Chapter 388: Assist

"We... we’re really going up there?"

At the base of the hill, Ailag felt as tiny as an ant before the endless staircase reaching toward the clouds. He shrank back instinctively.

"Doesn’t this feel a bit reckless? If Freya corners us up there, we’ll have nowhere to run!"

The colossal tower stood atop a towering hill, and the only visible path upward was this single narrow stairway. If Freya caught up and stabbed them from behind at the summit, even if Muen sprouted two extra pairs of wings, there was no way he could carry everyone to safety.

"No," Muen said. "I don’t think Freya will come after us."

"Huh? Why not? Doesn’t she care a lot about you and Miss Liya?"

"The reason... call it my intuition."

"Ha? Intuition? You’re telling me we’re trusting something that unreliable now? We should hide somewhere, wait until the Death-Deed Writ expires, then rescue the other Saintess candidates and take on Freya together. That’s the safer play."

Ailag thought Muen’s reasoning—and his behavior—were both insane.

They were supposed to be running away, yet here he was heading straight for the most conspicuous spot around. It was like lighting a bonfire and shouting I’m here! in the middle of a monster-filled forest.

Was he underestimating the enemy’s cruelty—or overestimating his own luck?

But Muen said nothing more. He simply shook his head and started up the stairs.

Liya didn’t hesitate a moment before following him.

She trusted Muen completely, not even needing to ask why.

Seeing that, Ailag’s face twitched. After a brief struggle, he clenched his teeth, hoisted the hundred-pound burden on his back, and began trudging up after them.

....

Half an hour later—

"D–damn it..."

When the “noble magician” Ailag finally crawled onto the last step using both hands and knees, he looked like a dead dog. He regretted never learning any stamina-boosting magic and wished more than anything that he were a crude martial artist instead.

"You... you okay?"

Liya asked, worried. "Do you want me to use Holy Light to restore your stamina?"

"N–no need."

Ailag waved weakly. "We’re up here already. Miss Liya should conserve her strength. I just need a breather."

A magician’s stamina might be poor, but thankfully spellcasting didn’t require much of it.

"You’re doing your best too, Mr. Ailag." Liya smiled warmly.

"Haah... With the enemy before us, I can’t just lie around sleeping like this woman, can I?"

He sighed miserably, then suddenly remembered what had happened before, slammed a fist on the ground, and cursed,

"All Freya’s fault, that damn woman! A Saintess candidate, colluding with an Evil God to kill her companions—what a piece of work! And to think I trusted her!"

"No one could’ve imagined that..."

At the mention of Freya, Liya’s eyes dimmed a little.

She had told Muen before—she’d admired that girl, the one said to be closest to becoming Saintess, the one who had saved so many lives.

But now, that figure she admired had fallen into conspiracy and blood. The one who had once been a savior had become a villain.

"But... why would Freya do it? She’s a Saintess candidate. What good could come from working with an Evil God? Don’t you think so, Muen—Muen?"

When Liya turned to him for an answer, she realized Muen wasn’t responding at all—completely zoned out.

She tugged at his sleeve, puffing her cheeks.

"Ah, sorry. Spaced out for a second."

Muen scratched his head apologetically.

Liya blinked. "You’ve been distracted for a while now. What were you thinking about?"

"Just reviewing the details from earlier."

"Details?"

"A simple after-battle review. Nothing much.

Besides..."

Muen turned his gaze ahead, expression tightening. "Now’s not the time to get lost in thought."

At the top of the stairs, the entrance to the great tower came into view.

But seeing that so-called “entrance,” even Muen, who prided himself on keeping calm under pressure, twitched at the corner of his mouth.

...A door. Again.

And just like the last one underground, it looked like something brute force could never open—a solemn, perfectly sealed gate.

Did everyone in this world have some kind of fetish for putting up game-style “You cannot pass through here” doors that made players grind their teeth?

No—this one was the worse type. The kind where, after you finally solve the puzzle and open the door, the boss hiding behind it instantly kills you.

Hopefully it wouldn’t be another prisoner jumping out this time.

He was starting to develop PTSD toward doors.

"Liya, sorry." Muen patted her head.

"It’s fine. This is my job."

Liya gave a reassuring smile, then stepped toward the door without hesitation.

She could sense that Muen knew something crucial, so she couldn’t afford to fall behind.

Determination flashed in her eyes as she raised her hands, sacred light shimmering between them, and began to decode the seal.

But after only a few seconds, her confidence faltered.

Not because the door was more complex than before—but because no matter what she tried, nothing worked.

The whole door felt... welded shut.

"It won’t open?"

Liya’s voice trembled slightly. If they couldn’t even get through the door, then...

"Hmm?"

While she frantically looked for a solution, she suddenly froze, then turned slowly toward the others.

"What’s wrong?"

"Um..."

Liya tilted her head, listening intently.

"Do you... hear something strange?"

"Hear what?"

Muen blinked, listened for a moment, then shook his head.

"Other than Miss Phil over there mumbling in her sleep about ‘damn ghosts stop talking, let me sleep,’ I don’t hear anything."

"Could it be another trap?"

Ailag immediately grew wary, glancing around as if more demon hounds might leap out any second.

"No, there’s definitely a sound. I might’ve misheard, but it’s... it’s..."

Liya held her breath, filtering out wind, breathing, and heartbeats—until finally, the faint and familiar voices became clear.

"Help... help me..."

"Help us..."

"It hurts... help us..."

That—

Liya’s lips parted in shock.

The cries of those fragmented souls inside the monsters from before?

No... wrong.

This sound—it was from her dreams.

Yes, that first night she arrived in the Lost Land, those overlapping, desperate cries that filled her dreams—she was hearing them again.

But this time, it wasn’t a dream.

It was real.

She quickly told Muen everything.

He frowned. "So only you can hear it... no, wait."

He glanced toward Phil, who was half-asleep, muttering, "Shut up, noisy ghosts, lemme sleep..."

So it wasn’t only Liya—it was all Saintess candidates who could hear it.

"The voices—they’re coming from inside the door?" Muen asked suddenly.

Liya pressed her ear against the gate, but soon stood back up, turning her small head side to side, ears twitching like a cautious little fox.

"They’re not from inside. It’s... that way."

She pointed toward a certain direction.

Muen’s eyes lit up. He met her gaze and said decisively, "Let’s go. Lead us to it."

They left the sealed door behind and followed the voices, circling the tower until they reached the edge of the hill.

Beneath their feet was a sheer cliff—far steeper than they’d expected—with only a few jagged stones jutting out.

Ailag peered down and went pale. "We’re not going down there, are we?"

"Mm."

Liya nodded. "The sound is coming from below."

Muen crouched down. "Liya, get on."

"Eh?"

She blinked, then realized his plan. Her cheeks flushed pink, but she obediently climbed onto his back.

As her slender hands wrapped around his neck, Muen stiffened.

The sensation on his back—yeah, not bad.

Shame he didn’t have the luxury to appreciate the rest.

Just like before, he grabbed Ailag in one arm, Phil in the other, and with Liya on his back, bounded nimbly down the cliff.

Soon, they landed on a small rocky platform.

Muen set everyone down and scanned the area.

"A cave?"

Not far ahead, under the shadow of a protruding boulder, yawned a half-human-sized opening.

They approached cautiously. Liya listened again, then nodded firmly. "The voices are coming from inside."

Muen narrowed his eyes, studying the cave mouth.

It wasn’t wide—just enough for a person to squeeze through—and stretched into blackness with no visible end.

Most importantly...

Muen ran a finger along the edge and muttered, "This cave... looks man-made."

"Man-made?"

Everyone’s breathing grew heavier.

Ever since entering the inner region of the Lost Land, their biggest question had been: where had the original inhabitants gone?

And now—was this the first clue?

"Should we go in?"

Ailag craned his neck, peering into the pitch darkness, then gulped.

"Maybe we should be careful. What if it’s a trap?"

"A trap..."

Muen halted mid-step.

"What is it? Did you find something?" Liya asked nervously.

Muen didn’t answer. He backed up a few steps, scanning the surroundings.

"Freya... really didn’t chase us."

From up high, he could see the fleshy forest spread below—eerily calm under the bright moonlight.

"Huh? Didn’t you say your intuition told you she wouldn’t?"

"You think I’d rely on something as unreliable as intuition? Are you stupid?"

"..."

Ailag twitched. Do you even hear yourself, bastard?

He thought about arguing, but decided against it. He’d lose anyway.

"In any case, if Freya had come after us, I’d have hidden in that cave right away. But she didn’t."

"So you’re saying..."

"Don’t you think... our escape went too smoothly?"

"Huh?"

"But we escaped thanks to your plan, didn’t we?" Liya said.

"My plan worked—but only because she gave me the chance. I just reviewed everything again and realized—if I were Freya, I’d have ordered half my controlled forces to attack Muen Campbell immediately instead of backstabbing each other to clear the field. In that case, no matter how strong Muen Campbell was, there’d be no turning it around, no chance to escape in front of her eyes."

"Then maybe she just got careless? You saw her—she thought she’d already won."

"Careless, huh?"

Muen pictured that always-gentle smile of hers.

His lips curled, but no laughter came.

"So what you mean is—Freya let us go? And guided us here?"

"That’s one possibility. Of course, there’s another."

He looked toward the distance. "Maybe, like you said, she really was careless. And the reason she isn’t chasing us... is because whatever she’s doing now is more important than catching me."

Freya—or rather, the Love God—what exactly were they trying to do in this Lost Land?

Muen couldn’t ignore that question.

That sly deity wouldn’t risk infiltrating under the Church’s nose just for sightseeing.

So...

Muen turned back to the cave.

Now came the choice.

Take the gamble—enter the cave and bet on the faintest third possibility. Or follow Ailag’s suggestion: wait for the Death-Deed Writ to expire, rescue the other Saintess candidates, and stop the Love God together.

"A choice, huh..."

Muen rubbed his temples. The problem, as always, was lack of intel.

If only he could—

"Oh my~ you seem troubled, young man. If you pray to the great God of Magic right now, He just might answer you~"

A lofty voice suddenly broke his thoughts.

Muen paused, then smacked the woman lying face-down beside him squarely on the rear and said coldly, "Speak human language."

"I have a way to monitor Freya."

Under his frosty stare, Phil—who had apparently woken up—spoke obediently.

"Monitor her?"

"This."

She tossed him a small mirror. As ripples shimmered across its surface, Muen’s reflection vanished—replaced by several familiar figures.

Freya and her group.

"This is—" Muen’s breath caught.

"Hmph."

Phil, still sprawled on the ground, crossed her arms and smirked.

"Think you can piss off this Saintess candidate and magical genius and just run? Not that easy. That bitch Freya could be dragging them into a damn orgy right now, and I’d still have a perfect view!"

"That’s amazing, Phil, you really—"

Muen started to clap her on the shoulder—only to get a mouthful of blood as she spat it up.

"Anyway... the mirror’s my last ripple of power. The rest’s up to you, Muen."

She shot him a cheeky wink—then passed out again before that icy gaze could reach her.

"..."

Muen sighed, then called to Ailag. "Take Phil and find a safe spot to wait."

He had no idea if the cave held traps. Two near-useless fighters were better off far from harm.

"Safe spot?"

Ailag looked around—bare cliffs everywhere. ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) Rolling over could send him falling to his death. He looked up at Muen miserably. "You seriously think I can climb back up carrying her?"

Muen hesitated. Maybe he had been pushing his tools a little too hard. He was about to go help personally when—

"Float."

The word dropped lightly.

Both men turned to see Liya quietly lower her hands after casting Floating Magic.

"Tch."

After a beat of silence, Ailag muttered under his breath, "Damn couple," and floated away with Phil.

Muen noticed Liya’s ears tint pink but didn’t comment—he just smiled faintly and sat down beside her.

Then he looked down at the mirror in his hand.

"All right, Freya," he murmured. "Let’s see what you’re really up to."