Then—
Whoosh!
Barnacle surged forward.
The ground beneath its feet cracked instantly, thin fractures spreading outward like a spiderweb under the sheer pressure of its movement.
Dust lifted into the air as its figure blurred, crossing the distance between it and the ogre in less than a heartbeat.
The only thing the ogre saw was a fast blur
Its massive eyes widened, pupils shrinking as instinct screamed at it to move—to block, to dodge, to do something.
Its mouth opened, a roar building in its throat—
But it never came out.
Slash!
One strike.
No wasted movement.
No hesitation.
No mercy.
Barnacle's blade passed through the ogre's body like it wasn't even there, the cut so clean it didn't register immediately.
For a brief second, everything seemed… still.
Then—
The ogre split apart.
Sections of its body slid away from each other, heavy chunks collapsing onto the jagged ground with sickening, wet thuds. Blood sprayed outward, staining the spikes, the walls, the floor—painting the dungeon in a violent red.
The echo of the impact lingered.
Then—
Silence.
But not completely.
One part remained.
The head.
Untouched.
Perfectly intact.
Barnacle didn't celebrate.
It didn't pause.
It simply walked forward.
Each step was slow, deliberate, the sound of metal against stone echoing softly through the now-quiet dungeon.
The red ribbon tied to its sword hilt drifted gently, now darker from the blood it had passed through.
Then—
It drove its blade into the ogre's head.
Not violently.
Not recklessly.
Just enough force to pierce and lift.
Zachary watched from a short distance away, his hands still tucked casually inside his pockets.
His expression didn't change much—
But his thoughts did.
"…What are you doing?" he wondered silently, his eyes narrowing just slightly.
Barnacle turned.
And walked toward him.
Step.
Clank.
Step.
Clank.
Each movement carried weight—not just physically, but… intentionally.
When it reached him—
It stopped.
Then slowly lowered its sword.
Carefully.
Almost gently.
Placing the severed head at Zachary's feet like it was something valuable… something meant to be presented.
And then—
It knelt.
Its armor shifted with a heavy metallic sound as it lowered itself onto one knee, head bowing forward. There was no hesitation in the motion.
No instability.
No sign of damage from the fight.
Just—
Submission.
Loyalty.
Recognition.
Zachary stood still for a moment.
Looking at it.
Processing.
Then he stepped forward, closing the small gap between them. He stopped right beside Barnacle, glancing down at it.
For a second, he didn't say anything.
Didn't move.
Just… stood there.
Then—
Pat. Pat. Pat.
The sound echoed lightly through the dungeon as his hand rested on Barnacle's armor padded shoulders, giving it a few soft taps.
"You did well… Barnacle," he said quietly, a small, genuine smile forming on his face.
"…Disappear."
At the command, the air shifted.
A black circle opened beneath Barnacle once again, tendrils rising like shadows reclaiming their own.
They wrapped around its body slowly, almost respectfully, pulling it downward.
Barnacle didn't resist.
Didn't hesitate.
It simply allowed itself to be taken.
Until nothing remained.
The dungeon grew quiet again.
Cole let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.
"…Great summon," he said, his voice softer now, but filled with genuine admiration.
Zachary glanced at him briefly.
"…Thanks," he replied, the faint smile still there, though more subdued.
Cole looked back at the spot where Barnacle had stood, crossing his arms as he replayed the fight in his head.
"Swordsman-type combat really fits it," he added after a moment. "Honestly… it fights cleaner than most people I've seen."
Zachary didn't respond immediately.
He just listened.