"Could it be..."
Arno struggled to sit up, but the moment he tried to think, he felt intense, bone-deep soreness spreading across his back, as if he'd been viciously stung by a swarm of poisonous wasps.
But that wasn't the important part.
He instinctively reached back to feel, his fingertips touching skin that was warm and elastic, no longer the despair-inducing stiffness and coldness.
Had the petrification disease been cured?!
His face lit up with wild joy.
This stinging pain... had now become the most wonderful sensation.
He took a sharp breath—damp, decaying-leaf-scented air flooded his lungs, flowing so smoothly it nearly brought tears to his eyes.
Trying to move his right arm, though still weak and limp with muscles sore as if beaten, that suffocating petrification shackle... had disappeared!
A sense of lightness belonging to the living flowed through his entire body for the first time in ages. Though his body remained as weak as after a serious illness, that stone-coffin-like heaviness had been completely swept away.
The cheer of life washed through his limbs like warm currents.
However, this joy lasted only a brief moment before being covered by cold memories—
He had sold his soul... to a demon.
A chill crawled up his spine, and he subconsciously touched his chest, as if an invisible brand had already been carved there.
What would be the price for begging a demon?
Eternal servitude?
Or having his soul cast into endless torment after death?
His thoughts were utterly chaotic, but soon intense self-mockery surged up. He tugged at the corner of his mouth, revealing a smile uglier than crying.
Arno Belmont, what else do you have left to lose? He questioned himself inwardly.
The noble surname? Already worthless.
A healthy body? That was merely temporarily lent by the demon.
Knightly dignity? The moment he knelt begging the demon, it had been crushed into dust.
The only thing remaining was that heavy, unshakeable responsibility toward Lola and the children.
As long as they could survive, live slightly better... his soul? Take it.
This cursed, filthy soul was exactly the reward the demon deserved!
"Take my gift and return... when you come back next time, remember to bring demi-human language books, common tongue books, magic writing ink, cream cake, chocolate, candy..."
The demon's hoarse, inhuman whisper echoed again in his mind.
His gaze swept around, spotting a small object wrapped in some tough leaf on the slippery moss ground.
Carefully opening it, an extremely pungent, bizarre odor mixing sweetness with decay assaulted his senses. Inside was a dark amber, nearly black viscous paste.
Arno's pupils slightly contracted.
"Poison-stinger Wasp meat paste?"
As a down-and-out noble who had spent time in Ironboot Town, he recognized this thing!
A product from deep swamp Poison-stinger Wasp nests, extremely toxic, with collectors facing near-certain death, yet it was a catalyst some alchemists dreamed of obtaining.
This small packet could fetch at least a dozen gold coins at the adventurer guild's purchasing station!
Wild joy instantly diluted his self-mockery.
A dozen gold coins! Though far from covering his entire caravan and goods losses, it could pay his owed inn rent, buy decent clothes, and even... leave a little as seed money to start over!
This was literally manna from heaven in desperate times!
He tightly clutched the precious meat paste, as if grasping his final lifeline.
However, after the ecstasy, immense contradiction immediately seized him.
Did he still... have to return to this damned swamp?
The fear brought by those gray-scaled bastards still lurked in his heart like cold shadows.
Deeper in the swamp, there was that demon occupying the eerie forest path, demanding souls... merely thinking about those emotionless, eerie green eyes was enough to freeze his blood with chill.
But he had no other choice anymore, did he?
He recalled the demon's strange demands... demi-human language books, common tongue books...
Language books?
For communication? Or to prepare incantations for some evil ritual?
Magic writing ink... sounded expensive just hearing it.
As for cream cake, chocolate... and candy? These demands seemed particularly odd, even somewhat... absurd. Were they intended as sacrificial offerings?
He shook his head, his chaotic thoughts like entangled vines, impossible to unravel.
No more thinking!
He abruptly stood up, his body's soreness reminding him of his current weakness, but survival instinct overwhelmed everything.
The urgent priority was to leave this forest alive!
With indescribably complex emotions, Arno took one last look into the mist-shrouded forest depths, then turned without hesitation and limped away with unwavering determination toward the increasingly bright outside world.
Each step trod on the path home, yet each step also felt like walking on thin ice toward an unknown fate.
The journey home felt heavier than the incoming one.
...
In the gloomy swamp, as Arno departed, a round, bouncy Slime emerged from the thick fog.
After glancing at the silhouette gradually being swallowed by the mist, Chen Yu turned and left, returning to his territory.
Whether that human would return or not, he wasn't particularly concerned. What interested him more now was expanding deeper into the swamp.
While there was still time, after checking his Poison Stinger Sword reserves, he left the territory alone and disappeared into the dense poisonous fog.
Even during daytime, the mist in the swamp depths was so thick that light couldn't penetrate, dark as night.
Only fluorescent moss faintly glowed with eerie light, barely revealing Mycenen figures moving within. Further in, the swamp teemed with leeches as large as snakes, flying mosquitoes the size of fists...
Toxin Resistance was a necessary talent for magical creatures inhabiting this area, and they also seemed to possess other distinctive abilities.
These magical creatures might be far from simple Black Iron-tier creatures.
During campfire night talks, Sekashi had mentioned magical creature ranks. Black Iron-tier creatures were practically the lowest existence in this forest.
Above them existed fearsome Bronze-tier and Silver-tier magical creatures.
Even just a Bronze-tier creature could contend against a three-member ordinary Lizardfolk hunting team. As for Silver-tier, that was something Sekashi had never even seen, possibly existing deeper in the swamp.
Thick darkness enveloped everything, with only his gelatinous body emitting faint fluorescence, seemingly reminding predators that a delicious Slime dessert had trespassed here.
Indeed, one Fluorescent Mycenen had spotted him.
It approached with exaggerated steps, bouncing along while scattering glowing hallucinogenic spores, trying to completely daze Chen Yu.
But the next moment, the prey in its eyes suddenly emitted dangerous energy.
A water arrow condensed and elongated, shooting out swiftly.
Whoosh!
The water arrow pierced through the Fluorescent Mycenen's stem, knocking off its eerie blue mushroom cap. It collapsed straight to the ground, dead beyond doubt.
Chen Yu waited until the drifting spores gradually settled before swallowing the entire Fluorescent Mycenen in one gulp.
The moment he swallowed it, his body shuddered, as if he'd eaten a cool mint candy, but with hallucinogenic effects.
His vision wavered, with several dancing little figures appearing.
This thing...
Really packs a punch.