Chapter 70: Charlotte and the Counterattack
My vision sharpens.
Just a moment ago, everything was pitch black, but now I feel like I can see all the way into the distance.
I slowly close my eyes once… then snap them open.
Across from me, Salem flinches, maybe thinking I glared at her.
Not now. I don’t have time for you. Get out of the way.
"Charlotte…?"
A voice comes from behind.
When I turn, I see Trishel, her face clouded with worry.
What’s with that look? You act like you’ve seen a ghost.
Looking closer, she’s in terrible shape herself. I’ll have to heal her later. But first… this idiot.
I have to save him. What was he thinking, cutting his own throat like that?
Stepping over the blood scattered across the floor, I kneel beside Riven’s collapsed form.
I touch his cheek. His body twitches faintly. He’s unconscious, but alive.
Good. That means I can heal him. I will heal him.
"I’ll save you now."
I lift Riven’s head onto my lap and cradle him gently.
It feels strange. Before, I could barely fumble with this power, but now it’s clear.
I can sense every part of his body—the structure, the damage.
I know exactly what I need to do.
Light gathers around him, drifting into his body like fireflies dancing over water.
What is this light? The thought crosses my mind, but I dismiss it immediately.
As long as it saves him, nothing else matters.
"No way."
"Princess… no, this can’t be happening…"
I ignore Salem’s desperate cries and focus.
Not enough blood? Then I’ll create more.
The wounds too deep? I’ll heal them.
His body too cold? Once life returns, warmth will follow.
I only need to picture him—whole, unbroken, at his best. I know I can bring him back.
Why? How? It doesn’t matter. My intuition tells me I can, and that’s enough.
It’s as if someone stands right beside me, guiding me through this power.
『Yes… he’s important to you, isn’t he? Then hold firm.』
A voice. Gentle. Overflowing with warmth. But fragile, as if it could break into tears at any moment.
『Focus. Use this power for the ones you love.』
I nod.
An illusionary hand settles over mine.
The world around me falls silent. Has time stopped?
No—it doesn’t matter. Right now, it’s just me and him, in our own world.
『This power isn’t only healing. It’s the power to remake life itself.』
"The power… to remake life…"
『Yes. So picture it clearly—your precious one, healthy and whole.』
Because that’s what matters most.
The voice reassures me that my instincts were right. No more hesitation.
Straightforward. Direct. I imagine his restored form.
The light swirling around us grows brighter, like a lone spotlight blazing in the dark dungeon.
"…Ugh."
"Riven!"
He stirs.
Good—he’s coming back.
The wound on his neck has already sealed.
His body feels warm again.
And then… his eyes open.
"…Charlotte?"
"Riven! You can see me?!"
"What…?"
Our eyes meet. From his perspective, I must look upside down, giving him a lap pillow.
His eyes widen—as if he’s seeing something unbelievable.
"—Beautiful."
"Huh?"
He spoke so softly, barely moving his lips. I almost didn’t hear it.
Ah… his face is turning red. His blood must be flowing again. Good.
"…Let me go!"
"Ah!"
He bolts upright, as if scrambling away.
Like a child suddenly realizing they’ve overslept. Even now, I can’t help but laugh.
I’m just glad. He’s alive. He’s moving with energy again.
Riven tests his body, flexing his arms, clenching and unclenching his hands.
I watch him.
He should be completely healed. No injuries, no weaknesses. He’s back in peak condition.
"No… no way."
A trembling voice rejects reality.
Salem.
"No, no, no! Why, Princess, why! Why lend her your strength, why not look at me, why, why!"
She clutches her head, screaming in madness, all sanity gone.
…This one, I can’t understand. At all.
She’s bound to something. Clinging to something. Shackled by something I don’t know.
Maybe I could pity her. But I won’t.
What she’s done is unforgivable. She doesn’t deserve sympathy.
"Charlotte, are you okay?"
"Trishel… yes, I’m fine."
Huh? I thought she was just checking on me, but the moment I answered, her face lit up in pure relief.
What exactly was she so worried about?
"Ah."
"What’s wrong?"
"The blood-loss curse…"
I just noticed—the curse I carved into my left arm has already fizzled out. The crimson glow has dulled to a muddy brown.
What the hell? I never activated it. Was it defective from the start?
Even though I carved it with magic items I’d traded for.
Damn it. And since it came from the black market, I can’t exactly complain.
"…Probably, it couldn’t keep up anymore."
"Couldn’t keep up?"
"With your rank, Charlotte. The curse couldn’t endure it."
I don’t really understand.
But in a way, it’s a relief. I’d been worried about it backfiring.
Still… without it, there’s nothing holding Salem back.
And Salem herself—
"I won’t accept it! I won’t, I won’t, I won’t! I refuse!"
Her face twists, spear raised high.
Her target—Trishel.
"Trishe—!"
"Whether you accept it or not, this is reality."
The violent clash of metal rings out. Salem’s crimson spear is knocked aside in a sweeping arc.
Between us and her stands Riven, blade extended.
"Riven!"
"Going after the weakened one first… that’s pretty low, don’t you think?"
"Black one…!"
"I’m the one you hate, aren’t I? Then start with me. That’s the proper way. —Or are you just scared? Of the Black Clan?"
Riven stands firm, steady as ever, his voice unwavering.
That mocking tone—it’s the Riven I know. He’s truly back.
Salem grinds her teeth, loud enough for me to hear, her face twisting into something monstrous.
Something no child should ever see. If little Alice were here, she’d probably faint.
"Why do you think I lured you here?"
"Hm, why indeed?"
"I’ll tell you—Sweepers!"
At her shout, several figures emerge from the edges of the great hall.
Mantises. The shape of their forearms leaves no doubt—they’re Sweepers.
Right… Sweepers can invade boss floors.
But don’t tell me—the boss chamber itself is their nest?
I don’t think Riven would lose to one now, but against this many…
"It’s fine, Charlotte."
"Trishel?"
"They’re your servants. Command them—tell them to stop."
While I panicked, Trishel stayed calm. Too calm.
I wanted to ask why, but dealing with them came first.
If my order will work, then… I have to try.
"Stop!"
My voice carries farther than ever before, echoing through the dungeon, filled with will.
At once, the encircling Sweepers freeze in place.
"Salem! This is too far. Did you forget that even the dungeon obeys her?"
"Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up! You only say that because you don’t understand!"
"Then tell me—what do you know that makes you cling so desperately?!"
"Everything I’ve done is for the Princess! For her sake, I’ve borne this form for so long!"
It’s no use. Even with Trishel’s words, Salem isn’t capable of conversation anymore.
I can’t even tell what she means. She’s beyond reason, too far gone.
"So that’s all the preparation you had?"
As if done with her madness, Riven raises his blade.
"Pick up your spear, Salem. I’ll give you a proper end."
"You really think you can defeat me? You, just a mere swordsman?"
"Oh? So you think you can win with that? With a spear that carries no conviction?"
Instead of cutting her down outright, Riven urges her to fight.
He intends to defeat her openly, leaving no room for excuses.
…Can he really win?
No—he will. He has to.
"I’ll make you regret it—that you ever dared pity me, you black beast!"
"There’ll be no regrets. I’ll defeat you cleanly, leave you with no excuses. Otherwise…"
He hesitates, glancing my way.
What was that about?
"…I’d have no way to face her."
Salem snatches up her crimson spear, taking her stance.
Riven mirrors her, blade steady.
The darkness filling the great hall has lifted.
Under countless unseen gazes, their battle begins.
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