen, and the man lunged into the attack!

  The she-devil, taking the duel much more seriously now, performed a split-second calculation and... struck exactly where he had just appeared.

  "Too predictable."

  However, she hadn't expected the young man to take the hit head-on just to launch a counter! His iron hand approached her with dizzying speed, but a layer of materializing darkness rose to meet it.

  With a slight smirk, Septima was already preparing her follow-up blow when a loud whistle suddenly tore through the air! Something heavy slammed into her head!

  Justinian’s Iron Right Hand had passed through her darkness like a hot knife through butter, reaching its mark! She skidded across the ground, landing several meters away, her face contorted in pure shock.

  'The Domain he attained on the moon intertwines the very matter of his attacks. It seems it isn't just his foundation he built well.'

  She immediately adjusted her strategy. She had to stop relying on the "impenetrability" of her defense and stop letting him connect with energy-based attacks. As soon as she regained her balance, Justinian made a swift gesture, and two phantoms materialized beside him—exactly like the ones he had shown her earlier.

  She remembered the structure of the spirit she had examined well, so she charged forward, intending to destroy them before they could do any damage. She unleashed a flurry of rapid strikes, but they remained unyielding. As soon as she dealt with one, another appeared, glaring at her with a sinister light.

  'Does he want to detonate them?'

  She had seen similar techniques before. When both phantoms suddenly dove toward her, she reacted instinctively. Instead of attacking, she shielded her vital organs for a split second. But though she braced for impact, the explosion never came.

  Instead, she felt a massive blow to her side, exactly where her defense was weakest. Using the distraction to his advantage, Justinian had appeared right next to her. His iron hand struck with unimaginable force, slamming her into the ground.

  Upon impact, her own accumulated energy exploded uncontrollably, kicking up clouds of dust and billowing smoke. Though she stood up almost instantly, she was still too late. Two figures appeared right beside her—two more phantoms, ready to blow!

  'This...'

  Sensing the radiating threat, Septima narrowed her eyes. They began to take on the golden glow that had appeared during her fight with Felix!

  That alone was unexpected; after all, back then she had been facing the "Golden Child" of a dimension that far surpassed her in cultivation level. But then, something even more surprising happened.

  Instead of exploding, the phantoms dissolved into thin air. Justinian used her momentary lapse in focus to step right in front of her. Now, despite being slightly out of breath, he extended a friendly hand.

  "Looks like I win."

  Septima, looking at the man who never ceased to amaze her with his bizarre customs, realized something. For the first time in a very long while, she felt that training had actually been enjoyable.

  The realization left her feeling more than a little frustrated.

  30 minutes later...

  For reasons unknown to him, Septima hadn't agreed to continue their joint training or go for a run around the lake.

  'She looked more like she was pissed off...'

  Justinian could only shake his head at how healthily absurd the she-devil was acting. He had grown accustomed to the inhabitants of Hell, so their cold assessments of others' utility didn't faze him anymore. In fact, back on the Mountain of Plague and Misfortune, he’d heard similar ideas from Emptyhead time and time again, and he'd had to temper them.

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  'The constant mood swings are more annoying.'

  One moment she seemed completely cold and analytical, and the next she was looking at him like she wanted to knock him out. He had to admit he’d been a bit irritated before today’s fight, but in the end, he decided to let it go.

  'Her shock when I offered my hand completely makes up for it.'

  With that thought, he pushed the subject of Septima aside and focused on the main problem of recent days. His face, which had been quite cheerful, darkened visibly, and he picked up his pace. He couldn't escape the topic, and no matter how long he turned it over in his mind, only one conclusion remained.

  'We are one of the favorites to take the lowest rank in the recategorization...'

  Justinian, trying to honestly assess the combat strength he had seen at the ceremony, felt that only two nations were realistically within the 66th Dimension's reach.

  'First, Dimension 62.'

  Despite their mysterious smiles, they couldn't deny their own cultivation bases, which simply lagged behind the rest.

  They seemed weak due to those low bases, but there were several caveats. First and foremost, as alchemists, they utilized different combat methods than everyone else. One also couldn't forget that years ago, they had gained the favor of the King of Names and Symbols.

  The second nation that seemed to be at the bottom of the pack was Dimension 66.6. As Justinian passed another bend in the lake, he recalled their penitent robes and trembling hands. Even though their cultivation bases were objectively higher than those of the alchemists, they radiated an aura of such profound brokenness that they seemed like convicts waiting for a pardon that would never come.

  'There is no will to fight left in their eyes. Only fear and desperation.'

  However, he wasn't pondering all this just to find potential dimensions they could beat. Although brutal selection seemed to be the order of the day, Justinian was considering a completely different scenario.

  'I must first confirm with Rudnicki if this is even possible...'

  At the same time, he had no intention of forgetting the other side of the equation: the devils far stronger than him. The memory of Governor Ericus's grip on his throat and the freezing of his friends still caused his muscles to twitch involuntarily.

  'I'm not looking for enemies, but the account with the 61st Dimension remains open.'

  Suddenly, he frowned. A strange, unnatural gust of wind caught his attention. Stopping abruptly and without turning his head, he said coldly:

  "If you're already here, I suggest you step out of the shadows instead of hiding in the bushes."

  In response, a confident, somewhat arrogant laugh drifted from the direction of a massive, densely overgrown tree.

  Meanwhile, Alfons—having made sure three times that he wasn't being followed—was skittering through the shadows along the lakeshore. His round, pale face was sweating profusely, and his heart was filled with the fear of being exposed. As if still unconvinced, he kept darting nervous glances behind him.

  Under his breath, he stubbornly repeated a few barely recognizable words.

  "Soon... very soon..."

  Shortly after emerging onto one of the cobbled streets parallel to the lake, his breathing calmed a bit. A street festival was taking place nearby as part of this year’s celebrations following the Devil’s Pilgrimage. It seemed that only when the young nobleman stepped into the crowds did his face regain some of its color.

  His steps grew more confident, and a look of determined purpose flashed in his eyes. Reaching a very important decision, he soon stopped at one of the stalls. It bore a very distinctive sign:

  "ROTISSERIE CHICKENS: 10 DEVIL DOLLARS = HALF"

  The young Sarmatian straightened his posture, adjusted his belt, and cleared his throat, trying to wrap himself in an aura of noble superiority. Then, pushing his way past the line of customers at the counter, he descended upon the commoners like inspiration upon an ascetic poet.

  "Good day! A golden half-chicken, if you please!"

  The bored cashier, who had been standing in the same spot for exactly twelve hours, didn't even look at him. She had thirty minutes of her shift left and was functioning in a trance. She simply grabbed a golden chicken, tossed it onto a government-grade plastic tray, and slapped it onto the counter.

  "Ten devil dollars."

  But that was when the trouble started. For Alfons—mostly in his own mind—had no intention of being scammed by "tourist prices." Fixating the cashier with a stern gaze, he began negotiations with a clear declaration of strength.

  "I’ll pay five dollars."

  For a moment, silence was the only response. Then, the cashier apparently realized that the customer's answer was quite unusual.

  "Sir, the chickens cost—"

  Young Rudnicki had no intention of listening to such nonsense. He gestured with his hand as if swatting a fly—accidentally clipping a devil-worker standing nearby—and made it clear he would not accept the terms.

  "No."

  He knew the tricks of traders and had heard enough of his father's stories to know how to behave.

  "Either you drop the price, or we have no deal."

  The cashier seemed unable to believe the absurd situation she had found herself in. Behind him, murmurs of dissatisfaction began to grow. Several burly workers from the local forges, with horns as sharp as razors, began to press in on the young nobleman.

  "Are you buying the damn thing or not?"

  "Who is this clown?"

  "In this dimension, even the beggars are plump."

  Alfons, feeling the breath of the irritated crowd on his back, turned a bit red. He knew he should fight as befits a Rudnicki, but the fact that his father wasn't around seemed a convincing enough reason to drop the argument.

  "Fine, fine! My loss! I’ll pay the ten dollars!"

  The saleswoman exhaled, returning to her previous bored expression, but then Alfons suddenly shot a finger into the air.

  "But I want that half! The one on the left!" he pointed, nearly knocking over a thin devil child in the process. "It’s obvious to the naked eye that it’s heavier and has more crispy skin on the thigh. I won't be cheated!"

  Murmurs of discontent rippled through the crowd again, but young Rudnicki had no intention of worrying about commoners any longer. With a wide grin on his face, he headed back toward the lake, devouring his prize.

  The problem, however, was that once he reached the lake... he headed in the completely opposite direction from the one leading to the mansion. If someone had been following him at that moment, they would have discovered a truly shocking plot thread that could affect the future of the entire tournament.

  He soon reached a manor that resembled their own in style, but instead of the Sarmatian clamor and the smell of mead, it radiated an aura of campfire smoke and tar. After performing a secret sign toward the magical formation, he stepped inside.

  Inside were several devils from the 65th Dimension. They looked almost like kin to the Sarmatians, but there were noticeable differences. Instead of kontusz tunics, they wore wide sharovary trousers and simple shirts, and their heads were adorned with long oseledets locks, hanging proudly alongside their curved horns. They sat around a low table, sharpening long, curved knives and smoking short pipes.

  "We’ve been waiting for you."

  Alfons had gone to the enemies of his home dimension.

  Thanks for reading, and I hope the coming year treats you well!