Chapter 56: The Soul

  Justinian was aware of his situation.

  He knew that any subsequent attack could bring him death.

  However, he didn't care for a life in which he couldn't exact his revenge.

  He couldn't bear to look into the reflection of a face that had failed and had not punished those guilty of Sister Teresa's and Zonik's deaths.

  Therefore, if necessary, he would die rather than allow that to happen.

  Staring at the enemy standing before him, he began to burn his last reserves of energy in a desperate attempt to decide everything in the next exchange.

  He no longer had any hope. He had abandoned it long ago. All that mattered was the strength he had gathered to fix the broken world.

  That was all he had left.

  He drew the last remnants of energy from Imperfection—his saber, which he couldn't use because of his forearm, broken in half.

  His back hunched under the weight of the wounds he had sustained. He didn't want to waste power on straightening it.

  'There's so little of it...'

  He drained power from anything that still held even a scrap of energy. All so that he could deliver his final blow.

  His opponent watched this from a distance of several dozen meters.

  The devil's face was lost in deep thought, the result of estimating what the boy could truly still do.

  Calculations of how the techniques he had seen earlier had a chance of winning this skirmish.

  The conclusion forming in his mind was unequivocal.

  'If this is all he can show, he has already lost.'

  The strange phantoms couldn't kill him; they were too weak earlier, and the boy had no energy to strengthen them.

  The iron hand, which attacked with great force, was dangerous, but even a blow to a sensitive spot, like his burned wound, shouldn't cause death.

  Greedius, conducting these deliberations, became confirmed in his conviction.

  'It's already over.'

  Now, all that remained was to show this to the world. The young man nodded in his direction, indicating a place where he would like to end the duel. Grassy ground beyond the reach of the raging infernal fire.

  The devil had no objection.

  Currently, they were both levitating above the infernal fire. If something were to go wrong, that fire could harm even the Lord of the Mountain himself.

  Soon, they stood facing each other in the designated spot. The final phase of the fight was about to begin.

  Greedius prepared an especially strong pillar of fire in his hand to finish his opponent.

  He also calculated where the young man would most likely dodge and intended to end the matter with a devastating blow.

  'If I know all his techniques, he can't surprise me with anything.'

  Considering the specifics of their fight, as well as the opponent's amount of energy, he leaned toward the idea that Justinian would use his iron hand.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  'He probably can't afford more than one or two strikes.'

  Determination flashed across the Lord of the Mountain's face. His plan was already chosen. And even if, by some miracle, it went wrong, he still had the tattoo.

  The enemies looked each other in the eyes. Everyone held their breath, and... the devil disappeared first!

  Almost immediately, fiery energy began to swell beneath Justinian's feet, about to turn into a deadly pillar!

  Clearly exhausted and with only the remnants of his own reserves, he barely dodged. Exactly where Greedius had expected!

  A powerful kick, capable of breaking a spine, flew at the young man, who nevertheless managed to turn slightly, so it only grazed his torso!

  A look of terrible pain crossed his face, but he didn't stop and used the force of the momentum to strike a blow himself!

  It was the anticipated Iron Hand of the Law!

  The devil had no intention of underestimating it, and this time, despite feeling no threat, he immediately went into a cross-block.

  In this decisive moment, when fractions of a second decided the future of the dimension, he saw the iron fist flying toward him.

  The moment the blow was about to land, the fist opened and... yanked him toward the boy!

  A surprised Greedius attacked immediately, but it was already too late!

  His enemy desperately lunged to attack with his broken arm!

  The devil didn't even notice when a fragment of the young man's forearm bone lodged itself with powerful impact into his respiratory tract, only to be ripped back out a moment later!

  "Kh... Kh..."

  With madness written on his face, he covered the gaping hole, trying fruitlessly to seal it!

  His life was escaping him before everyone's eyes, and he could do nothing about it!

  Justinian looked at him coldly, escorting the enemy who had destroyed his life to the grave.

  But soon he had to frown, because on Greedius's panicked face... an expression of relaxation and triumph appeared?

  Even though he could no longer breathe and it was clear death would soon take him, he still managed a triumphant, sarcastic smile.

  'It will cost me my spare life but I'll kill you right now!'

  The tattoo served to deceive enemies regarding his supposed immortality, but it was also an enormous insurance policy.

  Greedius, by sharing his gift of the virtue of gluttony with someone, was actually binding their lives to him unilaterally.

  That was precisely why earlier, when Felix attacked him with the full power of the burning foundation, nothing happened to him.

  Instead of the loss of his life, the actual sacrifice turned out to be the life of his adept.

  The number of souls he could simultaneously bind to himself was limited, and the process itself was very complicated. Ultimately, however, it was a fantastic power that allowed him to aim much, much higher than his current place.

  A quiet voice echoed in the air, Boruta's, who knew more about the situation than others.

  "Run, kid... run before he is reborn."

  The dying lord of the mountain frowned again at these words. The Voivode indeed possessed the knowledge he suspected him of, but ultimately, it didn't change much.

  'Sooner or later... I'll kill that little bastard!'

  He saw that Justinian had absolutely no energy left, and yet he looked at him with a gaze full of coldness. A gaze that still refused to give up.

  "If he does, I'll kill him again... just like Belisara."

  The weight of these words fell on Greedius with the heaviness of the entire world.

  Disbelief appeared on his face. He looked as if he was struggling to process the sounds that had passed through his ears.

  And after the disbelief... came absolute terror. An expression of despair of someone desperately trying to hold on to their fleeting life.

  The burly body, calm and relaxed until then, began to thrash in spasms, and the devil, already losing all strength from oncoming death, covered the hole in his throat with his fingers.

  The transition from lofty calm and arrogance to panic caught the attention of the onlookers, who began to exchange uncertain glances.

  Soon, the Lord of the Mountain of Envy and Conflagration, with eyes open and terror forever frozen on his face, died.

  On his chest, beneath the terrible wound inflicted by his young opponent, there was still a tattoo with the number 11.

  Due to the restriction of the dimension's spirit, Twardowski, this number did not change to 10.

  Only the deceased Greedius knew that only the second digit was the authentic result of the technique. He had tattooed the first one himself to scare off enemies who might guess the mechanism.

  Just as before, the sounds of conversation or shouts could be heard as the fight shifted from one side's advantage to the other, now... no one said anything.

  Justinian, hellishly tired, closed his eyes. He did not smile, but once more, he recalled the image of his beloved guardian sister and his brother. His only family in this cruel world.

  In this absolute silence, he turned and began to walk toward the Mountain of Plague and Misfortune, all amidst the terrible wounds on the dimension that this day had brought.

  The silence was broken only after some time by distant, though ever-approaching, sounds.

  When they were a few meters from him, he realized what they were. It was the sound of small feet running, as if a child were desperately trying to keep up with him.

  Trotting on his right side was none other than Franciscus, who was faithfully noting all the events happening around Justinian.

  The little devil bowed formally and, deathly curious, asked about the heart of the thoughts that troubled him.

  "Do you think the world is more just now?"

  Justinian looked at him, then at the destruction that had occurred as a result of the fight. He answered slowly, but without hesitation.

  "I know that mine is."