"You mean... kill her?"
The demi-human's hair bristled. "You never mentioned this before!"
Madness gleamed in the leader's eyes. "If I had, would you have dared to kidnap her?"
"If we really kill the Saint, none of us will get away alive!" the demi-human shouted furiously.
Orario was a city built for heroes. The murder of its most renowned healer—someone from the Dian Cecht Familia—would bring down the wrath of the Guild and countless Adventurers. They would scour the earth to hunt the culprit down.
"Escape?! Hahahaha!"
The leader's laugh was warped. "Blacksmiths forge weapons, healers mend wounds, Adventurers slay monsters—every role is vital. So tell me, why is the Dea Saint only Level 2?"
His deranged tone exposed the flaw in Orario's system.
Experience. Excelia. Both were essential to grow stronger. Yet healers, despite being indispensable to Adventurers, could hardly obtain them.
"Don't you find it strange? She's one of the strongest healers in the city, and yet she was captured so easily. I've realized it—this is the omen of destruction! Once she dies, Orario will fall into chaos!"
He's lost his mind.
Those still sane all reached the same conclusion.
He had gone completely mad.
"Boss, you... you never said this before."
"Yeah, weren't we just supposed to restrain the Dea Saint, sell our potions, make some money, and disappear?"
The two men following the demi-human trembled as they spoke.
"Right, that's what you said. We sell, get rich, and vanish... No—wait! I just realized something. What could be more beautiful than the city's descent into madness?"
The leader clutched his face, voice trembling with agitation.
He muttered as if speaking to someone unseen. "I only wanted money... No, not money, not power... What I truly desire... is endless darkness."
A dreadful unease slithered into their hearts like a venomous snake.
The two men backed away in fear. The potions they once treasured now looked like weapons of mass death.
Every potion here was a tool of the city's destruction.
The demi-human stood frozen, brows furrowed. There was no turning back now. All that remained was to obey—and hand over the Dea Saint...
His thoughts were interrupted by a faint whimper from inside the sack.
"As expected of the Dea Saint—she woke up so quickly." The leader's gaze swept across the potions before he barked, "Finish her."
"But..."
"Don't you want the potion? That potion only I can make?" The leader's voice turned threatening.
The demi-human swallowed hard and slowly approached the black sack. The light of the Magic Stone lamps cast shadows across his face.
His claws gleamed with killing intent.
A sharp cry suddenly echoed through the corridor.
Goblins?
The leader frowned. "Go check it out."
He stared at the goblin-shaped shadow on the wall and gave the order.
Why would monsters appear here, of all places?
Seeing the leader's expression, the demi-human realized something was wrong. He had been wondering all along—why would a Dungeon filled with malice so conveniently provide them a place to brew potions?
Cautiously, he stepped toward the passage.
A dagger sliced through the air.
In a flash, its cold gleam was upon him.
It was that white-haired boy in disguise!
The demi-human raised his arm, blocking the dagger's path with his claws. The sky-blue blade veered toward his neck, then sharply shifted—thrusting straight for his heart.
A feint!
Panicking, the demi-human pushed off the ground and leapt backward.
But the youth had anticipated it—twisting his dagger mid-swing, he pressed the attack, closing in fast.
Who the hell is this kid?!
The ferocity of his assault overwhelmed the demi-human. After a single exchange, the thought of defeat crept into his mind.
He twisted his body, using the flexibility unique to his kind, and leapt toward the long table.
"Don't let him take the Dea Saint away!"
The leader watched the swift battle unfold and shouted at the two men before him.
In the chaos, Airmid's muffled sobs grew louder.
Facing the two men blocking his way, Bell suddenly pushed off the ground. Like a nimble white hare, he darted across the battlefield so swiftly that no one could predict his movements.
By the time the leader realized what was happening, the short blade was already at his throat.
Every move up to that point had been a feint.
From the start, Bell's true goal had been to take the leader hostage.
The demi-human and the other man froze in place. Everything had happened too fast. The potion-makers only noticed something wrong when Bell shouted, "Don't move!"
"You... you all, drop your weapons," the leader stammered, his voice trembling as he felt the cold blade press against his neck.
"Untie the bag. Let us go."
Bell didn't waste words. They had to escape while confusion still reigned.
His earlier attacks had been relentless, yet hadn't even grazed the demi-humans. If they stalled any longer, the situation would turn against them.
"Let... let them go... No, wait... Even if I die, I have to kill the Dea Saint... No, what am I saying..."
The leader's words came out tangled, his face twisted in both fear and madness.
"If you hesitate another second, I'll end this right now."
Bell's mind was clear—capture the leader first. But the man's sanity was clearly at its limit.
The demi-human slowly raised his hand and opened the sack.
Inside, the Dea Saint lay bound in ropes, a piece of cloth stuffed into her mouth.
The demi-human extended his claws and sliced the ropes apart, then lifted his hands in surrender and stepped back.
Bell exchanged a brief look with Airmid, then backed away, dragging the leader with him.
"Don't follow."
"You... you're Bell Cranel, aren't you?" The leader walked obediently, his tone oddly calm. "I should actually thank you. Because you came to the Dungeon, this safe zone appeared."
Because of me?
What does he mean by safe zone?
Though puzzled, Bell didn't ask. It could easily be a trick.
"Shut up."
He shifted his stance, pressing the dagger firmly against the man's back. "Until I say otherwise, if you even think about turning around, I'll stab you."
"I... understand."
Cold sweat dripped down the man's face as the chill of the stone walls pressed closer.
He didn't know how much time had passed—only that the sharp, icy sensation against his back never went away.
"Is... is it over yet?"
His voice came out hoarse, trembling.
No one answered.
Just as he was about to give in to the silence and turn around, a sudden gust blew past, and the piercing chill behind him vanished.
He turned—and froze.
On the ground stood only a simple rack, and from it hung a long, slender Goblin fang.
...
A furious roar erupted from the tunnel behind.
Bell ran through the fifth floor with Airmid at his side.
That trap wouldn't hold long—just a single gust would break it.
They had to move.
Several figures appeared ahead, blocking their way.
"Hey, there's movement by the alchemy lab. Think something happened?"
"The Dea Saint's at least Level 2. Without that demi-human, we'd never take her down. She probably escaped."
"Orders are orders. Stay put. As long as she doesn't get away, we'll get our share of the potions."
...
Bell grabbed Airmid's hand and slipped into a nearby side passage.
They hadn't expected guards to be waiting.
With their current Status, escaping to the surface would be nearly impossible.
"Cranel-san, thank you for saving me. Given the situation, I should draw their attention while you escape."
Airmid's voice was soft but steady. "I won't be captured easily. If you can call for reinforcements while I distract them—"
Her words were cut off as Bell placed a hand on her shoulder. Their eyes met.
Emotions swirled in the girl's violet gaze.
Bell looked back at her and said quietly,
"Airmid-san, do you trust me?"