Chapter 21: Be careful.
“Heh, quite the effort, Earl Augustus—and your pathetic followers.”
The lead Confessor sneered, his eyes dripping with arrogance and contempt, as if watching a troupe of clowns.
The pink-haired man wielding the sword ignored him, relentlessly cutting down the surging monsters.
But the Confessors, chanting with their wands, summoned new hunched figures from the earth beside the fallen “zombies,” keeping the battle at a stalemate.
“Damn it! It’s endless…” someone muttered.
The Confessors hid behind their arrays, nearly impossible to reach.
Human stamina and mana would eventually run dry—dragged out like this, they’d be worn down.
Was the battlefield outside the city in the same state?
Only the Phoenix Earl stood apart, his blazing sword aura reaping Confessor lives.
Flo marveled quietly.
The enemy forces outside were far greater than here—why had the Earl abandoned the main battlefield?
Few in the Kangkela Empire could guard the city well enough for him to feel at ease.
Who could it be?
“Focus! No distractions!”
Augustus’ shout steadied the wavering morale.
Before his voice faded, he plunged back into the seemingly endless slaughter.
*
In stark contrast to the battlefield was a painfully simple room.
It might not have been so days ago, but nothing could hide its current ruin.
The room wasn’t small, but the constant cries made the air heavy.
In a corner, a gaunt old woman leaned against the wall.
Her frail face still held a kindly glow, her deep wrinkles like scars carved by time’s blade.
“Grandma, drink some water.”
A small girl gently supported the old woman, tilting a half-full bowl of water to her lips.
The long-absent sweetness flowed into her mouth.
But the old woman took only a sip, weakly raising a hand to pat the girl’s head, comforting her like a gentle breeze.
“Good child… Lek and Helen must be thirsty too, right? Don’t waste these scarce resources on an old woman half in the grave.”
Hearing this, a boy in tattered clothes grumbled.
“Grandma! We’ve all had our share. Besides, we all agreed—you raised us, and it wasn’t easy. Just drink!”
But the old woman wasn’t fooled.
She saw the boy’s cracked, dry lips—hardly those of someone who’d drunk water.
The younger children, though, had glistening droplets at their mouths.
Despite their pleading, the old woman didn’t drink the half-bowl of dew, left untouched to the side.
No one, no matter how thirsty, touched it again.
The younger children sobbed endlessly, while the older ones played adults, comforting them.
Outside, the buildings were nearly demolished, reduced to ruins.
Beyond the wreckage, humanoid monsters groaned and wandered aimlessly, encircling the ruins tightly—less like beasts and more like prison guards, ruthlessly watching over their “inmates.”
These inmates were the orphanage’s original occupants: the kind headmistress and the可怜 children.
Their status had been reduced to nothing.
What were they now?
Prisoners, experimental materials, or fuel for the magic array?
Perhaps all of it, or perhaps nothing at all.
Who would care about these lowly people?
“Gaaah!”
A sudden, heart-wrenching scream shattered the false calm, startling the monsters.
The children inside huddled together, terrified.
Vines climbed broken walls, flames flickered with alien light.
Among the monsters, a silver figure darted like lightning, twin blades striking precisely into their spines.
Wounds decayed like rotting wood, then shattered under further strikes.
“Not bad teamwork, Pink Chick!”
The silver-haired boy flashed to his next target with his marking skill, blades stabbing, a smirk on his lips.
“You’re not half bad either, Pointy-Ears.”
The pink-haired girl incinerated the monsters before her, tilting her chin with a smug grin.
The commotion alerted nearby Confessors.
They weren’t foolish enough to leave hostages to mindless monsters—those were just expendables.
“Stop, you arrogant intruders!”
Flo snorted and shook his head.
What idiot?
Yelling “stop” like he’d obey?
That line was so cliché, straight out of the villain playbook from his past life’s novels.
Ifrora didn’t bother responding—perhaps to her, the foe was just a noisy ant, not worth her time.
Seeing no reply, the Confessor grew frantic.
“Hey! I’m talking here! Rude brats! Corpses, go! Tear them apart!”
Ignoring his companion’s dumbfounded stare, he waved his staff, commanding.
The monsters, as if provoked, surged with ferocity, claws outstretched, charging the synchronized duo.
“On steroids, huh?” Flo quipped.
A gust behind him—Flo spun, slashing, but hit air.
A scorched breeze whipped past, cleaving the sneaking monster’s head from its neck.
“Watch out~” the girl’s voice came, laced with amusement.