Watching the man who suddenly approached, Lance panicked and instinctively moved backward.
Just as the man was about to grab him, a Longsword thrust out from the side, piercing straight through the man's torso.
As Reynard withdrew the Longsword, the burly man collapsed to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, the light in his eyes fading as time passed.
Lance also steadied himself. Looking at the corpse on the ground, a wave of fear washed over him—if he had truly been caught, things would have become very complicated.
"Blood soaked the gunpowder," Dismas explained, identifying the problem with the gun.
Lifting the gun in his hand, Lance realized he knew too little about firearms; he had forgotten that he was holding a Flintlock Gun.
He had also made a big mistake by not checking a weapon he had taken from someone else.
With the last man dead, an eerie atmosphere settled over the temporary trio; the other two were evidently waiting for Lance's explanation.
"I know you have many questions," Lance began, "but what I'm about to say might shatter your understanding of this world. Are you sure you want to know the truth?"
"Speak quickly," Dismas urged, his curiosity piqued. He was eager to know.
"Very well." Lance took a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking. "I come from a very ancient family, with a history that dates back thousands of years. My ancestor, as the Heir, enjoyed a luxurious and decadent noble life.
"Until one day, he received a Divine Revelation. In a dream, he learned of an ancient Evil God that was sealed away. Should It awaken, the world would be destroyed.
"My ancestor believed this was his responsibility to bear, so he abandoned his corrupt life and spent his fortune assembling an expedition. After great hardship, he finally found the location of the sealed Evil God from his dreams.
"He led the family Knights to clear out the monsters and develop this barren land. However, he soon discovered it was a Cursed place. The power of the Evil God was too strong; even while sealed, it corrupted everything.
"Animals, plants, and even inanimate objects in this Cursed land were transformed into monsters. Moreover, the power of the Evil God could warp reality and draw the attention of Void Monsters.
"Those monsters were like weeds; one batch would die only to be quickly replaced by another. My ancestor knew this was an endless path, but to protect the Seal, he fought evil his entire life. He vowed that members of our family must defend the Seal with their lives, until the very last one falls in battle against evil.
"Over the years, nearly all family members fell protecting the Seal in their struggle against the monsters. My parents were the same. That's why I was fostered in another family from a young age, never having seen my parents' faces until I became an adult."
Having said this, Lance paused to observe the two men's reactions.
Though they were both tough characters, they seemed somewhat at a loss—or perhaps unwilling to believe—the information about Divine Revelations, Evil Gods, and the end of the world, silently digesting it.
Noticing their demeanor, Lance said with a reassuring smile, "I didn't believe it at first either. The news of the Seal couldn't be leaked; only the Heir was qualified to know. This continued until the last Lord disappeared. As the only remaining member of the family, the family mission, passed down through blood, finally fell upon me. I, too, received the Divine Revelation and learned everything."
"Why are you telling us this? I'm just an ordinary mercenary," Dismas said, appearing somewhat hesitant.
"Because I need your help," Lance replied earnestly. "As you have seen, the corruption is spreading. The Seal is in peril. Even with my determination to eradicate evil and protect the Seal, I'm just one person. I might mysteriously die right after inheriting the land."
"Why not seek help from the Kingdom or the Church?" Reynard asked, his voice tinged with doubt.
"Because my land has monsters, not Gold Coins."
Lance's reply silenced Reynard on the spot.
Dismas somewhat regretted hearing all this—it wasn't something he felt he should know. He just wanted to finish this task quickly, then head to a tavern or brothel to numb himself with alcohol and flesh. He hoped to forget everything when he woke up the next day, until the arrival of that doomsday...
I don't want to die here! (Selfish)
Feeling the rejection from both men, Lance could only let out a sigh.
"I know it's hard, and one might even lose their life in this pursuit," he said. "When I first learned of my family's mission, I also thought about running away.
"But some things must be done by someone. Rather than waiting anxiously for the day the Evil God brings about the end of the world, it's better to fight. That way, even if we fail, we will at least have tried and will have no regrets. We won't live in constant fear."
Dismas hesitated. Hearing Lance's words—whether it was about the family that had fought for a thousand years to protect the Seal, or Lance himself, a mere scholar, daring to take on such suffocating pressure—he couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration.
Lance was thin and frail, but standing before Dismas, he seemed like a majestic and inviolable mountain. By contrast, Dismas felt like nothing more than a rat in a gutter.
Complex emotions tormented Dismas; he, too, wanted to live like Lance.
Reynard stood to the side, and no one knew what the man beneath the armor was thinking.
"Even if you don't join, it's okay," Lance continued. "I can understand. It's just as my parents sent me away because they didn't want me to be involved in this.
"I'm telling you this in hopes that someone will know the story of our family after I die. At least I will have fulfilled the oath of my ancestors: to protect the Seal and fight to the last man. I, Lance, have not let the name of Hamlet be dishonored!"
Lance's words were like a sharp dagger piercing Dismas's fragile heart. Once his facade cracked, a strong sense of guilt flooded in.
Why am I always running away? Why?
I can do it! I will find my own salvation!
In his self-exploration, another, even stronger emotion began to surge, as if he saw a glint of light in a trance.
"HMPH!" Dismas's mood became spirited as he wielded his gun-sword. "No way back now! Let's get started!"
"The Holy Light is unyieldingly steadfast, and so am I!" Reynard lifted his Longsword high. "Even if it means perishing together with that unclean evil!"
Hearing their words, Lance couldn't help but laugh. He knew he had bet correctly; both men had a strong longing for self-redemption.
He immediately had them swear an oath to guard this secret, maximizing the sense of ritual to make them feel the weight of their mission.
In truth, most of these grand pronouncements were fabricated by Lance. He knew that to gain their support, he had to assume a grandiose identity, even that of a savior. He needed to awaken their desire for redemption through commitment and sacrifice. After all, his ancestors were all dead, so there was no one left to debunk his story.