As the dust settled, Zack floated down to where he sensed a faint life signal. Hovering in front of an earth mound, Zack casually waved his hand, summoning lightning to gather around the mound, shaping it into a massive hand that scooped up the earth.
The grand paladin lay there, his body battered and broken, only able to communicate through his expression. It was clear he couldn't move, given the state of his mangled limbs. With a cold expression, Zack faced the grand paladin. "Looks like you're out of luck," he said.
The grand paladin remained silent, his gaze fixed on the sky, lost in a whirlwind of thoughts. Zack had dispersed the dust earlier, revealing the beautiful afternoon sky, almost like a painting crafted by a divine hand. A myriad of complex emotions danced in the grand paladin's eyes.
Zack pressed on, his frustration evident in his voice, his anger leaking out. "Got anything to say for yourself?" he asked through gritted teeth.
Still, the grand paladin said nothing.
Summoning a spear of crackling lightning, [Gungnir], Zack displayed his determination. Despite his injuries, his missing hand, and his body riddled with fractures, Zack's mana reserves seemed endless. Even after pouring a ton of mana into overpowering the grand paladin, Zack had plenty left for another [God Series] spell.
Pointing the lightning-charged spear at the grand paladin's heart, Zack demanded answers. "Spill it!" he shouted.
Throughout the battle, Zack sensed something off. Every time the grand paladin struck, there was a hesitation, like he couldn't decide whether to finish Zack off or not. It wasn't always like that; in their first encounters, the grand paladin had shown intent to kill, like when he trapped Zack with that weird force. But even then, at the last moment, he held back, letting Zack escape with just his arm lost.
As the fight dragged on, Zack couldn't shake off the grand paladin's strange behavior. Each attack started deadly but then fizzled out, like he couldn't commit to finishing Zack. It got under Zack's skin. Well, even if the grand paladin had come at him full force, Zack knew he'd still come out on top. So, he egged the guy on, daring him to unleash his ultimate move, his sigil manifestation. Zack figured, the bigger the attack, the harder it'd be to hold back. But, nope, the grand paladin pulled the same stunt again. Zack was like, "Is this guy seriously planning to off himself by chickening out at crucial moments?"
Already feeling kinda bad about offing the saintess, especially since it seemed she was super important to the grand paladin, Zack had initially brushed it off, thinking anyone close to a cold-blooded killer like her couldn't be all that great. But then he dug into the grand paladin's backstory and found out the dude was practically a saint.
I mean, this guy didn't kill unless he absolutely had to, even spared wizards when he was with the Fulminar Empire. And the folks under his rule were happy campers. Yet here Zack was, gearing up to take him out, all to prevent future headaches for Fannie. Tough call, especially with all that guilt weighing on him.
Zack tried to convince himself that all the grand paladin's kindness was just an act, making it easier to justify taking him out. Also, in a fight like this, it's either kill or be killed, right? But dang it, the grand paladin was holding back! Zack was practically screaming in his head, "What's with this guy?!"
His head was all like, "Kill him for you and Fannie's sake," but his heart was like, "Hold up, maybe he won't actually attack us." Still, Zack's brain was like, "But fate could throw us a curveball any second!"
All this internal struggle and the grand paladin's restraint were really getting on Zack's nerves. He tried to calm down, aiming his spear at the grand paladin's heart again, telling himself it was all for Fannie. But then he caught a glimpse of those eyes—just like the saintess had at the end, full of relief and gratitude.
Zack exploded, "Spill it! Why are you all so accepting of death? And why be grateful to the one who's about to off you? Don't give me that look, it's not like I'm the villain here!"
But when the grand paladin just closed his eyes instead of answering, Zack sighed, dispersing his spear. "Fine, have it your way. If you're set on biting the dust, do it on your own terms. Don't drag others down with you."
As Zack turned away, the grand paladin's eyes snapped open. He could tell Zack wasn't gonna off him, and it set him off. "Just do it! End me!" he pleaded desperately.
But Zack just kept walking, ignoring the cries. "End it," the grand paladin yelled after him. "Please, just do it! I deserve it."
His voice cracked, tears starting to flow. "Please... I deserve to die," he choked out, his words ending in sobs.
*** The Grand Paladin POV***
He entered the fray with a singular purpose: to vanquish the enigmatic wizard responsible for the death of Clarice, the revered saintess. Yet, with each poised strike, he found himself grappling with a torrent of emotions, haunted by the profound sensation that had washed over him on the day of Clarice's passing—a sense of gratitude toward her assailant.
In a moment of clarity, he understood the saintess's unlikely debt of gratitude to her killer. It lay in the liberation from the shackles of her own body—a vessel manipulated by the holy church to perpetrate unspeakable atrocities. He recognized that Clarice's true essence recoiled from the notion of causing harm, even as her manipulated form carried out heinous deeds at the church's behest. This realization had dawned upon him early on, when he first discerned the insidious grip of brainwashing upon the saintess.
He should have intervened, even if it meant confronting her with lethal force, followed by his own demise. But he faltered. Gazing upon the countenance of the saintess, memories of their shared past flooded his mind—their days of innocence in the orphanage. Selfishly, he clung to the hope of preserving her life, even at the cost of countless innocents who fell victim to her unwitting actions. He understood that by allowing the saintess to persist under the church's control, he condemned her to a cycle of bloodshed dictated by the Holy Empire. Despite the knowledge that Clarice's unaltered consciousness would be wracked with unbearable guilt, he could not bring himself to act decisively.
Thus, he chose to spare her, knowing full well the anguish that awaited both her and himself.
Often labeled as a "saint" by others, he harbored no illusions about his true nature. He recognized himself as merely another flawed human, driven by selfish desires to preserve Clarice's life at the expense of innocence. Each life he spared, each instance of his restraint from violence, served as attempts at redemption—feeble efforts to atone for his and the saintess' transgressions in the eyes of God, if only in part.
Upon Clarice's demise, leaving behind a perplexing sense of gratitude towards her assailant, a tide of anger surged within him. He seethed with frustration at his own failure to alleviate her suffering, to spare her from the torment inflicted by her own mind. Even as he ignored her anguish, she continued to extend kindness toward him, a gesture that stoked the flames of self-directed fury.
In his rage, he directed ire towards the enigmatic wizard who had accomplished what he could not. Yet beneath the veneer of resentment lay a deeper truth: his anger was a reflection of his own shortcomings, his own inability to give solace to the saintess. His true motive, he realized, was not solely driven by a thirst for retribution but rather a desire for release, for the absolution that death might bring.
Now faced with the wizard's reluctance to end his life, he resolved to fulfill his original purpose—by his own hand.
Straining against the agony coursing through his battered form, he compelled his limbs to action, every movement a testament to the relentless onslaught he had endured. Pain gnawed at every fiber of his being, a symphony of agony echoing through his shattered body, each breath a struggle.
With sheer determination, he dragged himself towards his greatsword, his fingers trembling as they closed around its hilt. Gripping the blade with both hands, he steadied its point toward his chest, steeling himself for the final act.
"Clarice, I'm coming for you," he whispered, his resolve unwavering. But before he could drive the sword into his heart, a sudden bolt of lightning rent the air, tearing the weapon from his grasp and casting it aside.
*** Zack POV ***
"Phew, thank goodness I hustled back with that potion. Imagine if I'd let the grand paladin croak after sparing him. That'd be a real downer," Zack muttered, shaking his head. "But man, I didn't expect him to be dead set on offing himself. I figured he was just trying to get me to do the dirty work 'cause he couldn't bring himself to."
After swatting away the grand paladin's sword, Zack tossed him a vial of top-notch healing potion—the good stuff from the wizard world. He had to send his clone to fetch it from his stash 'cause he'd left his storage ring behind.
The grand paladin caught the potion, looking utterly baffled.
Seeing the confusion on the grand paladin's face, Zack shook his head. "Listen, I don't get why you're so set on ending it all. But from what I've seen, most folks who wanna do that are just trying to run from their problems. 'Cause, let's face it, death's the easy way out for 'em. I'm not judging, though. 'Cause for some, death might seem like the only option." Zack scanned the area for a rock to perch on, then settled in, crossing his legs. "So, if you're up for it, mind sharing your story? Maybe there's something I can do to help."
Reginald, the grand paladin, paused, contemplating his words before speaking. "There is a tale of a person who once had a childhood friend, only to be parted from them in their youth. After many years, fate reunited them, but to the person's dismay, they discovered that their friend had been manipulated into committing heinous acts, taking innocent lives under the control of others. Despite knowing that the only way to halt this cycle of violence was to end their friend's life, they couldn't bring themselves to do it. They harbored a selfish hope that their friend could be saved, even as more lives were lost and their friend's conscience suffered.
"This continued until someone else intervened, ending the friend's life. Left adrift without purpose, consumed by guilt and remorse, the person considered ending their own life as a means of atonement for both their sins and those of their friend. Do you believe such a course of action to be just?" Reginald asked Zack.
Zack was stunned, needing a moment to gather his thoughts. "Life's not just black and white," he began, "which means there's no absolute right or wrong. It's understandable that this guy couldn't bring himself to end his childhood friend, especially someone so close. But letting innocent lives be lost because of it isn't right either. And as for killing himself to make up for those sins? I don't think that's the answer. If he truly believes in a higher power, in heaven and hell, wouldn't it be better for him to keep on living? To save as many lives as he can and dedicate those acts to the ones he's wronged? That way, he's doing something to make amends, rather than just calling it quits."
The grand paladin was taken aback by Zack's insight, a revelation dawning upon him. "How did I overlook such a solution?" he mused inwardly, his initial shock yielding to a newfound resolve. "Very well," he declared, his voice steady with determination. "I shall heed your counsel. Even if my actions bar me from the gates of heaven, I will ensure that those I have wronged find solace in their own journey to the afterlife." With unwavering resolve, he uncorked the bottle and downed its contents in a single gulp.
Meanwhile, Zack's eyes narrowed to needles. Instinctively, he activated his [Triple Enhancement]. Time seemed to freeze as he watched a beam of light shoot toward the grand paladin's heart from behind.