Chapter 115
Chapter 115
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 115
Chapter Title: Holy Spirit Festival (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Knock knock knock.
A woman inside the room hurriedly concealed her anxiety, melancholy, and disappointment from her face before speaking up at the sound of someone knocking on the door.
"Yes~ Come in."
The door opened at her response, and a massive man with a fierce face entered, bowing toward her.
"Ah... you came. Legion oppa. Things... didn't go well, did they?"
"...I'm sorry. ...It's already... too late... to do anything..."
Min Chorong could only let out a sigh filled with gloom and despair. She turned her head to gaze out the window. The vibrant panorama of the kingdom, brimming with energy and blooming beauty, unfolded before her eyes.
It was the kind of atmosphere befitting those on the cusp of the grand Holy Spirit Festival. But she simply couldn't bring herself to join in their festive mood.
"How!"
Min Chorong cried out involuntarily before startling herself and letting out a deep sigh as she opened her mouth again.
"How could they defile a contest that should be so sacred and pure?"
"...I'm sorry."
"You didn't do anything wrong, Legion oppa. There's no reason for you to apologize."
The Saintess Selection. This contest, held to choose the next Saintess, was originally meant to proceed without any interference, selecting the woman who was purest, most devout, and most sacred.
It was a tradition passed down from the time of the first Saintess, an inviolable law. No, the first Saintess had even established a rule that no Saintess could exert external pressure or interfere in the selection.
But this final selection had tossed such rules to the dogs.
To be honest, Min Chorong had been the overwhelming frontrunner for Saintess. Compared to her opponent—the current Saintess Isabelle, who was about to become a former Saintess, and her disciple—Min Chorong might have lagged slightly in name recognition, but she held the advantage in every other aspect.
Skill, talent, aptitude—everything. There had been a life-threatening incident, but she'd overcome it thanks to encountering an extraordinary person. In fact, that experience had taught her the preciousness of life even more deeply and gained her new connections, allowing her to grow further.
So she'd believed without a doubt. That she would win.
Yet disaster struck in the final selection, which consisted of three trials.
From the very first trial, a strange undercurrent began to flow.
Every element—from the trial events to the processes and outcomes—was tailored to give her opponent an absolute advantage.
But crucially, it was all packaged impeccably on the surface, as if nothing was amiss. Beneath the facade, though, every aspect was rigged to shove the opponent toward becoming the next Saintess.
And it didn't end there. From the moment the first trial began, all sorts of traps awaited Min Chorong.
Even when she performed acts of charity with her usual smile, they were twisted into malicious, provocative articles that slandered her.
Even her efforts and hard work for the trials were framed as unjust and spread across the world.
It was utterly ridiculous. With so many journalists around, only a handful wrote favorable articles about her.
As defeat in the final selection became all but certain, Saintess Isabelle pulled her strings. Ignoring the rules of the Saintess Selection entirely.
In just two trials—spanning about a month and a half—Isabelle's disciple had become a being even holier and more sacred than a Saintess. Meanwhile, Min Chorong had been painted as a filthy woman scraping by in back alleys, deceiving others with petty tricks.
People believed what they saw. They spat curses at Min Chorong while watching maliciously edited videos, and the ever-smiling, kind, gentle Min Chorong lost her smile.
Seeing that, people cursed her even more. Saying she no longer smiled at people, that her true colors were finally showing.
Especially since the first and second trials of the final selection had taken place in England, the homeland of the Saintess and her disciple—the anger and humiliation were even more intense there.
Min Chorong wanted to give up, but she forced herself to endure, again and again. Her overwhelming sanctity and talent granted her a single victory amid the adversity, resulting in a 1-1 tie.
She barely lost the first trial. She barely won the second.
Now only the final third trial remained. Held not on Earth but in the Abyss's Holy Kingdom, she thought this time it would be fair... but no.
The moment she arrived in the Holy Kingdom, she learned the Saintess Selection had been pushed to its final day and the trial content changed. Despair was inevitable. Moreover, everyone already knew that Saintess Isabelle had met with a cardinal right upon arrival on the first day.
In truth, the selection was as good as over.
"Auntie was right. I should have gone after that woman with everything I had, even my life."
She'd been too naive. Who would have thought they'd break the rules and pull such stunts? No matter that she was Ki So-young's niece—the prime suspect for Isabelle's inferiority complex and a top Saintess candidate—this crossed the line.
Ki So-young, her lifelong goal and sole remaining family, hadn't achieved it. Min Chorong wanted to fulfill that dream for her.
Min Chorong muttered softly with a bitter smile.
"...Don't... give up."
Watching her like that, Legion comforted her with a sigh of his own.
Since the Dungeon Black Hole incident, he'd treated Min Chorong like a comrade-in-arms and little sister, growing close. His own talents had begun to blossom brilliantly, and after being appointed as the Saintess's guard, he'd witnessed every moment.
But he could do nothing. The one he had to protect was suffering so terribly, yet he had no way to turn the tide.
No matter his mythic-grade stats and supreme potential, he was a man focused more on defense than offense. And still just a tiny seed.
Becoming a mighty tree was a distant future tale.
Watching Min Chorong on the verge of collapse, Legion gazed out the window and thought of one man.
A man who shone brighter than anyone amid such irrational despair, bestowing salvation. The sturdy, broad back that would never leave his mind surfaced.
He could become the greatest shield in the world. But there was one person—no, one guy's back—that he could never catch up to.
'...Juha.'
Calling the man's name softly, Legion sighed. He couldn't help but wish he were here right now.
That guy would charge forward without blinking at this damn unfair mess, smashing everything in his path.
That was the brilliance Legion had seen in Shin Juha. Min Chorong thought of the same man Legion had in mind.
The most trustworthy person she'd ever known. The man who ignited fire in the heart of the girl she once was. A man too busy for even a single call. A man who kept ending up in hospital beds from some massive ordeal. Yet always pushing forward, always improving.
Imagining the person she longed for most right now, she escaped this bleak reality. And cautiously prayed.
That he'd appear here where she was, as cool as ever, and shatter this irrational, hopeless situation.
The man who had become their hope, their star, in their minds... was right now...
"Sh-shit! Urghhh! To think I have to see this crap again!"
...clawing his way up from underground, wracked with agony.
Underground 4th floor. Starting with Behemoth's fragment, encountering disaster-grade monsters had been pure hell and torment.
Enduring the overwhelming pressure from Behemoth's mere presence by force. Dodging the planet-scorching turtle's flame storm while practically crawling across the floor. Finally reaching Underground 1st floor only after vomiting at the sight of Planet Predator's disgusting maw once more.
"Huuung~~ Aren't you too fragile? You have to tough this out. Getting squeamish over trash like that? As the successor to a Demon God, no less. There are tons of things in the Demon Realm that would laugh at those punks~~."
All this in less than two days. Running out of mental strength was only natural.
Belial smirked at me, gently stroking my head before slyly burying it in her massive, voluptuous somethings.
As I tried to pull away in a panic, she laughed seductively, licking her lips and whispering.
"What's wrong? No problems down there? I'm doing this because you look so beat. A rare chance, you know?"
It was... healing, at least. Realizing escape was futile, I stayed put.
Vowing to look up everything about this Demon King Belial once it was over.
Only after that mutually beneficial time flowed did I open the door connecting to Underground 1st floor and arrive here.
"Hooah~~! Thought I was gonna die. Damn Aoira, that fucking bastard. Pissing me off till the end."
I'll make you truly miserable. First, I'll finish the plan you set up, then kill you.
Turning my head, a man emerged from the darkness.
"You hid pretty well, huh?"
The man who hated Aoira like an enemy. The prisoner confined deepest in Underground 1st floor. I'd restored him and gone deeper, never expecting him to still be alive.
Honestly, I'd thought there was over 90% chance he was dead.
It made sense. Aoira would've come here at least once after I headed underground, whether puppet or main body. To collapse the secret passage so I couldn't climb back easily.
Naturally, the secret passage lay somewhere beyond this entrance, meaning he'd inevitably run into this guy.
Somehow he'd hidden well, or maybe Aoira had rushed only to seal the passage and left without noticing the man had nearly recovered.
"Will you help?"
"As much as needed. Our goals align."
Our eyes met. The emotion in both gazes was one: rage.
Satisfied, I summoned my sword and slashed the iron bars. As they snapped surprisingly easily, I tilted my head briefly before pressing on, ignoring it.
"Hng~~!"
Ignoring Belial, who eyed me and the man with her signature sultry, sexy expression, whatever her intentions.
"Since you've done me a favor, an introduction's in order. Pleased to meet you. They call me Navirung."
"Pleased. I'm Shin Juha. Since our goals match, you won't stab me in the back, right."
He chuckled at my words, clasped his hands, and swore.
"By my god's name, I swear not to harm or injure you until this matter ends."
I nodded, accepting his sincerity. I didn't fully trust him, but he seemed useful enough as a card, so I said nothing.
And so, I escaped this damned underground prison.