A dull longsword and a heartbroken villager

"This damned knife!!!" The problem lies with the weapon itself; ordinary black iron weapons simply cannot break through its defenses.

“As I said, we have countless ways to deal with higher species.”

"Roar!!!!!" Garuda roared and began to move restlessly.

The ground suddenly became incredibly hot, but the air was strangely cold.

The stark temperature contrast left the middle-aged man momentarily at a loss.

Fortunately, Bray had already run far away, and this sudden change did not affect him.

"Not magic?" The uncle's expression turned serious, and he gripped his longsword even tighter.

"Yes, this isn't magic; it's my own unique characteristic." Garuda grinned maliciously and grabbed the dazed man.

"It's just a little trick."

"Black Iron Seeds are ultimately just ants; you'll probably never understand what I've done in your entire life."

The giant, tightly clenched hand squeezed the man's body, making a cracking sound.

"Really? Ants?" The uncle smiled, which made Garuda feel uneasy.

"Please, I'm sick of hearing that line." The middle-aged man laughed with disdain and released his knife.

The long sword that had fallen to the ground was now emitting a bluish aura.

"Do you really think you caught me yourself?"

The landing point was exactly on the edge of the magic circle.

"It's time to go back to your hometown. I hope you have a safe journey home."

"Anti-Summoning" is a spell that counters summoning spells.

However, the difficulty and cost are far greater than "summoning".

So, how heavy will the price be?

The chains binding Garuda tightly bound it, slowly pulling it into the endless depths of the earth.

"Roar!!!" Despite Garuda's desperate clinging to the edge, it was still unable to stop its body from falling into the endless abyss.

---

Bray covered his bleeding left eye.

Even if it's tied up, the hemostatic effect is still poor.

The fabric could no longer absorb any more blood, so the blood from the eye sockets began to leak out from the sides.

Bray sat down on the ground, watching the ongoing battle in the distance.

"Excessive blood loss can be fatal..."

He remained calm, so calm that even Bray himself couldn't believe it.

Soon Bray realized something was wrong; the distant place, which had been making a ping-pong sound, suddenly became quiet.

After hesitating for a moment, Bray finally decided to drag his body to that place.

"That's really courting death..."

The battle should be over, but what if the demon won...?

So going there now would be suicide for Bray.

But even so… Bray still wanted to know the result.

What is Black Iron type, and what is Bronze type...?

To be honest, Bray really wanted to know everything.

"Yo!" The uncle's hearty voice suddenly rang out.

“You’re not dead yet.” Bray stared in astonishment at the uncle sitting on the ground, completely unseemly.

"You didn't die either, did you?"

Bray fell silent; it was truly a miracle he hadn't died.

"Looks like I'm not so unlucky after all," Bray murmured.

Bray sized up the middle-aged man in front of him.

This ordinary-looking man is now sitting cross-legged on the ground, looking exhausted.

The fortress, now a ruin, was proof of the battle that had just taken place.

A gust of wind blew by, raising countless specks of dust.

"Cough cough..." Bray fanned his hand, the dust choking his nose.

"Oh, right, my cellmate..."

"..." Bray was speechless for a moment, seemingly unwilling to pay attention.

"Can you do me a favor?"

"... "

"Is that not possible? That's such a shame..."

"I'll help..."

Bray sighed.

"Haha, I knew you'd help me, since we're cellmates." The uncle said with a laugh.

But what was strange was that the uncle's limbs were all intact, and his complexion seemed alright...

It seems like there's nothing I can't do, right?

"Come, come, let me show you a treasure..." the uncle said, pulling something out of his pocket.

“…” Bray took a small step back.

Bray stared silently at the brown paper the uncle had pulled out.

There was nothing on it.

"Are you kidding me?" Bray stared intently at the old man with dead fish eyes.

"No, no!" the uncle quickly waved his hand.

"Just deliver it to the gravedigger at a cemetery outside Clinton."

“The cemetery…” Bray looked at the uncle strangely, somewhat puzzled.

"Then what are you doing?"

"I'm a little tired, I'll take a break," the middle-aged man said smugly, raising his eyebrows.

“You…this guy…” Bray had a million things to say, but he didn’t say them.

It seems this guy could hang himself up and beat him.

“By the way, your name…” Bray paused halfway through his sentence.

The uncle's body turned into cubes, which fell to the ground one by one.

This is the price of "anti-summoning"—

To oppose a summoning, one must pay the same price as the summoning itself.

Garuda was summoned at the cost of a curse that caused countless people to suffer physical mutilation…

"Chong-"

The long sword fell to the ground and turned into dust.

"How tragic."

"..."

"Well, my name is Barossa."

The man, or rather, Barossa, seemed completely unconcerned about the strange phenomenon on his body.

"Ah, I remember now..." The uncle suddenly remembered something, and just as he was about to pound his hands, he realized that he only had his upper arms left.

A moment later, even his upper arm disintegrated into pieces and fell to the ground.

"Ugh, what an outrageous curse," the middle-aged man muttered.

Bray gripped the parchment tightly.

Is there anything else you need my help with?

"There's nothing more I can help with." The middle-aged man tried to shrug, but then realized he had no shoulders left either.

“But I do have something to say to you…” Barossa’s face also began to fall.

“There is a light on you—” Barossa’s body collapsed suddenly.

"But absolutely, absolutely do not touch it..."

Afterwards, Barossa's entire body shattered on the ground, then turned into dust and was scattered by the wind.

While Black Iron species can defeat Higher species, it always comes at a price.

For example, such a cost.

The battle is over.

The once impregnable fortress has been reduced to ruins.

Bray's figure wandered among them.

Bray didn't shed a single tear, nor did he show the slightest fear.

At this moment, Bray felt only confusion.

Bray did not feel much sadness about Barossa's death.

Bray didn't feel much about this seemingly brutal battle.

Or rather, whether it was Barossa's unintentional, somewhat childish remark... or Garuda's arrogant statement that sounded like a nobleman looking down on a beggar—

Bray never cared.

What truly concerned Bray was the so-called "Black Iron" and "Bronze".

It seems the world is not as simple as I imagined.

And Bray wanted to know all of this.

“The food is covered in blood…it’s really…” Bray looked at the bread he had picked up with disgust.

Then Bray put the bread in his mouth.

The bread, mixed with the taste of blood, lingered in my mouth.

"It tastes disgusting."

Bray has no interest in bloodsucking, and he would never find it delicious.

Why is there bread?

How could a fortress possibly lack food?

Even putting aside the jailers, the prisoners also need to have soup to drink.

Having been hungry for a day and a night, Bray soon began searching for food in the ruins.

However, most of the food was wasted.

Bray could only turn over the rocks to find something to eat.

While I'm at it, I'll look for some important tools.

"More dry rations... The military really needs to improve their food..."

Bray grabbed a handful of jerky covered in dirt and stuffed it into his pocket.

They changed out of their prison uniforms and into other civilian clothes.

The items stripped from the prisoners would be thrown together in one place, except for valuables, of course.