Among the crowd, a girl was about to break into a run.

  "Wait," Paul grabbed Kana’s arm to stop her. "Don’t be reckless—we need a plan."

  Kana gritted her teeth.

  "Okay…" She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "But… why Alma? What does he want with her?"

  Meanwhile, the Hunter was putting on a show for the crowd.

  "I won’t let her go until you bring me the Marked, got it?" he threatened furiously, aiming his shotgun at the onlookers. His voice was deep and grating. "And nobody leaves until I get what I want."

  "He’s using her as a hostage. He’s after the same person I am," Paul whispered. "A Marked by a Stigma. Someone who, instead of turning into a monster, gains some kind of power or ability from the Corruption."

  "But how does he know there’s someone like that in the village?" Kana asked, slightly calmer now.

  "Hunters have radars too. They hunt Markeds or monsters and sell them on the black market."

  Kana tried to process the new information. She took another deep breath and steeled herself.

  "We have to do something," she said firmly.

  "First, we need to get Alma to safety." Paul brought a hand to his chin, murmuring to himself for a moment. "I have an idea. I’m going to find a more discreet spot. When you see me, get the Hunter’s attention. I can’t attack him directly, but if he’s distracted, I can get Alma out without hurting her. Trust me. Can you do that?" he whispered in her ear.

  Kana pressed her lips together and nodded. "Yes." Before he could leave, she touched his arm to get his attention. "Be careful."

  Paul smiled and slipped away into the crowd.

  "What’s wrong? No volunteers? Nobody’s grown anything weird on their body? Don’t screw with me!" The Hunter continued to spread terror, bargaining aggressively with the villagers. Every time he made a threat, his weapon emitted a sound like a revving engine. "I know someone connected to this girl is a Marked—I can see the traces on her body."

  A short while later, Kana—who had stopped paying attention to the threats—spotted Paul maneuvering through the crowd at the edge of the gathering. He gave her a thumbs-up. *That’s the signal.* Kana took a deep breath, mustered her courage, and stepped forward.

  "Hey, egghead!" she shouted at the top of her lungs. The Hunter’s masked gaze snapped toward her, confused. The girl tightened her grip on a rock she’d picked up from the ground.

  "Oh? So we’ve got a brave one?" he sneered, letting out a sinister laugh.

  "You’ll regret those words soon. This is my special attack, and it’s saved my life *tons* of times!" Kana was fully committed to the act now.

  "KANA! HELP!" Alma screamed, sobbing uncontrollably when she saw her.

  "Quiet," the Hunter shoved her slightly without letting go.

  "Alright, get ready!" Kana tightened her grip on the rock, pulled her arm back, and stepped forward with her right leg. "SUPER ROCK THROW!" She hurled the stone with all her might.

  At that distance, the rock flew through the air before beginning its descent. A few seconds later, it struck the Hunter’s head—he hadn’t even bothered to dodge. He didn’t flinch. When the rock bounced off and hit the ground, a chill ran down Kana’s spine.

  The Hunter took a step forward, leaving Alma slightly behind. He was about to raise his weapon when he suddenly froze. His instincts and experience were screaming at him that something was wrong.

  Less than a second passed, but to everyone present, it felt like hours. The Hunter began to feel an intense heat at his fingertips. When he turned, all he saw was a trail of flames. It didn’t take him long to find the source. At a safe distance, the trail led back to Paul, who was already lowering Alma from the Hunter’s grip and urging the stunned onlookers to take care of her. He wasn’t even looking at the Hunter—his back was turned—until he finally turned around, and their eyes met. Fierce gazes, locked in the silent understanding that battle was inevitable.

  "Finally crawled out of your hole," the Hunter spat.

  Paul took two steps forward and extended his arm. Flames engulfed his hand, dispersing to reveal a sword now gripped firmly in his grasp.

  "Is this how you usually introduce yourself to people?" Paul taunted, oozing confidence.

  The Hunter realized something. The young man had displayed incredible speed just moments ago. His stance, the summoned sword, and his self-assurance all pointed to someone with combat experience—the exact opposite of what he’d expected to find in this village: a helpless, newly Marked victim, easy prey. He pulled out his own radar and pointed it at Paul.

  **CORRUPTION LEVEL: SATURATED**

  **DIRECTION: SOUTH**

  The message on the dial was even more baffling. Finally, the radar was giving directional cues—but it wasn’t pointing at his opponent. It was pointing at the crowd.

  "You’re not the Marked One?" The Hunter tensed.

  "I’m not Marked, no," Paul replied, still advancing.

  "How interesting. I’ve never seen someone wield Corruption without being Marked by a Stigma." The Hunter let out a low chuckle. "It’s my lucky day—I’ll be taking two trophies..."

  In the blink of an eye, Paul lunged. His sword came down in a blazing arc, but the Hunter’s left arm—now visibly reinforced with some kind of armor—blocked it effortlessly, repelling both the blade and the flames wreathed around it.

  "Not bad," the Hunter grunted as they struggled. "But not enough."

  Mid-clash, he aimed his shotgun at Paul, who reacted instantly to the weapon’s revving sound, leaping back just as it fired. Instead of bullets, two flashes erupted from the barrels, merging into a single, fast-moving spherical projectile. It exploded on impact, leaving a massive crater in the ground.

  "Faster than I thought," the Hunter mused, already taking aim again.

  "Who are you?" he demanded. "You’re not from this village, are you? A warrior from Nexus, maybe?"

  "Just a humble rescuer."

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  Meanwhile, Kana helped disperse the crowd, taking advantage of the fight. Many of the villagers were frozen in terror, others were lost children, or elderly who could barely walk—especially with each thunderous shot from the Hunter’s weapon. The dust kicked up by the explosions only added to the chaos, reducing visibility and sparking panic as people shoved, stumbled, and fell. All the while, the two combatants locked eyes again.

  "I’m stronger than you," Paul said with a confident smirk.

  "Don’t talk nonsense."

  "Just watch."

  At that moment, Paul closed his eyes and tightened his grip on the sword with both hands. An intense red light erupted from his forearm, forming a vein-like pattern that spread across his body. The glow was so bright it pierced through his jacket and bandages. The air grew warmer—not suffocating, but eerily serene, a stark contrast to the battlefield. The Hunter took an involuntary step back.

  Paul exhaled sharply, raised his head, and narrowed his eyes. In an instant, he launched himself at his enemy with blinding speed, kicking up dust in his wake. His sword, wreathed in fire, came down in a brutal slash, clashing violently against the Hunter’s armored arm in a spectacle of flames. But this time, the sheer force of the blow overwhelmed the Hunter, sending him flying backward. He barely managed to anchor himself to the ground to avoid falling. Before he could recover, Paul’s sword was already arcing toward his torso. The Hunter tried to fire again, but he wasn’t fast enough—the strike landed nearly full-force, saved only by a last-second dodge that sent him skidding even farther.

  The sequence left Paul physically drained. He staggered, gasping for air. His legs felt heavy, and his forearm burned with pain. His vision blurred momentarily, but he forced himself to stay upright.

  As the smoke cleared, the Hunter emerged—wounded, but still standing. Parts of his cloak were singed, but he was shockingly stable for the damage he’d taken.

  "Still not giving up?" Paul asked between ragged breaths.

  "You’ve made a mistake," the Hunter chuckled darkly. "You should’ve finished me here and now."

  Paul frowned at the declaration. He’d expected the Hunter to surrender after that display—so why did he sound so confident?

  "It’s true. You’re stronger than me. But that doesn’t mean you can *beat* me." The Hunter glanced at his shotgun before continuing. "Did you think I hadn’t noticed? You’ve been holding back this whole time to protect the villagers. From the start, you positioned yourself so they wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire. You’ve weakened your strikes to avoid collateral damage. You *couldn’t* abandon them."

  A jolt ran through Paul’s head. He *had* been careful—keeping track of the crowd’s position to avoid casualties—but the fact that his enemy had figured it out put him at a severe disadvantage. His legs trembled slightly, and his grip on the sword loosened.

  "You’re weak," the Hunter pressed. "Look how weak you are."

  He fired. Paul tensed, ready to react—but the shot wasn’t aimed at him. It sailed past his head, and when he turned to follow its trajectory, his blood ran cold. The projectile was headed straight for the villagers. And not just any villager. In its direct path was Kana, desperately trying to help an elderly woman who’d collapsed on the ground.

  "KANAAAA!" Paul screamed. Kana turned, but everything was happening too fast. Paul lunged with everything he had, chasing the projectile. At the last possible moment, he threw himself in front of Kana, blocking the blast—but not without taking part of the impact. As soon as he recovered, he spun around to check on her.

  Kana stood frozen, wide-eyed and unresponsive. Paul scanned her up and down. A slowly expanding bloodstain on her hip reassured him—it wasn’t a vital organ, and the wound didn’t seem deep.

  "Kana, are you okay? You need to get out of here," he urged, voice strained.

  But Kana didn’t move. Suddenly, a searing pain ripped through her, snapping her back to reality.

  "AAAGHH!" she shrieked, doubling over. The pain wasn’t from the wound—it radiated across her entire back. She collapsed to her knees, clutching her body tighter and tighter.

  "Kana?" Paul was lost. If he’d blocked the attack, what was causing this?

  Kana’s mother rushed over, having escaped the chaos but still searching for her daughter. Kana slumped forward, unable to bear the agony, resting her forehead on her hands. The position exposed her back—now glowing with an intense light.

  "What a pleasant surprise," the Hunter said immediately. "That brat was the Marked all along."

  His words weren’t what petrified Paul. He already knew—the moment he saw that light, there was no doubt. It was the Mark of Corruption. A Stigma. The person he’d been searching for was the first person he’d met upon arriving. The person he’d spent the most time with since the mission began. The person he’d shared a room with just last night. It was *her*. Kana was the Marked One he’d come to rescue.

  "Can you take care of her?" After a moment to process, he turned to Kana’s mother, who was too shocked to speak but nodded.

  Once she was safe, Paul stood and turned back to the Hunter, fury in his eyes. He took two steps forward—but before he could charge, another projectile streaked toward them. He barely managed to block it with his sword, taking yet more damage.

  "Did you think anything would change?" the Hunter sneered. "You’ll die here trying to protect that Marked girl." This time, there was no laughter—just pure hatred. He was savoring his advantage, watching his opponent struggle like a trapped insect.

  "Then so be it."

  The moment Paul spoke, the Hunter unleashed a barrage. Shot after shot, as fast as his weapon allowed. The intervals were slow, but relentless. Each explosion rocked the battlefield, and by the time he stopped, the smoke cleared to reveal a battered, barely-standing Paul. Covered in wounds, he’d endured—but his strength was spent. His sword slipped from his grasp, and his knees buckled, forcing him onto the ground. The Hunter approached step by step.

  "This is what I hate about people like you. You think you can save the world without sacrificing anything—but in the end, you’re defeated by your own convictions." He stopped just meters away from the defeated boy. "But I respect you. You’re strong, and I respect strength. So I’ll make your death painless." Slowly, he reloaded, raised his weapon, and aimed it directly at Paul’s head.

  "Goodbye." He pulled the trigger.

  Paul swallowed hard. He tried to move, but his body wouldn’t respond. The muzzle flash blinded him as the projectile fired.

  *This can’t end here.*

  *I need to do something.*

  *I can’t die here.*

  *I have to save them all.*

  Voices echoed in his head.

  "Who do you plan to rescue like this?"

  An unfamiliar voice cut through the chaos. At the same time, the projectile split cleanly in two—one half exploding harmlessly on the ground, the other shooting into the sky. Standing in front of Paul was a slender girl, not much older than him, wielding a rapier.

  "Lena!" Paul recognized her instantly.

  "Hmph. Pathetic state you’re in. Airis picked up your signal for twenty minutes before it vanished again, but I didn’t expect *this*," she said arrogantly. Then, her eyes flicked to the writhing Kana. "At least you found the Marked One."

  "Sorry…" Paul mumbled.

  "And who are *you*?" the Hunter interrupted, reloading his weapon.

  "Lariat Ehrenfest Nagelheim," she declared with pride, her name rolling off her tongue rhythmically.

  "Whatever. You’re dying too—"

  Before he could finish, his arm—still holding the shotgun—went flying through the air. Lena had severed it in an instant, leaving a mess of sparking wires protruding from the Hunter’s shoulder. The arm had been mechanical all along.

  "How pathetic. You can’t even wield Corruption—you rely on cheap tricks like this," she sneered, stepping on the detached limb and crushing it underfoot.

  "You… damn you!" the Hunter roared, but Lena pressed her rapier to his throat.

  "Quiet, scum. You’ve lost."

  The Hunter stumbled back, landing hard on his rear.

  "N-no… Wait… Have mercy—" he begged.

  "You disgust me," Lena spat, advancing like a wolf cornering prey. "Trash like you could never understand what it’s like to live in hiding, rejected by society for being Marked. Mercy? My mercy would be corrupting you and leaving you naked at the Legion’s doorstep."

  The Hunter was utterly defeated. With his mechanical arm gone, he had no way to fight back. After hearing her cruel words, his defiance crumbled.

  "Fine. Kill me."

  Lena closed her eyes. She reined in her fury and opened them again.

  "Gladly." With that, she kicked him square in the head, knocking him unconscious.

  Meanwhile, Paul left the cleanup to her and rushed to Kana’s side. Her mother had laid her down—the bleeding had stopped, but the Mark on her back still glowed.

  "Kana!" he called.

  "Paul…" Kana struggled to open her eyes, teetering on the edge of consciousness. "Thank you… for saving me… for saving all of us…" With that, she passed out.

  Paul checked her pulse and breathing, confirming she was stable. Then, he lifted her into his arms as Lena approached.

  "It’s not too late. We can still save her on the ship," Lena said after a quick examination.

  "I know." Paul turned to Kana’s mother and Alma, who had just rushed back now that it was safe.

  "Kana… is she going to be okay?" Alma asked, on the verge of tears.

  "We need to take her with us for a while. Trust us—she’ll be fine," Paul reassured her gently.

  "Don’t worry, you’ll be able to talk to her sometimes," Lena added with a comforting smile.

  The family stayed silent for a few seconds.

  "Paul… please take care of her," her mother finally said.

  "Don’t worry. I’ll protect her. I promise."