"They're gone now..."

Listening to the distant footsteps echoing up the stairs, Maria's eyes turned wistful for a moment.

Hamil, her face obscured as she absorbed Mash's strike, swung her machete upward with all her might, causing Mash to lose balance for an instant. Seizing the moment, she stepped beside Maria.

"Once we take this one down, we'll follow them. There’s still work for us to do."

"Yes. It's our duty to heal those injured in the battle ahead."

Maria's decision to remain behind wasn't solely due to her limited stamina.

The upcoming battles would surely push the Savior members to their limits, leaving them battered and exhausted. She intended to follow behind, healing the wounded along the way.

Trailing from behind wouldn't hinder Bruno's group, though it also meant they'd face any enemies that defeated the vanguard. But Maria gave this risk no thought.

"Stop... your... chattering... it hurts my head!"

The club came crashing down toward Hamill.

She met it with her machete.

This time, she didn’t use her martial arts; it was a pure contest of strength.

“As expected of a Demon King's Finger… It seems I’m slightly weaker in raw power.”

But Mash’s attacks were unrefined, relying solely on brute force and mass.

Hamill deflected some blows and met others head-on, skillfully handling the onslaught.

“Black Reap.”

Through continued communion with her cursed weapon, her main armament had shifted from a needle to a machete.

The weapon she now wielded was the neck-hunting machete, Crimson-Eyed Queen, the strongest cursed weapon she could currently handle.

Since their encounter in the cursed armory, the weapon had undergone two evolutions, transforming into something entirely new.

Its size rivaled that of a greatsword, with a blade over a meter long.

The blade shimmered with hues of red, blue, and violet, while the hilt remained jet-black, absorbing surrounding light as a vestige of its original form.

In the center of the machete, a crimson gem was embedded, its name’s origin. From this gem, red and blue lines of magical energy traced toward the tip like veins of power.

The central gemstone amplified Hamill’s techniques, while the mana lines supported the weapon’s functions, increasing the power of her technique, Black Reap, to new heights.

With the technique active, even in a contest of strength, Hamill had the advantage.

“Black Reap.”

The technique cloaked the weapon in an aura of darkness, enhancing its slashes. By releasing this aura, it could even be used as a ranged attack.

Hamill swung the Crimson-Eyed Queen with force, sending a dark arc of energy flying through the air.

The slash carved a deep wound into Mash’s shoulder, flaying flesh away. Yet the creature showed no sign of pain.

(Pain-nullification, or something similar, it seems…)

With her superior speed, Hamill combined close- and long-range attacks, probing her opponent’s capabilities.

Severed flesh didn’t slow Mash’s movements; the wounds knit together on their own, confirming a potent regeneration ability.

The enemy’s raw power was slightly inferior to Hamill’s when she used her technique. Without her enhancements, they were evenly matched. Without sustained use of magic and techniques, Hamill would be outclassed.

The most troublesome factor, however, was that damned regeneration.

“Gehihi… Gehihi…”

No matter how many times she cut Mash down, he kept rising, each time leering at her with a sick grin.

Hamill furrowed her brows, disgusted by his unsettling expression and apparent twisted tastes.

(He doesn't seem like an amorphous creature like a slime or golem. Odds are, cutting off the head or destroying the heart will do the trick.)

She focused her strikes toward those vital points. But Mash, perhaps aware of his weaknesses, used his limbs to protect his core, preventing Hamill from getting a clear shot.

Unlike her, Mash could continue attacking even while injured, making it difficult for her to step into the critical close range.

The machete bit into Mash’s chest, exposing ribs and spilling green blood. Yet Mash pressed on.

Hamill shifted to a defensive stance.

She wore the full-body armor known as Crimson Steel, an evolved form of the cursed armor she once used.

But Mash ignored her defensive stance entirely.

“F-First the healer! I'm s-so smart!”

Realizing that Hamill was too resilient, Mash shifted focus to Maria, who was supporting the warrior with enhancement spells.

Hamill adjusted her stance, tightening her grip on the Crimson-Eyed Queen. She saw Maria remain calm even as Mash charged toward her.

Hamill knew Maria had endured her own trials. Her role was to prepare for a decisive strike while Maria created the opportunity.

“Uraaah!”

Mash’s club crashed into the spot Maria had just stood, shattering the ground into a crater.

The creature blinked in confusion when he felt no impact, scanning the area. Maria was gone.

In the blink of an eye, she had reappeared behind him.

Maria had learned her techniques from generations of saintly warriors.

Targeting the healer first was standard tactics against most teams—but Maria was no ordinary healer.

Because when she unleashed her true power… she was stronger than Hamill.

“Holy-Demonic Combat Art: Clarity.”

The third Saint, Misery, had taught Maria the techniques of the Holy-Demonic Combat Art.

This martial art converted magic into holy energy and circulated it through the body to enhance physical capabilities dramatically. Though the style had lost its lineage due to its difficulty, Maria had mastered it.

The ultimate technique, Clarity, released the stored holy energy directly into the opponent’s body, transmitting the energy at near-perfect efficiency.

The moment Maria's fist struck Mash’s torso, the energy surged into his body, bypassing flesh and bone to detonate within.

Mash flew back like a puppet hit by a runaway carriage, his body soaring toward Hamill.

Hamill stood ready, her blade wreathed in swirling crimson and black auras.

The energies from her technique and the weapon itself mingled into a colossal, crackling aura.

“W-Wait—”

“Crimson Reap.”

The blade sang through the air, cleaving Mash’s head from his shoulders.

The body crumpled against a wall; the head rolled across the floor and stopped, lifeless.

Hamill drove her machete into the skull, ensuring finality. Only then did she exhale.

“Let's rest for a moment… then catch up with the others.”

“Yes, Hamill.”

The two of them had dispatched a Demon King's Finger—foes that once gave them immense trouble—with surprising ease.

But ahead awaited the Right Hand’s Fingers, whose ranks had never shifted since their inception.

The battle was far from over.