Chapter 311: The Hunters

“Classmate Muen even knows wild fruit, huh.”

On the simple leaf-bed, Liya cupped a small, cute wild fruit and took delicate bites, her cheeks turning rosy like the fruit itself.

Feeling the sweet juice spill through her mouth, she asked in mild surprise.

Would the son of a great noble bother to know these things?

“I don’t.”

Muen said offhandedly:

“I can’t even tell potion effects apart. How would I know fruit?”

“...”

Liya’s little face went stiff. “Then just now you...”

“Because Classmate Liya would definitely know.”

Muen chuckled:

“If I were eating something poisonous, you’d stop me.”

“...I would not.”

Liya blinked, then—annoyed—bit down hard on the fruit. “Serves you right to die of poison.”

“Nothing to be done then.”

Muen shrugged. “Still, before I die, I should think about how to get us out. Leaving a beautiful girl’s corpse out in the wild wouldn’t be gentlemanly.”

“...”

“In any case, let’s get our situation straight first.”

Muen sat, tilting his head back to look at the trees—bigger than any redwoods he’d seen in his previous life—and sighed.

“First of all, we are indeed inside the Forest of Deathbane.”

“Mm.” Liya snuck a glance at him and nodded lightly.

“With this ominous aura, there’s nowhere else it could be.”

“If this were random teleportation, it’d be too much of a coincidence. Meaning, the enemy sent us here on purpose. The goal... I’d guess, was to separate me from the Pink Bear and the others.

I remember you saying the Calamity dwelling here does not allow other Crowned to enter its domain.”

“It’s not just Crowned. The stronger you are, the easier you’ll draw that One’s attention. So I estimate anyone entering this forest must be under Fifth Rank at most.”

“Under Fifth Rank...”

Muen gave a wry smile. “Doesn’t sound like a level the two of us can handle easily.”

Since they’d gone to the trouble of sending him to a place like this, the enemy surely didn’t intend to let him fend for himself and starve in the jungle.

A perfectly timed assassination like this would certainly have follow-ups.

Barring surprises, the “hunters” who had taken him for prey were already licking their fangs and on the way to the party.

“I still underestimated their resolve,” Muen sighed inwardly.

To deal with him—a mere Tier 2, wastrel duke’s son—they’d spared no cost to hire a famed Crowned and who-knew-how-many other powerhouses. What kind of ultimate VIP treatment was this?

Shouldn’t that be for his cheap old man?

I’m just a salted-fish loser daydreaming about hugging Celicia’s thigh—how do I rate this!

But...

Forget it. He’d lived through crises a hundred times worse. One step at a time.

“Thank you.”

“?”

Liya tilted her head, not understanding why Muen suddenly thanked her.

“At that time—you saved me, didn’t you.”

Muen smiled. “If Classmate Liya hadn’t risked yourself to save me, I’d probably have fallen into a true dead end.”

The enemy’s first priority was to kill him, so that space spell had been laced with terrifying chaos. An ordinary person caught in it would likely be pulped in an instant.

Even with his bodily toughness, he wouldn’t have died outright, but taking heavy injuries on top of an already perilous situation would have put one foot into the grave.

“It... it’s nothing. I didn’t mean to save you, I only...” Liya mumbled, pouting.

“I know, I know.”

Muen gave a meaningful smile and nodded sincerely.

Liya truly was worthy of a future Saintess. Even though her most important task right now was to head to the Holy City, when others were in danger—no matter who—she would still risk herself to save them.

That kindness and courage were surely among the necessary qualities of a Saintess.

“But don’t worry.”

Muen suddenly met Liya’s eyes and said, earnest:

“I will get you safely to the Holy City. I swear it.”

After all, if Liya failed to become Saintess because of him, who knew how much it would twist the plot to come.

And it would be deeply unfair to the girl he’d burdened.

“...”

As if she didn’t dare meet his gaze, Liya dropped her eyes. After a long moment, she answered with a soft “Mm.”

“Still, we’ve got plenty of trouble.”

Muen sighed. “Classmate Liya’s spatial magitech device is gone too, right?”

“Mm.”

“I figured.”

Clearly, the other side had thought this through.

Chances were, both his and Liya’s spatial devices hadn’t been merely lost, but blown apart in the violent spatial collision earlier—no hope of recovery.

Losing their personal effects cut off most ways to seek help—and left him unable to use his items.

Before coming, he’d prepared a lot—stuffed his spatial device with contraband armaments and magic scrolls, thinking he could use them freely as long as he wasn’t in Belrand.

Now, losing all that directly meant he was more than half as weak.

Muen touched the pure-white short blade at his waist.

Fortunately, Elizabeth had a will of her own and had slipped free of the device in time. Otherwise, he’d have taken a loss of grandmotherly proportions.

“You didn’t lose anything precious, did you?” Muen asked again.

“N-no.”

Liya looked at the simple ring on her pinky, shook her head, then nodded and said:

“The lost spatial device only had some odds and ends and personal items—nothing valuable. The precious things are in here... but the five hundred thousand you gave me... is gone.”

“As long as nothing precious is lost.”

Glancing at the plain-looking ring that nonetheless felt unusual, Muen breathed easier and made a note to get some higher-safety spatial devices later. He smiled.

“As for the other stuff and that five hundred thousand—it’s no big deal. I’ll reimburse you at full price.”

“N-no need.” Liya reflexively tried to refuse.

But Muen immediately straightened his face. “Can’t. We made an agreement, remember? If you don’t accept compensation, you’re making me breach it of my own accord.

What if the Goddess really descends punishment?”

“...”

At the word “agreement,” Liya remembered those late-night carriage words with this guy. Her eyes wavered slightly; she bit her lip and changed her tune:

“Then... alright.”

“That’s better.”

Muen smiled again.

He’d worked so hard to sw—(strike that)—to secure his Ariel-only get-out-of-death-free card; losing it now would be a pity.

“Even so, the situation isn’t great.”

Muen’s expression grew serious.

His gaze swept their surroundings once more.

The gloom made the skin crawl.

So far, they hadn’t run into danger—but that only made it feel more like the calm before a storm, all the more unnerving.

“And our main problem now is... how do we get out of this forest.”

Muen fell into thought.

He’d just made a circuit of the area and even tried climbing a giant tree—but got nowhere.

Trees, trees, and more trees—like bobbing in the dead center of a boundless ocean, gazing in every direction to the same view.

It squeezed the heart with despair.

And with the canopy blotting the sky, he had no way to get his bearings.

He asked the Black Book. The Black Book didn’t stir—apparently too lazy to bother with such trifles.

At this rate, they’d be lost completely.

“Um... I might have a way. To get out.”

Just as Muen stewed, Liya raised her small hand and ventured:

“Mm? You do?”

Muen’s eyes lit.

“What way?”

“Um... holy light.”

Liya extended her palm; sacred radiance gathered in it. Gazing at the glow, she said softly:

“The Holy City, as the Goddess’s seat of worship, holds the most concentrated holy light in the world. So I can, at range, sense the Holy City’s direction through the holy light upon me.”

“That way, we won’t get lost in the forest!”

Muen smacked his palm and said, delighted:

“You’re amazing, Classmate Liya. That biggest problem is solved just like that!”

“N-not really, it’s just...”

Seeming very bashful, Liya’s cheeks pinked. Shyly, she said:

“It’s just that the Holy City is so far—I can only sense it vaguely. If the direction is off...”

“It won’t be.”

Muen bent to gather things from the ground, speaking casually but with unshakable conviction: “I believe you, Classmate Liya. If even your pointing to the Holy City is wrong, then probably no one in the world could find it.”

She was the future Saintess, after all...

“...”

But Liya knew nothing of Muen’s thoughts. In this no-longer-frightening quiet, she watched him bustle about, and that unaccountable ripple rose in her heart again.

“Mm.”

She’d lost track of how many times she’d answered like that today.

Only this time, it carried a tiny joy even she didn’t notice.

“And...”

Just then, as he wiped out their traces, Muen looked up with a roguish grin.

“If we can’t get out—staying here forever with a beauty like Classmate Liya doesn’t seem so bad. Don’t you think?”

“A... a lifetime!?”

Liya’s body jolted as if struck by lightning.

Her mind, a little sluggish a moment ago, spun up to full speed—running down the line of what Muen had said.

A lifetime... a lifetime... meaning they’d stay here always, naturally become that kind of relationship, and naturally do that kind of thing?

This guy—and that senior sister—that kind of thing?

At the end of the chain of thought, the shameful scene rose again in Liya’s mind. Months had passed; it was still that vivid.

No way!

As a Saintess candidate, how could she do something so shameless?

Thus, as her thighs rubbed together on their own, a practiced blush spread over her pretty face—and, at the same time, a small pink fist swelled rapidly in Muen’s bewildered vision.

“Eh? Wait, Classmate Liya—did I say something wrong?”

“P... pervert!”

“Ah—”

His yelp startled the birds from distant branches; their harsh caws ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) sounded like a summoning dirge—yet also like a light, quick chord.

...

“Hey, dead bird!”

A shadow flashed. A gloomy man with a murderous gaze snatched out a big, half-human-tall crow that had only just woken and hadn’t even flapped yet—dragging it off the treetop into his hand.

He licked his lips and asked:

“Seen a blond man?”

“Caw—” The crow struggled to no avail, then wisely nodded.

“And a big-busted, pretty woman?”

“Caw—” The crow wisely flapped its wings.

“Answer me properly.”

“Caw—” The crow wisely cried louder.

“Mhm, I see.”

The man nodded solemnly.

“I didn’t understand a word. Useless—can’t even speak human.”

He grabbed both ends of the crow and twisted. Invisible serrations seemed to fall; the wailing bird split into two. He drank the hot blood and laughed.

“Didn’t know this dead bird tasted good!”

“Disgusting.”

Beside him, a woman with wavy hair loose over her shoulders, heavy makeup, and a wand pinched her nose and stepped away, frowning.

“Barton, could you stop your blood-drinking habit until the job’s done? It stinks.”

“Hmph. In a boring op like this, I need fresh blood to keep my soul searing!”

“You’ll expose us that way.”

“Heh.”

Barton flicked off feathers and blood without a care, slanting a glance at her.

“Then what’s the point of hiring you, mage? To be a vase, Miss Flaral? I don’t like vases as wrinkled as you.”

“Want to die, Barton?”

Flaral’s expression went cold. Mana surged over her.

“If you don’t mind, I can bury you now.”

“Oh? Think I’m scared?”

Barton sneered. “If your big sister—the famous Florel of the Hundred Arts—were here, maybe I’d back off a hair. But you, Flaral—what are you but a misshapen scrap. Decades without breaking into the Brilliant Tier, a piece of trash, I—”

“Enough.”

A mild voice cut in, and the head-on clash stalled.

A gray-templed priest crouched and buried the halved crow, lifted his holy tome, and softly chanted words of pity and farewell.

His expression was so kind and placid, as if bathed in sacred radiance. But when he spoke, both Flaral and Barton showed respect... and fear.

“The Great Lord gathered us not to make us contend with one another, but to fulfill the fate we must. So... be friendly, yes? Our Lord is watching.”

The lament done, the priest’s face full of mercy and calm, he dug the crow back up—and swallowed it whole.

Both of them shivered at once, looked away, and held their tongues.

“Found it!”

Not far off, a hyena that had been crawling along the ground suddenly thrust a hand into earth that bore no special marks—and pulled out... a wild fruit.

He shoved it into his mouth, crunching hard. Juice ran from the corner of his lips like a beast’s slobber.

“No mistake, absolutely none. According to what the Council gave me—Muen Campbell was here. Not long ago!”

“Ha—haha. He’s cautious. He thought he erased all traces. But if you passed here, how could you leave none?”

“How long?”

“Three hours at most. In three hours we’ll catch up!”

“Very good.”

The priest drew out a handkerchief and daintily wiped his mouth. Looking toward the forest’s deep quiet, he smiled.

“Then let us, under the Lord’s gaze, begin a hunt worthy to please Him.”