Chapter 98: ⁹⁸The First Lair In The Western Valley

​The sun had long died behind the northern mountain ranges.

​The border forest outside the Rosenberg domain had now transformed into a freezing, pitch-black labyrinth. The wind blew wildly, piercing to the bone like thousands of invisible ice daggers. Light snow fell, blanketing the thick moss and pine branches that groaned softly as they rubbed against one another.

​Amidst that pitch darkness, two figures moved with deadly agility.

​There were no torches. Only a dim glow of mana within their pupils and pure predatory instincts guided their steps.

​Ethan and Valera traversed an old, worn-out path that was nearly buried under the snow. The tips of their boots crushed thin layers of ice with a steady rhythm. There was no conversation. The body language of the two had synchronized—enough to read each other’s movements without a single word.

​Valera walked in the lead. Her short brown hair whipped stiffly in the freezing wind. Her golden eyes continuously scanned the surroundings, glowing with vigilance. Beneath her sleeveless black armor, the female knight’s muscles moved fluidly, ready to explode at a moment’s notice. Her giant Zweihander was securely strapped across her back.

​Right behind her, Ethan trailed.

​After an hour of traversing the ascending forest, Valera’s steps suddenly slowed. The knight raised her left hand, clenching a shoulder-high fist.

​Ethan stopped instantly. The tip of his boot didn’t budge an inch.

​Valera turned her head. Her eyes narrowed, piercing through the curtain of snow. "Up ahead. About three hundred meters along the hillside. There’s an old mine shaft. I smell the smoke of meat being roasted over wet wood."

​"Good," Ethan replied flatly. "They’re relaxing."

​"Don’t look down on them, My Lord," Valera warned, her jaw clenching slightly. "There are two guards outside. From the tracks and the scent, I’m sure there are ten to twelve rats inside."

​Instead of replying with words, Ethan casually loosened the clasp of his dark cloak. The young man casually draped the thick fabric over a nearby pine branch. The sub-zero temperature seemed as if it didn’t touch his skin in the slightest.

​Valera snorted softly seeing that arrogance. "You’re the one who dragged me out here. If I end up losing an arm in there, you’d better take responsibility."

​An exceptionally cold, faint smile dawned on Ethan’s lips. Without returning that protest of a gaze, he stepped forward, preceding the knight toward the execution position.

​The western valley radiated the atmosphere of a mass grave forgotten by time.

​The mouth of the old mine looked like a gaping wound on the stomach of the rocky hill. Its wooden supports were decayed. In front of the cave’s entrance, two members of the Serpent’s Tongue clad in filthy robes stood guard while rubbing their hands near a small fire barrel. One held a venomous dagger, while the other slung a crossbow over his shoulder.

​Ethan emerged from behind the shadow of a giant pine tree. Without a sound. Without leaking a single fluctuation of mana.

​The guard with the dagger accidentally turned his head as he felt a shift in the wind current. His eyes bugged out in horror. The figure clad in black was already standing less than two meters away from him.

​"Who—"

​That sentence was never finished. Ethan swung two fingers in a bored gesture.

​A slash of Sin Mana, as thin as a thread yet as sharp as a razor, shot out invisibly. The guard’s neck was severed instantly. Blood spewed into the freezing air, and his body collapsed before his brain could even process the pain.

​The second guard gasped in panic. He spun around, intending to run inside the mine while drawing a breath to scream.

​However, from atop the cliff above the mine’s entrance, Valera leaped down.

​The female knight landed right on the guard’s shoulders. Utilizing gravity’s momentum, Valera’s hands clamped around the man’s jaw and the top of his head, then yanked brutally, twisting it a full one hundred eighty degrees.

​CRACK!

​The second guard tumbled onto the snowy ground. His body twitched for a moment before finally dying completely.

​Ethan stepped past the first corpse without looking down. "Tch. Too noisy, Valera."

​"Yet effective," Valera retorted cynically. She flicked her leather gloves, casting off the splatters of blood. Her right hand reached for her back, unsheathing her massive Zweihander. "Let’s clean up the rest of the trash."

​The smell inside the mine was utterly revolting. The metallic stench of dried blood, sweat, and foul incense for low-tier summoning rituals blended into one.

​In the depths of the rock alcove illuminated by a small campfire, the assassins of the Serpent’s Tongue were gathered. Some were playing cards on a rickety wooden table, while the rest were chugging cheap liquor.

​Ethan’s dark brown eyes scanned the room. Twelve living targets. Valera was right.

​Ethan cast a brief glance at Valera. The knight responded with a slight nod.

​The slaughter began.

​Valera shot forward first like a cannonball. She took a circular route, sweeping along the left wall. There were no battle cries. No small talk. Just a strike of death slamming against their ribs.

​At the same time, Ethan walked casually right down the middle path. His calm steps instantly caught the attention of the drunken assassins.

​Three members near the entrance reacted in panic. One of them snatched a crossbow, firing a bolt coated in green venom straight at Ethan’s face.

​The young man’s eyes didn’t even blink. He merely flicked the back of his hand.

​A dense stream of Sin Mana brushed the bolt aside until it exploded into fragments of wood dust. In the next second, Ethan’s right hand reached out. Velcrasia—the dark red whip pulsating like a living vein—shot out from the empty void.

​CRACK!

​Velcrasia’s tip cleaved the archer’s neck clean off. Blood spewed, decorating the ancient stone walls.

​The second assassin tried to find an opening. He lunged from a blind spot, stabbing a dagger toward Ethan’s ribs.

​Without needing to turn his head, Ethan’s left hand shot out, catching the man’s wrist. A cruel snap echoed, accompanied by the sound of breaking bones. The man’s arm was shattered. Before he could even scream, Ethan’s boot slammed into his chest, crushing his ribs until they caved into his heart.

​The third member, seeing that horror, stepped back with a deathly pale face. "INTRUDER! THERE’S AN INTRUD—!"

​The tip of the red whip danced again. The man’s head rolled onto the ground before his scream could finish.

​On the left side, Valera had turned the mine’s arena into her personal slaughterhouse.

​Her giant Zweihander was swung with the feral wildness of a starving wolf. With a single slash, the steel sword cleaved through the bodies of two assassins at once, piercing straight through the wooden table they were using as a shield. Blood and internal organs splattered everywhere. Her movements were ferocious, shattering the enemies’ formation purely through absolute physical strength.

​That dance of death was executed with supreme efficiency. They didn’t bother wasting mana on large-scale spells. Every movement was designed purely to claim lives as fast as possible.

​In a matter of minutes, all twelve members of the Serpent’s Tongue were wiped out down to the last man. The mine fell silent once more, filled only with the crackling of the campfire devouring wood.

​Valera took a long breath. She drove the tip of her sword into the rocky ground, staring at the scattered corpses. Her eyes then shifted to Ethan, who was tidying up the cuffs of his shirt—not a single drop of blood was on him.

​"Too easy," Valera snorted.

​"Because this was their weakest lair," Ethan replied flatly. "Serpent’s Tongue broke their formation to avoid Alaric’s patrols. If we want to find their head, we need at least one person who can talk."

​Valera rolled her eyes. "Then you’re too late, My Lord. All these rats are already corpses."

​"Not yet."

​Ethan stepped calmly past the pools of blood, walking toward a small stone altar in the darkest corner of the mine.

​From behind the filthy black cloth covering the base of the altar, the chattering of teeth and desperately held breaths could be heard. Without mercy, Ethan yanked the cloth aside.

​A young member of the Serpent’s Tongue lay huddled and trembling. His robes were torn. His face was smudged with soot and tears. He gripped a dagger with both hands, but his trembling was so violent that the weapon looked like a wooden toy.

​In his head, he was screaming wildly. Monsters! They’re not human! Twelve men dead in two minutes!

​"W-Who are you people...?!" he hissed in panic. "D-Don’t come any closer!"

​Ethan’s expression was as flat as a frozen lake. Not a single speck of pity was there. "You know exactly where the main temple where your superiors are hiding is. Speak."

​"I-I will never—GAAAHH!"

​Before that refusal could even finish, Velcrasia slithered slowly like a cobra. The tip of the dark red whip coiled around the prisoner’s neck. It didn’t choke him to death, merely clinging tightly against his skin.

​Then, Ethan injected Sin Mana in a very small, slow dose into the fibers of his whip.

​"AAARRRGGHH!"

​The prisoner writhed hysterically. The burning sensation of Sin Mana tortured his neural circuits, as if thousands of heated, rusted needles were slowly being plunged into his spinal cord. He threw his knife away. Both his hands clawed at his own neck, trying to peel away Velcrasia’s coils until his nails bled.

​Ethan watched that agony in silence. He slowed down the flow of his mana, letting that pain crumble his prey’s mental fortress inch by inch.

​"Please... hhk... make it stop!" the man wept hysterically, a messy mix of snot and tears.

​"I will ask one more time," Ethan whispered softly, tugging the tip of his whip slightly. "Where?"

​"T-The temple! The main temple is at the eastern edge of this valley!" the man screamed in despair. "Behind the frozen waterfall! B-But it’s useless... the altar guardian... that monster will skin you alive!"

​An exceptionally faint, cold smirk formed on Ethan’s lips.

​"Altar guardian?" he muttered softly. "We’ll see about that."

​YANK!

​With just one light flick of his wrist, Velcrasia tightened. The man’s cervical bone snapped with a loud, sickening sound. His body slumped down, lifeless.

​Night pressed heavier as they walked closer toward the eastern sector of the valley.

​The snow had stopped falling, but the temperature plummeted drastically. This cold air was not natural. There was an aura of curses and a thick smell of death in every gust of wind.

​Instinctively, Valera placed her right hand on the hilt of her sword.

​"Someone has been watching us for a while now," she whispered. Her breath billowed in thick plumes.

​"I know," Ethan replied, his pace remaining constant.

​From behind the thin mist, a structure began to come into view. Not a grand temple, but the remnants of an ancient stone foundation roughly assembled. In the center stood a stone gate with a sharp, pointed tip defying the gray sky.

​And right in the middle of that gate stood the Guardian.

​Its figure was scrawny and tall, wrapped in a moth-eaten black robe. The hair on its head was practically bald, exposing gray skin that looked like a corpse decades old. When the creature turned its head, its pair of eyes were entirely pitch-black, absorbing all light.

​It was a low-tier demon, the result of an altar ritual mutation and dozens of human sacrifices.

​"Halt," the demon’s voice vibrated hoarsely, resembling the scraping of two headstones. "Mortal flesh... shall not pass."

​Valera clicked her tongue softly. She stepped forward, drawing her Zweihander and twirling it lightly with one hand. Her golden eyes burned fiercely, staring at the pale demon as if looking at game meat.

​"Give me three minutes, Ethan," Valera said firmly.

​Ethan, standing behind her, merely crossed his arms over his chest. He had no intention of interfering. "Whatever. Just don’t die."

​The demon spread its scrawny arms. Its jaw opened wide, spewing a blast of greenish-black mist straight toward Valera.

​Valera dodged to the side with agility beyond reason. Evading the poison, she leaped forward and swung her giant sword directly into the demon’s neck.

​CLANG!

​Sparks flew everywhere. The steel blade struck the demon’s skin, producing a loud ringing sound like hitting a thick steel plate. The pale skin wasn’t scratched in the slightest.

​The demon twisted its broken neck, then slammed its palm onto the snowy ground.

​BAM!

​Dozens of pitch-black roots exploded from beneath the ground. Those roots were alive, writhing aggressively like thorned whips, attacking Valera from all directions.

​"Tch."

​Valera twirled her sword like a propeller, parrying the barrage of roots. However, one of the thorns managed to pierce through a gap in her armor, slashing her upper arm quite deeply.

​"Argh!"

​Valera winced. Fresh blood dripped, staining the snow. The burning pain scorching her muscles actually ignited the veteran knight’s rage.

​"You bastard, living corpse," Valera growled ferociously.

​Instead of retreating, she planted her stance. The internal energy in her chest exploded. Pure golden aura was funneled into the blade of the Zweihander. The steel sword instantly glowed brightly, radiating a dominance that repelled the surrounding deathly aura.

​Valera charged forward.

​The first slash swept horizontally, cutting all the black roots until they burned into ash. The second slash cleaved through the demon’s remaining magical barrier.

​With full momentum, she twisted her waist and delivered a straight thrust as fast as lightning.

​PLUNGE!

​The golden blade drove hard into the demon’s chest, piercing straight through its back.

​The demon froze. Its mouth opened, releasing a soundless howl before its pale body finally trembled violently and crumbled into blackish-gray dust.

​The remaining momentum pushed Valera forward. One of her knees slammed into the snow. She supported her body with her sword driven into the ground. Her shoulders heaved, enduring the stinging pain in her arm, which was still dripping blood.

​"Hah... three minutes. Damn it," Valera cursed softly.

​Footsteps of boots were heard approaching. Ethan stopped right beside her, then placed his palm over the knight’s wound.

​Instantly, dense and extraordinarily warm Sin Mana seeped in. That energy stabilized Valera’s chaotic mana circuits, while freezing her bleeding in a matter of seconds.

​However, healing from the Demon King never came without a price.

​Valera’s body instantly tensed up. That warm sensation crawled wildly up to her neck. Beneath her armor’s collar, the rose-shaped Lust Brand instantly reacted, stinging her nerves with a wave of ecstasy that melted her knees.

​Valera bit her lower lip hard. Her breath caught, holding back a sweet moan that nearly escaped her throat.

​"You won," Ethan whispered right into Valera’s ear. His voice was as cold as ice, yet its vibration locked the knight’s soul. "That’s enough."

​Valera looked up. Her face was flushed red, challenging the young man’s brown eyes with rapid breaths.

​"Hah... you bastard," Valera hissed, her voice trembling between anger and desire. "You intentionally let me fight alone."

​"Of course," Ethan replied flatly, withdrawing his hand. "Your instincts are starting to dull because you’ve been a guard dog in Alaric’s cage for too long. I was merely sharpening them again."

​Valera went silent. The knightly ego in her chest was slapped by that truth. She snorted roughly, then curled a faint smile and stood up.

​"You’re truly a demon at heart," Valera mocked, rolling her fully healed shoulders.

​They stepped through the pointed gate, entering the temple.

​The room was stuffy and dark. The thick stench of blood dominated. In the center of the room, a small basalt altar was illuminated by strange black candles. The walls were covered in engravings of hundreds of lidless eyes that seemed to stare at their every move.

​On top of the altar rested a bronze bowl containing dried blood from human sacrifices.

​Valera circled the altar vigilantly. "Just this? It’s empty."

​"This is just an outer post," Ethan said casually, touching the eye-engraved stone wall. "The demon outside was merely a fence dog."

​"Then what now?" Valera turned her head. "That rat said they split up. Do we go back and plan another strike on the next location?"

​Ethan’s dark brown eyes scanned the lingering flow of mana in the air. He could feel the trail of energy threads leading toward a massive source of power at the end of the valley.

​"No," Ethan answered.

​The young man turned his body around, smirking with the absolute dominance of a tyrant.

​"We aren’t stopping here, Valera. We hunt them down tonight... until we cut off the snake’s head and pull out its roots completely clean."

​Hearing that command for a bloodbath, a feral smile bloomed on Valera’s lips. Both of them stepped outside, staring straight toward the east. In the distance, the faint roar of a frozen waterfall could be heard.

​Their bloody hunt had just reached its main Chapter.