"Such a childish display of strength, Hellix," Nickelson remarked, his voice dripping with disdain. "You threw Cerille's sword the moment you saw me. Was that some feeble attempt to undermine my credibility or respect?"
"I'll admit, I'm childish in more ways than not," Van responded flatly, the sword strapped to his back. "But trust me, Nickelson, if I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn't have been so indirect. That guard was particularly obnoxious, and seeing your face from afar was the final straw."
Nickelson went silent, his gaze fixed ahead as they walked side by side through the capital's gates.
"Threats won't get you far," Nickelson finally said after a pause. "Especially not here."
Van let out a soft, mocking chuckle, recalling the Royal Guards' silence when he displayed his strength.
"Are you suggesting I find someone to torture for no reason? Seems to have worked wonders for you," Van spat cynically, his eyes scrutinizing Nickelson's pristine armor, a symbol of the respect and status he commanded.
"Whatever my reasons for what I did back then, Hellix, I had connections," Nickelson replied, his tone cold and detached. "I made more, and then I made a name for myself through battles and spectacle. As much as you think you've suffered, you're not—and never were—nearly as important as you believe, especially in relation to my status now. Whatever moments we shared might amount to a mere fraction of my time."
"Oh, I'm well aware," Van shot back. "But don't mistake this: we didn't share anything. The only thing you and the other guards shared was the fear that Magus would fuck your wives. And he would have, considering he was balls deep in your queen. So, you took those frustrations out on me and went on with the other 99% of your oh-so-busy schedule."
Nickelson clicked his tongue in irritation, looking away as they continued walking. A heavy silence stretched between them as they marched under the shadow of the capital's mighty walls, the end of their path drawing near.
Van's mind flashed to the memory of Nickelson shielding Cerille with his body as he let out a deep sigh.
"Either way, take it," Van said, his voice steady as he unstrapped the sword from his back and handed it to Nickelson. "Your daughter's sword."
Nickelson looked at Van, narrowing his eyes as he accepted the sword, Van's own gaze was fixed ahead.
Without a word, he reached out, expecting resistance. But Van relented, releasing the sword into Nickelson's grip without hesitation.
Dozens of words and arguments lodged in Nickelson's throat, along with questions that demanded answers. After a brief pause, he finally spoke.
"...Why don't you hurt me for what I've done?" he asked, Van's head flicking upward slightly. "Even back then. You had every chance to finish me, and you didn't take it."
"Considering your monstrous strength, you could do it right now—wipe me from existence, and no one would ever know. Is your respect for... That Varlog's teachings so great that it overshadows everything I've done to you?" Nickelson continued, his tone biting. "Or are you just a coward, like the Meaty you were back then?"
"I do want to hurt you," Van admitted, his voice even. "And you're right. As much respect as I have for Varlog, even he wouldn't say a word if something happened to you. He's the one who taught me that honesty sometimes means lying to everyone else. He's a part of that group."
"Then why don't you finish it!?" Nickelson snarled, his teeth clenched in frustration.
"Because then I'd be hurting two people, not just you," Van replied, his voice softening.
"..!!"
"Cerille has nothing to do with what's between us. She's a good person, unlike us," Van said, recalling how she had cared for Anne when she was about to be harmed by that water spell back at the pool.
In that moment, memories of his parents in his original world surfaced—the unconditional love they had given him. And then, how Nickelson had reminded him of that love when he shielded Cerille.
"She doesn't deserve to lose her parent," Van added, his voice almost gentle, his head bowing slightly as they stepped into the light of the Royal Capital under the noon sun.
"SIR NICKELSON!" The guards at the exit of the wall stood at attention as they noticed him.
Nickelson waved his hand, signaling the guards to stand down. "At ease," he instructed as he and Van walked past them.
"Who is that...?" one guard asked his companion, eyeing Van with suspicion.
"He looks suspicious..."
"But he's with Sir Nickelson! He must be someone important! Show some respect!" The guards whispered among themselves as the two figures moved further away.
"Is this all? I have someplace to be," Van said as he continued walking.
"HELLIX!" Nickelson called out, making Van stop and turn. Nickelson was securing Cerille's sword in his holster.
"What?"
"I hate being indebted. Especially to someone like you," Nickelson said, stepping closer. "You saved my daughter. I repaid that debt by keeping your involvement with the Demon Lord a secret. The other debt is for saving the city from that bone dragon and securing allies for the dragon threat—something I should have done myself," he said, his voice growing more intense as he approached Van.
"Name your price. Do it now," Nickelson demanded, standing face-to-face with Van.
'Price, huh...? I know just what.'
"Then, money," Van replied. "The coins you got from the quest you seized from Marcy. I want it all, considering I took care of it. Should be enough to buy a high-profile castle here and live in it for a year—something Marcy herself confirmed."
"...Correct," Nickelson agreed, though reluctance was clear in his voice.
"And I want you to get me a house near the Royal Academy. Something clean, sturdy, and with a quick path to it and the markets. It shouldn't stand out, but it can't be rundown either. Use the money from the quest to make it happen. If I were to buy a house myself, I'd probably get conned. I want it TODAY," Van demanded firmly.
"...Anything else?" Nickelson asked, his eye twitching in barely concealed frustration.
"Noble status," Van demanded. "I heard it from Sir Brennan. A Greatknight like you could make it happen. I want to go places without your pesky guards questioning me every time I take a piss."
"That would be—!" Nickelson erupted, but Van cut him off.
"—POSSIBLE," Van emphasized. "Now that you're known for making demons submit, no one would dare question it. Am I wrong?"
"And with the respect you treated me at the entrance, it would be odd not to grant me such a title. Wouldn't you agree?" Van pressed.
"Tsk," Nickelson clicked his tongue in frustration. "Fine. Consider it done."
"Great. One last thing."
"What now...!?" Nickelson's voice wavered as he clenched his fist.
"Keep that daughter of yours safe. No matter what," Van said, removing his helmet.
Nickelson's tension eased slightly, his brow furrowing as he scrutinized Van's calm expression.
"... Have you taken a liking to my daughter, Hellix?" Nickelson nearly growled.
"Yeah. Like I said, unlike her father, she's a good person," Van replied.
"Hmph," Nickelson grunted. "I don't need you to tell me that, Hellix."
Van fell silent, his eyes meeting Nickelson's; noticing a fleeting hint of hesitation and regret in the Greatknight's eyes. Memories of Cerille, alone before his arrival, flashed through his mind.
"... Very well then," Van said, turning on his heel. "Find me at the guild."
Without another word, Van walked away, disappearing from the exhausted Greatknight's sight.
He headed toward the Guild's bustling building, but just before reaching it, he unexpectedly turned down a dark, abandoned alleyway nearby.
"My perception may not be sharp enough to see you, but I know you're there. Come ou—..." Van halted, looking down.
"Please, come out," he pleaded more softly.
Before long, two silhouettes emerged from the shadows behind him, a swift brush of air accompanying their movements.
They were silent, their expressions unreadable. Not a word was spoken.
Van waited, giving them the opportunity to speak, but when they didn't, he began.
"... I may not always think things through," Van started after taking a deep breath. "But I'm not a complete fool."
"I know. I know it was all too perfect. Amoria finding me in Magus's grave, Marcy arriving at the pool at just the right moment, and Lalyn entering the church to dispel my runes. It was all you, wasn't it?" He asked, keeping his gaze forward.
"..."
The faint sound of breathing reached his ears, barely audible.
"I said I wouldn't trust you again. But I was in a pretty bad place back in Salem's dungeon, and afterward. I was too overwhelmed to consider how you must have felt," he continued.
"... You were so scared for your life, and then you had to hear me speak in demonic tongue. Realistically, you have every reason to want me dead," he said, noticing the subtle tension in their lips.
"... What were you..."
"... Doing in the Demonic Realm..."
"... Van?" they softly asked in unison.
'...'
"What if I told you that's not something I can easily explain?" Van replied, stretching his body slightly.
"Then we will pursue..."
"... it no further," they said.
'Fuck it.'
"I met the—.." Van began, but a sudden tinge of fear struck him.
They would definitely hate him if they knew the truth. They were attached to Millina, filled with remorse and thirst for vengeance. They were among the few who were furious that the Demon Lord survived, even after being defeated.
Van knew this all too well.
No one is that understanding. No one could comprehend the way he feels and still look at him without judgment. Such a luxury was reserved only for someone like Magus.
He didn't need to see their faces to feel it. He could imagine their expressions twisted with anger and malice—the look of disgust and discontent. To propose to the woman responsible for so many deaths...?
"... The demonic advisor. Varlog. I was lost, and he gave me some odd jobs. As thanks, he invited me into his house, and we would eat together every now and then."
'... It's not a lie,' he thought.
But the sisters were masters of interrogation, often operating without the truth stone. They sensed that Van was holding something back. They noticed the hesitation in his voice, the ambiguity in his words.
A thought crossed their minds.
Is he really not trusting us, despite what he's saying now?
"If you don't believe me, give me a truth stone, and—" Van started, but they cut him off.
"Such a thing would be..."
"... unnecessary. We believe..."
"... you."
"No matter what, we'll..."
"... believe you," they concluded.
"Is this because you feel indebted? If so, don't. We're even. No one's hunting me down, and you kept my Demonic Tongue a secret," Van said, feeling a small pang of guilt twist in his gut as he spoke.
"Then, I'll leave," he added, turning to walk away.
"Van." One of them called softly, stepping closer. He could feel the warmth of their bodies through his armor.
"Is there..."
"... truly nothing more..."
"... that weighs on your heart?"
"Please..."
"... share it with us, and we will try to..."
"... lessen it," they murmured, their voices gentle and sincere.
Van stood silent for a moment, staring at the ground.
'You wouldn't say that if you really knew what I want to say,' he thought, the words echoing in his mind.
'You really wouldn't.'
"Nah." He took a step forward, turning around with a forced, casual smile. "There's really nothing weighing on my heart. Stop acting so weird! Come on, you're master assassins... and you're your own masters now. You don't have to pretend around me anymore!" He said lightly, tapping their shoulders simultaneously, remembering the forced hospitality and gentle words they had spoken under Salem Dyke's influence.
Passing them, he continued toward the guild's building. "I'll see you later! Stay safe," he waved as he exited the alleyway...
...not noticing their soft gasps as he lightly patted them.
"We were never..."
"... pretending..."
"... around you," they murmured to themselves, looking down, guilt coloring their eyes.
"Van is still..."
"... hurt, isn't he?"
As Van approached the guild, a realization struck him.
'Ahhh...' Van sighed internally. 'I called them out to say thank you for keeping it a secret... but I ended up rushing out of the alley too quickly. Goddamnit. What's wrong with me?' He thought in frustration, tapping his chestplate.
'I thought I was all better now...!'
He didn't notice the crack forming on his chestplate from the force of his tap as he neared the guild.
But he wouldn't need to notice it... After all, it would fix itself with the help of his passive...
Right?