Nigel screamed in shock. It was like watching a corpse open its eyes. But the moment Schumacher burst into violent coughing, it became clear—he was alive, barely.
“He can swim, so he wouldn’t die that easily. Besides, after obtaining a fragment of the relic, he’s not exactly human anymore. Still, lasting nearly an hour was unexpected…”
While Nigel clutched at his chest, trying to calm his racing heart, Inas coolly added the explanation in a tone thick with disappointment. ‘Should’ve come a little later.’ He didn’t say it out loud, but the regret in his voice was obvious.
If Nigel had been even a little later, Schumacher would have drowned for sure. He looked exhausted, like he’d struggled to stay afloat before his strength gave out. No one could survive swallowing that much seawater.
The trembling that seized Nigel wasn’t from the sea breeze alone. He’d thought he’d grown used to Inas’s inhuman nature, but this was different. A primal, cold fear rippled through him, chilling him to the bone.
Since childhood, Nigel had never been afraid of his own death. Though he was now healthy enough to live normally, he’d spent his early years barely surviving every minor illness. Death had always been close—almost familiar. Perhaps that’s why he could accept Inas killing him so easily.
But watching someone else nearly die was something else entirely. Nigel had always been hypersensitive—not about his own mortality, but about the deaths of others and the sight of blood. For the first time, the reality of Inas as a killer hit him fully. He had to suppress the sudden urge to pull away from the arms still wrapped around him.
In the second timeline Nigel remembered, Inas had slaughtered countless innocents without hesitation. Yet Nigel had never wanted to believe he was some irredeemable villain.
After all, everything kept resetting. Nigel himself was plotting to kill Inas to break this insane cycle, and he’d already decided to overlook the sacrifices that would entail. He had no right to judge. Taking a steadying breath, Nigel forced his thoughts into order.
For now, it wasn’t about Inas’s guilt or innocence—it was about Schumacher, coughing violently before him. The man’s glare was full of murderous fury. If looks could kill, Nigel would’ve been dead several times over by now.
After a brief hesitation, Nigel motioned to Inas and whispered in his ear.
“You don’t have a memory-altering spell or something?”
Maybe it would be better to just erase everything and start fresh. But, surprisingly, Inas shook his head.
“Unfortunately, no. If I could do that, I’d have used it on you in one of the previous loops.”
So much for whispering in secret—he said it out loud, completely unfazed. Nigel regretted asking. Hearing Inas calmly admit he would’ve tampered with his memory made him seem even more deranged. Nigel rubbed his arm to chase away the goosebumps.
Meanwhile, Schumacher seemed to be shouting something. Maybe Inas had cast a spell, because Nigel couldn’t hear a thing.
“What’s he saying? Drop the spell for a second.”
“Your ears would rot.”
I can guess why, Nigel thought grimly. But a few words weren’t going to make his ears decay. He’d been present at interrogations and even witnessed the illegal operations his ducal house carried out with royal approval. He wasn’t going to faint over harsh language.
Still, Inas had always been overprotective—and Nigel didn’t particularly mind the affection behind it. So he relented.
“Fine… So what’s he saying?”
“He’s angry. Accusing you of deceiving him.”
“Can he hear us?”
Inas looked forward for a moment, and the space around them shimmered faintly before he turned back.
“Now he can hear you.”
Nigel had noticed it before—Inas didn’t need incantations or gestures to cast spells. It looked effortless. His Level, MP, and spell repertoire must be absurdly high.
“Incredible…”
Nigel murmured in awe, then looked back at Schumacher. He had no idea what to say. Any attempt to lie would be pointless; Inas had already overheard everything. Thankfully, Nigel had never mentioned why he was collecting the relics, so as long as Inas kept quiet, there was still a chance of patching things up.
“Uh, Sir Schumacher?”
“…”
“It’s not like I tricked you out of malice. That was all Inas acting on his own. I really did mean it when I said I wanted to help. I’m sorry.”
Schumacher said something—though said might’ve been too generous a word. It was more of an enraged roar. Nigel winced at the sight of the man’s veins bulging in his neck.
“Inas, make him audible too.”
When Nigel pressed, Inas gave a reluctant sigh, nodded, and turned his gaze toward Schumacher. The man opened his mouth to speak, but still, no sound came through. It was as if Inas were filtering their conversation privately. The two stared at each other in silence.
Schumacher’s face twisted in pain, then smoothed out—again and again, like he was fighting some invisible force. It clearly wasn’t going as he wanted. Nigel jabbed Inas in the side.
“Inas…”
“Yes?”
His tone was perfectly innocent, like he genuinely didn’t know what Nigel was talking about. Meanwhile, Schumacher writhed like a desperate dog needing to relieve itself. Nigel glared until Inas finally shrugged.
“I was merely advising him not to use foul language toward you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“But how could I stand by while someone insults you?”
“I appreciate the sentiment, but it’s fine. Just let him talk—we’ll finish this and go rest. I’m tired.”
That last bit finally convinced him. Inas nodded.
“You should hear him now.”
“You bastards! How the hell am I supposed to believe a word you say?!”
Schumacher’s voice came crashing in, raw with fury. Even Nigel, who’d wanted this conversation, was startled by the venom in his tone.
“No, I tried to stop—”
“Shut up!”
His voice, once disciplined and knightly, now came out like a savage beast’s growl. But his rage didn’t last long—he suddenly gasped, clutching his chest in pain. Nigel didn’t need to guess who caused it.
“Stop, Inas.”
“He was being insolent.”
“I know, but…”
At this rate, they’d never have a proper conversation. Hell, Schumacher might die before they could even talk. His lips were already turning blue from cold and exhaustion.
“We still need to discuss things. Let’s go back to his room first.”
Though clearly displeased, Inas obeyed.
In the blink of an eye, Nigel found himself back inside Schumacher’s room with both men.
Unlike Nigel, whom Inas set down gently, Schumacher was dropped unceremoniously onto the floor. The heavy thud was enough to make Nigel flinch in sympathy. But the man refused to stay down; he sprang to his feet and snatched the sword hanging on the wall.
“Inas Idenbach, die!”
It was a line straight out of a bad play, but Schumacher charged anyway. Inas didn’t even look properly at him—he simply deflected the incoming blade with one effortless motion.
“Calm yourself.”
Schumacher’s eyes widened in disbelief. He must’ve been shocked when Inas used magic earlier, but this—this was worse. The man once hailed as the strongest knight in the kingdom had his sword disarmed in a single move.
“Wh-what… how…?”
“…”
His astonishment lasted only a second. Gritting his teeth, Schumacher retrieved his weapon and charged again with renewed determination.
Even Nigel, who only knew swordsmanship by sight, found himself impressed—the movements were clean, precise, textbook perfect.
In contrast, Inas swung his sword lazily, as if swatting at air with a stick. But there wasn’t a single opening in his form. It was artistry—elegant and effortless. Each motion toyed with his opponent until, after only a few exchanges, he struck once more and sent Schumacher’s blade flying.
Disarmed, Schumacher rushed in barehanded, but his attacks never landed. Inas dodged, almost bored, and then flicked his leg out with casual grace. Schumacher’s body slammed into the wall.
He slumped to his knees, utterly defeated. Humiliation and despair radiated from him in waves.
“What shall I do with him, Nigel?”
Inas’s question made Schumacher glare daggers at Nigel. He hadn’t done anything, but somehow he’d become the villain here—and that murderous aura didn’t fade one bit.
