Chapter 383: Where Are They?
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 383: Where Are They?
Once the soul within the Prisoner was purified, the glow in the lantern he held faded rapidly.
All the Demon Hounds suddenly went still, as if they had turned back into statues.
"Is it... over?"
Someone, still shaken, cautiously poked a Demon Hound with their magic wand.
There was no reaction.
No sense of magical flow, either.
They really weren't moving anymore.
It was truly... over.
"We... we survived!"
Many people collapsed to the ground as if their strength had suddenly left them, their faces reflecting the sheer joy of having survived a brush with death.
They had endured a fierce battle on the brink of demise and a situation that felt utterly hopeless. They had witnessed the brutal sight of companions being torn apart—losing chunks of flesh or even limbs to the savage Demon Hounds—just before they could be teleported out.
And then there were... the god-awful teammates.
Those still standing were overcome with ecstasy, some even on the verge of tears.
"Hell yeah!"
A soot-covered figure suddenly nipped up from the ground, cheering happily.
"It’s over! I won't be eliminated! My sacrifice actually worked! Long live the Goddess!"
"Worked, my ass!"
Beside him, Seviel—whose eyebrows had nearly been singed off by the previous explosion—clutched her sword with trembling hands. She looked like she wanted to run this "useless teammate" through right then and there. The people nearby also cast hostile glares his way.
"You bastard, you almost got us all killed. Do you have any idea?"
"Hehe."
Ellag, having cheated death, scratched his cheek. A glint flashed in his eyes before he gave a bashful smile. "But the result was good, wasn't it?"
Seviel rolled her eyes, no longer bothering with this waste of space. Instead, her gaze quickly shifted to the blond figure standing at the center of the stage.
She fell into a daze.
He really is so handsome.
If only I could...
At that thought, Seviel bit her lip.
He was handsome, all right, but that cute, busty girl by his side was a real eyesore.
Yet, she also seemed to suit that handsome man perfectly.
Still, that Liya is destined to be a Saintess. I should still have a chance, right?
...
"Tsk, tsk. You really are something else, son of a Duke."
As soon as Muen stepped down from the Prisoner's platform, Paul, the scruffy swordsman, approached with an air of unearned familiarity. He grinned and threw an arm around Muen’s shoulder.
"I knew you weren't simple the moment I laid eyes on you. You look all soft and pampered, but you give off the vibe of a napping lion. My intuition is never wrong. So, how many monsters did you kill last night? Don't give me some 'three or five' nonsense; I won't buy it."
"Eleven," Muen said, glancing at him. "Roughly."
"Eleven?! I only got nine." Paul’s eyes lit up. "In that case, are you interested in comparing notes later—"
"Paul!"
"Reta!"
Before Paul could finish, two furious voices interrupted him.
He turned around, confused, only to find his Saintess Candidate, Margarita, and Annie standing there. Both looked absolutely livid as they barked orders at their respective knights:
"Kill him for me!"
"Eh?" Paul blinked.
He still had his wits about him, so he obviously wasn't going to attack. However, Reta, who obeyed Annie unconditionally, let out a roar. Thump, thump, thump. He charged forward, leaving heavy footprints in the dirt.
Ignoring Reta for a moment, Paul looked at Muen with a strange expression. "Did you do something just now?"
"No. I was just complimenting them."
"Complimenting them?"
"Yes." Muen spoke with a straight face. "I said they were 'big.'"
"How'd you put it?" Paul asked curiously.
"Four of a Kind... Aces," Muen said frankly. "You look like a card player. Isn't that big enough?"
Paul: "..."
It was a big hand, all right.
But that usage...
Paul patted Muen’s shoulder in admiration and gave him a thumbs-up. "Impressive. After this trial is over, we might actually become friends."
Hearing this, Annie’s face twisted instantly. Margarita’s deep, noble features also clouded over with a terrifying darkness.
Paul slunk back to Margarita with a fawning smile, trying to massage her shoulders, only to be shoved away in disgust.
As for Reta, he stopped a few paces away from Muen on Annie’s command.
The Death Contract Document was still in effect. If Reta actually attacked Muen now, he would die under the power of the horrific curse.
So, despite being angry enough to commit murder, they were powerless.
"I'll get my revenge for this sooner or later!"
The haughty loli gritted her teeth, her chest heaving with rage. In all her life, she had never been insulted like this.
And twice in one day!
...
"Congratulations."
After escaping the death glares of Annie and Margarita, Muen heard the sound of crisp clapping.
Freya gently tapped her small hands together, her smile as tender and holy as ever, without a single flaw.
"After this, I doubt anyone will call you the Princess’s pretty boy or a soft persimmon to be squeezed at will. Once this is over, the name Muen Campbell will likely spread across the entire continent."
"Then I have you to thank for that," Muen said with a shrug.
"Me?" Freya blinked. "I’m afraid I don't understand what Mr. Muen means."
"Setting aside those two Saintess Candidates who were about to act, if Miss Freya hadn't stayed her hand, I wouldn't have had such an opportunity to show off."
Muen maintained his smile. "Naturally, I must thank you."
"Are you mocking me for holding back on purpose?" Freya looked slightly aggrieved. "I’m not like you all; I’m not the type who excels at fighting. Besides, I even sacrificed a precious artifact, and Brian did his part too. How can Mr. Muen say such things?"
"Not the type who excels at fighting?"
Muen’s eyes flickered as he suddenly looked at the pale man in black standing behind her.
Muen hadn't gathered much intel on Freya’s combat abilities, but whether it was from newspapers or various legends, this God-Attendant Knight nicknamed "Shadow Ghost" was a macho man famous for his brutality—someone who had dared to fight magical beasts head-on at a young age.
Yet, up until now, he had only hidden in the back using magic, acting like some preening dandy in a vest.
"Hmph."
Noticing Muen’s gaze, Brian let out a cold snort but said nothing, quickly melting into Freya’s shadow.
That cold, sycophantic gaze of his remained as piercing as ever.
"Oh, right."
Freya lightly brushed her long hair, blocking Muen’s line of sight. With a flick of her wrist, she produced a bouquet of flowers from nowhere.
The pale yellow blossoms carried a fragrant scent, identical to the ones before.
"It’s a rare opportunity, so I’ll ask one more time. Does Mr. Muen want my flowers now?"
"No," Muen replied expressionlessly.
"I see." Freya stroked the delicate petals and sighed. "What a pity."
...
Muen returned to Liya’s side and looked at her slightly pale, pretty face.
"How are you feeling? Are you okay?"
"I’m fine." Liya rubbed the crystal in her hand and shook her head. "I’m okay."
She was about to say something more when she felt a figure approach and lean gently against her.
A familiar, nostalgic scent enveloped her.
"Hmm?"
"Ahem, I’ve used up quite a bit of energy," Muen coughed, saying with a stiff face. "Let me lean on you for a bit."
"Oh." Liya looked at Muen and suddenly blinked playfully, leaning her body toward him as well. "I think I’ve used up quite a bit of energy too."
"...Then we lean together?"
"...Mm, together."
...
"Now... can we pass through the gate?"
After a brief rest, someone suddenly spoke up.
The quiet crowd grew restless again.
Only this time, no one was in a hurry to rush to the front. Everyone’s eyes instinctively fell on the two figures at the very front, who were leaning on each other for support due to exhaustion.
After the series of events that had just transpired, these two now had the right to stand before everyone else.
"Let’s go, then."
Muen and Liya shared a knowing glance.
Muen leaned down and picked up the lantern. After a quick check to confirm it was just an ordinary lantern, he flicked it, and the light flickered back to life.
He held the lantern and led the way.
Liya followed closely behind him.
Once they entered the Golden Gate, the other Saintess Candidates and their knights followed, then the rest of the group entered in an orderly fashion.
Between the recent battle and the effects of the Death Contract Document, no one was inclined to cause trouble at this moment.
The lantern illuminated the darkness. After walking through a passage, they came upon a set of stairs leading upward.
As they climbed, Liya suddenly asked in a soft voice beside Muen:
"By the way, Muen, you don't seem to like Miss Freya, do you?"
"I suppose so."
"Why?"
"Intuition," Muen answered. "I feel like there’s something about her that makes me uncomfortable."
"I see." Liya nodded.
"What is it?" Muen looked at her. "Is there a problem?"
"No... it’s just, I think... Miss Freya is a very remarkable person."
"Oh?"
"Isn't that what the newspapers say? She cured a plague in the southern kingdoms and saved many people." Liya looked ahead with a hint of admiration. "Someone like that must be a good person."
"A good person?"
Muen chuckled. In the split second when the lantern light flickered and darkness returned, he quickly pinched the girl’s wonderfully soft cheek. "Who can say for sure about things like that?"
"Hmph." Liya puffed out her cheeks and said huffily, "Anyway, you’re definitely not a good person, Muen."
"Yes, yes, I’m a villain. It’s common knowledge; everyone says so."
Muen was about to tease her further when he suddenly stopped. Light was appearing at the top of the stairs.
They had reached the end.
The two exchanged a look and quickened their pace.
Soon, endless light descended. After their eyes briefly adjusted to the brightness, they took in the scene before them.
And then... they fell into silence.
"Are we there? Are we there?"
The crowd behind them rushed out. Upon seeing what lay ahead, they too fell into silence.
A deathly silence.
It lasted a long time.
Finally, it was the level-headed Margarita who regained her composure first. She looked at Muen and asked with a grave expression:
"Mr. Muen, can you tell me...
"Where is the person we are supposed to save?"