Ackster held his breath as he got close enough to the edge of the pit to peer at its center.
There was no doubt about it. The woman looked slightly haggard and weary. It was less than expected of someone who had literally fallen from the sky, even with the holy dome protecting her.
She had grey hair as if stripped of its color. And her clothes were as simple as they could be—a plain white, unadorned ankle-length tunic that covered her shoulders and upper arms. It did nothing to improve her appearance.
But it didn't need to.
Even after losing her angelic powers, Karandiel's natural and innate beauty was enough to turn the weariness into a charming fragility. Her pale skin, as sickly as it was, was free of blemishes but still stood out from the tunic.
Her sleeping face was locked in a slight frown of discomfort and worry, which made her pursed lips look smaller than they were.
Even in her current state, suffering from the aftereffects of losing her angelic powers and riding the express to the mortal world, and with a frown on her face, Karandiel was striking enough to freeze Ackster on the spot.
As one of the most beautiful characters in the original story, Ackster knew she would be almost unbelievable to look at. But he hadn't expected it to be enough to root him to the spot, unable to do anything but stare.
Fortunately, he had Iron Will and Clear Mind, so when Nash caught up, his arm raised high and ready to swing his sword through Ackster's neck, he didn't just stand there.
Nash came from behind, and Ackster's wide, muscular back had blocked his view of whatever treasure was inside. But he had seen Ackster stiffen and stop moving to stare at the treasure in a daze. He couldn't even begin to guess what it was, but it had to be good if it was enough to elicit such a reaction out of Ackster, despite the current situation.
But before he could take a look at what it was for himself, Nash had to deal with Ackster using the opening he had exposed. So, as soon as he got in range, his sword headed for Ackster's neck.
Ackster snapped out of his daze before Nash's sword could lop his head off and ducked.
Nash was a little startled that Ackster was ready and managed to dodge, but it would take more than that for his body not to continue moving. Swinging his sword was second nature to Nash.
So, when Ackster ducked, his sword followed him down.
However, Nash's sword lost its speed and momentum when he had to change its directory, and it was unable to keep up with Ackster's seamless roll to the side. Ackster continued, in one smooth movement, to turn around and stand up, just in time for Nash's upward diagonal slash.
Ackster bowed at his hips, bent at his knees, and stepped under the sword while also stepping closer to Nash. Without hesitation and while making full use of the opening Nash had left in the wake of his overextended swing, Ackster launched a heavy fist into the center of the swordsman's gut, knocking the air out of him.
Nash didn't have the same fortitude and strength of mind necessary to remain almost unaffected by losing his breath like that the same way Hansel did, and he fell to the ground, gasping for air.
Ackster stepped on his hand, probably breaking a couple of the bones in it. He didn't do it to torment Nash. But he didn't have time to stand around and wrest the sword out of his hand. And doing it this way also prevented Nash from using his or any weapon again, at least not before healing with magic or potions.
Ackster grabbed the sword and held it. He felt the handle sting uncomfortably, almost painfully. But it was nothing compared to the pain he had experienced recently, and it was nothing more than a nuisance he needed to endure if he wanted to use a proper weapon instead of his bare fists.
He was used to punching, and if the strike he lauded against Hansel and his spear was any indication, he was getting pretty good at it. But if he would fight against multiple adventurers and the remaining Crimson Edge member, Limm, he would need something a little more useful.
Even if he didn't know how to use a sword, it was still sharp, and it had greater range than his fists and arms alone. As long as he swung it like a madman, he could still kill people.
Ackster felt Limm's glare and met it, undaunted, before glancing around the grove and at all the greedy but wary adventurers. They were like starved dogs in front of a wolf. Afraid and aware of the difference in strength but still hungry.
Ackster put the tip of his newly acquired sword against the nape of Nash's neck to dissuade Limm from approaching. He looked at all the adventurers.
"I have no intentions of killing anyone."
Ackster's heart was still beating hard from his fight with Hansel and seeing Karandiel, but he forced his voice to remain composed and authoritative. He channeled the innate arrogance and unabashed self-confidence of the original Ackster Phileam to make it more convincing.
"I will if I have to. But I would prefer not to. I have already beaten that spear guy. If you think you're stronger than him, I guess you have a shot. Otherwise, for your sakes, I recommend retreating without trying to look at my treasure."
Ackster's words hung in the grove as everyone considered their options. Treasures straight from the realm of the gods were bound to be amazing, regardless of what they were. At worst, they would come out with a mortal fortune that could last them lifetimes. And at best, they could experience a near world-shattering transformation and reach the peak. Of course, only if they could safely get their hands on the treasure.