Chapter 383: Mutation

“In any case, it’s not the time to jump to conclusions. We should conduct a cautious probe first.”

Margarita’s cold voice cut off Muen’s train of thought.

Muen nodded silently, ignoring the hostility laced through her words, and put away the jumble of notions that were useless for the moment. They had only just entered this zone; any suppositions were built on incomplete fragments of clues. Wild guessing would only trap them in a cognitive pitfall.

And in a place this eerie and unfamiliar, a cognitive pitfall could be fatal.

“Damn it—fine if the outside was like that, but why is it still like this in here? Where are the ancient relics? The historical documents? The treasures that could fetch a good price? Aside from this disgusting flesh, there’s nothing. Don’t tell me the Church scammed us. Don’t tell me that, in the Church’s eyes, we’re just tool-people for opening doors.

Seviel swore under her breath as she came to Muen’s side. In this world of lies and filth, only the handsome guy next to her could offer a sliver of warmth.

Ailag trailed behind her in silence.

Because of that dazzling operation earlier that made everyone see black for a moment, he was currently the target of collective disdain from the mages. Before he introduced some girls to that bunch of shut-in nerds who did nothing but study magic every day and had never even held a girl’s hand, he probably wouldn’t be forgiven.

Hmph, a bunch of single dogs—unlike me. The moment I think of my beloved Goddess, my chest turns warm, as if infinite power bursts forth. At this rate, shining gloriously and revitalizing the entire Illusion School won’t be hard at all.

Ailag slandered them inwardly.

Muen glanced at Ailag and said nothing.

Earlier he’d kept leverage on the guy, hoping that if a fight broke out with others later, Ailag could hide his identity and pull an unexpected move. But as things had developed—after the battle just now and with the Death-Deed Writ still in effect—these people who originally couldn’t stand one another no longer had the mind to fight.

This might be the most peaceful and united Muen Sacred Rite ever.

Those former Saintesses who stepped over others’ corpses to ascend—if they saw this scene now, they’d probably be so jealous they’d cry their eyes out.

But from another angle, competition in certain aspects might be even fiercer.

“Riddles, one after another—enough to make you tear your hair out.”

Muen looked around. After the initial shock, everyone’s moods had largely stabilized.

Senior sisters Fanny and Vicki didn’t seem injured; they had clearly over-expended themselves earlier and were still relying on magic crystals to restore their mana.

“Right—speaking of the Death-Deed Writ...”

Muen looked at Margarita:

“How much longer will the Death-Deed Writ last?”

“We didn’t know how long opening the door would take, so to be safe I set it for five hours,” Margarita replied.

“Five hours...”

Muen took out his /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ pocket watch for a glance. “About four hours left?”

“Yes.”

Time was still reasonably ample.

“In that case...”

Muen clapped his hands to draw everyone’s attention.

“For safety’s sake, let’s team up and explore together for now.”

With the Death-Deed Writ still active, they didn’t have to worry about anyone making trouble; faced with this grotesque landscape, exploring together was the best option.

After all, in horror films from his previous life, splitting up was usually how a party wipe began.

“Uh...”

People looked at one another, mulling over Muen’s suggestion.

Team up to explore?

What a joke—among these bastards, there was still that dog-coin who took advantage of the dark to grope someone’s butt earlier. If they teamed up...

But thinking it through, teaming up didn’t seem unacceptable either.

They had already teamed up once before.

And as facts proved, after the first experience, going in for round two went much more smoothly.

At least this time, almost no one objected. After a brief exchange of opinions, they settled on the action plan for the next four hours.

“Fine.”

Margarita nodded. “That is indeed the best choice for now.”

“Hmph.”

Annie snorted coldly. Her proud head tilted high, but she said nothing more.

Phil, who hadn’t spoken in a long while, stretched lazily after a yawn. Hugging the ample chest that was second only to Liya’s, she threw Muen a sultry wink:

“Then you absolutely have to protect me afterward, Mr. Muen~”

“...”

He kept feeling this woman nursed some strange expectations toward him.

Muen’s mouth twitched. Sensing the faint chill rising at his side, he chose not to answer.

Instead, he turned aside:

“And you?”

“Giggle—Mr. Muen already looks like a leader now, doesn’t he? Naturally I’ll listen to you.”

Freya covered her lips with a light laugh, a rare hint of girlish playfulness showing.

Muen’s face stayed impassive.

“Empty talk like that, Miss Freya, is better left unsaid.”

From the corner of his eye, Muen took in Freya’s surroundings.

Not much time had passed since they’d dealt with the Prisoner. Yet people were already gathering around Freya again.

Among them was even that ugly hunk from the bottom of the pit—the one who had attacked in a jealous rage merely because Muen had girls around him.

That guy had somehow gotten hold of a tight white formal suit, with a cluster of pale yellow flowers pinned to the chest. He cut the figure of a gallant protector of maidens—and looked obscenely flashy.

“As expected of Freya...”

By curing the plague in the southern kingdoms and saving tens of millions, and by the aura that most resembled that of the current Saintess, she was the Saintess candidate with the greatest renown and the most public expectation.

She didn’t even need to speak; a crowd of supporters would gather around her on their own.

“But there’s something in her aura I still dislike.”

Muen kneaded his brow and stopped paying her attention.

In any case, with the Death-Deed Writ in force, these four hours were a rare window—perfect for focusing entirely on investigating this bizarre country.

No need to worry about competition from others, and the irreconcilable conflicts among the Saintess candidates could be postponed until after they uncovered this world’s truth.

“Let’s go.”

Muen said to Liya at his side:

“For now, the thing most in need of investigation is that tall tower in the distance. A pity there’s that strange blood-mist drifting there so we can’t see clearly...”

Muen led Liya and took the first step forward.

But then he suddenly heard Freya’s voice:

“The moon... has come out.”

Hm?

The moon?

Muen started and glanced back at Freya. She still hadn’t moved from her spot—she had only tilted her head to gaze up at the sky.

Muen also looked up on reflex.

His pupils shrank at once.

Because on that heavy, blood-stained canopy, there truly was... a bright, clear moon hanging.

“This is...”

The moon from the outside at night?

But why did it suddenly appear here? By the reckoning of time, it wasn’t night right now.

Could it be...

In an instant, it was as if a single thread appeared—about to string together all the conjectures in Muen’s mind.

But before that thread could connect everything, he heard Freya’s regretful sigh:

“It seems... there’s no time to play this exploration game anymore.”

No time?

No time for what?

And judging from her tone, she had known the moon would appear now?

A vague, ill premonition filled Muen’s heart.

He snapped his head down toward the source of that feeling—the Saintess candidate whose behavior had suddenly turned strange.

Freya.

Freya met Muen’s eyes and only smiled slightly.

The smile was still holy and gentle, without a trace of flaw—like a warm spring breeze across the face.

She called softly:

“Brian.”

“Here.”

A pale-faced man stepped out of the shadows.

“Come here.”

“Yes.”

Brian approached Freya.

In the next moment—under the shocked and bewildered gazes of all—Freya slowly drew a dagger, lightly slid a fingertip along its edge as if testing its sharpness...

And then promptly drove that razor-sharp blade... into her own Knight’s body.

Pff.

Blood sprayed.

In that instant, everyone who saw it—Muen, Liya, the other Saintess candidates, even Freya’s supporters—couldn’t help the giant question mark popping up on their foreheads.

What... is she doing?