My Skills Have No Limits : Transmigirated In A Novel as An Extra-Chapter 39: Debts Of Mercy

The severed body convulsed violently, desperate to rejoin its head. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

It succeeded after a brief, jerking motion, the head snapping back into place with a hiss of energy. But before the Plasma could regain balance, its body was caught mid-air, restrained, suspended just above the ground.

"These Plasmas and their thefts have been increasing lately," Frickon announced, his voice ringing loud and cold.

"It wasn’t long ago we caught another one trying the same trick."

The frail body in his grasp went limp, the flickers dimming as if realizing its fate.

Across them, the other Plasma, the one who had apparently made the purchase, stiffened, its face hardening.

"W–what? A thief?"

it stammered, voice cracking with disbelief before twisting into anger.

"He dared steal from me... in the Sanctuary? He shouldn’t be forgiven."

Frickon nodded violently, his grip tightening.

Then the Plasma spoke again, tone sharp with disbelief.

"By the way, what did he even steal from me? I have quite a keen sense myself, I would’ve detected it the moment he slipped his hands into my cloth."

"Can you please open your hands for me?"

Frickon requested.

The Plasma complied without hesitation.

"What the heck!" he exclaimed.

The badge in his palm began to dissolve, slowly at first, fading like melting frost, or like naphthalene disappearing into air.

Its edges blurred, shimmered faintly, and then vanished entirely, leaving only a faint shimmer of particles in its wake.

"What did he tell you when he sold it to you?" Frickon asked.

"He told me the badge was made by the upper echelons themselves..." the Plasma muttered, voice thick with disappointment. "But, turns out it was nothing more than a stone from the Farlands."

His eyes lingered on the empty space where the badge had once been, glowing faintly in frustration.

"Now it’s on you, what do you want to do with him? It would’ve just been double the amount back at the Revenant Consortium, but we’re at the Sanctuary now."

Frickon said, tightening his grip on the trembling Plasma.

The man stepped forward, the faint shimmer of authority flickering around him.

"I will legally get all the vessels held by his family members confiscated until the desired amount is paid," he declared.

Aziel felt something cold crawl down his spine. For the briefest second, the thief’s dim clusters of light, where eyes should’ve been, aligned with his.

There was no emotion there.

No fear.

No plea.

Only stillness.

Aziel exhaled softly, stepping forward.

"Hold on," he said, his tone casual yet even, like he was merely making an observation.

"Let’s not go that far, shall we?"

The man turned sharply toward him. "And why shouldn’t I?"

Aziel’s voice was smooth, almost conversational.

"Because you’ve already won," he said, gesturing lightly toward the thief still held in Frickon’s grasp.

"Look at him, his body barely holding together, his light flickering out of rhythm. You’ve seen it too. Whatever greed made him steal, it’s gone now. What’s left is a Plasma who’s learned his limits the hard way."

He tilted his head slightly, a small, knowing smile forming.

"You punish him further, and all you’ll have left is a broken being, one that can’t even comprehend what he did wrong. But if you let him walk away, wounded but alive, he’ll remember. He’ll owe his life to your mercy. And trust me..."

Aziel’s tone dropped lower, more deliberate.

"debts of mercy last longer than debts of law."

The man hesitated, the glow of his form pulsing uneasily.

Aziel stepped closer, lowering his voice just enough for only them to hear.

"Besides, what’s the worth of your reputation here, at the Sanctuary, if others start whispering that a Plasma of your stature crushed a thief who was already broken? Mercy, especially when undeserved, travels faster than fear."

The man’s form dimmed slightly, the tension in his stance fading.

He exhaled, almost reluctant.

"Very well," he muttered, flicking his wrist dismissively. "Let him go. But if I see him again..."

"You won’t," Aziel said with a faint grin.

"He’s learned more in these few seconds than any trial could’ve taught him."

Frickon blinked, glancing between them, clearly processing everything a step behind.

"So... we’re letting him go because... mercy’s good for reputation?" he asked hesitantly.

Aziel sighed. "Something like that."

"Oh, right. Reputation mercy. Got it," Frickon said, nodding seriously, though his tone made it clear he hadn’t understood a word.

He loosened his grip. The Plasma dropped to the ground, light trembling like a dying flame before it slowly dispersed into thin air, faint ripples of energy fading into the surrounding glow.

Aziel’s gaze lingered on the spot, his expression unreadable.

The man gave a curt nod before fading into the shadows of the Sanctuary.

Aziel turned back, observing Frickon’s wide-eyed stare.

"So..." Frickon finally said, turning around, breaking the brief silence.

"Aziel sir, why did you help that Plasma escape? I am genuinely curious."

Aziel didn’t slow his pace as he jogged forward, eyes scanning the paths ahead.

"There isn’t much of a reason behind it," he replied smoothly, voice calm. "Let’s say I felt... empathy for him."

Frickon blinked, clearly struggling to process it. Then, a grin spread across his face, a mixture of awe and his usual foolish enthusiasm.

"You were really cool back there, sir. Just how you persuaded the other Plasma, it was nothing less than incredible! I mean... seriously, who talks someone down while making them feel like they’re winning?"

Aziel’s eyes flicked sideways, a hint of amusement in the corner of his gaze.

Though Frickon acted all dumb and foolish, he wasn’t truly one.

That much Aziel had already figured out while watching him handle the thief with calm ease, almost professionally. His observations were on a level few could match.

He noticed things others would miss entirely, like how he had subconsciously picked up on Aziel’s subtle sweet-talking of the man.

’Who knows...’ Aziel thought, ’maybe he did that last act to ease the tension, just before that Ugly Plasma could have changed his mind.’

Frickon’s voice lowered conspiratorially, as if sharing the secret of the world, as if he already hadn’t.

"Man, Aziel sir... sometimes I don’t even know how you think. It’s... just... wowaahh~"

BOOM

Frickon’s words were cut off, as the surrounding air exploded with sound.