Chapter 27 - 12: [Interlude of the Demon Monarch and the Knight]

Chapter 27: Chapter 12: [Interlude of the Demon Monarch and the Knight]

"A team with such a unique name is highly likely to draw attention—whether as the punchline of a terrible party or as the hallmark of an excellent one. Since our combat power is far above their average level, staying with them long-term would inevitably make us part of that spectacle. This increases the risk of exposure.

"That’s why I demanded they change their name as soon as possible. Pick any pompous, third-rate adventurer squad name—something about storms, dawn, sacredness, or glory. Anything is better than being as utterly unconventional as Garbage Beast."

Talia pondered, gazing at Samael as he sat nearby, fiddling with the bottled Magic.

"Samael, my original plan was to find an unremarkable sixth or seventh-level adventurer party. By blending in with a group of relatively strong members, we wouldn’t stand out. We wouldn’t have to fight as often, which would lower the risk." Talia reached out and tugged at the armored skirt piece hanging over Samael’s rear. "What do you think?"

"Stop pulling my butt..." Samael yanked his armor piece back. "Actually, I think associating with sixth or seventh-level adventurers might be more dangerous. It would make it much easier for them to discover our identities. I’d rather choose a low-level party. A team like Randall’s—grounded, capable, easy to get along with, and not entirely useless—is just fine."

"Why?" Talia asked. "If everyone in the team has the strength of a sixth or seventh-level adventurer, wouldn’t we be less conspicuous?"

"The danger lies in the adventurers themselves. Just two ordinary Alliance Guards watching the gate could figure out our professions at a single glance," Samael mused. "According to the older guard, Randall was a novice adventurer who only studied under a sixth-level adventurer named Norman Passat for a year. Yet, he’s already managed to advance to the third level and possesses such clear, mature reasoning and cognitive abilities.

"Granted, Randall’s own exceptional talent plays a part in that. But more importantly, the observation skills, acuity, and cognitive abilities of sixth or seventh-level adventurers are likely far stronger—and far more terrifying—than those of Randall and the older guard.

"If we spend day and night with sixth or seventh-level adventurers, they would probably deduce our true identities in no time. We can’t take that risk."

"Is it really that exaggerated? Just how formidable could they be?" Talia weighed his words. "Over a decade ago, in the Underground City of Rondolan, the corpses of sixth and seventh-level adventurers were innumerable. There were so many skulls you could build walls out of them."

"Was it really that horrific?" Samael muttered.

"My dad liked to categorize things, including trash." Talia stretched languidly. "Rondolan’s mossy Rot Root Balls would scurry around, sorting and stacking skulls according to the adventurer dog tags on the corpses. I’ve seen the piles of sixth and seventh-level adventurer skulls. You really could build a wall with them. They were stacked incredibly high.

"Within the freezing Rondolan Mountains, hollowed out by Earth-Devouring Demon Insects, the skulls would have their numbers recorded before being tossed into the abyss beneath the city to feed the thriving subterranean ecosystem. Peering down into the darkness from the edge of the city walls, the sea of bones looked like an endless field of white dandelions—a blooming sea of death born from the greed of adventurers."

Talia snorted.

"Creatures driven to their deaths by greed are rarely intelligent. That’s why I’ve always felt that adventurers are mostly just stupid."

"Your father must have been incredibly powerful, and the Rondolan Mountain City must have been a spectacular place," Samael sighed. "But you can’t deny that the adventurers who managed to break into it were equally strong and perceptive.

"Talia, your background and experiences are quite unique. You’ve witnessed hordes of greedy adventurers perish in the Underground City out of sheer ignorance, which understandably leaves you disdainful of low- and mid-level adventurers.

"However, I believe that even they possess rather acute perception and sharp minds.

"Perhaps they died in the Underground City simply because its perilous environment was too alien to them, leaving them overwhelmed and helpless. That only proves that the Demon Race Monarchs are more powerful, and that the Underground City and its Spiritual Ecosystem were built and designed to be exceptionally brutal. It doesn’t mean the adventurers themselves are foolish.

"Randall’s way of thinking and cognitive abilities are extremely mature. Judging by him alone, we can deduce that anyone capable of becoming an Advanced Adventurer is absolutely no simpleton. It’s safer for us to stick with a low-level party."

"That... actually makes a lot of sense. Alright, you’ve convinced me—fine, we’ll do it your way." Talia flopped around on the bed. "Besides, if we roll with a low-level party and they do figure it out, silencing them will be a lot easier."

"...What? No! You can’t always default to silencing people! That’s utterly immoral!" Samael put his hands on his hips, wearing a helpless expression remarkably similar to Tom Cat, and turned to look at Talia thrashing on the bed. "Randall is a good guy; he’s helped us a lot. If possible, I’d be more than happy to become friends with someone so sincere, grounded, and clear-headed. Let’s try to get along with him as amicably as possible. If we really can’t keep our secret anymore, escaping is our top priority. We cannot repay his kindness with malice."

"That preachy, overly moralistic stance of yours is exactly like my dad." Talia stared at him, lost in thought. "And that is exactly why my dad died. The Demon Race members he thought were his friends betrayed him, and the adventurers he treated with genuine kindness killed him with their own hands."

Silence.

A long silence.

Samael sighed. With his back to Talia, he said no more, though he continued to toy with the Magic Potion Bottle Randall had gifted him.

"We’ll deal with it when the time comes," Talia said, breaking the silence. "Just pray that your Sewage Worker friend is a bit on the dull side. He’d better be slow on the uptake and not notice things he shouldn’t. Otherwise..."

"Let’s rest for now." Samael placed the spherical bottle of bottled Magic back into the leather pouch Randall had shoved into his hands. He hooked the pouch onto his waist and sat in a daze, his back still facing Talia. "This afternoon, we still need to finish that internship quest and deal with that obnoxious adventurer, Luken Roster.

"Our party up with Randall isn’t until tomorrow morning. We can figure out our next steps when we get back tonight."

Talia lay quietly on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"I’m sorry," she whispered, stealing a glance at Samael’s back.

"It’s fine." Samael stared blankly at the wall. "You grew up among the Demon Race and went through all of that. It’s inevitable that you’d think this way. Besides, what you said... does make some sense."

His Nether Copper Hand Armor pressed against the leather pouch, his fingers tracing the chain of the Healing Potion.

"Maybe the problem is me. But I’ve always felt that the world shouldn’t be like this," he mused.