"This guy, damn…"
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Fron's figure had already been deeply imprinted in Allen's heart.
Watching the other's silhouette fade into the darkness, the cat-man's fierce face revealed a deep sense of dread.
He clearly remembered, half a year ago, when they had encountered in a dark alley, the other was nothing more than a mere Lv.4 adventurer. Unexpectedly, upon meeting again today, just that one display of power had been enough to shock him to the core.
Unfathomable. Terrifying to this extent.
"This guy… his strength has actually grown to such a level. Even though he's just Lv.6 like me, why is it that I feel an abyss-like fear from him? How can this be possible?"
As the vice-captain of the Freya Familia, even facing the captain of a rival familia, Finn, or even his own captain, the [King] himself, Allen would never feel compelled to feel fear. Yet in Fron's presence, he felt a chilling terror seep into his bones.
"… Tch, what a monster. Hmph… well, let those other arrogant fools suffer a hidden loss at his hands. Their expressions will surely be priceless."
Thinking about those companions he didn't get along with suffering under Fron, the suffocating frustration in Allen's heart instantly vanished, replaced instead by a touch of schadenfreude.
Perhaps… this is life?
Reuniting with Allen was just a minor episode.
Fron sprinted quickly along the ornate corridor, rushing toward the top floor of the tower.
Meanwhile, in a dim, stone-built chamber, iron chains and shackles bound a certain white-haired boy tightly to the wall.
Judging from his pale face and wretched appearance, he had clearly endured unspeakable torment.
Looking around the chamber, the countless torture tools and "pleasure devices" were enough to show the variety of twisted amusements that had taken place here.
"Drip… drip…"
In the damp air, water dripped continuously from a corner of the ceiling, one drop after another falling onto the boy's face.
Having gone without food for two whole days and nights, combined with the energy drained from struggling, the boy's vitality was already completely exhausted.
His rabbit-like crimson eyes were half-shut, dull and lifeless, faintly radiating despair.
His short silver hair, which once shimmered under the moonlight, now hung like withered grass, dull, dry, messy, sticking to his forehead.
The once neat uniform he wore had become tattered, as if violently torn apart, hanging from him like a beggar's rags.
Perhaps out of some lingering scruple, the master of this chamber had left his pants intact, otherwise Bell Cranel's spirit would have already collapsed entirely.
No, just because his pants remained did not mean he had escaped the grip of death.
The mere memory of that obese figure over two meters tall, coupled with the terrifying "Ga ha ha ha" laughter, shook Bell's mind as if polluted by madness.
And when he recalled the captor's possessive gaze and the words left upon departure, his whole body trembled in fear and shame.
"No… I can't just wait here to die! I have to escape before that monster comes back. If not… if not, then all those encounters, all those dreams, everything will be over!! I must escape… I must escape!!!"
Haunted by the shadow of that obese giantess, the boy's teeth chattered. His small frame, shackled to the wall, writhed in a grimacing struggle.
But before the iron chains forged from hardened steel, all his efforts were futile. Forget a mere Lv.3 like him, even a Lv.5 adventurer, unless specialized in raw strength, could never break free of restraints custom-made for this chamber.
Looking at the blackened stains of blood on the floor, it was clear just how many men had been toyed with inside the private dungeon of Phryne.
Without exception, every man bound here, "favored" by Phryne, needed the highest-grade stamina potions to even survive her games, along with various specially crafted restraint tools.
Of course, their fates were all miserable. Bell could almost hear the shameful screams of those tormented spirits echoing faintly in the room.
"Help… help… help meee!! Someone, please save me!!"
...
Keeping to his principle of "less trouble is better," Fron remained low-key, heading straight to the ritual site.
Exposing the Ishtar Familia's plot and the kidnapping of Bell Cranel before Freya was nothing more than a calculated move.
Of course, he knew, even if he didn't do this, once the Guild discovered Ishtar's ties with the [Evilus], her funding and smuggling operations, she would not escape punishment.
That alone was enough to see her expelled from Orario, maybe even banished back to the heavens.
But even that wasn't enough, she had actually provoked the [Freya Familia], going so far as to kidnap Freya's beloved Bell Cranel, whom she treated like her Odr.
With the beauty goddess' obsessive affection for Bell, wasn't this the same as courting death?
Forget the [Evilus], even if she sought refuge with Enyo, not even he could protect her.
Thinking of her arrogance, even as a god, Fron's lips curled in scorn.
"Did she really think that with trump cards like the 'Bull of Heaven,' the 'Killing Stone,' the man-made dungeon Knossos, that 'Creature' Revis, and that mysterious masked man, she could go against Lady Freya? What a joke."
"You think your tricks and cards are countless, yet how do you know the Freya Familia, standing at Orario's peak, doesn't have even deeper trump cards? Do you really think all of their strength has been shown? After living countless ages in the heavens, how could a goddess be so foolish?"
Muttering under his breath, Fron suddenly stopped in his tracks, eyes narrowing sharply as his body froze in place.
His azure-ringed pupils glinted as he turned into a side corridor.
"..." His boots landed on the luxurious carpet as silently as a cat's steps.
Even the darkness could not obstruct the vision of a top adventurer. At the end of the passage, a thick wooden door reinforced with steel came into view.
Even before approaching, Fron's keen senses told him of the utterly different atmosphere lurking beyond that door, compared to the lavish corridor behind him.
Dark, decayed, and damp, the air reeked of thick blood mixed with some indescribable stench.
Raising an eyebrow with interest, a faint amusement flickered in his eyes.
"So… a private dungeon? Someone's twisted hobby?"
"Heh, the rich really do know how to play."