Chapter 146
Chapter 146
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 146
Chapter Title: Stranded (3)
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“It stopped!”
Carlyle burst out of the cave into the blazing sunlight, throwing both arms high in the air.
Trailing behind him was Panhaima, her face puffed out in a pout.
“Your kind must have some strangely wired brains or something.”
“Pardon?”
She’d thrown as much sarcasm as she could muster, but Carlyle whipped around with an utterly innocent expression, as if he had no idea what she was talking about.
...Damn it. Panhaima averted her gaze, her head starting to throb.
‘This guy, after everything that happened yesterday...’
He looked like the whole world was just rolling along smoothly for him.
...It pissed her off, feeling like she was the only one stressing over it.
She kicked idly at the ground and stared blankly up at the sky.
And the more she showed her irritation, the happier the one other person involved seemed to get.
‘Why do you look so pleased...?’
Carlyle shot an incredulous look at the Holy Sword and spoke. A pleased voice drifted out from within.
[Well, I’m just glad there’s one more woman suffering like me.]
‘Pardon?’
[Though yesterday, when you were groping around on her body, I did want to strangle you.]
‘...’
[I was wondering if you were playing with fire or something.]
Come on, man.
‘Do you really think I’d do something that sleazy to Panhaima?’
[...Probably not you who wants that sort of thing.]
‘.........Pardon?’
This guy doesn’t know when to shut up.
He was spouting absolute disaster material.
That Panhaima wanted to do that sort of thing with him yesterday?
‘Seriously, you all have zero experience with men. Look at yesterday’s situation—how do you even think like that?’
[What?]
‘You’ve never done it, so you don’t even have an eye for the mood. Tsk tsk.’
[...]
‘Listen, Hero. Including you, Vespa, and Panhaima—you know what my definite job is?’
[...What?]
‘I don’t know who you all will end up with later, but I’ll make damn sure to vet any sleazy guy so you don’t get tangled with the wrong one.’
Damn right.
If he saved the world and they were freed from their duties, he’d thoroughly inspect to make sure none of them got hooked by some weirdo.
They were like daughters he’d taken to heart. If some creep came sniffing around, he’d grab the bastard, skin him alive, castrate him—whatever it took.
‘I just can’t trust your senses when it comes to romance. You’re all fated to get hooked by some total freak and suffer hell for it.’
[.........]
‘Don’t worry. I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.’
The Holy Sword fell silent.
‘Touched?’
[................]
Weird.
Why no response?
...It seemed like his blood pressure had shot up so high he’d passed out or something.
Even though it was a sword.
Well, whatever.
“How’s your body feeling?”
At his question, Panhaima gave a wry smile and glanced down at her stomach.
“...The ‘Slave Seal’ is gone. Guess that means my body’s fine.”
Panhaima said with a wry smile.
Carlyle’s expression grew darker by the second as he listened.
‘Slave Seal, huh.’
He’d heard Asmodeus mention it once—a mark engraved on her by the far-eastern Ten Glyph Society.
To wipe out her family and stamp the survivors as their property.
That’s what he’d heard about the Haima Clan.
-When the body weakens, it forcibly draws on your core life force to pump vitality back into it.
Panhaima continued her explanation matter-of-factly, and it only got more horrific.
-Slaves aren’t meant to live long. Better to boost your condition and work yourself to death right away. Die like the tools you are.
...Just hearing it made his blood boil in reverse.
No normal human would think of that. No way.
‘Come to think of it...’
In past loops, Panhaima had often shown freakish focus whenever she was pushed to the brink in battle.
He’d chalked it up to mental fortitude, never dreaming the source was something so gruesome.
[...Surprised you never guessed it through all those regressions.]
‘No chance to find out.’
Carlyle sighed in reply to the Hero.
‘The last loop where I lasted till the end was the weird one. Usually, she died before a year was up.’
Most loops were hellish enough that they never got a real chance to learn about each other.
“...”
He let out a deep internal sigh.
He thought he knew every relevant detail, but he’d missed this.
What a failure as a regressor. Not knowing she was suffering like this.
“Panhaima.”
“What.”
“I’ll definitely make you happy.”
“....”
Panhaima’s eyes went wide.
Soon, a fierce blush flooded her face.
“...Don’t make me ask. What exactly do you mean by that?”
“? No, you’ve been through so much hell—I’m saying I’ll make you happy.”
“So what kind of ‘happy’ do you—never mind. Shut your trap. I can tell from your face it means nothing. You idiot...”
“...”
Harsh.
This one was starting to talk like the Hero too.
“...So, what exactly was that mountain spirit thing in the end?”
“Who knows...”
At Carlyle’s question, Panhaima eyed the herbs hanging from her waist.
She’d managed to keep them safe through all that chaos.
“...Probably something special mixed in with what we gathered.”
Rather than some bizarre mountain spirit causing all this trouble, it was more likely one of these unknown herbs was something incredible even she didn’t recognize.
“Gotta be something extraordinary to make us go through all this crap.”
As she grumbled, Carlyle grinned and approached, patting her shoulder.
“Don’t be like that, Panhaima. A day of hardship? Anyone can handle that.”
“Doesn’t feel like just a day to me. The line’s already thorns enough without me getting hooked too.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“Just lead the way. You wouldn’t get it with your kind’s intelligence anyway.”
“...”
Carlyle trudged ahead with a deadpan face, and Panhaima glanced at the spot on her shoulder he’d patted.
His scent lingered there, faintly.
She sniffed it discreetly.
It smelled.
Same as last night, pressed naked against him by the campfire.
“...”
Panhaima checked her body quietly.
Her heart was pounding like mad.
Her lower belly burned hot.
Definitely not the Slave Seal.
“...You idiot.”
Panhaima grumbled that as she followed after Carlyle, who was walking ahead with a spring in his step.
◆
Gray Chasefield took a deep breath and aligned her sword stance.
The explosive mana surging wildly until moments ago was now settling into order.
The surroundings, where she’d unleashed near-cataclysmic violence, were a scene of devastation.
“...”
Hmm.
Still feels a bit lacking.
It wasn’t yet at the level of that mysterious “single strike” she’d taken before.
‘...Then I just need to train harder.’
She took another deep breath and lifted the Holy Sword again.
...If not for the whistling from the training ground entrance, she would’ve resumed immediately.
“Did the Hero do all this—?”
“...”
Gray scowled deeply and turned to the intruder.
Pohaven Margrave... no, Asmodeus.
The woman they’d all agreed to ignore as long as she caused no trouble—wandering the palace as she pleased, everyone pretending not to notice.
The white-haired, red-eyed woman eyed the utterly wrecked training dummies.
“Gonna cost a fortune. These all adamantium, right? Mage Tower sells ’em for a killing—”
“...”
Too annoyed to even look her way, Gray pressed a button inside the training ground without turning.
As it reset the dummies, Asmodeus leaned against the wall and crossed her arms.
“Hey, Hero.”
“...”
“Hero—”
“...”
“Heeeerooooo— If you ignore me, I’ll cryyyyy—”
“......”
“Cold fish—solo—while Carlyle oppa fools around with other girls, all you do is train, you tryhard—”
...This bitch I could rip apart.
Finally, Gray turned, forehead veins twitching visibly, and glared at Asmodeus.
“Wanna see one of us die?”
“Nah, too much of a waste. I’ve got a proposal you might actually be curious about.”
“What?”
“Hero.”
Asmodeus grinned.
“Carlyle oppa. Wanna monopolize him for once?”
“...”
“No one else gets to butt in.”
Gray’s face twisted in a frown.
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