The Game Difficulty
Is Insane
Pakaang—!
Blades collided with a thunderous crash.
Glen’s sword was pushed back.
Chel rode the shadows and moved to Belbeluga’s side.
She lowered her body and checked the condition of the motionless Belbeluga.
“……”
Belbeluga was dead.
After confirming that his heart had stopped, Chel slowly straightened her body.
Then she looked at Glen.
“He’s dead.”
“I can see that.”
“……”
At Glen’s dry reply, Chel fell silent once more.
Yet there was no emotion in her lifeless black eyes.
She showed no grief for the death of her fellow prophet Belbeluga, no regret, not even anger toward Glen.
She simply stood there, like a machine part that had lost its place.
Among the countless missions she bore, the most important one was protecting fellow prophets like herself.
But with the one she was meant to protect now fallen, she seemed to be considering what she should do next.
Whether she should end her escort mission and return to her usual duties, or whether she needed to settle something here and now.
Her deliberation did not last long.
Sching—
Gripping her pitch-black sword again, she lowered her stance and faced Glen.
“You still want to fight?”
“……”
It seemed she had chosen the option of eliminating an enemy of the Black Cult.
“Well, it’s your freedom if you want to keep fighting here. But there’s one thing I think you should know. Want me to tell you?”
“Unnecessary information.”
“If we keep fighting, you’ll die here.”
With a sly smile, Glen pointed outside the chapel window. Cold wind swept in through the shattered glass.
“There’s someone pretty dangerous stationed quite far from here.”
Then he pointed toward the chapel entrance.
There stood Tasha, who had just finished slaughtering dozens of ordinary cultists.
“She’s only 4-star, but she’s persistent as hell, so she’ll be annoying.”
Chel tilted her head slightly.
It was probably her way of asking what he was trying to say.
Glen lifted the corner of his mouth.
“Honestly, do you think you can beat me—when we’re evenly matched—in a 3-on-1? I don’t think so.”
Of course, calling it a true 3-on-1 was questionable, considering Romina and Tasha’s actual combat value.
If Tasha joined the fight directly, she would likely lose her head instantly.
But the important point was that in a tightly balanced fight between Glen and Chel, only one side could gain additional support.
Of course, only while the gray ring lasts.
As mentioned before, because the power boost from the gray ring had a time limit, Glen could not defeat Chel.
Even if Romina or Tasha joined, that fact would not change.
But only Glen knew that.
Chel did not know his power had a time limit.
Of course, Chel might still choose to fight despite the disadvantage.
If that happened, Glen would use every means he had—Romina’s support and even the Tyrant’s Wrath—to bring Chel down.
Still… thinking about wiping out the Black Cult in the future, it’d be better if she didn’t die here.
Suppressing his tension, Glen waited for Chel’s decision.
* * *
“……”
Chel suppressed her killing intent and began calculating.
She was a puppet who moved according to the will and commands of the Cult Leader, but that did not mean she blindly followed every order.
In the first place, the current situation had nothing to do with any command.
In any case, Chel decided to carefully weigh what would happen if she fought, and what would happen if she withdrew.
First, she reviewed the recent battle and analyzed the enemy’s strength.
Three opponents. One of them is a swordsman at a level similar to mine.
Her black eyes, devoid of even a trace of light, fixed on the ash-haired boy.
No openings in his sword. He didn’t look tired either.
Among the seven prophets who led the cult, Chel was unrivaled in one-on-one combat.
As an assassin, she excelled most in specific situations, but she was also formidable in frontal battles.
She had assassinated dozens of nobles using her abilities.
Among them were even household heads of 7-star level or higher.
But the ash-haired boy before her was clearly different from the humans she had faced until now.
He’s younger than me. But strong.
Not only did he not lose out in power during exchanges, he easily handled her fast sword—something few could ever keep up with.
Most troublesome of all was his swordsmanship.
It resembled the defensive style used by holy knights of the Minis Church, yet was completely different—blocking when needed, attacking without hesitation.
…About an hour.
After calculating, Chel estimated that it would take that long to settle a pure one-on-one fight with him.
And even then, she could not predict who would win.
Whether it was herself or the boy, either outcome seemed possible.
She briefly wondered how someone so young had obtained such strength, but quickly dismissed the thought.
What mattered was that, in the current battle formation, her chances of victory were low.
Chel quietly shifted her gaze.
Too many enemies.
Even fighting the ash-haired boy alone, she could not guarantee victory. And there were two more.
The knight who slaughtered the ordinary cultists was not a major concern, but the unknown person outside the window who fired the black spike clearly was.
After all, it was that black spike that killed Prophet Belbeluga.
“……”
In the end, Chel acknowledged her overwhelming disadvantage.
Then she returned to the original question.
Fight, or retreat.
No matter the difference in strength, the one before her was a heretic who had killed her brothers and sisters.
An enemy who interfered with the cult.
Under normal circumstances, she would kill him even at the cost of her own life.
But—
—Prophet Chel. Live for the cult. Think only of the cult’s revival. Move solely for the revival of the cult.
To carry out the command of the one who created her, the one connected to the god Kalungod, she could not die here.
If Belbeluga were still alive, she would have sacrificed her life to save him.
That was how important the missions Belbeluga carried—and would have carried—were.
But Belbeluga was dead.
And if she continued fighting this boy, she would die as well.
That would delay the cult’s revival far beyond schedule.
No.
In the end, Chel decided to withdraw.
Not for her emotions or personal safety, but solely for the cult, the Cult Leader, and the god.
Srrrk—
As if sinking into a swamp, Chel’s legs were swallowed by her own shadow.
“Looks like you’re not completely brain-dead.”
