Damian and his master, the Holy Paladin Gunther Freshet, stood beyond the church barrier, beyond the northeastern part of the human continent, in the middle of the no man's land that was that particular corner of the monster continent, with a hill of bloodied monster corpses at their feet.

"It has been a while since you and I didn’t do this, hasn't it?" Gunther asked Damian, referring to their trip and monster hunt beyond the church’s barrier and the continent.

"A little while indeed. Last time, I believe it was when Arte just arrived," Damian said, whipping blood off his spear.

"It was that long already?"

"Yes."

"... I see. I hope you didn’t take it as if I was trying to replace you with Arte."

"I don't, Master, for I know that it wasn’t the case. And even if it were, it would be a decision I would thoroughly understand."

Dragging yet another cadaver to the corpse hill, Gunther Hummed "Serious, as always, aren't you? Not that I’m complaining. Despite not being blood related, I can see that particular trait in you and the boy, Mael."

Damian remained silent and did not offer any comment.

"Anyway, I missed doing this with you, just as much as I miss doing this with Armand."

Before Arte and before Damian, Gunther's former hunting partners for these trips beyond the barrier were the Holy Paladin Armand Aubrecht, as the two of them, ten years ago, before the Holy Paladin Aubrecht stepped down from his position, were both on an equal footing and ruling over the northeastern fortress.

"I don’t know what he’s been up to as of late, but it seems he and I won’t be able to do this together anymore, at least not in this life."

Although Damian wanted to disagree, he knew deep down that it was the truth. He pursed his lips and remained silent.

Recovering his halberd from a corpse, Gunther announced with a smile, "Which is why I think we two should treasure this short time we have together as much as we can. As with everything happening as of late, this might be our last."

Feeling bitter about his master's words, Damian bit his lips and pleaded, "Master. It doesn’t have to end like that."

"Oh,... and how else could it en-"

Boom!

Before Gunther could finish speaking, they were interrupted by a sudden and violent gust of wind caused by a nearby explosion that occurred between them and the fortress.

"What was that!? Monster?"

"No, that couldn't be!"

Indeed, it couldn’t be, as no monster was possibly that fast, except maybe the one that both Damian and Gunther saw two years ago unleashing destruction upon the continent, but from the size of that blast, it was with relief that they both ruled out the possibility that it was that creature or any of its kind.

A thick cloud of dust covered the area where the explosion occurred, briefly hiding whatever had caused it behind a screen of dust. As the dust slowly settled and thinned out, the duo of master and student finally noticed, amidst the slowly dispersing dust, humane silhouettes to whom were attached two pairs of remarkably glowing eyes. They were gleaming like jewels, one pair blue and the other red.

After a while, the cloud of dust fully dissipated, revealing two people—not monsters—standing in the middle of the crater caused by the explosion, which had been their entrance.

One of the two was a boy, and the other was a girl.

"Greetings, gentlemen," the boy said.

"Greetings, I suppose, but may I ask to whom exactly I am addressing this greeting?" Gunther ventured, despite knowing very well who the other party was.

"I hope you didn’t forget about me,"

As they remembered the description they got of Archbishop Ainsley, one of the only two surviving members of the expedition sent to uncover the secret of the calamitous dragons’ behaviors, but instead met an almost ignominious end when stumbling in the middle of the forest upon the infamous "faceless one" and a girl, assumed to be his collaborator, both Damian and Gunther knew that in front of them were these very two same people: The Faceless One and the girl, his collaborator of unclear identity.

"This is Nia, and I am Ronandt. And I think no explanation will be needed for who I am and what business I have here. Am I not right?" Faceless One spoke up as he approached Gunther and Damian.

Sighing out loud, "Yes. There's no need for clarification on that part. But allow me a question, you two. You came from my fortress, right?"

Perhaps intrigued by the question, Ronandt halted his step to confirm, "Yes, we came from there; what of it?"

"May I ask in what state it is?"

"Oh, I see. You're wondering if we destroyed it. Well, no, we didn't. It has been a bit roughed up since we thought we'd find you there, but overall it's still standing. Before you ask, your men too are fine, more or less." The young man simply explained.

"I see that's a relief then..." Gunther said, taking a step toward the approaching Faceless One, but before he could take a second stride, he was stopped by Damian, who wedged himself in front of him.

"Damian, what are you doing?"

"Master… I know what you are planning to do and what the most likely outcome will be. It doesn’t have to end like that!"

It had been three, almost four months since the news that Durant Sullivah, one of Damian's master's fellow fourteen, had died in the battle against the infamous white ghost, but Damian and his master knew that the Faceless One could also be involved, as was the case with Archbishop Karen Caelus, the first of the fourteen to fall to the Faceless One.

For the past few months, despite everything that happened, Gunther acted as though nothing happened, but deep down, he, just like Damian, understood very well that it was only a matter of time before the Faceless One would come for him.

"Damian… I thought we already talked about this," Reaching onto Damian’s shoulder, Gunther went on, "There is only one ending for this, for me. Which is why I must do what I always did: fight."

Gunther walked past Damian, but, unconvinced and unable to accept his decision, he stood once again in his master’s way.

It was then that, from the boy, in the most casual of ways, Damian heard: "Your master is right; there is no other way out of this. There is just the option of challenging me and dying. Nothing else. However, there is a second option: skip the "challenging me" part and go straight to the dying part. No big difference, whatsoever for me. So the choice is up to you."

"You…"

Damian was tempted to try to reason with him, knowing that it was a more viable option than reasoning with his master, but knowing what had happened to the Faceless One in his past, he couldn't find the right words. Especially knowing the link he shared with his master.

"We never had the opportunity to properly meet you and me," the boy said, dropping the haughty tone with which he spoke from the moment he arrived. "I heard a lot about you from Mael when I lived in the Edouard Castle. Back then, I could never have imagined us meeting in this manner. Especially considering the link you share with Maa, but it is what it is."

Damian had an epiphany after hearing the boy mention Mathilda and the link he was making mention of.

"You knew… about it?"

"About what? About the fact that she’s your mother? Your true mother? If it’s that, I do. She told me."

This time the boy’s words confirmed Damian’s suspicion. Not the one the young man seemed to have assumed, but rather the one that the faceless one had teamed up with the aristocracy, which so far had only previously been a bleak prospect for the church but was confirmed to be a clear reality, according to his words. But none of that mattered to Damian right now; all that mattered was preventing this confrontation from taking place. Even if it meant that he had to take full and shameless advantage of the fact that he was "her" son.

That was right, if that was what was needed to keep his master alive, he was willing to do it.

"If you know that's the case, then for me as her—" Damian was mid-sentence when his master, with a blow to his guts, interrupted him.

Damian fell on his knees, mumbling, "Master?"

"I was and am not, and I refuse to become someone who needs to have his life begged to be spared. I thought you, out of all people, would know that, but I was wrong."

In shame, Damian could not bring himself to face his master’s gaze.

His master was right, as he knew that very well; it was just that he could not bring himself to allow "that" to simply happen to him.

"I never begged for anything. Everything I have is the result of my blood, sweat, and tears. All I have achieved thus far was through fighting. If there is something I yearn for, it would be through, once again, fighting that I would get it."

"So today, if there was anything I expected of you, who has been my faithful second for so many years, it would be to fight, by my side," Gunther said as he walked past Damian, his back now facing him.

It wasn't until he heard his master's words that Damian remembered showing up at a Paladin recruitment campaign only to be suddenly challenged by a Holy Paladin and naturally defeated, yet feeling no remorse for the loss he faced that day. He finally snapped out of the denial he had been in.

It was as his master said. He, more than anyone else, should’ve known: There was no changing his master's mind, and there was no running from this fight.

Damian's willingness to beg for his master's life was tarnishing the pride and honor of the man he now knew and who had always been by his side of for nearly two decades.

Damian felt ashamed of his behavior but knew of only one way to get his dignity back.

Damian stood up, walked to his master's side.

"This might be our last hunt, so let’s make it a memorable one," his master announced, his usual carefree smile on his face.

"Yes, master," Damian agreed, taking a firm and resolute grip onto his spear.

Ronandt, Faceless One, who so far has observed Damian’s and his master's discussion in silence, said, upon seeing both men's resolute expression, "So are you two finally done?"

"Yes, we have. I hope we didn’t make you wait too long," Gunther derisively furthered.

"Not all; I might not like it, but I am quite the patient man," Ronandt answered, replying in kind to Gunther's joking tone.

"Is that so?"

"It is." It was then, his gaze shifting to Damian, that Ronandt asked, "You know who I am and what I did. Do you really want to fight me?"

"Knowing her, I'm sure Mathilda, by coming here, must've told you it would've come to this: me standing in the way," Damian replied.

A smile on his face, he said, "You know her well. But you know what, She also told me something else. What do you think it is?"

Wondering what it could be and recalling how Mathilda, who had secretly been his mother, had always been suspiciously overprotective and indulgent towards him, Damian half-jokingly ventured, "to not hurt me?"

"That's... I’m afraid, Uncle Damian, that you got it wrong on this one. She gave me no such instructions. She simply told me to tell you that she would respect the decision you would come to take, whatever it might be, but that you should be ready to face its consequences, whatever they might be. So I ask you, for the second time, on Maa’s behalf, do you really wish to fight me?"

"I do not want to fight you, but if that is what it takes to protect what I hold dear, then so be it. Even if it meant fighting you out of all people."

Ronandt threw a glance at the girl who came with him. And the girl, with a nod, simply withdrew away from the scene. "I see. You both made up your mind then. I hope it won’t shatter too quickly."