A dull longsword and a heartbroken villager

He was covered in sweat, but there wasn't a single drop of blood.

We have neither the enemy's blood nor our own.

From the start of the battle until now, Bray has not been injured even once, not even once.

All those recorded in historical anecdotes and those not recorded, all the various demigods and worshipped beings, were cut down by the sword.

"Little Nick!" After a long while, Bray took a deep breath and called out to Little Nick.

Little Nick came running at the sound of his voice and hovered around Bray.

“Let’s go to the next place,” Bray said to Nick after catching his breath.

He said this many times, and little Nick heard it many times as well.

The moment Nick finished speaking, he grabbed Bray and prepared to teleport.

"Breclas, the great Lord Nico Bolas left you a message." But before leaving, little Nick had something to say.

"message?"

“Yes, the great Lord Nicholas told me to tell you that since you left, more than fifty Silver Species have appeared,” Little Nick said carefully.

Bray fought almost to the point of exhaustion, racing against time, yet he still managed to kill only seventeen.

But when he defeated these silver-level enemies, several times their number appeared.

Despair? Yes, despair.

That's why Nicolaes initially said that this effort was somewhat futile.

However, some things could turn things around, such as Bray's abilities.

Bray's current strength has truly exceeded Nicol Bolas's expectations.

Who would be able to "hunt" Silver Species like this?

If Bray hadn't gotten tired or exhausted his inner energy, he might have actually been able to slaughter all the Silver Race on the Central Continent.

That's too idealistic. Other Silver-ranked individuals aren't stationary targets, nor are they just lone idiots.

If Bray continues like this, it will only become more difficult and more likely for him to kill the Silver Seed.

However, disregarding all that, Bray's godlike demeanor truly terrified even Nicolas.

“…” After hearing Nick’s words, Bray fell silent.

“Of course, the good news is that this is the final number; there are no more new silver coins,” Nick said.

"The final numbers? It's over there too," Bray remarked.

Shall we set off?

Let's go.

Even if it were more than fifty or more, or even more than a hundred, Bray would still continue.

There is no other way but to continue; it is the only thing an unintelligent person can do.

At least by doing this, he gives many people a chance to survive.

If he does nothing, many more people will likely not even have the chance to survive.

---

The number of monsters is determined by a moment in time, a few minutes prior.

A few minutes ago, a gold coin was tossed into the air.

"Ding—" The sound of the gold coin spinning echoed in my ears.

The last gold coin landed face down on the table.

“That’s truly remarkable.” Jonathan bowed to Eric.

"In the end, there were less than a hundred. Does that mean you won about 70% of the time?"

“What a remarkable colonel,” Jonathan said enthusiastically, as if he wanted to publicize Eric’s achievements.

"Stop talking nonsense."

"Drip." A bead of sweat rolled down his chin and landed on the last gold coin.

Eric was covered in sweat, as if he had been doused with a bucket of water.

After the gamble ended, he felt completely exhausted.

But he couldn't fall down in such a humiliating way.

She hadn't done any physical labor, yet she was so exhausted; she was completely drained.

"Are you mocking me?" Eric wiped his sweat and said casually.

“How could that be? This is genuine praise.” Jonathan quickly shook his head.

"..." The colonel glanced at Jonathan's mask and did not continue the conversation.

“Captain,” Eric said, extending his hand to Alice.

"Here are some tissues." Captain Alice handed over a pack of tissues.

"No, I want a hat."

"Here you go." Alice handed Eric her general's hat.

“Hopefully there will be a next time,” Jonathan said in a light tone.

“I hope there will never be a next time.” Eric pulled his hat up over his head and left the table piled with gold coins without looking back.

"Captain, be prepared to be scolded," the colonel said.

Humans can never be satisfied. Even if Eric wins so much, he still cannot satisfy a desperate person.

He had anticipated the vicious insults that would follow.

Those who hurled vicious insults would never think they had done anything wrong, and would never have the thought that "they shouldn't have insulted this hero."

Even those who defend Eric become targets of attack.

From this moment forward, there are no heroes, only sinners.

"Colonel, you're the only one getting yelled at," Alice reminded Eric, following behind him with her suitcase. The maze, its walls all smashed, was now eerily deserted.

Eric and Alice left, and no further sound came from the hall behind them.

Jonathan, dressed in a neat tailcoat, stood with his hands behind his back in front of a table covered with gold coins.

His mask features the clown's signature smile, and no one can see through it to his true expression.

"It's so deserted. Am I the only one left now?" Jonathan said, shaking his head.

Even if no one is watching his performance, he will still make these comical gestures, as if these gestures have been engraved in his bones.

After a long while, Jonathan started walking.

He snapped his fingers, and the gold coins and the table vanished without a trace.

Jonathan didn't look back even once, and leisurely walked towards the front hall.

After walking a long way, he finally saw the hall that had been smashed to pieces.

This place could have been a tourist attraction, but it's been ruined like this. The world has lost another great place to make money.

Stepping over the cracked threshold, Jonathan glanced down at the scene that could easily become a junkyard.

He quickly found the largest piece of trash in the landfill.

"Oh dear, the body is rotten like this." Jonathan exclaimed in surprise as he looked at Marek lying on the ground like a broken rag doll.

In fact, Jonathan already knew that Marek was dead; what he was seeing was just a corpse.

Who could be more certain of Marek's death than Jonathan, who had a direct spiritual connection with him?

Jonathan, who was still betting with Eric, already knew the moment Marek was killed by Betley.

"It's really pitiful, completely different from your usual clean and tidy appearance."

Marek was always smiling and impeccably dressed; it was hard to imagine that he would die in this way.

In other people's imaginations, even if Marek died, it should have been a dignified death, not the incomplete death he suffered.

Suddenly, a cane appeared in Jonathan's previously empty hands.

He poked Marek's body with his cane.

“Nothing was left behind. They died so cleanly, not elegantly at all,” Jonathan said irritably.

He thought Marek would make some interesting arrangements, but to his surprise, nothing of the sort happened.

It was as if his death was entirely due to Marek's sudden whim.

But if you think about it carefully, perhaps this is the truth.

The most absurd assumption is indeed the incomprehensible truth.

“Oh dear, Marek, who do you resemble? You act without any plan, completely recklessly. Where did you learn that?” Jonathan kept circling Marek’s body.

Suddenly, he froze for a moment, then slapped his face hard, realizing he was wearing a mask.

"Oh, I see. So that's how it is." Jonathan burst into laughter, completely bewildered.

Laughter, though clear through the mask, echoed throughout the cold, dilapidated hall.

Where did you learn it from? Of course, from yourself.

Just as Jonathan is now influenced by Marek to make plans, Marek is also influenced by Jonathan's chaotic thinking.

Oh, is that so? I never knew it.

Jonathan wiped away imaginary tears from his mask and stopped his unrestrained laughter.

Don't get me wrong, Jonathan's tears weren't because of Marek's death.

I just laughed until I cried.

"Really? Are you happy?" Jonathan said, making no sense.

He's all alone here, so who is he talking to?

"Judging from the smile on your lips, I know you'd be happy to die like this."

"Marek, Marek, have you always been looking for a suitable reason to die?"

"I felt that if I continued to go crazy like this, I wouldn't even be myself in the end, so I used this madness to die."

"Kill the people closest to you first, and then yourself last."

“This is too boring, young master. It’s not interesting at all.” Jonathan shook his head at Marek’s corpse.

"We may be able to reincarnate, but I don't want to die in vain."

"After we are reincarnated, all we have left are memories."

“Our personalities and values ​​have changed, and we can’t even be sure if we are the same people we were before we were reincarnated.” Jonathan kept repeating these words to a person who had already passed away.

"The person I am now is the real me."

"Death is not a relief for the reincarnated."

Like Marek, even after he dies, his soul doesn't go anywhere.

At the moment of Marek's death, his soul, which had been split due to a wrong reincarnation, merged together.

Marek is nowhere to be found now.

They... no, it was him, who felt that the ability to reincarnate was truly an accident.

To retain memories and reincarnate continuously, one must first cross the "Wandering Tomb," a soul processing field.

But how could this place, which can replace the function of gold seeds, be easily crossed?

There are always people who dream of starting their lives over, of doing different things in their next life, and of achieving immortality.

Jonathan initially had these ideas and worked towards them.

However, hard work alone is not enough.

Infinite reincarnation is something that cannot be achieved through effort.