"This girl... she doesnât seem very smart."
Phield suddenly fell silent.
"Hurry up and untie the rope. Itâs squeezing me." Seeing Phield bend down to loosen the ropes, she immediately blushed bright red and shouted a warning, "Donât look! Turn your head away."
"Are you sure?"
Phield found it amusing. How was he supposed to untie the rope if he couldnât see? This was basically free benefits being delivered to him.
"Of course."
"Alright, alright." Phield immediately closed his eyes, tilted his head to the side, and reached his hand forward.
In the next second, it felt like sticking your hand out of the window of a speeding carâan immediate warm resistance pressed against his palm.
"Hey! Where are you touching, idiot? The rope is a little lower." The girl trembled all over, feeling her body heat up, her heart pounding wildly. "Please mind your boundaries and donât do anything improper."
Phield moved his hand downward from where he had just touched. Somehow he still couldnât find the rope. His fingertips brushed past her abdomen, almost reaching her navel.
"Y-you did that on purpose! Turn your head back right now!" The girl sounded like she was about to cry. "I allow you to look."
"Now that makes sense. It was a simple thing from the start. Stop moving."
Was this what people meant by: warm and peaceful in the bar, but danger lurking in the subway?
Phield had always found these kinds of inexplicable situations hard to understand. He grabbed the rope firmly and used his dagger to slice it open.
As the rope fell to the ground, the girl immediately jumped up and tried to run. But after taking two steps, she tripped and crashed flat onto the ground.
"My... my legs are numb."
Phieldâs lips curled upward uncontrollably. He was now certain that he had picked up someone who was a little silly and a little dumb.
"Why are you running? The battle is still going on outside."
Playing with his dagger, Phield walked closer with an amused expression.
"D-donât come closer." As Phieldâs shadow loomed toward her, the girl turned pale with fright, trembling uncontrollably.
"Am I really that terrifying?" Phield rubbed his nose awkwardly and asked Rosalia.
"Not terrifying. A little cute," Rosalia chuckled.
"Cute? Forget it. That word doesnât suit me. If only I had a mirror."
Phield lowered his head and examined himself.
He was wearing a black robe over grotesque heavy armor. His body was splattered with blood, pieces of human flesh stuck in the crevices of the armor. Drops of blood occasionally dripped to the ground, releasing a foul stench. On his back hung a demonic sword radiating an evil aura.
"Uh... maybe... possibly... I donât exactly look like a good person."
"Take this!"
The girl suddenly sprang up and threw a punch.
Phield instantly mobilized his magic power, preparing his defense with full force.
Being directly attacked by a Divine Chosen was no trivial matter.
"Clang!"
With a dull sound of flesh striking steel, the girl clutched her fist, tears nearly spilling out. "Ow, ow, ow! That hurts!"
"So weak." Phield leaned back slightly, mercilessly mocking her.
This was the weakest Divine Chosen he had ever seen. Without question.
"Donât you say that!"
The girl grew furious and immediately raised her leg for a kick. Phield casually caught her ankle. Her long white leg was completely exposed, its smooth pale skin dazzling to the eyes, every line graceful and flawless.
"Is this... the bandit excitement punch?"
Phield had originally been serious, but after this ridiculous scene, he suddenly felt his body heat up.
"Sheâs not a combat-type Divine Chosen. And sheâs been weakened by control-type abilities. Even at full strength she could barely deal with a first-tier knight. As for now, even a vagrant could take care of her." Rosalia explained in time. "Divine Chosen are divided into categoriesâcombat, life, support, research, and all sorts of strange types. Then there are subcategories and professions. The variations are numerous."
"I see."
"Her weakness saved her. If she had truly posed a threat to you, the moment she attacked just now, I wouldâve torn her apart with my bare hands." Rosaliaâs tone carried no warmth whatsoever. She clearly wasnât joking.
Phield came back to his senses. With a casual motion he subdued the girl. Only after she had completely calmed down did he speak solemnly.
"Alright. Iâm not interested in playing games with you anymore. Move again and I wonât be polite. Whatâs your name?"
Seeing that escape had failed, the girl hesitated for a long time before stammering, "My name is Charlotte. Iâm from the Purple Gold Empire."
"The Purple Gold Empire has already fallen. Are you a refugee?"
From her hair color, Phield had already guessed she came from a country near the Inner Sea. He just hadnât expected it to be the Purple Gold Empire.
"Youâre also a survivor of the Purple Gold Empire, arenât you? But it doesnât quite seem like it." After carefully observing Charlotte, Phield shook his head regretfully. "Aside from your hair and eye color, nothing else matches."
With a faint smile, Phield decided not to waste words.
"My name is Phield. Iâm from the Sacred Griffin Empire. Letâs not stray from the point. Form a contract with meâthatâs the reason I saved you."
At the word "contract," Charlotte instantly grew excited. Her fear of Phield disappeared, replaced by a knowing look as if she had seen through everything. She raised her eyebrows and grinned, revealing her little tiger teeth.
"Hehe. I knew it. You greedy brutes only have Divine Chosen on your minds." Charlotte arrogantly began counting on her fingers. "If you want to contract me, itâs not impossible. Whatâs your noble rank? How large is your territory? How many troops do you command?"
"Hm?"
Why did this feel like someone asking for a house, a car, and a bride price?
Phield frowned.
"Iâm from the Ross family. Iâm currently a baron. My territory is Nightfall Domain. As for troops... about two hundred."
After listening carefully, Charlotte shook her head.
"Sorry. Your rank doesnât meet my minimum requirements. But youâre a good person, and Iâm very grateful to you."
"???"
With that, Charlotte casually waved her hand, said "Goodbye," and walked toward the exit.
Phield was stunned. After coming to another world, could he really still receive a "good person card"?
Absolutely not!
Boom!
The Greatsword of Gluttony slammed straight down in front of Charlotte. Chains shot outward instantly, sealing the exit. The bandages wrapped around the sword fell away, revealing the grotesque demonic eye of the gluttonous blade.
"Y-youâre violating the spirit of knighthood!" Charlotte immediately smelled the thick stench of blood. Her hair stood on end as she trembled, stumbling back two steps before gathering the courage to protest. "I believe youâre a gentleman... p-please let me leave."
Phield casually picked up a solid iron knightâs lance and patiently held it over the campfire in the center of the tent, heating it.
Because of his order to seize the Divine Chosen, more than a dozen of his men had died or been wounded. Their sacrifices were not worth a useless "thank you."
If he hadnât seized her, Charlotte would have been sent into the Shadow World Sect, where she would most likely have died. In that sense, he had saved her life. But Phield had never been fond of hypocrisy. He had saved her purely for his own benefit.
"Sorry. I have neither knightly spirit nor gentlemanly manners." Phield stood up and brought the red-hot lance close to Charlotteâs beautiful face, staring straight into her eyes as he spoke coldly.
"Either you get âpoked aroundâ to death by this thing... or you make a contract with me. Iâm not letting you walk away. That would make me very unhappy. Do you understand?"