Chapter 20: Miss Rose, can you generate electricity?

No!

This was no time to dwell on those thoughts.

Ankira shoved aside all distractions. His compound eyes narrowed sharply.

In the blinding surge of teleportation light, his enormous spider true form twisted violently. Without a moment’s hesitation, he positioned his massive, chitin-armored body directly above Rosie, shielding her with ruthless determination.

A dull, bone-jarring impact rang out, accompanied by the sharp crack of fracturing chitin.

The boulder slammed mercilessly into Ankira’s carapace with a sizzling hiss. Agonizing pain made his colossal frame sink downward, but he gritted through it—relying on his formidable physique and the buffering glow of the teleportation light—to stubbornly withstand the lethal strike.

Right now, Miss Rosie’s safety was paramount. Her power was their only hope.

The black teleportation radiance flared blindingly, swallowing everything in sight.

In the final instant before the light fully sealed shut, Ankira laboriously lifted his head.

He caught sight of a black shadow plummeting toward them at an impossible speed.

A hand hidden beneath the robe was reaching out silently—no visible technique, only a bone-chilling, razor-sharp killing intent hurtling straight for the three of them.

As long as Lester lived, Satan could never legitimately claim the throne. He would spare no resource, no effort, in hunting Lester down.

Ankira’s scarlet compound eyes locked unyieldingly onto the diving shadow. A near-mad conviction burned in his heart—

This duel was far from over.

They would meet again.

And next time, it would be a true fight to the death.

Splash! Whoosh——!

Icy lake water engulfed her entire body in an instant.

The violent impact left Rosie dizzy and disoriented. The spatial distortion from teleportation hadn’t fully faded; an indescribable heaviness poured into her like molten lead, weighing down every inch of her.

She immediately held her breath tight to keep the water from flooding her nose, but her petite frame—still numb and sluggish from the violent conflict between the two forces inside her—refused to obey. She could only watch helplessly as her body slowly, uncontrollably sank toward the dark lake bottom.

She forced her eyes wide open. Through the murky water, her vision struggled to focus.

She was searching for one thing.

Amid swaying bubbles and drifting water weeds, she spotted Ankira not far away. He had already reverted to human form and was desperately dragging the still-unconscious Lester upward, kicking with all his strength.

Neither of them seemed critically injured.

And that nightmarish black-robed figure hadn’t followed.

The taut string in Rosie’s chest finally loosened—just a fraction.

But what followed was an overwhelming, ice-cold wave of irony.

She—a once-holy priestess—had poured every ounce of strength into saving two demons.

One was a Demon King. The other was his most capable subordinate.

They were beings she should have eradicated as mortal enemies.

If they lived, how much more disaster and suffering would they bring to this world?

And yet… how much better was she, really?

Rosie gave a bitter laugh inside her heart.

In this half-human, half-dragon monstrosity, she could never survive among the law-of-the-jungle demons.

And with these conspicuous dragon horns and alien aura, the human world would only reject her, hunt her.

The world was vast—yet there was no place for her in it.

Boundless exhaustion and despair seeped into her soul like the cold lake water.

Gazing up at the gradually blurring light on the surface, feeling her body sink without resistance, Rosie slowly closed her eyes.

Perhaps it would be better to just sink like this.

To die at the bottom of this forgotten lake.

At least then, no one would remember a priestess named Perse.

No one would know a monster called Rosie.

That would be fine.

‘Oh no! Miss Rosie!’

Halfway to the surface, Ankira realized Rosie wasn’t following. He whipped his head around—and his heart plummeted.

Cursing under his breath, he sucked in a deep breath and dove frantically toward her sinking form.

He tried to shoot spider silk to snag her—but in the water, the threads turned limp and useless like soggy noodles, dissolving instantly.

Brows furrowed, he adjusted his posture for greater agility. Left hand clamped tight on Lester’s collar; right hand stretched desperately downward.

Just before Rosie vanished into deeper darkness, he finally seized her slender, ice-cold wrist.

‘Everyone… get UP!’

Ankira clenched his teeth. With every scrap of strength left in his body, his legs churned like propellers, kicking furiously.

Dragging two heavy “burdens,” he fought his way toward the surface.

His lungs burned; black spots danced before his eyes.

Only one thought remained in his mind:

Lester, you bastard! When we get back, if you don’t hand over one of those priceless treasures you’ve been hoarding, we’re done!

Like hauling two drowned fish, Ankira finally dragged them both onto the wet, pebbled shore.

He collapsed onto the cold cobblestones, chest heaving violently, gulping fresh air in huge, ragged breaths.

He felt like every bone in his body had come loose.

Never in his life had he been this exhausted!

His clothes—specially woven from his own silk—clung tightly but still looked far more presentable than the two utterly drenched, pathetic “soaked dragons” beside him.

As Ankira greedily breathed in the night air, a violent coughing fit suddenly erupted nearby.

“…Cough cough cough! Urgh…”

Ankira jerked his head sideways.

Rosie was curled up, retching painfully, expelling the lake water she’d swallowed. Then she inhaled great, desperate gulps of air.

She lifted her dripping silver head and stared blankly at the rough stones beneath her and the coldly gleaming lake surface.

Her eyes were vacant—as if she were genuinely shocked to find herself still alive.

“…Why did you save me?”

Her voice was hoarse and faint, laced with profound exhaustion and confusion—like a withered leaf drifting on the wind.

Ankira blinked, momentarily thrown by the question.

She looked like she was still in shock, mind not yet caught up.

“Huh? Why save you?”

The words slipped out instinctively, tone utterly matter-of-fact.

“You’re Lester’s wife! If I’m not saving you, then who?”

“…I’m not.”

Rosie’s voice was strangely calm—no longer the bristling, angry kitten from before, but carrying an icy distance.

She slowly raised her head.

Wet silver hair clung to her pale cheeks. Those once-brilliant silver eyes were now dim and lifeless, staring emptily at the tranquil lake—like a broken doll, fragile and radiating a suffocating sorrow.

“We never married. There’s nothing between us.”

She paused, as though gathering every last shred of strength to continue.

Her soft, childish voice was so quiet it nearly dissolved into the wind:

“I… used to be human. He forced me into this form.”

Rosie lifted one hand. Head bowed low, deliberately hiding her true expression, her trembling fingertips brushed the cold, hard silver horns on her forehead.

The corner of her mouth pulled into a smile uglier than tears.

Anyway, Lester had Ankira to look after him. He wouldn’t die.

As for her—this horned monster—her chances of surviving alone were… maybe possible?

Leave Demon King City. Go their separate ways. Sever all ties with demons.

She silently repeated the decision to herself.

Yes. This was the right choice.

Ankira listened quietly. The playful smirk had long vanished from his face.

Watching Rosie’s utterly defeated, shattered expression, his brows furrowed slightly.

“So what?”

His voice softened unexpectedly, carrying an odd, quiet firmness.

“You saved us. You got me and Lester out of Demon King City. I pulled you out of the water. Fair trade, isn’t it? Helping each other?”

He tried to lighten the mood, to dispel the shadow in her eyes. His gaze flicked toward the still-unconscious, pallid Lester beside him.

He couldn’t help but inwardly curse:

Lester, you idiot. Keep sleeping like that and your wife really will run away!

“…No debts between us, then.”

Rosie repeated the words softly.

Struggling, she pushed herself up from the freezing stone beach.

Her soaked gray dress clung tightly to her body—icy and piercing. Silver hair stuck to her face and neck like seaweed. Utterly wretched.

She needed to leave this place. Needed to escape the cold dampness. Needed most of all to get away from these two beings who didn’t belong in her world.

While Lester was still unconscious—this was her best chance to slip away.

She drew a deep breath, forced her still-numb and weakened body to obey, and shakily stood up.

Without looking back, she staggered toward the edge of the dense, shadowy forest.

She had taken only two steps when Ankira’s calm yet faintly probing voice came from behind:

“Miss Rosie, before you go—there’s one thing I’d like to ask you.”

Rosie’s footsteps halted.

She slowly turned around.

Ankira was sitting beside Lester. He wasn’t looking at her.

Instead, he was squinting slightly, staring down at his own right hand—the one that had been submerged in the water earlier.

His fingertips absently rubbed the palm, as though feeling for some lingering strangeness. His expression was deep in thought, tinged with confusion.

Then he lifted his head.

The eyes that usually carried lazy amusement were now razor-sharp and deadly serious.

He looked straight into Rosie’s dim silver gaze and asked—clearly, word by word—the question that had been gnawing at him, the one that might hold the key to his master’s inexplicable defeat:

“Miss Rosie… can you generate electricity?”