Chapter 89
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 89
Chapter Title: 21. Minion of the Demon. (1)
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"Everyone, keep your heads on straight. While you're awake, just stay mentally sharp. Don't fall for it again. Holy water's too precious to waste."
As they began spotting abandoned belongings and corpses strewn haphazardly across the fields, the enchantment magic grew intensely powerful. Hallucinations and auditory illusions started rampant even in reality. Of course, with a firm resolve to never waver, one could endure it—but if it were that easy, why would words like "addiction" exist in this world?
The moment one's gaze slipped and their mind faltered even briefly, they fell prey to the enchantment. Allen had seen and heard countless naked women performing lewd shows or seductively tempting him, yet he desperately clung to his reason. ...At the very least, he couldn't let himself look pathetic in front of his mercenaries—not when he was their leader.
It was a relentless gauntlet where not a single moment of carelessness was allowed. There wasn't even time for proper rest. During a brief halt in the forced march, turning one's head might reveal an alluring beauty naked and rubbing against you, begging for attention... Unlike the curse that seeped in gradually day and night, the enchantment assaulted wildly without respite. The problem was, while the curse wouldn't kill you if ensnared, the enchantment just might.
"Fuck, this is driving me insane."
Someone muttered under their breath like that. No one was chatting. They were all just enduring, holding on. Plenty screamed in agony as they resisted. Naturally, a good number collapsed in delirious frenzy, unable to hold out.
The leader and mercenaries had no spare attention for other units or even comrades—just barely managing their own focus.
Vice-leader Palmer signaled to resume. The mercenaries rose from what felt like no rest at all.
The night stretched on endlessly, but the illusions multiplied and grew more persistent.
- Come with me.
- Enough of this boring crap.
- I'll let you taste my body all you want.
- You'll be happy for sure.
- I'll make you happy.
"Get lost, you fucking bastards!"
Even Leader Allen finally swung his arm and bellowed after holding back.
...He was on the verge of losing it for entirely different reasons. Inside him, [Lust Maniac], [Womanizer], and [King of the Night] raged wildly, and suppressing those instincts was no easy feat. By then, even his greed for gold barely held sway.
Perhaps worried for him, the Blind Saint quietly approached Allen's side.
"Are you alright?"
"...Still hanging in there."
"...If it's tough, lean on me. ...I'll suck your cock so mind-blowingly good..."
What the hell...?
Allen glanced sideways, thinking this wasn't the kind of talk from a Red Tower Mage or odd-eyed girl. She stood naked, mouth agape to reveal her sticky tongue and saliva-drenched interior, seducing him.
......That one nearly got him. Allen almost fell.
This bitch is pulling a timed attack, the little shit...!
But no matter how hard he resisted, he couldn't will away his raging erection. It was an unavoidable physiological response. And Allen knew everyone here was in a similar state.
Enduring countless more temptations, the mercenary band pressed on for a long while until they finally spotted the distant mountains. Leading straight toward them like markers, items and corpses dotted the ground sporadically—like breadcrumbs scattered in Hansel and Gretel.
Seeing rotting corpses on the fields somehow quelled the rising excitement.
After a short rest, the band marched again. As dawn's dim light broke and the demon realm loomed near, they finally set up camp right there, ending the day's march.
"If you're desperate, throw a cloak over and jerk one out."
Leader Allen muttered while gnawing jerky, drawing chuckles from the mercenaries. ...Truth be told, Allen desperately wanted to bust one himself, but whipping it out here would ruin his leader's dignity.
The leader's face was the mercenary corps' face. It tied directly to business, so extra care was needed. ...Especially with his goal of reaching the top ten—getting nicknamed "Jerk-Off Boy" would be a disaster.
The mercenaries roughly filled their stomachs and flopped onto mats. Plenty covertly shook under cloaks and released. Even the female mercenaries weren't exceptions.
Gazing at the faintly brightening sky, they closed their eyes to sleep. Allen yawned hugely and shut his eyes.
- I'll make you happy, I promise.
Allen drifted off amid the sweet whispers in his ears.
Around noon, dark clouds gathered, soon unleashing thick rain. Mercenaries woke to droplets on their faces, quickly donning leather hoods. ...No more sleep, it seemed.
But mercenaries couldn't delay missions for rain. Even drenched head to toe, the job had to be done.
They chewed rain-soaked jerky and rose. Lower bodies, unshielded by hoods, were already sopping.
The band pushed toward the demon realm again. In such conditions, finishing faster was wiser.
Luckily, being daytime, the lewd daytime whispers mercifully ceased. But the eerie aura intensified noticeably.
The demon realm, shrouded in mist from the rain, felt like another world—not one of dreams and hope, but a hellish nightmare.
Everyone panted roughly, breaths drowned by the pounding rain. ...Allen kept recalling that hellish military training march in the rain, raincoat heavy, feet blistered, shoulders aching like boulders. He'd thought never again, yet here in another world, suffering the same crap—only worse, entering a monster-infested demon realm.
Allen let out a wry, self-mocking chuckle at his lot. ...Maybe he should've just been a noble ladies' boy toy and enjoyed life.
Plodding step by heavy step, the demon realm suddenly loomed right before them. A rain-swollen ditch lay ahead, wider and deeper now.
The mage leader approached, probing depth with his long staff. About knee-deep. Vice-leader Palmer, as rep, gestured to cross immediately.
Thus, the mercenary corps crossed one by one. Soon, Allen Mercenary Corps' turn.
Leader Allen kicked off shoes, rolled pants to thighs, and waded through. The muddy current rushed strong but bearable.
Once all corps crossed, they took a brief rest amid the downpour.
Mercenaries collected rainwater in open canteens during the break. Stockpiling when possible was smart.
The demon realm was now mere steps away. Before entry, Allen gave final warnings.
"You've all been in one at least once, but from the moment you enter a demon realm till you exit, not one instant of carelessness is allowed. It demands peak mental fortitude. ...Add siren songs on top, and it'll be brutal. But never yield to temptation. It's all illusions, fakes. The second you fall, your soul belongs to the demon. Steel yourselves."
"Yes, sir."
Allen counted remaining holy water vials: exactly twelve. ...Not many. Not enough for two per mercenary.
The holy artifacts showed blackening corruption from dark mana in spots. Maybe one or two days left before total taint required disposal.
Still, no doubt they'd succeed. The seven corps chosen in Vermandua had the chops. Viola wouldn't stake her rep on mediocrity.
After final pre-entry rest, the band formed two columns and slowly entered the demon realm.
Rain poured through dense leaves like waterfalls. The waterlogged ground squelched like a swamp.
Mist made every breath feel like sticky moisture raping the lungs. Ominous energy oozed from all sides, chilling spines mercilessly. ...Like a ghost glaring if you turned around.
For eeriness, worse than Ssalver Dungeon. Allen half-wondered if [Guild Master] was a horror game, not management. Whispers tickled ears, faint shadows flickered...
But Allen harbored no innocence to scare anymore.
......Mom's nagging was scarier.