Chapter 333: Big Shot

Chapter 333: Chapter 333: Big Shot

"So, you think..." Fayestar finally let a hint of her long-hidden sharpness show. She gave Seraphina Sinclair a cold look. "Even if we make the sacrifice, we might still have to pay some other price to leave?"

Seraphina Sinclair pretended not to notice the hostility, snapping her fingers with amusement. "Correct, but no prize."

Her smile was bright as she looked at Fayestar. "And now, it’s time for you to decide. Are you coming with us, or are you sticking with the sacrifice?"

The moment she finished speaking, Alaric Hawthorn and Lyra Lowell tensed up.

’This isn’t about choosing whether or not to make a sacrifice!’

’This is clearly about choosing whether the two of us get to live.’

Alaric gripped his spear, his eyes fixed on Fayestar. It was as if he knew that if she so much as uttered the word "sacrifice," he would have to fight for his life or take it himself.

Though Lyra Lowell was cowering, his gaze was also locked on Fayestar.

Unlike Alaric, he just looked pathetic, as if he would burst into tears if Fayestar said the word.

But Fayestar, the focus of all three of their stares, seemed completely oblivious, her eyes fixed solely on Seraphina Sinclair.

Seraphina Sinclair didn’t know what she was thinking, nor did she understand her motives.

But just as Seraphina thought Fayestar was about to make a move, Fayestar’s lips curled into a slight smile. The tense atmosphere popped like a balloon, the sharp, adversarial edge receding like a tide.

She looked at Seraphina, her tone as casual as if they were just chatting. "How confident are you? Serafelle Sinclair."

Even now, she was the only one who still called her Serafelle Sinclair. Those two fair-weather followers, who would do anything to survive, had long since switched to calling her Boss Sinclair.

’Seraphina’s mind lingered on this, not because she cared about being called "Boss," of course. It was because a title, however trivial it seemed, could be an indirect measure of another’s strength.’

Seraphina Sinclair’s runes seemed unstoppable. That alone was enough to earn her the title of "Boss"—but only from those with no power of their own.

To someone who could counter her runes, such tricks were unimpressive. Naturally, she wouldn’t earn their respect.

’Which means... Fayestar might be hiding more up her sleeve than I thought.’

’The only strange thing is...’

Seraphina’s gaze fell on Mimi, cradled in Fayestar’s arms.

’If she’s really that strong, her Sunflower should have completed its first stage of evolution by now.’ ℯℯ𝘭.

’Why does her Sunflower still look like it’s in its initial stage?’

Noticing Seraphina’s gaze, Fayestar subtly shifted her body, perfectly shielding her Sunflower from view.

Only then did Seraphina give a nonchalant reply to her question. "Not very. A ten percent chance, maybe."

Fayestar had yet to react to the number when Lyra Lowell, standing nearby, shrieked, "T-Ten percent?! Boss Sinclair, how is that any different from a suicide mission!"

Alaric’s expression darkened to the point of being stormy. The veins on the back of the hand gripping his spear bulged; clearly, he also thought the odds were a joke.

Fayestar, however, just let out a soft "Oh." Her expression showed no surprise or disappointment; instead, she nodded thoughtfully.

"Interesting," she murmured, her gaze sweeping over Seraphina’s face. "Willing to gamble everyone’s time and only exit on a ten percent chance. Serafelle Sinclair, you’ve got some real nerve."

Seraphina gave a noncommittal shrug. "Better than sitting around waiting to die."

"True enough."

Fayestar nodded as if genuinely convinced. She glanced at the grim expressions on Alaric’s and Lyra’s faces, dropped all pretense, and spoke with a mocking tone.

"What? Not happy about it? Stay here, and you die now. Go exploring, and you *might* not die. The choice should be obvious, shouldn’t it?"

The last part was phrased as a question, but the rising, lilting tone was dripping with sarcasm.

Lyra’s face flushed red as if he’d been choked, but he didn’t dare to argue, merely lowering his head in sheepish silence.

Alaric’s grip on his spear tightened, then relaxed. Finally, he let out a cold snort, giving his tacit approval of the plan.

He knew full well that either Seraphina or Fayestar could easily overpower him. With the two of them in agreement, he had no room to object.

"Since no one has any objections," Seraphina said, a smile blooming on her face as the long blade reappeared in her hand. She gave it a casual flick. "Let’s go."

The instant all four of them stepped into the corridor, the room behind them began to fade, shimmering like a ripple on the surface of water.

Seeing this, Lyra immediately cried out, "What’s going on?!"

Alaric spun around, his pupils dilated in utter astonishment.

Fayestar and Seraphina, however, were perfectly calm, as if they had expected this all along.

The ripples continued to spread. Fayestar watched for a moment, then suddenly turned to Seraphina. "Want to bet on what we’ll see when the room is gone?"

"Is there any need to guess?" Seraphina shot her a glance. "Obviously, it’ll be just like when we first entered the dungeon—corridors in both directions."

Alaric and Lyra had fallen silent, while the two women had started chatting like old friends.

Mere seconds after Seraphina spoke, as if to prove her point, the rippling wall stabilized completely. The shimmering faded, revealing a scene identical to the one they had encountered upon first entering the dungeon.

Endless corridors stretched out before and behind them. The walls were peeling, the floor was filthy, and sconces set at intervals cast flickering, unsteady shadows.

It was as if they had never entered the room, never read the bloodstained notebook—as if everything had just been a fleeting illusion.

Only the completely transformed atmosphere between the four of them served as silent proof that what had just happened was no illusion at all.

The expressions on Alaric’s and Lyra’s faces grew even more grim.

Their line of retreat had vanished, meaning they were now truly bound to this uncertain path with no turning back.

But then again, not taking this chance meant certain death. Rather than simply accept their fate, it was better to follow the others and risk it all in one desperate gamble.

Fayestar’s words had been harsh, but they were also true.

Alaric’s expression grew solemn, and his grip on his spear tightened.

Lyra stuck close behind Alaric, no longer daring to complain. He just clutched his Sunflower as if it were his only lifeline, his dazed eyes scanning the sinister surroundings.

"Looks like you were right," Fayestar said, her tone light. "So, which way do we go now, Boss Serafelle Sinclair?"

She put a slight, deliberate emphasis on the word "Boss," her tone laced with a barely perceptible mockery.

Seraphina ignored the subtle mockery in her tone. Her gaze swept over the identical corridors ahead and behind before she pointed toward a yellow hard hat, faintly visible in the distance. "Let’s go. First, let’s see what’s written on that."

She took the lead, striding ahead.

Fayestar raised an eyebrow and followed without comment.

Alaric and Lyra exchanged a look, then had no choice but to grit their teeth and follow.