NOVEL NEXT Chapter 1113: Use Logic
Quinlan looked dryly at the crying woman as her words echoed in his head.
'Even the nameless nobody who couldn't raise a fist to me mere months ago beats me.'
His lips thinned. "I'm not a nameless nobody, Raika. I'm the man known as Devil. At the risk of sounding way too full of myself, I've been the talk of not only the Consortium itself or the duchy of Greenvale, but the whole country as of late. Even a brute who lives under a rock must've heard of Devil by now."
The words hung in the air for a beat.
Raika's tears slowed, then momentarily stopped. She blinked up at him with bloodshot eyes before croaking hoarsely:
"Who?"
The emotional damage was instant and catastrophic. Quinlan shut his eyes for a moment as his entire soul exhaled one long, silent groan. "… Never mind."
She stared at him for a long moment before letting her head drop back against the ground. One arm rose and covered her eyes while her chest rose and fell with ragged breaths. Her frustration radiated so clearly that it painted the broken silence heavier than any words could.
Quinlan decided to sit down beside her.
For a while, neither spoke.
Raika's forearm remained shielding her eyes while Quinlan studied the ruin they had carved into the landscape: the crater, the torn trees, the shattered stone. He observed curiously how, even after only a few minutes, the first brave birds began circling closer, trying to decide if they could continue on with their days.
Eventually, his eyes shifted to the woman lying next to him, focusing on her scorched skin. It was raw and blistered; her body below the neck had been burned and battered nearly beyond recognition. "Do you want a potion?" he asked.
No response.
"I'll pour one on your body then, is that okay?"
Still nothing.
He took silence as consent. Pulling a vial from his ring, he uncorked it and let the shimmering liquid flow over her stomach, where his heel had driven into her and then burned her skin off.
The potion hissed as it touched charred flesh, seeping into torn muscle. Her skin knitted slowly, ugly scar tissue giving way to fresh layers. But even as the magic worked, Quinlan knew that this was no substitute for a skilled healer. At best, it would patch her together, not restore what was lost.
He grabbed a second potion, uncapped it, and pressed it gently to her lips. "Drinking two in quick succession lowers the effectiveness, but you need to drink one too. Your internals are wrecked; this will help."
Her free hand lifted and swatted it aside without looking at him.
Quinlan shook his head as wry amusement tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Really?" But as he studied her ruined body, he knew that by all rights, Raika shouldn't even be conscious. Her wounds were too severe. And yet here she was, stubbornly awake. Hell, she didn't even look like her brain was registering the extreme amounts of pain she should be feeling.
It was as if her brain had used all its resources to feel extreme frustration at her perceived failure.
"Fine." He pulled the vial back, shook his head again, and instead poured the potion over his own swollen ankle, the one she had nearly snapped clean through. The liquid soaked into his skin. He felt the pain ebbing as his tendons slowly repaired.
"You know," Quinlan spoke up with a casual tone, "you might not be the brightest tool in the shed, Raika, but you're an exceptional fighter. Your instincts are scary sharp, and I don't even know what to say about your extreme willpower."
The sniffling stopped. The ragged sounds that had been tearing out of her chest quieted altogether. She wasn't moving much, but her silence told him enough; she was listening.
"Furthermore, Black Fang and Orianna are more than twice your age; it would be rather embarrassing for the grannies if you managed to beat them. Even Vex is fifty or so years older. She's lived a lot longer than you have."
"… Today…?" Raika grunted hoarsely from beneath her hand.
Quinlan understood the unsaid parts of her question, which were, 'But what about today?'
"Your home was invaded by multiple level seventy and above ancient monsters, wasn't it? You, as a woman who is about level 60, put up a big fight. I'm sure of it."
The hand covering her face lifted. Her eyes, bloodshot and red, peeked out at him. She didn't speak, just stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue his analysis.
Quinlan smiled. "Look, even Black Fang was forced to retreat. She had to call me to extract you three, or there might've been permanent casualties."
"Age, levels, number of allies… Are just excuses…" Raika muttered dismissively.
Quinlan nodded in agreement. "Right. You have to hold yourself responsible, I agree. But you also have to use logic to understand when you should be angry at your performance and when you shouldn't. Raika, I'm a man who wishes to become stronger than the Goddess herself. Therefore, becoming stronger than Black Fang is merely a stepping stone for me. But you won't see me beating myself up over being currently weaker than her, for I know, using logic, that I still need some time to get there. I have to set expectations for myself that are within reason. If I don't do that, I'll end up like you, punching the ground and feeling pathetically incompetent."
Her eyes narrowed. The gears in her head were visibly grinding.
Quinlan sighed, sensing it was best to just use caveman language. She could understand normal speech and use it as well, but… From their prior interaction, he knew this was more effective.
As such, he took a deep breath and began. "Raika dumb. Raika no use head. Even Black Fang weak once. Raika should set better goals. Aim for Veil Walker power level targets. Forget Black Fang, Lilith, Kaede, Morgana, Yoruha, and the other wrinkly hags. Worry about hags once Raika wrinkly too."
Raika blinked slowly. She looked around, visibly wondering if Black Fang was nearby to hear his sacrilegious words. But she wasn't. Of course, she wasn't. Quinlan was not suicidal; he only said what he did because he had been monitoring the woman using his slaves.
Then, once Raika realized her master wasn't listening in, her feral gaze returned to Quinlan's face and narrowed in scrutiny, studying him for trickery. Then, hesitantly, uncertainly, she gave the faintest of nods.
Quinlan chuckled under his breath. "Good."
But his smile was wiped away in an instant.
With a guttural growl, Raika planted her palms into the dirt and pushed herself up through sheer, stubborn strain. Her muscles trembled. Her burned flesh screamed. Her ribs protested. She spat blood into the crater with such force that it splattered across the broken stone, yet she didn't even spare it a glance.
Instead, her eyes locked onto him, blazing with the same wild fire that made her who she was. The world's most stubborn woman's determination rushed back to life inside her.
"Fight me," she rasped, "I demand a rematch."
Quinlan blinked at her in disbelief. "… Seriously? You're about to bleed out, woman. Use your head, I'm begging you."