Chương 82: [82] A Glimpse of Resolve
As Ash set the young child down from his arms, he gently patted the child's shoulder. For a moment, he gazed into the child's eyes—a gaze filled with pain he could not mend, no matter how hard he tried. His voice was soft, almost a whisper.
"Don't worry. I'm here."
Yet, in his heart, Ash knew this world had no place for such tenderness. It was a world shaped by harsh realities—and those same realities had forged him.
Suddenly, a bright light descended near Ash, casting a small circle on the damp grass. From within the light emerged a man with blond hair tied into a ponytail over his right ear. His face was obscured by a peculiar yellow fox mask, its curves hiding almost all expression. He wore a pristine white blazer buttoned to the neck, paired with neatly pressed trousers. His presence was elegant—almost too flawless to be human.
Ash reacted instantly. Before the man could speak or move, the tip of a long, gleaming spear halted just inches from his throat. Gungnir, a weapon radiating deadly energy, pulsed softly in Ash's grip, almost as if it were alive.
The man flinched, raising both hands slowly. Although he was not human, but a spirit summoned by the Steel Dragon Perugius, fear was something even he could not suppress. Even in its replicated form, the spear exuded an unmistakable threat, melding with supernatural energy that sliced through the air around it.
Ash showed no mercy, his gaze sharp as he pressed closer. The distance between the spear's tip and the man's neck was almost imperceptible. "You... Speak. What do you want?"
Ash's tone was flat, but it carried a heavy weight—a habit born from a life forged in vigilance.
He stared at the masked man without blinking, Gungnir's spearhead still threatening his throat. The weapon emitted a faint glimmer, as if absorbing the light around it. Ash's voice remained even but laden with a gravity only someone who had endured countless battles could convey.
"I come under Perugius' orders," the man finally said, his voice calm but tinged with caution.
Ash didn't budge. "What orders?"
The man exhaled lightly before replying. "I was sent to investigate the disturbance that occurred moments ago." Despite being a spirit, there was an unmistakable trace of fear in his words, tension he could not hide under the spear's looming threat.
Ash tilted his head slightly, his gaze scrutinizing every small movement the masked man made. Slowly, he lowered his spear—but not his guard. "You mean the summoning just now, don't you?"
Ash referred to the large-scale summoning that had shaken the mortal realm—a phenomenon that had brought forth a High-Rank Angel, Uriel. That massive surge of power had undoubtedly drawn the attention of the world's most formidable entities, including Perugius.
"But I'm not a fool," Ash continued, his sharp gaze locked onto the man. "You weren't just sent to investigate, were you? You're here to eliminate the cause, if deemed necessary."
The masked man, who introduced himself as Almanfi, nodded slowly. "Yes, I won't lie. If the threat proves uncontrollable, decisive action will be taken."
Ash narrowed his eyes, then spoke calmly. "Fine. What's your name?"
"Almanfi," the man replied. "Almanfi of the Bright."
Ash nodded and finally lowered his spear completely. "Alright, Almanfi-kun. Go back and tell Perugius that everything is under control."
Even though the spear was no longer pointed at him, Almanfi still looked hesitant. From behind his mask, his eyes scrutinized Ash with suspicion. "Wait," he said slowly, "may we know who you are? Your name?"
Ash paused. He knew that sharing his name in a world like this was akin to opening a door to his deepest vulnerabilities. Finally, he answered briefly, "Ash. Just Ash."
Almanfi nodded respectfully, though uncertainty lingered in the air. "Very well, Lord Ash. Until we meet again." In an instant, his body transformed into a bright light and disappeared, merging with the cold night air.
Ash exhaled deeply, his shoulders relaxing slightly after Almanfi's departure. But he had no time to dwell on his thoughts. A faint sound caught his attention.
Behind him, the young girl he had been protecting was trying to stand, her frail body trembling. Ash quickly approached her, steadying her shoulders to keep her seated.
"Hey, take it easy. Don't push yourself," he said gently.
However, Ash's gaze was drawn to her eyes—or rather, where her eyes used to be. The cruel scars left behind were unmistakable, empty sockets bearing testimony to the unforgivable acts committed by those deranged cultists.
Ash clenched his fists in anger but forced himself to calm down. The girl didn't need to feel the fury that wasn't directed at her.
"Hey, little one," he said as softly as he could. "You're safe now. I'm here."
The girl, though blind, could clearly sense Ash's presence. Her small hand reached out toward his voice until it found his cloak. She clutched it tightly, like someone holding onto an anchor in a storm.
Ash knelt before her, letting her feel his full presence. "I promise," he said in a low, resolute voice, "the ones who did this to you won't hurt anyone ever again. I'll make sure of it."
The girl didn't reply, but her grip on his cloak tightened.
Ash decided against taking the young girl to Millishion. Despite its reputation as a center of civilization, the city offered no safe haven for someone like Martha in her current state. Instead, Ash used his magic to craft a simple hut at the edge of the forest. Its wooden walls, layered with magical barriers, provided protection from external threats, while the faint aroma of fresh leaves filled the air within.
Martha sat on a soft straw mat, her small body leaning weakly against the hut's wall. The scars on her face were still visible, though Ash had carefully cleaned away the blood and grime.
As he washed his hands with clean water conjured by magic, Ash turned to the girl. "Little one, what's your name?" he asked gently, making sure not to frighten her.
The girl hesitated, seemingly unsure. After a moment, she answered in a voice so faint it was almost lost to the night. "Martha," she whispered.
Ash smiled, his tone brighter as he responded. "Martha-chan! That's a beautiful name!"
The compliment seemed to ease her tension slightly. She nodded faintly while Ash resumed cleaning the remnants of blood from her frail body. Before long, exhaustion overtook her, and Martha fell asleep on the straw mat, her serene expression a stark contrast to the torment she had endured.
Ash watched her for a moment, ensuring she was truly comfortable. Satisfied, he stood quietly and stepped out of the hut. Outside, he raised a hand, conjuring a small campfire with his magic. The warm glow reflected off his weary face as his thoughts began to churn.
"Ciel," Ash called, breaking the silence of the night.
A soft yet firm voice answered in his mind. [I'm here.]
Ciel was a presence that never truly left him—a manifestation of the world's laws that had fused with his soul. She was more than just a repository of knowledge; she was his most valuable ally, though their interactions remained strictly pragmatic.
Ash exhaled deeply, his gaze fixed on the dark forest. "Is there no way to heal Martha's eyes?"
For a moment, only the crackling of the fire filled the air. Then Ciel replied, *[There is...] Her voice carried unwavering certainty. [By crafting magical eyes. I possess the module for the Eye of Cherubim.]
Ash frowned, recalling something. "The Eye of Cherubim? That's the sacred eye capable of perceiving true essence, isn't it?"
[Correct. The eyes would not merely restore her vision but grant her abilities far beyond ordinary sight. However...]
"Of course, there's a 'however,'" Ash muttered, annoyed. "What's the catch?"
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