I'm fighting Kal'tsit? Really?

"It seems our Kal'tsit is indeed overworked."

Gerald leaned against the wall behind him, facing the doctor directly: "I'm actually quite surprised that you would choose to make those jokes to a complete stranger, although I don't really mind... but it's still an unconventional move."

"—That's a bit offensive, isn't it?"

The doctor across from him smiled and pointed to himself: "But after all, judging from my appearance, I don't have any convincing qualities, nor do I show the world-destroying abilities of other operators. If someone wanted to harm me, I'm afraid one brick would blow my head open and splatter blood all over the ground."

"For most operators, they care about who leads them, and even the leader's personal charisma is a factor. But it's impossible for someone to be completely devoted or loyal to their boss just because they've been told 'this is your boss.'"

"Therefore, using a stronger impression to cover up any slight prejudice in the other person's mind is a good first choice."

The doctor spoke with a slightly languid tone, leaning back slightly, her whole body sinking into the cold wall, but her gaze remained fixed on the door in front of her: "I just didn't expect that she wouldn't realize this part of the logic. Logically speaking, she should have noticed it to some extent."

Is it because of excessive concern? Would Kal'tsit really think that way?

The doctor silently shook his head.

Gerald shifted his gaze away, not answering the previous question, but replying briefly: "Understandable. For a commander, a single outstanding victory can instantly change the impression others have of him."

"A very accurate description." The doctor snapped out of his reverie, smiled, and gave a thumbs-up. "That's exactly what I'm doing to you right now, and it's working quite well, isn't it?"

"You're comparing a conversation to a war?" Gerald retorted.

“It’s better to call it an action, since we’re in the same company now.” The other person nodded slightly, then extended their hand and pointed to each finger: “You see, we’ve only been chatting for a short while, and you already know a little about me, and I know a little about you. This shows that you’re someone I can communicate with.”

"The communication process was smooth, without any riddle-solving behavior: this means that when communicating with you, you only need to say what you think, without over-interpreting or embellishing the meaning of your words."

"So, we've combined into one." The Doctor blinked and concluded, "Our relationship is already better than that of most operators on Rhodes Island. Doesn't that prove I've been very successful?"

"..."

Indeed, if Kal'tsit had treated the Doctor in front of her the same way she treated him, it would have been quite predictable that things would have turned out this way. Perhaps this is the mutual appreciation between two cat owners.

But that doesn't stop the other party from being a rather clever negotiator.

The process of communication is essentially a process of information plundering, yet Kal'tsit chose to receive this newly recruited operator the very moment she had the Doctor tethered in mid-air, and while she was extremely exhausted. This was tantamount to directly exposing one of the most crucial pieces of information to the other party.

--sense of security.

Kal'tsit felt a strange sense of security when she was with Gerald.

It's not purely dependence or trust, but rather an atmosphere that only arises around close friends and family. It is precisely this atmosphere that allows some of Kal'tsit's subconscious behaviors to take shape.

For Gerald, Kal'tsit subconsciously allowed him to see this unconventional side; for the Doctor, Kal'tsit did not become indifferent because of her offensive words, but instead became genuinely angry out of concern.

Therefore, all their previous conversations were essentially just them testing each other's attitudes and figuring out what each other meant to Kal'tsit.

In summary, aside from accidentally overdoing their act of feigning ignorance and causing the lynx to faint from exhaustion, the two gained nothing.

After all, from a macro perspective, they have no relevant memories of this point in time.

“You don’t necessarily need to get involved with me, Doctor.” Gerald sighed. He felt genuinely guilty for knocking someone unconscious twice, which made his mood slightly sour. “After joining the company, you became my superior and commander. As you said, the success of the operation was enough to change my opinion of you, not these pointless tests.”

"No, it is necessary."

The doctor suddenly spoke, his gaze no longer filled with the frivolousness of before, but instead becoming calm and collected.

She removed the hood that she had put back on her head, revealing the face hidden beneath—under the incandescent light, the few scars on it appeared crisscrossed, not to the point of disfigurement, but still quite affecting the appearance.

“These scars are from when I was in Chernobog.” The doctor pointed to the scars and pressed his fingertip on them, tracing the marks. “I didn’t ask the medical staff to erase these marks because they are my memories, allowing me to truly recognize my existence and what happened.”

“These two paragraphs are not directly related,” Gerald interrupted. “We can get straight to the point.”

"No need to rush, the background story is still important."

The Doctor smiled, unconcerned about the other party's attitude: "If it weren't for Kal'tsit, I might have had a blade pierce my head on the spot... So you see, apart from often telling riddles, she is generally a very trustworthy companion, and moreover, my savior. Rhodes Island cannot accept her loss."

"So not long ago, another old friend of hers suddenly appeared on Rhodes Island, and the person who had been on tenterhooks for so long relaxed his guard a little."

"—Someone should at least keep an eye on this."

The seemingly ordinary commander lacks the Demon King's ability to read emotions, has lost the experience and insights he relied on for survival, and lacks the power to protect others.

However, she had just realized it herself.

The Pegasus in front of them is unlikely to become their enemy.

So, the tall, thin woman simply smiled helplessly at the other party and said, "So I'm sorry, Operator Gerald. Although I realized along the way that whatever I did seemed impolite, please forgive my selfishness! I will kneel down and beg Kal'tsit to give you an assistant position."

"Does that debt of over two hundred million still count?" Gerald asked suddenly, looking at the other person's casual demeanor.

"Uh." The doctor stiffened for a moment, then coughed. "I... I'll think of something. How about we find an alternative to this plan?"

"Replace him?" Gerald looked at him with interest. "What are you going to do?"

Faced with this question, the doctor stood silently in place for a long time without saying a word, seemingly deep in thought about his next move.

Finally, her eyes lit up, and she said to Gerald, "I've got it!"

"As long as I act as matchmaker, I'll devise a series of plans to facilitate your marriage with Kal'tsit." She patted her chest excitedly, completely ignoring the door that had just been opened beside her. "Then the debt will be paid off in no time! Oh well, consider it the bride price from Lungmen. Two hundred and forty million is nothing to Kal'tsit—"

"Mon3tr."

"Roar!!!!"

……

Unfortunately, this time there won't be a Pegasus to shield her from the monster's attacks.

Gerald wisely stepped aside and walked to Amiya, who looked helpless, and offered her a sincere apology: "I'm sorry, Amiya, I couldn't stop it from happening."

“Ahaha… It’s alright, Mr. Gerald.” Amiya’s smile was very bright. “In fact, seeing the Doctor and Dr. Kal’tsit like this now is a relief to me.”

"Ah, speaking of which," the little rabbit's tone shifted, tinged with curiosity, "Mr. Gerald, what brings you to see Dr. Kal'tsit?"

Tianma suddenly fell silent.

Oh, I forgot, there's still important business to attend to.

However, the person next to him happens to be the CEO of Rhodes Island, and if we explain it to her, the situation should be the same.

Gerald then asked her, "The route indicates that Rhodes Island is heading towards Kazimierz. May I ask about the specific time and place of departure and arrival, Amiya?"

“Okay!” Amiya nodded, thought for a moment, and replied, “Rhodes Island will depart in two days, leaving Columbia, and the next destination will be Cavalellaki, where we will arrive in about ten days.”

"The Grand Knight Commander?"

"Yes!" The little rabbit seemed to sense the complex emotions on Pegasus's face, thinking it was because he was homesick, so it smiled and said, "Mr. Gerald is from Kazimierz, isn't he? It's so wonderful to be able to go back to your hometown!"

"...Yes, I think so too."

He silently swallowed the restricted-content he was about to say to Kal'tsit, looked at the Doctor being wildly tossed around by Mon3tr in the distance, and calmed his mind.

Later, I'll borrow a textbook from Letania.

If only those twelve nights could teach that blood demon how to counter magic.

Chapter 100 Important Matters Before Departure (Part 1) (5K)

"Here's the book, go read it now."

When Gerald returned to his dream at night, he conjured a book with ornate packaging using his consciousness and threw it in front of the Blood Demon Lord.

This puzzled him greatly, as he had already begun to coagulate blood. He picked up the book and flipped through it for a while, his eyes revealing obvious disgust. He glared at Gerald without any politeness: "You want me to learn these ridiculous 'Originium Arts'? What a rebellious and absurd thing to do!"

“I don’t expect you to learn it, after all, it’s hard to say that your witchcraft is truly compatible with Originium Arts. But you can use it as a reference to get a feel for the specific countermeasures. I believe that the Blood Demon Lord, who has lived for thousands of years, can do this.”

Gerald calmly conjured the spell that Lamaren had left him—the spell that originally formed the family's sword, now manifested in his hand as easily as the wind.

When using wind as a sword in daily life, problems are bound to arise. First of all, the way of suddenly extending the sword tip to kill the enemy in a struggle is not effective. After all, to turn a fluid into a substance that can collide with a solid, what is really needed is density, structural stability, and sufficient kinetic energy transfer.

Whether it's compression to a quasi-solid state or high-frequency vibration, it's difficult to suddenly change the local properties without affecting the whole during manipulation. This means that besides increasing the strength of the wind blade itself, there's not much he can do, and his knowledge somewhat limits his ideas.

Kolamaren's incantation made up for this part.

The swords conjured by these incantations possess sufficient energy-constructing properties, allowing high-frequency winds to remain effective even when enveloped within them—the advantages of these sorcery-like artifacts are on full display at this moment. If it were the original family sword, it would likely have worn down to an unusable state in just five minutes of combat if consumed in this manner.

In other words, he can now design some unconventional combat methods.

"Hmph." The Blood Demon Lord's disdain brought him back to reality. "It's another one of Ramalen's little tricks. When will she realize that this method is ultimately useless? Embracing the power within her bloodline is the path that the Sarkaz should take."

"Ugh."

Gerald sighed, helplessly transforming the incantation into the shape of a sword, which landed in his right hand. "I understand. Rather than directly teaching you countermeasures, the right approach is to first etch this understanding into your mind."

Pegasus snapped his fingers lightly, and blood once again filled the space, while the Blood Demon Lord's expression once more became one of rapture.

The next second, the Blood Demon Lord's figure had already disappeared from the spot, leaving only a bloody afterimage in the air.

The blood-red spear, sharp as a blade, shot through the air with lightning speed, aiming straight for Gerald's throat, carrying intense killing intent and an uncontrollable desire.

Very good, it seems that the desire to fight has returned to him.

Gerald casually stepped to the side, and with a flick of his wrist, he drew a spell in the air, splitting the sea of ​​blood that followed like a curtain in two.

Just as he concluded from the final analysis of the dream last time, the Blood Demon's abilities are ultimately similar to the Banshee's curses. After dying, being exploited, and being tested, it can always find loopholes and shortcomings.

Therefore, the division of the Blood Sea was expected—the key part is what follows.

Because the moment that crimson tide, which had come from the front and was trying to devour the Pegasus, dissipated, the barrier that had protected the Blood Demon Lord also disappeared.

The wind, wrapped in the incantation, pierced through the void between the Pegasus and the Blood Demon without any restraint, instantly slicing Ducarre's head in two cleanly and smoothly. Then, the instant the blood manipulation was severed, it frantically tore apart the Blood Demon Lord's entire body, returning the blood to its most primal state.

The blood belonging to the Sarkaz was now mixed with the sea of ​​blood formed from the blood of the gods. They could not coexist and were swept into a corner, turning into a shallow pool, on which a human form was reforged.

So when Ducarre looked over with a grim expression, Gerald pulled out the Leitanian Originium Arts textbook from the void again and reiterated:

"Do you want to experience this feeling a few more times, or do you want to learn something new?"

Faced with this statement.

The Blood Demon Lord chose to adhere to his doctrines that had remained unchanged for a thousand years.

So Pegasus told him that this world should have turned the page on that old chapter long ago.

Just as he can use endless blood to enhance Ducarre, Gerald himself can adjust his condition at any time to deal with Ducarre in his prime—and thus a scene similar to their first encounter would occur.

Their inherent nature was a natural counter, and coupled with the fact that he had completely countered all of the Blood Demon's mechanisms and offensive methods, the battle was now completely one-sided from the very beginning, unlike the previous situation where he was passively attacked. Even the idea of ​​his opponent trying to kill him through a surprise attack was a pipe dream.

In another sixteen-hour battle, Gerald lost count of how many times he shattered the Blood Demon Lord's body, and how many times the Blood Demon Lord revived from his bloodline, once again conjuring a spear to attack him.

All he knew was that Ducarre was speaking less and less, his eyes growing increasingly menacing, channeling his thoughts into attacks, and falling silent.

Gerald realized he had underestimated the Sarkaz race’s obsession with hatred, or more precisely, he had underestimated Ducarre’s thirst for killing.

Even after countless deaths, the Blood Demon Lord's rage did not die out; instead, it burned even more fiercely with each rebirth, so intense that it seemed to crush the entire space.

But that's okay, just bring it on.

Even if the battle continues until the end of the world, it doesn't matter. Compared to simple combat, this ancient, stubborn, and disgustingly decadent desire can bring Pegasus a continuous stream of positive feedback and joy.

He enjoys the feeling of breaking down this dross; if he can't do it once, he'll do it twice, ten times, a hundred times, endlessly.

So he fought even more fiercely, the wind whipping up blood as it howled across the battlefield, until the time limit of the dream was about to expire.

Before leaving, he still looked at Ducarre lying in a pool of blood without any attempt to hide it, his eyes calm and indifferent, as if he had never been disturbed at all.

Ducarre seemed to sense this as well, and pierced Pegasus with his angry and weary gaze, wanting to inflict a deep wound on him.

But all of this ultimately amounted to nothing more than a light, fleeting remark from Gerald's lips—

See you tomorrow.

--------

Gerald had made some preparations before being kicked out of the dream for the second time.

He carefully moved away from Lamarlene, tiptoed out of bed, and distanced himself from his lover to calm the evil thoughts and murderous intent that had accumulated from his recent excessive killing.

Snapped.

The spell on Pegasus suddenly activated, pulling him back to the bedside and forcing him to meet those gentle eyes. The majestic succubus lord gestured to Pegasus with a slight nod.

Then, just as Gerald leaned in, she suddenly bit his lip.

"sorry."

Although he didn't know what he had done wrong to cause Lamarle to do this, Gerald had already very consciously slid into a state of apologizing—the reason didn't matter, a smart person has already learned to correct their attitude first.

Lamaren's expression brightened, and she nuzzled his cheek. "It's alright. I'm a little unhappy about lending you to that child today, since we haven't been able to sit down and talk with Aifanir yet. But business is business, and we'll have another chance later."

Gerald rubbed his temples—yes, killing too many people really does have an effect. Today he had promised Saria that he would go with her to see the operator named Himer to resolve her issues.

Lamaren seemed to understand his distress. She smiled gently, raised her finger and touched Pegasus's brow, smoothing out the unconscious furrow in his brow.

“Go, don’t keep that child waiting too long.” Her tone was gentle, yet carried an undeniable certainty. “But remember to come back.”