Chapter 391: Hellfire (3)

"Never thought it would be you... Ailag!"

At the top of the hill, amid countless clusters of flowers, a man wearing a mage’s robe with the Illusion School emblem hanging on his chest looked down at the two at his feet and showed an inscrutable, bizarre smile.

"I didn’t think so either, Muen Campbell..."

Ailag twisted his neck a little and said:

"I actually find myself trying to kill you for the third time."

"The third time..."

Muen murmured softly. Liya was in his arms, and at this moment she couldn’t help showing a somewhat cute, innocent look of surprise, her cherry-pink lips slightly parted.

The first time was outside the town.

The second time... was that accident back then?

Pulling out the Eye of Destruction wasn’t some simp’s daily hysterics, but on purpose?

No, if it was on purpose, then how did he fool the Death-Pact Document...

"I see. To tell the truth, when Freya said that line, the first one I suspected was Phil; I didn’t even think of you at all... But thinking carefully, along the way you really did give off all kinds of abnormal signals.

"And I ignored those abnormalities."

"So..."

Muen pondered for a moment, then his gaze tightened slightly: "Because of Illusion?"

"Smart. As expected of the man whom the great Deity personally ordered me to kill."

Ailag bowed with gentlemanly courtesy, yet the smile on his face grew ever more exaggerated—completely different from the Ailag Muen had known before.

"Actually, the first time I was merely probing. After all, someone was watching then; I didn’t dare do anything bad."

"And then you discovered my strength exceeded your imagination?"

"Exactly, so I switched my line of thought and chose to lie low and look for an opportunity."

Ailag said:

"And in order to hibernate better, I used the most basic yet also the most complex application of Illusion... suggestion."

"Suggestion?"

"Yes. At that time, I deliberately agreed to your humiliating condition and submitted to you precisely to plant in you this suggestion... that I’m very weak, restricted by you, absolutely harmless to you."

"Further..."

Past memories surged up; Ailag’s gaze turned vicious: "Even my appearance in women’s clothes was to deepen that suggestion!"

"...Heh, no wonder after that, whether it was you using Illusion on me in the passage, or nearly getting everyone killed, I didn’t harbor the slightest suspicion of you... because when looking for a threat, people will subconsciously exclude those weaker than themselves."

Muen sneered, mocking: "But you really can sacrifice, huh. You looked pretty good back then; if that got published it’d definitely attract tons of fans."

"For the Deity, any sacrifice is worth it."

Ailag reined in the ferocity and smiled again: "So after that, I even placed suggestion on myself... Therefore, at that time, I truly was an Ailag whose heart contained only my most beloved Goddess and the flourishing of the Illusion School."

"I see. So you bypassed the Death-Pact Document like this? Impressive."

Muen couldn’t help letting out a light sigh.

That thing had really screwed people like him over miserably—simply the quintessential tool that only traps gentlemen and not scoundrels.

"Naturally. Didn’t I say so? When it comes to disguising oneself, Illusion—the kind of magic that can interfere with thought—is the strongest."

"Unfortunately..."

Ailag’s feral grin abruptly halted. He clawed at his own hair, and in his bloodshot eyes there was barely concealed irritation:

"I could have hidden at your side and delivered a fatal blow at the critical moment, but... that bitch Freya actually betrayed—actually betrayed!

"Because of her betrayal, the plan was thrown into chaos, otherwise... otherwise..."

"That wasn’t betrayal!"

Muen refuted in a deep voice: "Freya never once deviated from what she believed in!"

"What she believed in? Are you saying it’s the love she believes in? No, that’s not love! That fake thing that yields nothing and only leaves pain behind—that’s not love!"

"True love... is this!"

Ailag raved and laughed, waving his arms... and stretched out his hand to rip open his own chest.

"The thing you treasure must of course be placed with utmost care in the deepest part of your heart!"

Flesh was torn open alive, revealing red fascia and pale bone.

But inside that thoracic cavity, what existed was not a beating heart.

It was a head.

A bloody, long-haired girl’s head.

The head was inlaid inside Ailag’s chest, replacing the heart, face covered in blood.

Perhaps it had endured too long a darkness; those dazed, godless, numb eyes slowly opened, shedding tears mixed with blood.

The innocent girl parted her dried lips and whispered:

"I... love you."

As if gazing upon the one she loved, face full of bliss.

I love you.

"..."

The atmosphere froze in an instant.

Certain memories surfaced from the depths of the mind, tugging at the nerves.

"What... is that?"

The little face of the girl in his arms went pale; she cried out, badly frightened by the horrifying sight before her.

But immediately after, she let out a cry of pain, because she suddenly realized that the body of the man embracing her had gone hard as steel.

"Muen..."

"Ah, sorry—I hurt you."

Muen bowed his head apologetically; the body that had subconsciously tensed from a surge of some emotion relaxed a little.

But as the girl looked at him, she could still see, on his expressionless face—deep within those lake-like, clear, deep blue eyes—something burning with fury.

"Sorry, Liya—could I ask you to go on ahead?" Muen suddenly said.

"Eh? Go on ahead? At a time like this?"

"Mm. Ailag exposing himself right now is obviously to stall for time, so the best choice is for you to go on ahead."

"But..."

The enemy looks terrifying; if I leave first right now, isn’t that...

Liya had wanted to say that, but swallowed the words.

She watched Muen—looked at Muen’s face—as if sensing something; suddenly she stopped trying to dissuade him. Instead, she put both arms around Muen’s neck and hugged him tight.

"Then I’ll leave it to you."

"Mm. Leave it to me."

"This is for you."

"What’s this?"

Muen looked at the pitch-black iron shard in his hand and felt it looked faintly familiar.

"This is something I made using the materials you sold me; it can break magic. Of course, it works on Illusion too."

Liya said proudly, "Pretty amazing, right?"

"Mm. It’s awesome—huge help."

Muen couldn’t help holding the girl even tighter.

"Be careful."

"I will."

The two of them felt each other’s warmth—deeply reluctant to part—but this was destined to be very brief.

While Ailag was still over there shouting "This is love" and raving like a lunatic, the two moved swiftly.

The platform from before had been blasted apart by magic, and that cavern instead was even more clearly revealed, right below the two of them not far away.

Muen gave Liya’s small hand a light swing, and Liya nimbly leapt into the cavern.

"Right—Liya."

At the moment Liya was about to leave, Muen suddenly called to her:

"Up to now, while we have a few guesses, we’re still not sure what exactly is down there. There might be some danger—so..."

Muen looked into Liya’s eyes and said seriously:

"If you run into something you can’t solve, you must wait for me. I... your Knight... will quickly—very quickly come to your side."

"Mm!"

Hearing this, Liya nodded hard and showed a smile more beautiful than the sea of flowers:

"I will—my Knight!"

...

...

A breeze from who knows where disturbed the blood-mist, brushed over the flower sea, and brought a faint smell of blood and a flicker of stench.

Muen jumped onto a protruding stone on the cliff face and slowly turned around.

Ailag also stopped extolling true love and carefully, with great preciousness, closed his chest back up, turning once more into that ordinary genius who wanted to advance the Illusion School.

"Farewell’s over? To actually send away one of your key combat powers on your side—you’re really arrogant." Ailag shook his head and said.

"Whereas you—you actually didn’t stop Liya?" Muen narrowed his eyes.

"Hehe, it’s fine. After I take care of you, I’ll go take care of her; there’ll still be time."

"In terms of arrogance, you’re not lacking either."

Muen drew Elizabeth. The pure-white blade hummed, as if sensing its master’s present emotions.

"So..."

Muen suddenly looked to the side: "How’s Phil?"

On the rock wall where the flower sea spread, a girl stood poised, ignoring gravity; vivid blossoms clustered and grew on her in tufts, like a colorful long skirt.

Only that half-blank face that twitched from time to time revealed her present pain and struggle.

Her movements were strange—like a marionette on strings.

"Who knows?"

Ailag smiled and said, "To be chosen by the Deity’s power should be her honor, shouldn’t it? Still, I ought to thank you—if not for your trust in me, I wouldn’t have so easily let Miss Phil feel the Deity’s gracious favor."

"..."

"Ah, ah—don’t be mad, don’t be mad..."

Seeing Muen’s face turn cold at once, Ailag offered a considerate comfort:

"Rest assured, the Deity values these Saintess candidates extremely highly. So even after the betrayal just now, He will certainly... treat her well.

"Of course...

"That includes your Saintess candidate."

"..."

In an instant.

Muen raised his eyes; his line of sight fell upon Ailag, yet he didn’t look at him—rather as if peering through him, gazing at something behind him.

Everything—everything—pooled here.

The long-suppressed blaze of fury finally erupted like a volcano, turning into a heartfelt greeting to an old acquaintance he hadn’t addressed in a while:

"Fuck your mother, Love God!"

Killing intent... burst forth!

The breeze howled up, turning into a razor gale that made countless delicate flowers wither into falling petals.

Like a marionette, Phil stiffly raised her finger and, pointing lightly toward Muen’s position—

Magic surged; without even a chant, the ground split at once, and dozens of times normal gravity instantly pressed down upon the spot!

But... there was no figure there anymore.

Phil’s finger moved again in quick succession, gouging one massive dent after another into the sheer rock face—yet still failing to catch even the hem of that ghostly shadow’s garment.

The world under the moonlight suddenly burst into brilliance far beyond the moon.

Blade-light, like a stream of silk.

Ailag hadn’t even had time to make more of a reaction before a demon-like figure had already appeared right in front of him.

Not even a single breath passed.

The Holy-Light barrier Phil had pre-cast before him was torn open in an instant by the pure-white holy weapon. Muen twisted his body, closed in, and at the same time that shock registered on Ailag’s face, two blades struck—one stabbed into the neck, one... stabbed into the forehead.

Blood sprayed. Muen’s knee lifted in the same motion and pinned Ailag beneath him.

And because of this close-in posture, Phil could no longer use any magic and halted like she’d gone into standby.

"This ‘divine favor’ you talk about—is that all?"

Pressing down with the blades, Muen said coldly:

"Make the Love God come out! He definitely has a projected avatar on you, right!"

"Cough, cough..."

Though the wounds were enough to kill an ordinary person ten times over, Ailag still smiled. Only because his throat was run through, speaking was a bit difficult:

"...As expected of the dangerous man whom even the Deity is wary of—you really are formidable... If it were the former me, in front of you, I’d only have the share of being insta-killed."

"Cut the crap."

Muen had no intention of bandying words with Ailag.

And the fact that even a pierced vital spot wouldn’t kill him was within his expectations; he’d seen that sort of thing far too many times and had gone numb.

Therefore—

"Since He won’t come out, I’ll just burn you from the inside out."

Red starlike flames lit up one after another in Muen’s pupils. He stared dead into Ailag’s eyes; thus in Ailag’s pupils as well, a red firelight gradually brightened.

It was the flame from the Withering King, the Evil God—burning the soul.

Except—

Even with his soul being burned, Ailag was still laughing—a weird laugh.

He looked at Muen, coughed blood, and said:

"Muen Campbell, let me tell you another good piece of news."

"..."

Muen ignored him.

"Cough, cough... That good news is... I just now... placed another suggestion on you."

"Mm?"

Muen’s brow creased on reflex.

"What do you mean?"

"Cough, cough... Suggestion is a thing easily guarded against and hard to make act at critical moments. But making what’s already reasonable become even more reasonable—that’s very easy."

"For example... having Liya Angel, a Saintess candidate, leave your side for the moment—so you can use the Withering King’s power and fight at full strength... That’s very reasonable."

"But in fact... I also needed Liya Angel... to leave your side."

"What?"

Muen’s pupils shrank.

Suddenly, he felt a strange vitality extending upward along his arm.

He lowered his head on instinct and saw that this strange vitality came from the blood splashed onto his hand at some unknown moment—and, very oddly, it had smoothly passed through the Alchemy Domain he’d already expanded and successfully drilled into his body.

"This is..."

That vitality was too harmless—it couldn’t # Nоvеlight # even trigger his body’s instinctive alarm.

But—

Ding—

In that instant, he seemed to hear, from within himself, a crisp sound like shattering glass.

As if a small stone had jammed into precision-turning gears.

Right after, the searing heat brought by the Alchemy Core rotating in his back abruptly turned into pain.

Rending, tearing pain.

As if all the organs and flesh inside his body were squeezing one another—and as a kind of instinctive immune response, jointly rejecting something.

Rejecting it even at the cost of destroying everything.

"This is... a rejection reaction?"

Muen quickly realized the source of the pain, because once—under the pit-trap routine of a certain old loli—he had experienced this in advance.

This taste he was destined to experience—the feeling like his body would be torn into quarters.

No—no ‘like.’ If this intense mutual repulsion continued, his body really would split open directly!

Thus, the soul-burning red flame suddenly coiled back, instinctively shielding Muen’s vital organs.

"See, Muen Campbell—this is your weakness!"

Ailag cried out in excitement: "That thing inlaid inside your body is already being rejected by your body. And as long as there’s no Holy Light Art to help you suppress it, you’ll be forced to use the Withering King’s flame to maintain a brief balance."

"Therefore..."

On Ailag’s cheek, an eye suddenly split open—cold, yet mocking—staring at this man who was beginning to weaken and cough blood:

"Now that you’ve lost all your crutches, what will you do?"