Not right.
There was something off about this knight—very off.
This was absolutely not the power an undead should possess.
The Filthy Demon’s gaze flickered with suspicion as it quickly retreated, letting the Filthy Descendants swamp that knight.
A thousand conspiracy theories flashed through its mind;
it even suspected the undead before it might be humans in disguise.
But if the protection was merely a superficial ward, it might not withstand the Filthy Descendants’ acidic corrosion.
When the Filthy Descendant swarms once laid waste to human kingdoms, they relied on more than sheer numbers!
“Tear them apart!”
“Hissss!”
Hearing Count Bran’s shrill screams, the Filthy Demon seemed to think it had seen the ward shatter and the undead completely overwhelmed.
Yet another unexpected thing happened.
“Vrrrr!”
The ward gave off a steady, earthlike aura and, without warning, instantly flared into being again around Arthur, holding back the acid’s assault.
“W-what?! Another layer?!”
The Filthy Demon stared fixedly at the second rock-like ward, which was violently fluctuating under the acid and attacks yet stubbornly persisting, and a tidal wave of panic rose in its heart.
“This is impossible—this is not the power of the undead, nor is it natural power. Humans… it must be those cunning humans!”
Its mind raced, trying to explain the absurd phenomenon with its vast, twisted knowledge.
“Could it be… this undead knight is actually bait sent by the human kingdom? A paladin hiding under undead skin? Or… one of those stitched-together abominations created by court mages who dabble in forbidden arts?!”
The more it thought, the more alarmed it became.
It prided itself on understanding human military strategy and human cunning;
it had lain low in the dungeon to bide time, all in order to one day sweep the human kingdoms with the tide of demons.
It never imagined human countermeasures would be so insidious—disguises, traps, backup plans… one snare after another.
The main material plane was far deeper and more dangerous than it had imagined.
It began to long for the simple folk of Hell and the days of fighting and bathing in lava lakes.
Everything here was schemes and deception.
A sudden, unprecedented homesickness flooded the Filthy Demon’s heart.
“Retreat!”
It hissed and screeched, its massive body surprisingly nimble as it bounded backward and vanished into the darker shadowed tunnels behind the cavern.
It chickened out.
Mom, the main material plane is too terrifying;
it wants to go back to Hell.
At its command, the Filthy Descendants let out unwilling shrieks and, like a receding tide, quickly disappeared into the maze of fissures and passages, leaving the floor littered and corroded by acid.
“Mm…”
Arthur’s second, precarious rock-like ward at last slowly dissipated.
He leaned on his lance;
undead fire flickered in the gaps of his armor—clearly he had expended a tremendous amount.
Once he confirmed all the Filthy Descendants had left, Count Bran popped out from behind Arthur’s helmet, breathing with lingering fright even though it had done nothing.
After a short rest, Count Bran regained his usual arrogance and confidence, standing proudly on Arthur’s pauldron, chest out, head high, preening his wings with swagger.
“See that, Retainer? Your count knew all along this was a demon lair.”
“A trivial scene—exactly what I expected. What do you call this? Facing death and being reborn.”
“Using the vilest environment to awaken your potential against demons. Look how effective it was—of course nature is favoring you.”
It wore a face that clearly begged for praise.
“And that Slime, too…”
“My wisdom was obvious the moment I saw it. It is unquestionably a genuine, intelligent Nature’s Blessed;
I merely pretended ignorance so as not to disturb your trial mindset.”
Arthur listened in silence, seeming to genuinely consider the count’s words.
A moment later his low voice, tinged with sincere regret, sounded.
“The count’s schemes are deep… unfortunately, my strength was insufficient, and that crafty Filthy Demon managed to escape.”
“Ha! Let it run!”
Count Bran waved its wings in a show of bravado as if it were nothing big.
“A lowly, laughable demon. Back in the day, a puff from me would have scared it to death.”
“Retainer, at your current state, if you keep chasing you’ll fall apart into a pile of bones. Listen to me—return to the Slime Lord’s territory and recuperate first.”
Arthur nodded seriously.
“Yes, the count speaks sensibly.”
He was about to step forward but froze, lowering his head to look at the position where he had just guarded his chest—now empty.
Arthur’s voice carried a subtle, hardly noticeable dejection.
“The two little slimes… they’re gone.”
Hearing this, Count Bran was stunned a moment, then folded its exaggerated expression away.
It flew to the palm of Arthur’s outstretched hand and was uncharacteristically silent for a few seconds before gently fluttering its wings against Arthur’s cold gauntlet with a sigh.
“Sigh, with that acid spray just now even my feathers were nearly ruined. Those two little ones… probably…”
“Mourn them, Retainer. May… um… may nature comfort their dispersed souls.”
The soul-fire beneath Arthur’s helmet flickered slightly. He bowed his head and offered a brief silent salute toward the empty chest plate spot.
After a short while he raised his head again.
“Let us go, Lord Count.”
Arthur’s voice regained its low steadiness as he resumed walking back the way they had come.
“Yes, yes, this way—plain as day, I remember it clearly,” Count Bran immediately perked up, flapping its wings as it alighted on Arthur’s shoulder and guided the weary knight slowly through the labyrinthine tunnels toward the dungeon exit.
Not long after the lair fell silent, distinct “plop-plop” sounds suddenly echoed across the open cavern hall.
Two little slimes peeked mischievously from behind a stone, then hopped into the heaps of Filthy Descendant remains and began picking out and swallowing the mana glands.
“Chomp chomp chomp…”
The two little ones filled up quickly;
they rolled on the ground like balls and let out satisfied burps.
“Huh? What’s that?”
Through the two small slimes’ perspective, Chen Yu spotted something shimmering under the Filthy Demon’s abandoned throne.
He guided the little slimes to roll their round bodies closer and found a green gem embedded in the throne.
A faint trace of mana still circulated within it—clearly a valuable trinket.
No clue what it did, but worth taking.
Chen Yu immediately sent a small stone blade to fly out and chip open the hard rock bit by bit, extracting the gem and swallowing it.
After the two little slimes had digested enough, they wandered the lair one more time, found nothing else of value, and bounced out of the cavern.