My Girlfriend is an S-Class Adventurer

“What is our plan? Will we enter this room and kill everyone who tries to stop us or do you have another idea?” When Hazor said that, his voice didn’t even shake.

“I don’t know, that would be risky. We don’t know how many people are in that place and how big it is, I don’t want to make a slaughter just to get a cursed item.” Luke replied.

“Boy, do you have any idea what a cursed item is? In the wrong hands, any one of the ten items is capable of unimaginable things.”

The half-wolf’s brows arched. When the Scale instructed him to search for the three cursed items he now had, she didn’t warn him about such a power.

Then Hazor snorted and took his right hand from the scabbard of his sword. “I see you won’t give in so easily. Do you trust me? There is a way we can get into this room without them attacking us.”

“I’m listening.” Luke showed his interest right away. If there was a way for them to get past each other’s ten people without causing a fuss, this would be the path he’d choose.

After explaining to the half-wolf how they would proceed, Luke was stunned, but also very confident.

“Okay, let’s do it your way.” The half-wolf asserted, went behind Hazor and covered his head with the hood of his white cloak.

Immediately, Hazor opened the heavy door that finally led them out of the prison dungeon.

The clamor of voices on the other side ceased as the door’s rusty hinges creaked. Over Hazor’s shoulder, Luke saw ten people gathered in two different groups in a small room with a column in the center.

There were no windows in the place, just a few torches on each of the four walls. The gloomy look continued, thanks to the weathered stone bricks and the agonizing musty smell. All this indicated that they were probably still underground.

People looked suspiciously at the hooded pair who came out of the basement. Eight of those people wore white robes like the ones Hazor and Luke were wearing now, except for two tall, stocky men. These two were wearing a set of black steel armor with spiked shoulder pads and ornaments in pure silver. In the middle of each chest was a symbol still unknown to Luke: an illustration of a hand whose palm was filled with a mouth full of sharp teeth.

“Ridrah and Arjohn, did you not go to seek the sacrifice? Where is he?” The man in armor, who had blond hair, asked Hazor and Luke.

The half-wolf was surprised that Hazor was actually able to copy the appearances of the men who were killed and mirror the two of them. Although for Luke to know that Hazor could do something like this wasn’t a huge novelty, as the dojo was protected by an illusion, it was still pretty impressive someone being able to do it so quickly.

As requested by Hazor, Luke didn’t say anything and he took the reins of the situation himself.

“The prisoner is not down there.” Hazor said. In addition to his physical appearance, Hazor’s voice had also changed a lot.

“What!?” Everyone exclaimed, astonished.

“Alert everyone you can, the prisoner is on the run! Investigate all warehouses, rooms, and hallways! He can’t have gone too far, we can’t let that sacrifice get away!” Arm raised like a battle commander, Hazor gave the orders, then pointed at the two armored men. “You two, come with me!”

All the people in white robes exchanged glances, confused by what was happening. The two men in armor were also perplexed, and they didn’t understand why someone who was a few ranks lower in the hierarchy would dare to give them orders.

“What are you waiting for!? Do you want to make the Bishop angry?! Hurry up, start looking!” ordered Hazor.

“Right!” The people in white robes exclaimed and went out together through a large wooden door on the right, already shouting for all to hear: “The sacrifice has escaped! The sacrifice escaped!”

A great fanfare quickly spread, mobilizing dozens of people to look for Luke. As no one knew how long he might have been on the run, he could be anywhere, however, he was still very close to the place where he was arrested.

The two men in black armor walked up to Hazor with a look of disbelief. The appearance Hazor took on wasn’t very respectable either, he had a huge paunch, a wispy beard and a bald scalp, while the two guards were strong, tall and young, not to mention holding a higher rank.

However, Hazor’s gaze was enough to intimidate ordinary people and his ability to give orders was innate, as if he had been born commanding an army. It was not for less that one day this talent was recognized by hundreds of thousands of people, to the point of turning him into a recognized figure throughout the Melki Empire.

“Boys, where is the woman who brought the sacrifice? We can’t lose sight of her either.” Hazor asked the two men.

The way Hazor asked didn’t give the two armored guys room to sneer or retort.

“Do you talk about Amara?” the blond man asked.

Hazor looked back over his right shoulder, and Luke shook his head. “No, if I’m not mistaken her name is Meredith or something.”

“Oh! So, you must be talking about the red-haired woman who was following Amara everywhere. If I’m not mistaken, the two were in the Bishop’s room, awaiting the moment of sacrifice with him.” The one with long black hair replied.

“Alright, show us the way. The bishop will want to question who it was that investigated the dungeon.” Hazor had already seen from the people’s expressions that, although the person he had assumed the identity of was old, he didn’t hold much higher rank than most of the other acolytes.

As there was logic in what the bald old man said, the pair of guards did not question him and guided Ridrah and Arjohn to the Bishop’s room.

Soon, they emerged from the stinking underground tunnels, entering an environment that still carried the old prison aesthetic, but didn’t stink as badly. On the walls were old paintings, strange symbols, and torches whose fire burned not red but purple.

“We’re coming.” The blond guard turned around and warned Luke and Hazor, who exchanged glances at the same time.

The mood in the hallway they were following was weird. The sounds of the acolytes’ reckless footsteps faded away, and the crackle of torches seemed uncomfortable.

“I feel something strange.” Luke whispered to Hazor.

“What are you talking about?” Hazor retorted. He knew his illusion was still intact, just as he was sure he’d managed to convince the two guards. What could be wrong?

However, the half-wolf’s instincts were rarely wrong, because he grew up having to hone his survival instincts on the streets in order not to die. In a city like Oukiwa, where there are so many things going wrong, so much death lurking beneath the buildings, in the Dungeons, the half-wolf boy had the opportunity to develop the best of survival instincts, which didn’t let any of his surroundings go unnoticed.

Confirmation of Luke’s suspicion came right after the whispers, when suddenly the metallic sound of unsheathing a sword echoed down that long hallway. The long-haired guard had drawn his sword, which was thin as a spear point and sharp as a dagger.

He was smiling bitterly, and his hands were shaking. “I hope you’re not wrong about that, Norgold!”

Then he swung towards the bald old man that Hazor had turned into. The wind generated by the swing of the sword made the flames of the torches flicker, however, contrary to what the blonde who was smiling confidently thought, the blow had no effect, Hazor was holding the sword between two of his right hand.

At that moment, too, the illusion Hazor had created was shattered, revealing that the fat old man was actually a respectable-looking old man with stringy muscles.

“Shit, you were really right!” The black haired man said to the blond guard as he jumped back, dropping his sword.

“I told you. There was no way the sacrifice could have escaped, we had been protecting the only way out of the dungeon all day.”

Hazor smiled and threw the thin sword at its owner’s feet. “There are two ways we can end this here. The first one, you die, and the second you will only be seriously injured. Which of the two options do you prefer? Of course, if you choose the latter, you’ll have to tell us a few things we want to know, about where the real bishop’s office is.”

The two armored men exchanged glances and chuckled. In front of them there was only one old man, and they believed there was no way an old man could face the two of them together, so the chance of beating them was even less.

Hazor took the sword from the scabbard to the left of his waist with his right hand, while with his left hand he closed his eyelids. A moment later, he disappeared before the men’s eyes.