After completely crippling Arya's ability to resist, Karl grabbed her by the neck as if he were disposing of a piece of worthless trash.
With one swift motion, he lifted her whole body off the ground and flung her aside.
"Whoosh—thud!"
Arya's body traced a pitiful arc through the air before crashing heavily to the floor at the feet of Dredy and Ephar. Her limbs were twisted at unnatural angles, and her body convulsed uncontrollably under the shock of pain. Her jaw, dislocated from the brutal impact, rendered her unable to scream; only hoarse, beastlike groans escaped her throat, punctuated by choked whimpers of agony.
Dredy and Ephar looked down at her broken figure. Though part of them felt grim satisfaction at seeing the woman who had caused them so much trouble finally subdued, an instinctive shiver crawled up their spines. The memory of the crisp, snapping sounds of bones breaking still echoed in their ears, sending a faint ache through their own bodies.
They were about to crouch down to drag Arya to a safer spot—hoping to move her away before the aftermath of the battle reached her—when a deep, rhythmic pounding suddenly shook the air.
"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Four consecutive crashes resounded through the hall like thunderclaps, followed by the screeching sounds of stone cracking and metal twisting apart. Dredy and Ephar instinctively turned toward the noise.
Their eyes widened in disbelief.
Four massive shadows shot across the hall, smashing hard into the wall not far from them. The impact was so forceful that the entire chamber quaked, sending a rain of dust and pebbles down from the ceiling.
"Rumble!"
When the debris settled, they could finally make out the wreckage—four enormous Gargoyles lay in ruin. Some had been smashed into halves, others had lost their wings or heads, and one was reduced entirely to shattered rubble. These ancient guardians, which only moments ago had been a serious threat, were now nothing more than broken stones scattered across the floor.
At the center of the hall stood Karl.
His figure was calm, almost serene, as he held in his hand a glowing core about the size of a human fist. It pulsed faintly like a beating heart, releasing dense magical energy. That was the life source of a golem—a puppet core.
At his feet lay two more defeated golems. One had its head obliterated, the other's upper body crushed into fragments, its core dim and rolling weakly across the ground.
From the moment Karl subdued Arya to the instant he annihilated the remaining golems and Gargoyles, only two or three seconds had passed. The speed and violence of his actions defied reason.
Dredy and Ephar exchanged looks. Shock and awe mirrored in their eyes. It was as if they had witnessed a miracle unfold before them.
Such overwhelming, pure physical might—they could scarcely believe a human could possess it. In all their knowledge, only beings from legends—giants or dragons—could compare. Rock Trolls or Shalma were nothing next to the power Karl had just displayed.
When the battle ended, silence descended over the devastated hall. The once-imposing guardians were now rubble, and the air was thick with the scent of dust and fading magic.
Dredy and Ephar quickly began tidying up the battlefield. They inspected the remnants of the Gargoyles, but once destroyed, the runes that animated them had completely vanished. Without any remaining enchantments, the stone fragments held no research value at all.
However, the runes carved into the clay bodies of the six golems—three previously damaged by Arya and three crushed by Karl—remained intact. These symbols, glowing faintly with residual magic, still held considerable worth. Even more precious were the six puppet cores, each brimming with restrained magical energy. These would fetch a small fortune or serve as invaluable research materials.
Carefully gathering them, Dredy and Ephar walked toward Karl. Dredy extended his hand, offering three of the cores—the ones Karl had personally earned.
"Karl," he said sincerely, "you contributed the most in this mission. Without you, we wouldn't have captured Arya—let alone survived that battle. You deserve the greater share. Take two more of these. Ephar and I will split the last one."
Ephar nodded firmly. "Dredy's right. You've more than earned it."
To their surprise, Karl simply shook his head.
The two exchanged confused glances. For a moment, they thought Karl was dissatisfied with their offer—perhaps intending to claim all six cores. Given his unmatched strength and contribution, they wouldn't have been able to refuse him. It would have been only fair, though it would have left a bitter taste.
But Karl's expression remained calm and clear.
"You can keep those three cores," he said evenly. "My gains from this battle are already enough. I also have to think about my companions' feelings."
He gestured toward the three cores in his hand, then turned his gaze briefly to Arya, who lay slumped and trembling nearby.
"Besides," he added, "when we first entered the cave and confronted the Gargoyles, you two went out of your way to protect me. I noticed that."
His words were direct yet thoughtful—neither boastful nor dismissive. Dredy and Ephar froze for a moment, then a genuine warmth spread across their faces. They hadn't expected such perceptiveness and generosity from someone as powerful as Karl.
"Hah! In that case, we'll accept them without shame," Dredy said with a booming laugh, his earlier tension melting away.
Ephar grinned and nodded in agreement. In that instant, they both felt a shift—Karl was no longer just a formidable ally; he was someone they could truly trust.
With the spoils divided, Karl turned toward Arya.
She was sprawled on the ground like a broken doll, her breath ragged and uneven. When she felt Karl's presence approach, her entire body flinched. Her eyes, bloodshot and filled with venom, darted up at him, trembling between hatred, fear, and humiliation.
She thought he had come to torment her further.
But Karl only crouched down beside her without a word. His movements were efficient, almost indifferent, as he searched her robes and belongings. From her neck, he removed a delicate necklace—its gemstones dimmed but still valuable. Then he unclasped a bracelet set with green gems that shimmered faintly with restorative magic, capable of accelerating mana recovery.
Without hesitation, he pocketed both.
Arya's body shook with fury. Her muffled groans turned into angry whimpers as she struggled to resist. But the effort only sent waves of agony through her shattered limbs. Her will crumbled. All she could do was lie there, trembling, her eyes growing hollow as her consciousness drifted in and out.
Dredy and Ephar watched the scene silently. They saw Karl strip the artifacts from Arya, but neither said a word. Instead, they turned away, pretending to study the ancient elven reliefs carved into the stone walls, feigning fascination with the faintly glowing symbols.
After all, Arya had been subdued entirely by Karl. As long as he didn't kill her, whatever spoils he took were rightfully his. There was no reason—or courage—for them to interfere.
For a while, only the faint crackling of fading magic filled the hall.
Karl stood up, pocketing the artifacts, and cast one last glance at Arya. Her breathing was shallow, but she was alive—barely. A part of him considered ending her misery right then and there, but he decided against it. There were still uses for her—answers she could provide, secrets that could be wrung from her broken pride.
Turning away, Karl addressed Dredy and Ephar. "Let's move. The noise from the battle might've drawn attention. We can sort the rest outside."
Dredy nodded, slinging his pack of collected cores over his shoulder. Ephar extinguished the faint glow of his magic shield and followed.
As they stepped away from the wreckage, Dredy glanced back at Karl and spoke in a low voice. "You know, when we first met, I thought you were just another arrogant powerhouse—someone who'd get us all killed with reckless confidence. But now…" He grinned. "Now I think you're a monster I'd rather have fighting with me than against me."
Karl offered a faint smile, his expression unreadable. "Let's hope it stays that way."
They left the ruined hall behind. The air outside the cave was crisp and cold, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat of battle that still clung to their skin. Sunlight pierced through the canopy above, scattering golden rays on the damp ground.
Ephar let out a long breath. "To think even Gargoyles fell like that… Karl, are you sure you're human?"
Karl didn't answer. He only looked down at the puppet cores in his hand—each one pulsing faintly like a heartbeat—and muttered, "Human or not, strength is what matters."
Behind them, deep within the hall, Arya's faint groans echoed softly—half-conscious, half-delirious. Her pride as a mage had been crushed along with her body, yet somewhere in her fading awareness, a flicker of hatred burned. She would remember the humiliation. And if she ever recovered, she would repay it a hundredfold.
Karl, unaware or perhaps unconcerned, continued walking toward the cave's exit. His steps were steady, his expression unreadable.
The mission was complete. But within that calm, a storm of greater battles loomed on the horizon.
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