Inside the Underground Game of Freedom, in one of the numerous forests owned by the Orders, a strange event was unfolding.

Two beings, one male and one female, stood side by side, their slitted silver pupils staring down at the sight in front of them.

The female had silver hair cut short, while the man had black hair tied into a ponytail.

They were wearing purple uniforms that glimmered like draconic scales under the shine of the midday sun overhead. On their chests was stitched the maw of a ferocious dragon, stretched wide.

The two beings, members of Order Draco, were trembling, their bodies trying, but miserably failing, to control the pure and unfettered rage boiling inside of them as they stared at the sight before them.

Their Red Prince, son of the Fat Amethyst Dragon, was dead.

Blood was all over the earth, painting their boots red.

"Who dared?" the man growled, his slitted pupils narrowing until one could barely see them.

"Look." The female pointed with a trembling finger at the neck of their prince, revealing the mark of two canines.

They stared at it, then slowly turned their heads, fixing their eyes on each other.

"Order Hydra?" they said in unison, but then the man frowned.

"It's too obvious." He noticed, his eyebrows knitting together even more. "It might be a trap against them. Hydra does not dare to strike us. They know our temper. And they certainly know that angering The Fat is suicide."

He fell solemnly silent. "His anger is never easily quenched."

"But you know them." The woman countered, insisting. "You know the betraying nature of Hydra. They would never hesitate to strike us if they had the slightest chance to wound us."

She shook her head. "And did you not hear about the whispers of the Sphinx's bad news?" Her voice lowered instinctively. "They say the monsters are rising. An heir is born, Cole."

"The games are more diabolical, and the Masters want us to win or be killed." She pursed her lips. "They are getting restless. So Hydra attacking is not surprising."

Cole fell silent, acknowledging the truth in her words.

These days, things were different. Every high-ranking Order member was more dangerous.

The woman continued smoothly, "And can you not use your nose?" She dragged the man's attention back to the present situation, sniffing. "If everything could be faked, the disgusting stench of Hydra could never be. Their odor is unique."

The man paused, closed his eyes, then sniffed.

Immediately, he coughed, clapping a hand over his nose.

He cursed, then spat in disgust.

"It's them! This horrible poisonous stench could only be them!" He snarled in irritation and fury. "Come, Keisha! Let's bring the corpse of the Prince to Master."

Keisha shook her head. "Are you an idiot? Master will kill us in his rage if we do that, Cole."

Cole arched a frustrated eyebrow. "Then what?"

Keisha smiled strangely, sharp teeth glimmering as she looked down at the corpse beneath her feet. "There will soon be the daily inspection of the forest by Order Lyra." She said. "We will let them be the bearers of bad news."

Cole felt something deeply wrong with that idea. "Our traces would be found, and we will be questioned. I do not need to tell you what would happen then."

Keisha laughed. "Found? We just need to cover it up. Just like how those black-skinned Hunters always do."

"Do—!"

"Time is running out, Cole. We do not have a choice. Either this, or we die by delivering the news to Master that his son was killed like a wretched human."

She stared deeply into his eyes. "Choose, Cole. Death inside the pitiless belly of the dragon, or a few more days to live."

Cole fell silent, then cursed. "Fuck you, Keisha! If we get caught, I will kill you!"

He immediately began to erase their traces while Keisha laughed. "I doubt you will have the time to kill me then."

"Shut up and do your job! Cover everything! Those harpy whores will be here soon!"

They worked quickly, erasing their presence, while not far away, in a hidden cave deep within the forest, two beings — a black-skinned woman and a pale white man — were leaning against a jagged wall, side by side.

The cave was silent, broken only by the sound of their rhythmic breathing and droplets of water pattering against the earth.

The black-skinned woman closed the small distance between them. She sank her teeth into her lips, then slowly, with her heart pounding in her chest, leaned her head against his shoulder.

She waited, expecting Sky to rebuke her harshly, but nothing came.

Katy trembled with joy, beaming inwardly. 'I DID IT!'

She had finally rested her head on him. One of her countless dreams had come true.

A gentle wind of happiness ruffled her heart.

She closed her eyes, gained courage, and snuggled closer to Sky.

The man said nothing. He did not know what to say. He owed Katy for her help and support in his reckless endeavor of hunting a dragon.

If they were caught, she would either die, or suffer immensely, then die. Either way, she would die.

She knew that, and yet she had not hesitated.

Was love truly that powerful?

Sky knew it was.

Yet he found himself at a loss for words, his mind fragmented, struggling under the weight of Katy's feelings…and his own budding ones.

But more than that, his heart was bleeding.

His thoughts drifted to a young girl with black hair and innocent golden eyes. A girl who had always protected him when he was nothing but a coward. A pitiful bastard.

He wondered if she would still like him. If she would still love the man he had become, one ready to kill for his own twisted vengeance.

Zaki Caelion, the bastard, was no more.

Only Sky remained. A hunter who hunted dragons.

And yet, even with all that, he could not help but feel he was betraying Eimi by allowing Katy so close to him. By letting his heart soften toward the girl beside him.

Sky bit his lip and shut his eyes tightly.

They said an empire riddled with internal chaos could never survive.

Then what about the heart?

Sky dreaded the answer.

So he turned off his mind and let himself forget.

It was easier.

Yes.

Far easier.

…

City of Sorrow — Church of Sorrow

The atmosphere inside the church these past days was tense. None knew why, and none bothered to inquire about it.

Each one of them preferred to live their usual lives, letting themselves be dragged into solemn sorrow.

All for the Goddess. All to be closer to the Woeful One.

Yet one was different.

Since succeeding in her Master-rank quest, Rea found herself most of the time locked inside the Church library, searching for The Shattered Temple of the Whimpering Saintess.

She did not hesitate to use all the resources she could get her hands on, and that with the help of Einar, the Disciple of Loss.

Outwardly, nothing had changed about her. She remained the enigmatic woman who controlled a vast number of devotees within her palm. Yet it was far from reality.

Einar was now nothing but a puppy following Rea.

She found herself holding an immense obsession toward Rea. An unhealthy one.

She could do nothing without her. She needed her words in everything. She was aware of her state, and still she let herself be devoured by her master.

Now, the only thing parading inside her head was how she could please Rea.

Only that.

Added to that, she became unable to live far away from her. So she transformed a part of herself into an earring and wore herself on Rea's left ear.

An earring shaped like a teardrop. Lifeless grey.

Rea said nothing. The Disciple of Loss was now her property, and that went beyond mere physical things.

She owned all her power, status, current and future achievements.

Rea could use her power if she wished, but she was too weak to bear the power of an Epithet. But it was fine, she would grow, and she would learn her powers.

For now, Rea was more interested in training her new Master skill, which was the ability to install whole new categories of fear inside her victims.

She had already begun.

Rea hissed out a sigh, then closed the thick book she was reading. Today, once more, she found nothing of what she sought.

Was that fucking goddess mocking her?

Rea doubted it, but she couldn't help but wonder. That whorish goddess didn't still stop her attacks on her mind, but now Rea's walls were sturdy.

Simple whispers would no longer bother her. They were like lullabies now.

Perfect to sleep.

'Nothing again, my beautiful Rea?' Einar asked, interrupting Rea's sacrilegious thoughts about her goddess.

'Nothing.' Rea answered, stretching her lean body as she slowly got up from the chair. 'I will continue tomorrow. But did you prepare the batch for today?' she asked.

'Yes, my beautiful Rea!' Einar said with great enthusiasm. 'I prepared enough folks for you to torment today!'

Rea rolled her red eyes. 'Don't say it like that.' She scowled inwardly. 'I am only training.'

'Of course!' Einar nodded inwardly. 'I also took one thousand gold from my followers for you. You can have it all!'

Rea paused mid-step, eyes wide. Slowly, her mouth stretched open, drool leaking from the corner.

'Say that again.'

'One thousand gold!'

Her body trembled in pure greed.

'Again!'

'One thousand gold!'

Rea's mind conjured an image of herself swimming in an ocean of gold. She closed her eyes to savor that moment. Then she opened them, smirking with fond satisfaction.

"I am still busy," she whispered. "But I can send all this money to him for the house."

She decided, bid farewell to the old librarian, and stepped out of the building.

Her heart was filled with happiness. Now she was even more motivated to torment those poor folks.

Hm. Not torment.

Training.

Yes. She was definitely not enjoying this. Definitely not.

All the while, the old librarian watched her walk away with eerie eyes.

'The Shattered Temple of the Whimpering Saintess…'

The Bright Priest smiled.

'Oh, my sweet Rea…'

His eyes glazed with a demonic glow.

'Let this old man help you.'

—End of Chapter 361—

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