Oscar could not say anything for a long while.
Without even thinking of letting go of the arm he was holding, he stared blankly at the man before him for quite some time.
“Um, why aren’t you saying anything? You're embarrassing me.”
“....”
His gaze locked onto the fellow pouting his lips in apparent dissatisfaction.
Childish behavior for a fully grown adult.
Watching this, a single line of tears streamed down Oscar’s cheek.
Jooroo-rook.
“W-What! Master, why are you crying!”
Looking at the flustered fellow who didn't know what to do, Oscar hung his head low.
It had been several months since he began staying with the Mad Fiend, whose vocabulary consisted of nothing more than ‘Grrr’ and ‘Grrrr.’
Taking care of him, there was a thought that had always crossed Oscar’s mind.
“...I am sorry.”
The choice he must have made to protect the White Tower, Sasha, and the things Oscar had left behind.
He himself had probably known just how dangerous it was.
Even knowing, even trembling with dread deep down, he must have forged ahead because there was no other way.
Because it was Oscar himself who had driven the Mad Fiend, no, Gilly, all the way there, he could not help but feel perpetually apologetic.
“....”
Staring at the sobbing Oscar with wide, startled eyes, Gilly wore a faint smile.
“I thought Sasha was the only crybaby idiot. Turns out Master is a crybaby too.”
He embraced Oscar and lightly patted his back.
“Everything is fine now, so don't cry.”
“...Sob.”
Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, Oscar pulled away from Gilly’s embrace.
“Welcome back. You speak well now.”
“You went through a lot taking care of me all this time.”
Through those words, Oscar realized how the boy had recognized him at a single glance.
“You remember all of it?”
“Of course. The days I lived as the Mad Fiend, and every single word Master told me while looking after me, I remember everything.”
“....”
Tap, tap.
Oscar wordlessly patted his shoulder.
In truth, there was so much he wanted to ask.
Whether his body felt all right, just how agonizing it had been all that time.
Whether he had felt any discomfort while staying with him....
Yet not a single question crossed his lips.
Because right now, there was something far more important.
“...It’s a shame, but let’s put our reunion on hold for later.”
“Guess that’d be best, right?”
The heads of both men turned toward Silgrim at the same time.
Oscar spoke first.
“I’m glad you’ve returned, but the situation isn’t very....”
Trailing off, Oscar urgently clamped a hand over his mouth.
Clenching his lips tight, he forcefully swallowed down the surging nausea.
He could feel the demonic energy roaming within his body wriggling as if it were alive.
Ithaca was fervently burning and purifying it, but each time it did, cold sweat trickled down his back.
“Master, your condition is worse than I thought.”
“...Phew, I can hold out.”
Despite Oscar’s answer, the furrow between Gilliot's brows showed no sign of smoothing out.
Because he knew that ever since he was young, Oscar was a person who never once betrayed that he was in pain.
Knowing full well that worrying right now would only yield the response that he was fine, Gilly changed the subject.
“That old geezer, you said he has a lot of lives, right?”
“Tiresomely many.”
“Hmm.”
Gilly, who had rested his chin on his hand in brief contemplation, nodded as if he understood.
“Okay, got it completely. The current us can’t beat that thing.”
It was an answer without the slightest hesitation.
“So let’s run. I should at least be able to buy enough time for Master and Uncle Maxim to get away.”
“What? No. It’s too dangerous.”
“Master, it’s fine.”
An overwhelming confidence resonated in Gilliot’s voice as he spoke with a grin.
“You saw it just a moment ago. That bastard can’t catch me.”
“....”
Oscar’s eyes shifted sideways.
The result floating on the Wind Archive was a truth without a shred of falsehood.
‘Gilly can outrun Silgrim?’
He had been obsessively fixated on sheer speed since the past.
Just moments ago, Oscar had even experienced a fragment of that fruit firsthand.
After all, this fellow had snatched him away before Silgrim could even notice.
“...If it looks dangerous, come right back.”
“Yeah, don’t worry too much. This time, I’ll make sure to return without being late.”
Replying briefly, Gilliot stepped forward.
Behind him, Oscar dragged the unconscious Maxim's body close, calming his twisted innards as he drew up his mana.
How many steps had he taken?
Someone blocked his path.
“....”
Magiro Wilson.
The man who had always smiled kindly and gotten along so well with him now bared sharp demonic energy with an expressionless face.
Gilliot, watching him with subdued eyes, shifted his gaze to one side.
A burly man collapsed on the ground, severed into upper and lower halves.
Though his body was gruesomely mangled, his face remained exactly as it was in his memories.
‘...Uncle Radan.’
He was the person who had told him that it was okay to fall as much as he wanted.
He had lived forgetting those words, and in the end, had even lost his way back.
The one who had reawakened that very self was also that man.
Gilliot closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them.
“Watch closely.”
He had wanted to show him while he was alive.
He had imagined hundreds of times the scene where he proudly succeeded in the magic Radan had taught him and received his praise.
“Uncle Magiro, I’m sorry in advance to you too. It’s going to hurt a little.”
“....”
Magiro’s corpse, having no way to understand those words, spewed forth demonic energy.
Promptly, dozens of spells rose into the sky and surged toward Gilliot.
Looking upon those spells, Gilliot slowly steadied his breath.
“Wind Wheel.”
Swwwoooosh!
Dozens of spell volleys plunged into the spot where he had been standing.
However, what they pierced was merely an afterimage.
Having already sprinted forward, Gilliot’s figure accelerated again and again.
Inside his head, Radan’s teachings surfaced ceaselessly.
—To put it simply, Wind Wheel is a magic that utilizes insanely spinning wind.
The key was to completely convert the force generated from that rotation into propulsion.
The faster the wind’s rotation, and the more whirlwinds one passed through, the faster the caster’s speed became.
However, controlling it was an entirely different story.
‘Even Uncle Radan, in his prime, passed through five whirlwinds at most.’
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]
With just that, he had displayed combat prowess on equal footing with the Four Great Counts of the Demon Realm.
Ssshhhk!
The surrounding scenery stretched out long like taffy.
People, the ground, and even magic lost their original shapes.
Only colors smeared long like lines poured down like stars on either side of his vision.
‘Faster, even faster.’
Gilliot set his foot toward the wildly spinning whirlwinds.
He unhesitatingly threw his body into winds that would seemingly tear the limbs off any ordinary person the instant they stepped inside.
‘Wind Wheel—it’s a dangerous spell, but....’
The moment he accurately read the grain of the wind.
And fully converted that rotation into propulsion.
Fwwwhhhaaak!
The world he faced transformed.
‘First, one.’
The difference in speed before and after entering the whirlwind was nearly double.
Without a moment to catch his breath, Gilliot broke through two, three, four... all the way to the fifth whirlwind.
And then, an absolute stillness settled in.
The clamorous sounds of the battlefield fell far behind, and the world grew quiet like a lie.
Amid the illusion of existing entirely alone in this world.
Gilliot murmured softly.
“Sixfold Chain.”
Simultaneously with breaking out of the sixth whirlwind at the end of those words.
The corpses of the White Tower mages he passed by, including Magiro, burst apart like fireworks.
At the same time, he sensed Oscar supporting Maxim from behind as they entered the sub-space.
—...You punk! You cannot flee!
Just as Silgrim, who had likewise realized this, narrowed his four eyes and prepared his chains once more.
Gilliot had already arrived right under the opponent's nose.
“And you.”
A lightly raised hand came to a halt right before Silgrim’s nose.
“Are going to hurt very, very much.”
Far more than you hurt his Master and his uncles.
Kwaaaa-aaaang!
The lightly thrust fist made contact, and a beat late, a roar detonated like an explosion.
And in that realm.
Silgrim’s head was blown apart without leaving a trace of its shape.
“Did he die?”
As if responding to Gilliot’s muttered question.
The demonic energy squirmed, and Silgrim’s head regenerated rapidly.
“Ack, this guy really comes back to life.”
—...Indeed.
Silgrim, who had consumed the soul of a random corpse as the price for reviving, knitted his brows.
—Overwhelming speed, is it?
Both during the days when he was a human and even now as a demon.
For Silgrim, who stubbornly adhered strictly to the path of an orthodox mage, this was a troublesome opponent.
However, he swiftly produced a solution befitting a Level 8 high mage.
‘Since chasing him with my eyes is impossible....’
The moment he approaches, make his own speed turn into poison.
Creeeak, crunch!
Demonic energy engulfed Silgrim, and an armor of bone was formed.
Lined with sharp thorns all over the body, the armor was shaped so that whoever struck it would have their own body impaled.
—Rat-like bastard... Have they already fled inside?
The gate to the sub-space was still open.
That meant Oscar and Maxim had not yet reached the other side.
Realizing this, Silgrim snapped his fingers.
—Out of my way. I don't have time to play with the likes of you.
Silgrim’s mana, which had thus far restricted its output so as not to kill Oscar, erupted like a volcano.
Demonic energy rising from his entire body dyed the sky like a fiend.
—Sunspot Detonation.
Zzzzzzzing!
The blackened earth exploded without the slightest warning.
The locations and ranges were entirely irregular.
—Burn to death without leaving behind even a fragment of bone!
Kwaaaaang! Kwaaaang!
Heaven and earth shook at the magic poured out in earnest by a mage who had reached Level 8 as a demon.
It was an explosion of tremendous scale, enough to permanently alter the terrain of the plains.
“Well, look at that.”
Gilliot clicked his tongue at the indiscriminate bombardment and once again prepared to run.
“Wind Wheel, Sixfold Chain.”
His figure vanished once more, but Silgrim did not even put up his guard.
‘The bastard cannot attack me.’
Conversely, the opponent had no choice but to evade the wide-area magic sweeping through the entire vicinity.
In other words, the best move the opponent could make was merely running away.
‘Once that bastard returns to the citadel....’
From that moment on, he would instead be a rat in a trap.
For he intended to begin the siege in earnest as well.
Kwaaaa-aaaang!
“Pant, haah.”
In truth, Gilliot was pondering as he looked around at the surrounding landscape.
‘Should I bolt?’
The randomly exploding black earth was in a state fully puffed up like dough placed inside an oven.
Treading upon this ground to run properly was practically impossible.
On top of that, despite being a mage, he had even wrapped his entire body in spiked bone armor.
‘But not yet....’
The gate to the sub-space had not closed.
It was likely taking more time because Oscar had to support Maxim with a broken body.
Confirming this, Gilliot’s two eyes flared brightly with mana.
“Good thing, then.”
He had something he wanted to test out anyway.
Flashing a grin that stretched the corners of his mouth wide, Gilliot ran across the sky.
Pak!
Treading upon magic-compressed wind like stepping stones, he surged toward Silgrim.
Glancing below his feet, the black earth was erupting like a volcano.
‘At first, I didn't understand.’
The moment he reached Level 7 and the elated emotions of that time came back vividly.
However, because his mind was already being encroached upon by the 『Gale of Ruin』 back then, he did not remember the process.
That was why he was curious.
‘Can I use World Liberation?’
The exclusive domain of high mages that he had yearned for since he was young.
The trace unique to Masters, who left footprints upon the pure white snowfield called the world.
Starting from his tightly clenched fist, the mana throbbing throughout his entire body was telling him.
That he already knew the answer.
“Phew.”
Exhaling a heavy breath, Gilliot watched the explosion spreading like doom beneath his feet and parted his lips.
“World Liberation.”

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