Pain flared across Jasper’s broad chest, smelling of ozone and scorched flesh. A white-hot crack echoed through the stone vault as the holy whip bit into his shoulder. Blood seeped through his torn shirt, but his feet didn't budge an inch. Chief Inquisitor Malakai sneered, his silver-trimmed robes swirling as he coiled the glowing weapon for another strike. "Kneel, heretic," Malakai hissed, his eyes gleaming with fanatical zeal. Jasper spat a mouthful of dark blood onto the polished marble. "I’ve had worse performance reviews," Jasper muttered, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. Squeezing the dark mana, he compressed it into dense, heavy gravity wells around his fists. Overtime was always a bitch, but this guy was taking micromanagement to a whole new level. Back in his Tokyo office, Jasper had survived eighty-hour workweeks on nothing but black coffee and sheer spite. Compared to a toxic boss breathing down his neck at three in the morning, a holy whip was practically a massage. Another strike whistled through the air, wrapping tightly around Jasper's forearm. Searing light burned into his skin, trying to dissolve his dark mana, but he only grinned. Instead of pulling away, Jasper clamped his massive hand down on the glowing lash. He hauled back with the strength of a man who refused to let his weekend be ruined. Malakai’s eyes widened in sheer terror as his own weapon became a tether, dragging him forward. Yanking the fanatical priest off his feet, Jasper reeled him in like a prize catch. A massive, dark-infused fist collided with the Inquisitor's jaw, sending teeth clattering across the stone. Jasper caught him by the collar before he could hit the ground, shaking him hard. "Who approved this work schedule?" Jasper growled, slamming him against a stone pillar. Physical labor was his absolute worst enemy, and fighting a small army definitely qualified. Dozens of temple guards rushed into the vault, their shields locked and spears pointed forward. They looked terrified, their eyes darting between the massive dark-magic user and their bleeding leader. Jasper cursed under his breath, realizing this was going to take way too long. Suddenly, the solid oak doors of the vault exploded inward, reduced to a shower of harmless golden splinters. Elias stepped through the dust, his dirty-blonde hair catching the faint light. His posture was casual, almost lazy, as if he were strolling into a high-end bar rather than a hostile military encounter. A halo of S-Tier Light Magic pulsed around him, so pure and blinding that several guards immediately dropped their weapons to shield their eyes. "Am I late for the team-building exercise?" Elias asked, casting a bright, scanning gaze over the room. He spotted Jasper holding the Inquisitor by the collar and winced. "Your shirt is ruined, Jasper. That was premium linen." "Bill it to the company," Jasper grunted, throwing Malakai to the ground. Elias sighed, shaking his head. "We don't have a company anymore. We are freelance consultants, remember?" Twitching his fingers, he mapped out the geometry of the room. Above them hung a massive, multi-tiered crystal chandelier, catching the light from the magical torches. It was the perfect lens. Elias's S-Tier Light Magic was incredibly versatile, allowing him to manipulate electromagnetic frequencies with mathematical precision. Instead of raw blasting power, he relied on mathematical precision. With a sharp flick of his wrist, Elias fired a series of concentrated light needles at the chandelier. Prisms of glass caught the golden rays, magnifying and refracting them in every direction. A dazzling web of blinding light erupted through the vault, bouncing off the polished marble walls. Guards shrieked, instantly blinded by the concentrated solar glare. Many fell to their knees, clawing at their helmets as the light pierced through their visors. Even the stone structure seemed to vibrate from the sheer intensity of the magical discharge. Jasper acted immediately, using his shadow magic to create a localized zone of absolute darkness. This pitch-black bubble shielded the enslaved laborers from the blinding light and the falling debris. With a swift, practiced motion, Jasper shattered the remaining chains holding the captives. "Move!" Jasper barked, his voice echoing with authority. Startled but desperate, the laborers scrambled toward the exit, guided by the safe shadows Jasper laid out for them. Elias kept the chandelier glowing like a miniature sun, his brow furrowing with effort. Maintaining such a high output of light magic required constant, precise adjustments to prevent the crystals from melting. He could feel his mana reserves dropping, a sensation he absolutely despised. Every drop of mana spent was a drop of energy he couldn't use to enjoy his retirement. Running through the corridors, Jasper felt the weight of the two slaves on his shoulders, their shallow breathing hot against his neck. Elias kept pace beside him, his boots clicking rhythmically against the stone tiles as he cast minor light barriers to deflect stray arrows. Temple guards tried to cut them off at the main intersection, but Jasper simply lowered his shoulder and plowed through them like a freight train. Bones cracked under his heavy charge, sending armored bodies flying into the walls. Elias chuckled, though the sound was tight and strained. "Remind me never to stand between you and the exit on a Friday evening," Elias said, casting a quick flash to blind a lingering archer. "If it’s five o'clock, I am legally a hazard," Jasper grunted, not slowing down. --- Cool night air washed over them as they finally exited the secret tunnels beneath the Sunlit Spires. They had reached a secluded clearing deep within the resort's private forest. Dozens of freed slaves collapsed onto the damp grass, their bodies trembling from exhaustion and fear. Many were weeping silently, clutching their newly freed necks where the heavy control collars had sat for years. Elias slumped against a large mossy boulder, his chest heaving as he wiped sweat from his forehead. His dirty-blonde hair was damp, and his S-Tier robes were covered in dust and soot. "I hate this," Elias muttered, pulling a silver flask from his inner pocket. He took a long, burning gulp of dwarven whiskey, letting the alcohol numb his aching muscles. Jasper dropped onto a fallen log, his massive frame making the wood groan under his weight. Deep, jagged burns from the holy whip lined his back, though his dark magic was slowly stitching the flesh together. "We aren't getting paid for this," Jasper grumbled, staring at his bloodied knuckles. "That is exactly my point," Elias snapped, pointing his flask at Jasper. "Our entire business plan was simple: premium dwarven ale, hot springs, and absolutely zero responsibilities." "Now look at us. We are playing savior to a bunch of runaway laborers. Do you know what happens to saviors?" "They get more work," Jasper finished, his voice heavy with distaste. "Exactly! It’s the classic corporate trap," Elias groaned, leaning his head back. "You do a good job, and your reward is more work. The universe is trying to exploit us again, Jasper." Both men fell silent, staring at the shivering crowd of refugees. A small child, a beastkin girl with fluffy fox ears, crept toward Jasper. She looked up at his towering, terrifying form, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and awe. Reaching out a tiny, trembling hand, she lightly touched his dark-stained sleeve. "Thank you, mister giant," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Jasper froze, his massive shoulders tensing. He looked down at the child, then looked away, letting out a long, irritated sigh. Elias covered his eyes with his hand, groaning loudly. "Don't look at her, Jasper. If you look at her, the moral obligation wins." "I'm not looking," Jasper muttered, though his dark mana subtly shifted to create a warm breeze around the shivering child. This was the absolute worst-case scenario for two lazy salarymen. Possessing the power of gods was supposed to make life easy, but the world kept trying to force them into the roles of legendary heroes. High Arbiters wanted them to fight each other in a grand, apocalyptic duel, while the common folk wanted them to be saviors. Both options sounded like a massive, unpaid chore. A quiet pub, a cold pint, and a comfortable bed were their only real goals. A wet, bubbling laugh broke the quiet night, originating from the edge of the clearing. Jasper’s head snapped toward the sound, his dark mana instantly flaring in response. Dragging himself out of the shadow of the forest, Chief Inquisitor Malakai appeared. He was crawling on his hands and knees, leaving a thick, glistening trail on the grass. Crawling on his hands and knees, he left a thick, glistening trail on the grass. Yet, despite his broken ribs and shattered jaw, his eyes burned with a terrifying, fanatical ecstasy. Elias stood up, his hand hovering near his hip where his light-infused daggers were kept. "You're persistent, I'll give you that," Elias said, his voice dropping its playful tone. "But if you're here to ask for severance pay, you're out of luck." Malakai collapsed onto his stomach, coughing up a mouthful of dark, clotted blood. He didn't seem to care about the pain, his shoulders shaking with silent, hysterical laughter. "Saviors..." Malakai wheezed, his voice raspy and choked. "You think... you saved them..." Jasper stepped forward, his massive boot coming down right next to the priest's head. "Speak clearly, priest, or I'll make sure you never speak again," Jasper warned, his voice like grinding tectonic plates. Malakai looked up, his bloodshot eyes locking onto Jasper's massive form. His grin widened, exposing broken, bloody teeth. "Our masters... are always... ten steps ahead..." he gasped, his chest rising and falling in erratic, shallow breaths. "Those collars... they weren't just for control..." Elias felt a cold dread sink into his stomach, his S-Tier sensory magic suddenly picking up an anomalous fluctuation of mana. It wasn't coming from Malakai. A volatile, sickening frequency was beginning to emanate from the chest of every single laborer. Jasper turned around, his jaw tightening as he saw the fox-eared girl clutching her chest, her eyes wide with sudden pain. Beneath her skin, a spiderweb of glowing red veins was beginning to pulse, humming with a highly unstable, explosive magical frequency. Every single one of the rescued captives was glowing with the same terrifying, unstable crimson light. Bleeding on the marble floor, the Chief Inquisitor laughed hysterically, gasping that the rescued slaves were actually highly unstable magical bombs set to detonate.

Chapter 14: Whips and Severance Pay