Everyone present witnessed it.
The moment a colossal golden radiance drove back the flames.
The moment the verdant light of ruin cleaved through the silver bell.
In that instant, the realization took hold.
The strongest had triumphed.
""""We won...!""""
"The [Pioneer] won!!!!"
"The [Warlord] won!!!!"
"So... I have lost...?"
"Indeed. I have won, Zard."
"Heh... you damn brat..."
"Had it not been for the Behemoth's poison, I would not have stood a chance."
"Do not speak such nonsense! That was my own burden to bear. It is no reason to diminish your achievement."
"...."
"Will you not kill me...?"
"Not particularly. I have simply exhausted all my strength and cannot move."
"A trite excuse, claiming you can barely remain standing?"
"....Think whatever you wish."
Ottar did not raise his sword. No, he could not raise it.
Perhaps it was a gesture of respect toward his idol—the powerhouse who had made him taste the humiliation of defeat countless times.
"It simply feels as though this is how it should be."
"A flimsy justification."
Even as Zard spoke, he felt the Behemoth's poison lunging for his throat. It constricted his windpipe, and his senses began to fail.
"However...!!"
Thud—!!!
"I must fulfill my duty."
Despite everything, Zard forced his body upright and moved past Ottar, heading toward the stronghold of the Evils he remembered.
"Are you leaving, Zard?"
"Freya.... what business do you have with me?"
"You're going to that child, aren't you?"
"....I wish to see the path he has carved."
Zard forced his heavy eyelids open, walking past Freya toward the Dungeon. Even as the curse devoured his flesh, he moved relentlessly, whispering to himself.
"I have no regrets."
"No—because I lived with regret, I have no regrets now."
"I was 'Gluttony,' an adventurer who feasted upon the banquet of the Gods for his own greed."
"True to that name, I enjoyed a feast without regret."