Chapter 354: Freedom, Sweet Freedom

All of Donovan’s anger vanished at once. And his eyes went wide behind the helmet as he looked her over, unable to believe what he was seeing.

"You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. What the hell happened to you?"

For the first time, Anna’s voice lost some of that distant calm.

"The right question isn’t what happened to me... but who did it to me."

Donovan barely heard her. His gaze had snagged on the enormous scar covering most of Anna’s body.

From the base of her neck almost down to her hip, a huge scar warped her entire torso.

The flesh twisted into uneven ridges and hollows, with bruise-colored edges and hardened patches that looked as if they had healed badly over and over again.

But the worst of it was in the center.

Right below the sternum there was a depression so deep that Donovan couldn’t understand how Anna was still alive.

Anna let go of the torn fabric and let it hang down on either side of her body, showing not the slightest shame.

"Who did this to you?"

"The Demon Lord. Who else?" Anna ran her fingers along the scar without taking her eyes off Donovan. "It happened three hundred years ago, during our last battle."

"...How the hell did you survive something like that?"

"I didn’t," she corrected. "I only managed to prolong the moment of my death."

Donovan didn’t know what to say to that.

Anna slowly returned to the altar and sat on the edge, letting the remains of her dress fall to the floor.

She told him how, after the great war, she had spent decades trapped in that very chamber, unable even to breathe without help.

Her lungs were destroyed, her heart barely worked, and a large part of her organs had vanished or been left useless.

But over time she stopped trying to recover what she had lost and learned to replace it with magic.

Now it was her mana that made her lungs breathe, pumped the blood through her body, and kept the few organs she still had running.

Anna had been surviving for centuries on sheer force of will.

And that will fed on only one thing.

Hatred.

Hatred for the Demon Lord.

"I can’t even sleep anymore," Anna said with a bitter grimace. "If I lose focus for too long, my body starts shutting down."

Donovan watched her in silence for a moment.

"That’s fucking insane... Why endure something like that for three hundred years?"

Anna’s answer came with a small smile.

"Because she’s still alive."

There was no need to ask who she meant.

"The moment she understood her defeat was inevitable, that coward fled to her dungeon and shut herself inside. The war, however, went on for years, because her summons kept fighting for her while I could do nothing but watch."

Anna swept her gaze over each and every one of the statues surrounding the altar.

"That was when I understood I needed something that could act in my place, even if my body never recovered. That’s how the clergy and the Inquisition were born. I gave them a religion, order, and a common enemy. For three hundred years, they have seen, walked, and fought for me."

Donovan frowned.

"Don’t tell me all that bullshit about human supremacy and exterminating the other races came out of your head too."

"Of course."

The answer was so casual that Donovan almost thought he had misheard.

"Why?"

"Because it works," she replied with a shrug. "Most people don’t need to understand a war. They just need to know who ’us’ is and who ’them’ is. Tell them they’re the chosen ones of a goddess, point at another group as the threat, and you’ll have an army willing to fight to its last breath."

Donovan couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

"For centuries I had to convince everyone that the non-human races were a threat, even without any real proof to show it... But then this Emperor of Death showed up."

For the first time, Anna looked almost satisfied.

"Thanks to him, now I can lump the Demon Lord and all the non-human races into the same bag. I no longer need to convince anyone. I just point south and let fear do the work for me."

Donovan let her talk without interrupting, but by the time she finished, any trace of pity he might have felt for her had vanished.

Now he saw it clearly: Anna wasn’t trying to save anyone. She didn’t give a shit about humans, justice, or peace.

Everything she had built over three centuries was nothing but a gigantic war machine designed to give her a second chance to kill the Demon Lord.

And everyone else was its fuel.

"Well, this has been a very educational chat, but... I think I’ll pass," Donovan said as he took a step back.

He turned to Lynn and picked her up.

"I’m taking this girl and I’ll find another way to complete my mission... Preferably one that doesn’t require sacrificing half a continent so two psychopaths can settle a fight from three hundred years ago."

"You want to take that armor off, don’t you?"

Donovan stopped halfway.

"Eight months trapped inside that thing," Anna continued behind him. "Surrounded by women who practically throw themselves at you every day, and unable to touch a single one... it must be a pretty miserable way to live."

Donovan slowly turned his head.

"...How the hell do you know that? I never told anyone."

Anna didn’t answer. She rose from the altar, walked to the small table, and took the chisel in one hand and the silver hammer in the other.

"Come here."

"What for?"

"Shut up and do as I say."

Everything in his head told him this was a terrible idea, but he ended up walking over anyway.

Anna waited until he was in front of her, set the tip of the chisel against the center of his breastplate, and raised the hammer.

"Hold still."

The blow echoed throughout the chamber.

A golden light burst from the point of impact and spread across the armor like a ripple, running from the chest to the helmet and the boots.

Donovan then felt a tug in the center of his chest, followed by a strange sensation, almost impossible to describe.

And then a window appeared before him.

[Equipment restriction removed.]

[You may now remove: Volcanic Obsidian Plate.]

Donovan stared at the words in front of him, barely breathing. Then, with trembling hands, he brought his gauntlets to the clasps of his helmet.

This time they gave way.

He yanked it off, and the cool air of the chamber hit his face. His brown hair was plastered to his forehead and his eight-month beard was a complete tangle, but at that moment none of it mattered to him.

"No fucking way...," he murmured, his voice cracking as tears began to well up in his eyes. "I’m finally free... I can’t believe it."

He took off the gauntlets too and stared at his bare hands, opening and closing them again and again as if they were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life.

Anna sat back down on the edge of the altar, still holding the chisel.

"I can also unlock your inventory and your level," she said with a faint smile. "All I want in exchange is for you to be at my side when the time comes."

Donovan looked at her for a long moment.

Anna was still a vengeance-obsessed lunatic, her plan still struck him as an atrocity, and he still didn’t trust her.

But she had also just given him back his freedom.

And Donovan wasn’t idiot enough to dismiss the possibility that Anna could take it away again if he told her to go to hell.

Besides, he had never pretended to be a hero. If the plan went to hell, he’d find a way to bail before going down with the ship.

And if Anna lost to the Demon Lord, there was always the option of switching sides.

"I don’t like you," he confessed, frowning.

"I know."

"And I still think you’re out of your goddamn mind."

"I know that too."

Donovan let out a long sigh, tucked the helmet under his arm, and held out his bare hand.

"Alright then. What do you want me to do, partner?"