Chapter 12: Judgment of Light.

Ordis Underground Sewers, commonly known as the C-rank dungeon: Corrupted Corridor.

The air here was perpetually damp. Glowing moss clung to the walls. Beneath their feet lay viscous sludge that squelched unpleasantly with every step.

For most female adventurers, this place was an absolute nightmare they would never willingly enter.

But today’s Iron Sword Party had a rather peculiar vibe.

“So… so heavy nya…”

Nya, scouting at the very front, carried an enormous backpack on her small frame.

Inside were spare weapons, ropes, and all three of their water flasks.

The oversized pack crushed her petite body into a hunched, little-old-lady posture. With every step, her cat ears drooped limply.

Five meters behind her, Hill walked with relaxed ease, gripping her newly purchased mithril shortsword and vigilantly scanning the surroundings.

Not a speck of dust marred her clothes.

And bringing up the rear…

Phyllis floated gracefully three inches off the ground, holding a translucent magical parasol.

“Phyllis… isn’t that flight spell kind of a waste of mana?”

Hill glanced back, somewhat helpless.

Running full-time flight magic in a low-level dungeon like this was basically treating mana like tap water.

“Not at all.”

Phyllis smiled gently. A soft orb of illumination glowed at the tip of her staff.

“If my shoes get dirty and I track outside bacteria back home, that would be terrible. Besides…”

She gave her staff a light wave. An invisible barrier enveloped Hill.

It was an air filtration ward.

The pungent stench of the sewer vanished instantly, replaced only by the faint citrus fragrance that always clung to Phyllis.

“Hill’s respiratory system is sensitive. Breathing too much of this filthy air would affect your lung capacity.”

“Then why not put one on Nya too?”

Hill pointed at the miserable catgirl ahead, who was currently pinching her nose while scouting.

“She’s the scout.”

Phyllis replied as though stating an obvious fact, her tone gentle yet utterly matter-of-fact.

“Scouts rely on their sense of smell to detect enemy positions. If we block her scent detection, what if she misses a monster’s pheromones? That would be disrespectful to her profession.”

Up ahead, Nya’s ears twitched violently. She very much wanted to whip around and yell, “I don’t mind that kind of disrespect at all!”

But remembering yesterday’s stiff-bristled brush and the incinerated gloves, she swallowed the words and simply sniffed the foul air with even more aggrieved misery.

“…I guess that makes sense.”

Hill was convinced.

After all, every role had its specialization—and back when she was Rayne leading parties, she had made the same demand of thieves.

“Stop nya!”

Nya halted abruptly. Her tail shot straight up, fur bristling along her back.

“Something’s ahead! That… sticky, squishy sound!”

Hill immediately dropped into a combat stance, shortsword held horizontally across her chest.

“How many?”

“Three… no, five! Above us!”

Before the words finished leaving her mouth, several large globs of green liquid dripped from the damp ceiling overhead.

Acid Slimes.

Low-level monsters, but extremely troublesome—their sprayed acid could corrode metal, let alone flesh.

“Screee!!”

Five slimes splattered to the ground, rapidly coalescing and bouncing toward the trio.

“Nya, fall back and protect Phyllis!”

Hill shouted, charging forward instead of retreating.

Though this was their first real combat coordination, her movements held no hesitation whatsoever.

“…Edge of Wind.”

Phyllis’s support spell arrived almost instantaneously.

Hill felt the shortsword in her hand become impossibly light. A razor-thin layer of slicing wind coiled around the blade.

“Slash!”

Hill’s figure turned into a streak of silver.

The first slime didn’t even have time to spray before it was bisected cleanly. Its core shattered into a puddle of green goo.

Then the second. Then the third.

Hill danced through the narrow passage—leaping, twisting, flowing like water.

Her previous life’s combat experience combined with Phyllis’s buffs gave her an intoxicating sense of invincibility.

But accidents always strike in an instant.

Just after Hill bisected the fourth slime, the last one—hidden in shadow—struck.

It didn’t aim for a vital point. Instead it detonated itself in a massive spray of acid.

“Watch out!”

Phyllis cried out.

Hill reacted quickly, twisting aside.

But it was an area splash.

Several green droplets still struck her left shoulder and skirt hem.

“Sssss…”

An unpleasant sizzling sound rose.

The expensive new leather armor had magical resistance, but against acid it still proved somewhat vulnerable.

White fabric quickly blackened and dissolved, exposing a small patch of skin beneath.

“Mmph…”

Hill felt a burning sting on her shoulder—like a cigarette ember pressed against flesh.

Just for a moment.

To a warrior, this wasn’t even a light injury—barely more than a scraped layer of skin.

But in Phyllis’s eyes, the world instantly turned red.

She saw it.

She saw that foul-smelling, filthy green liquid touch Hill’s sacred skin!

That disgusting slime was ravaging Hill’s pure white shoulder!

It even left a red mark!

Unforgivable.

This was Hill’s skin.

This was sacred ground where not even dust was permitted to settle.

A mere blob of filth…

Dared to touch her?!

The gentleness on Phyllis’s face shattered in an instant, replaced by a bone-chilling, absolute cold.

“…Judgment of Light.”

No long incantation—just four words, yet they carried enough magical pressure to crush the air itself.

Nya dropped flat to the ground, clutching her head, scalp prickling.

This wasn’t ordinary magic!

This wasn’t high-tier divine art that should even appear in a low-level dungeon like this!

A blinding white beam erupted from the tip of Phyllis’s staff.

Not gentle purifying light—but a high-density, destructive heat ray.

“BOOM!!!”

The still-living slime, the ground beneath it, the wall behind it, and every patch of moss within ten meters…

All of it was vaporized in a single instant.

Not even residue remained.

The sewer stench was instantly incinerated, leaving only the smell of scorched air.

Dead silence fell over the entire tunnel.

Hill remained frozen mid-swing, staring blankly at the still-smoking crater before her.

“Uh… Phyllis?”

She swallowed hard.

“Wasn’t that… a little overkill? It was just one slime…”

Phyllis lowered her staff.

The murderous rage in her eyes vanished instantly. She replaced it with a teary, heartbroken expression and rushed toward Hill.

“Hill! You’re hurt!”

She dropped the staff and cradled Hill’s shoulders with trembling hands.

“It’s nothing—just a few drops…”

Hill started to say it was fine.

“Don’t move! Don’t speak!”

Phyllis’s voice cracked with panic.

She stared fixedly at the fingernail-sized red mark on Hill’s shoulder—the skin scalded after the acid ate through the clothing.

“So dirty… the acid seeped in…”

Phyllis muttered to herself.

She pulled out a bottle of pure water and frantically rinsed the wound.

The stream ran down Hill’s collarbone and into her chest, soaking her undergarment and bringing a wave of cold and embarrassment.

“Phyllis! The water’s too cold!”

“Bear with it! If we don’t flush out the toxin completely, it’ll scar!”

Phyllis wasn’t listening at all.

After rinsing, she took a spotless white gauze pad, soaked it in top-grade antidote, and pressed it firmly against the tiny wound.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

While treating it, Phyllis buried her face in the crook of Hill’s neck, voice trembling with sobs.

“I failed to protect you… it happened right in front of me… I let that filthy thing touch you…”

Hill had initially thought she was overreacting, but feeling the violent shaking of Phyllis’s body, her heart softened instantly.

This partner might be a little overprotective, but she truly placed Hill’s safety above everything else.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

Hill awkwardly reached up and patted Phyllis’s golden hair.

“I was careless. Look—it doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

Phyllis lifted her head. Her eyes were red-rimmed.

She took out a spare cloak and wrapped it tightly around Hill.

She always carried it—just in case Hill got cold.

“We’re going back today.”

Phyllis turned, her tone unusually resolute.

“Your clothes are damaged—defense is compromised. And you’re injured. We must return immediately for proper treatment.”

“But we’ve only been in here for ten minutes…”

Nya raised her hand timidly from behind.

Phyllis shot her a cold glance.

The look seemed to say:

If you had detected that hidden slime properly, would Hill have gotten hurt? We’ll settle this later.

Nya immediately shut her mouth and even proactively shouldered Hill’s not-particularly-heavy sword scabbard.

“Back! Back right now nya! Captain’s injured—that’s a big deal!”

On the way back to the city.

Hill felt somewhat frustrated.

This was their first real party expedition, yet they hadn’t even seen the boss before retreating over such a minor injury.

For the former Sword Saint Hero, this was practically humiliating.

“Phyllis, I think we’re being too cautious.”

Hill tried to reason.

“Which adventurer doesn’t get hurt? This isn’t even bleeding…”

“Hill.”

Phyllis walked beside her, clinging tightly to her uninjured arm.

“The body is an adventurer’s greatest asset. Taking small wounds lightly and letting them fester is the mistake of third-rate adventurers.”

She stopped and looked seriously into Hill’s eyes.

“Besides… it hurts me.”

“When Hill gets hurt, it feels a thousand times more painful than if it were me.”

That ultimate trump card left Hill completely defenseless.

Faced with a partner who cared for her so wholeheartedly, no amount of tough reasoning could come out.

“…I understand.”

Hill sighed.

“I’ll be more careful next time.”

“Mm. That’s right.”

Phyllis smiled in satisfaction.

She glanced at the thick bandage wrapped around Hill’s shoulder.

In truth, the wound had already healed completely—even the redness had faded.

But she had deliberately bandaged it heavily and even tied a pretty bow.

As though staking territorial claim.

As for the slime that sprayed acid on Hill…

A flash of vicious pleasure passed through Phyllis’s eyes.

Vaporization was far too merciful.

She should have bottled it and slowly roasted it over holy fire.

Nya trailed behind, watching the lovey-dovey pair ahead, then looked at the heavy pack on her own back and sighed helplessly.

“So this is what they call… being stuffed full of dog food nya?”

From this day forward, every monster would be forced to learn one truth.

This silver-haired bird must never be touched.

Anyone who dares lay a hand on her will summon a Judgment of Light more terrifying than the fires of hell itself.