[Post-Tea Party Digestive Exercise: Task Complete]
[Reward Obtained: Satiety significantly reduced]
The cold system prompt flashed through Daigan’s mind.
Set aside for the moment, he glanced back toward the tea table.
Over in the workshop, Capitano slowly lifted his ruined cloak.
“This is…!”
Under the gaze of the others—some frowning, others wide-eyed with shock—the crisp military uniform beneath the Captain’s cloak lay in tattered shreds.
Even more chilling was the exposed flesh beneath.
Deep, bone-deep slash marks crisscrossed his torso.
The flesh was raw and gaping, yet not a single drop of blood bled from the wounds.
Instead, they bore a bizarre, withered gray hue, resembling dead wood split open by an axe—utterly lifeless and decayed.
“What?
Daigan did this?”
Tartaglia’s eyes widened, his blue pupils filled with sheer disbelief.
To him, the Captain was an immovable mountain, a warrior who hadn’t looked this battered even when surrounded and besieged by the Abyss.
Arlecchino remained silent, though her sharp eyes narrowed slightly.
She had watched the fight with utmost clarity.
The Captain had clearly moved with practiced ease, dodging every strike away from vital points.
How could he possibly…?
“Mr.
Daigan’s blade is much ‘longer’ than what meets the eye.”
Capitano’s voice remained deep and steady.
He extended a hand—equally covered in withered, bark-like lines—and lightly brushed the wound across his abdomen, which had nearly opened his entire torso.
His fingertips scraped against stark white ribs, making a faint grinding sound.
“Without using Elemental energy to force a block, relying purely on evasion makes it impossible to escape his range.”
“Hey, Captain!
Is now really the time for a tactical analysis?” Sandrone shivered at the gruesome sight.
“Those injuries…
doesn’t that hurt?”
“It matters not.” Capitano calmly lowered his cloak, concealing his inhuman body once more.
“The curse of Khaenri’ah robbed me of sensitive pain long ago.
A wound of this magnitude is a mere flesh wound.”
His gaze pierced through the crowd, landing on the silent Daigan standing off to the side, a trace of inquiry lingering in his eyes.
Strange attack trajectories, a blade sharp beyond reason, and an apparently bottomless well of stamina…
During the fight, Capitano had attempted to condense an ice blade to parry once more, only to find that a weapon capable of withstanding multiple heavy blows was as fragile as tissue paper before Daigan.
To accomplish that, Daigan had to unleash a force tens of times greater than his previous strikes in a single instant.
Was the young man continuing to grow stronger mid-battle?
Or did the iron sword in his hand seal some power beyond comprehension?
By contrast, Daigan’s condition was absurdly pristine.
Looking closely, aside from his slightly rumpled clothes, he didn’t have a single scratch on him.
*It seems the rumors of his immortality aren’t baseless,* Arlecchino thought secretly, shifting her gaze back to Daigan.
*Cruel and ruthless techniques, certainly.
But if this is the full extent of your hand…
impressive as it is, it’s hardly enough to shake the entire Fatui.*
She could easily match that level of speed and power herself.
Though, she certainly wouldn’t dare speak to the Tsaritsa in such a manner.
The atmosphere at the tea party turned subtle.
As Capitano’s wounds healed at a visible rate under the curse’s power—or rather, as decayed flesh regrew to cover the gashes—this thrilling sparring match came to a close.
“That was incredible!
Daigan, you’re an absolute monster!” Tartaglia bounced over to Daigan’s side, unable to contain his excitement.
“How about a 1v1 next time, just the two of us?
I won’t even use my Vision!”
He still had his Delusion and Foul Legacy, after all.
Tartaglia was clearly undeterred by the Captain’s grim state.
He figured that worst-case scenario, he could just surrender.
They were both Harbingers; Daigan wouldn’t hunt him down to kill him, right?
Daigan didn’t answer.
He was staring down at his own health bar.
Although it had reset when combat ended, those few times he had been grazed by the Captain’s ice blade had genuinely wiped out over half his HP.
He felt no pain, only the fluctuation of data, but it left him with a lingering thread of unease.
*System, roughly what level do I need to reach before I unlock pain sensations…?*
[Tactile feedback is the most critical and heavily impacts the host’s state, so naturally it unlocks last.]
*I haven’t felt pain in so long.
When the time comes, will I really be able to stand it?*
Daigan sounded a bit downcast.
The system offered comfort:
[Tactile sensations and CCB are linked together.]
*I don’t care about that!*
…
The tea party disbanded.
Sandrone clutched a mountain of data pads, muttering terms like “new automatons” and “budget” under her breath as she hurried off.
She needed time to digest the staggering data brought by that battle.
As things stood, it seemed no machine in her factory could withstand the force of their sparring.
“Haaah…”
Columbina let out a yawn and tugged Tartaglia along to eat the remaining pastries, seemingly indifferent to the life-or-death battle that had just transpired.
Tartaglia chuckled and waved goodbye to Sandrone.
Arlecchino gave Daigan a deep, lingering look before turning to leave.
Her mind was already calculating how to utilize existing resources to push forward the plan regarding Fontaine.
Left standing alone, Daigan watched these “Harbingers” who had been locked in intense combat moments ago instantly return to normal.
A powerful sense of dissonance welled up inside him.
They were like NPCs programmed with specific routines.
Once the “Combat” event triggered, they automatically cycled back to their “Daily” states.
Tartaglia and Columbina were chatting by the tea table.
The Captain sat in a chair, quietly sipping tea.
Arlecchino stood by the hearth, deep in thought.
Sandrone was over at a workbench, kneading the air.
*System, can I interact with them now?*
[Yes.
The tea party event has concluded, and the host is free to leave this building.]
Should he randomly pick someone to talk to?
[Would the host like to try making a choice?]
Daigan’s gaze landed on Sandrone, who was currently fondling empty air not far away.
Perhaps this Harbinger, who seemed relatively approachable, could give him a few answers?
He took a step forward and walked toward Sandrone.