Anthropologist watched with the focus and stillness befitting a stone, the scene of the scorching, blazing man who looked like a mad god that had angered the heavens, and was now being bathed in fire because of it.

He had no doubt that the pain this man — whom he now knew was named Dain Warborn — was enduring was enough to shatter the mind of any Grandmaster as easily as a stone bathed in water for years.

Going toe to toe with the fairy of a Mythic artifact was, after all, no simple thing.

Mystic artifacts couldn't be forged by mortal hands, at least, not without the acknowledgment of a god and divine intervention. In other cases, the Wonders could create them, but the price would be steeper than what a god with an established divinity would likely suffer.

They were artifacts born only from a fragment of a god's or a NawTewal Karaw's — the gods' Angels — authority. Only that could create a complete living being with emotions and thoughts, despite it being a cluster of mana, will, intent, and the ashes of divinity.

And yet this man was laughing — his whole body burning and healing at the same time, making his pain unending — all while defying the creation of a god, as a mere Grandmaster.

He didn't know when it happened, but Anthropologist found his face splitting into a smile at the sight before him.

'Dain Warborn. Oh, the brother of the Harvester,' he chuckled under his breath, shaking his head lightly as clusters of molten rock fell from his body.

'It seems the Harvester is not the only monster,' he thought, staring at Dain intently. 'The brother too… is a devil. A smiling devil at that.'

His mind was pulled back to the present moment by Abomination's voice.

"Ah, well, now how do we proceed?" Abomination asked, looking at the small domain encircling Dain, his Origin — the axe — and the fairy, all swallowed in a blazing inferno.

The clanking sound echoed sharply, making the blood inside Abomination literally boil in dread.

She was, after all, a Grandmaster, at the same level as Dain, and yet she had no desire to take a single step forward. She could feel it…

…she would die with fire in her heart.

She thanked the mask, for with it no one could see her deep apprehension toward the flames.

She sighed, suppressing a cold shudder before turning to face Anthropologist, then parted her dry lips:

"Our order was to take him with us, wasn't it?" she asked.

Anthropologist nodded. "Yes. The Seer told us to bring him to her. But…" his words slowed, his gaze drawn to the furious battle raging within the domain of fire.

He knew that if they interrupted this battle in any shape or form, Dain would certainly collapse. At that moment, he was standing only thanks to his high Will and the fact that his entire body and mind were on high alert, sharpened by the creeping whisper of death, with adrenaline coursing through his veins and brain like the waves of a restless tide.

The moment they chose to step in and take him away, his body would naturally relax, and then death would no longer whisper, it would command him to join it.

And even if his body didn't relax as expected, their interference would distract him just enough for the griffin to deliver a killing strike.

After all, the griffin seemed well intent on killing him.

They needed to act swiftly, especially since none of them were strong enough to walk away unscathed if they so much as dared to touch that fire.

'Certainly, I will survive. But…' Anthropologist threw a quick glance at Abomination. 'She won't.'

And he would rather not lose a member here. Not to mention that the Harvester wasn't the only one he had to mind, the Seer herself would make him pay dearly.

"You can't take him away!" Old Smith finally spoke, disrupting Anthropologist's thoughts. "This room was made to help him in this battle! There are runes and potions and artifacts being ingested into him continuously through rune formations! If you take him away, you'll make him lose the little advantage he has left, he'll die!" Smith pleaded, her trembling hands waving erratically around the space to prove her point.

Though she didn't need to do all that, both Anthropologist and Abomination had already noticed, and that was exactly why they hadn't acted yet.

But they couldn't afford to waste time. The longer they waited, the higher the risk of unforeseen events.

They needed to act. And they needed to do it in a way that wouldn't kill the brother of their Lord.

Neither of them allowed themselves to imagine what would happen if that occurred. Abomination, for one, would certainly take her own life, not only out of fear, but also out of shame and unworthiness for failing such an important mission.

As for Anthropologist, he didn't think that far. He had no reason to.

After all…

"I have a way," he said, taking a step forward as he slowly began shedding his human form, his colossal rocky golem body reclaiming its rightful place.

The red tattoos flowing all over his body like dripping water flared with a blinding crimson hue, drawing the griffin's attention. The creature, who hadn't noticed the intruders until now, snapped its head toward Anthropologist, its blazing golden eyes filled with deep puzzlement as it stared at the tattoos.

It seemed to sense something familiar there, but how could that be possible?

While it wondered, Dain didn't stop his hammering. He continued to strike the ring, each blow more ruthless than the last.

The griffin shrieked in pain and disbelief, wavering for a moment under the thunderous impact before snapping back into ruthless focus, lashing out even more violently, its wings flapping so fast they became a blur.

Its mouth opened wide, inside, a glowing golden ball of fire, tainted with white, formed. The flames grew so hot and intense they turned into liquid, flowing endlessly down Dain's body, scorching him from within and without, his organs melting.

The healing formations began to falter underneath him, and his brain started to melt.

Dain paused.

They gasped in disbelief.

Then suddenly, he continued all while laughing.

His laugh was loud and unfettered, yet one could clearly feel the agony buried beneath it. It was not the laugh of joy, but the laugh of necessity.

It was as if laughter was the only thing left he could do to bear the wrenching pain gnawing through his body.

Only laugh.

Just as his father had always told him when he was little.

'Laugh, Dain,' Garros had said, giving him a soft tap on the back. 'No. Not that weak, girlish laugh, son.'

'You don't know how?' he had asked before grinning. 'I told you already, you just need to laugh like this! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!'

Dain had been puzzled then. His father was scarcely present when he was young, and even scarcer were the moments they truly shared together.

So as a child — one lacking attention and yearning for acknowledgment — the words of his father were law. He did everything Garros told him to, believing that by obeying, his father would be proud and would stay a little longer.

And with that, he learned to laugh like his father. And just as his father had said to him:

'Laugh before everything, my boy. You are the Warborn's heir, the first of the line.'

'Do not cry. Do not falter. Do not hide.'

'This world will grind you to dust, but laugh through it. Laugh as you fall. Laugh through pain. Laugh through blood. Laugh through tears. Laugh even when the gods turn their gaze away.'

'Laugh, my boy. You are the first. Never forget—!'

"I HAVEN'T! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

CLANK! CLANK! CLANK! CLANK! CLANK!

Dain went mad, his hands blurring with velocity beyond comprehension, space cracking and scorching under each strike. He no longer felt blood flowing through his body, only agony.

His crimson eyes slowly began to melt, yet he laughed.

His insides became nothing but a liquefied mess of blood and entrails, yet he laughed.

His mouth and throat turned to ash, and yet…

His laughter still reverberated through the hellish room, deep and demonic.

Anthropologist, Abomination, and Old Smith felt chills race through their veins.

For a moment, they couldn't do anything, frozen in shock at the sight of a human laughing in the face of a god's creation, daring to defy it.

The griffin cried out in pain. And before the laughing devil standing against it, something akin to fear began to poison its golden eyes.

It shuddered. But Dain laughed, his strikes grew crueler.

Anthropologist regained his senses quickly and acted. In an instant, his red tattoos flared even more brilliantly, the light forcing a wince of pain from him, but slowly, ever so slowly, the divinity of the Celeste trapped within his tattoos began to stir, wrapping around the Mythic artifact in a restraining embrace, forcing it to halt its frenzy.

But even when it stopped, Dain didn't.

He was still laughing. Still striking the ring with his hammer.

Not because he'd gone mad. Not because he wished to make the griffin suffer further. But simply because…

Old Smith took a step back, eyes wide in disbelief at what she was witnessing.

Abomination and Anthropologist stood the same, unable to tear their gazes away from him.

They realized Dain was no longer aware.

His body and mind had already shut down, his life hanging by a thread sustained only by Old Smith's healing runes.

All this time…

Only his unwavering determination kept him standing.

Only his cold will kept him striking.

Only his laughter made him unstoppable.

'Ah, yes… of course. Of course,' Anthropologist thought, a strained smile twisting across his melting face.

Blood cannot lie.

The brother of a monster could only be a monster.

—End of Chapter 322—

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