Chapter 22 – Floor 4. Inner Thoughts

At first, I thought he was just another moth rushing to his death for honor, not knowing his limits.

His shabby equipment—which seemed worse than fighting naked—and his inept movements, as if he’d never held a sword before, made it obvious.

He had a good physique, but if that alone could solve everything, why would anyone train or learn swordsmanship?

Seeing him boldly accept Maria’s request to stop me, my judgment became twisted.

This stupid man who knew nothing and couldn’t even take care of himself, yet so confidently agreed to such a task—I saw my own foolish past self overlapping with his face.

And in my old friend who, despite witnessing the inevitable great evil that no one could stop, still refused to give up hope for a miracle and remained trapped in her obsession.

Then I needed to show him.

Though he would surely die before reaching the end, in the one-in-a-million chance that he might face that doom and have his very soul worn away to nothing, it would be right to end him painlessly by my hand.

That’s why I revealed myself to kill that man.

But immediately after, I was trapped in some incomprehensible narrow space with a flash of light, unable to move.

Advanced magic whose method I couldn’t even comprehend.

A miscalculation. That foolish appearance was merely bait.

I thought he was actually a skilled sealer who had curled up his body to lure his prey. That’s what I believed.

That helplessness of having only consciousness left, unable to exercise any will—despite being dead and my corpse long gone—infused my entire being with a fear I had forgotten.

I shouted at that skin-crawling sensation consuming my body. Release me from here at once!

But the man either couldn’t hear me or ignored me, stuffing my body into his backpack like luggage and wandering through this dungeon as if it were his home.

With sealing techniques capable of restraining even me, this underground sewer would be easy for him.

[‘But things won’t go as you expect after this. This place is nothing compared to the despair that awaits! You too will eventually die and vanish, worthless human!’]

That’s what I thought.

But the man didn’t overuse sealing techniques.

He maintained the position of a thoroughly weak person, constantly risking death, and continued an utterly precarious survival.

“AAAARGH!!!”

Wounded by hidden traps,

“You fucking bitch! Don’t show me those hairy legs!!!”

Injured by twisted life forms infused with magic,

“Ah, I’m thirsty. There’s water everywhere but I can’t drink it.”

“No, f-fuck. Ugh, bleeech— I just ate…”

Even while weakly retching at disgusting sights, he never stopped.

It was because he saw through, avoided, utilized, and broke through all obstacles in his path.

Experienced handling.

Though not overwhelming, watching him always choose the best possible responses and optimal choices in each situation allowed me to somewhat change my assessment.

[‘Perhaps this one has some potential?’]

From someone who didn’t know his limits to someone with at least some survival skills.

The man was certainly a capable explorer, but he was still just one human. And I knew the limits of humans well.

He would soon perish. There are no exceptions.

Until then, I would simply observe this sealer.

[‘Ughk…!?’]

At a time when I was ruminating on infinite despair while holding my breath in the darkness of my captivity, I felt something enter and fill me.

A burning life force that touched my soul, blazing as if trying to consume me.

Was he performing a purification ritual? Indeed, my soul, which was now rightly called a specter, would forever call death if not burned away.

It was the right decision, but was a purification ritual originally like this?

Pressure that mercilessly stabbed at my core as if trying to subdue me.

And a heat I hadn’t felt since becoming like this, seeping in as if violating me.

[‘What is this..! What…’]

I was being violated. I was being violated.

The man had returned to the tomb where we had slept, thrusting his masculine symbol into me while in my sealed state, spewing blasphemous words.

As if wanting me to submit to him.

And then I could feel the rising magical power of life and strength.

Simultaneously, I felt an instinct being overlaid—an instinct to serve the man before me.

[‘No. Not to such a filthy man..!’]

That’s when I realized.

This restraint was not a seal to purify a specter covered in sin, but merely a process to subjugate and make me into a familiar.

I forcibly suppressed the instincts of love and submission that were emerging with the rising power.

Reason is a virtue of a magician.

It was a skill I could perform because I had trained my whole life.

[‘I’ll kill you… I’ll take your life the moment you let your guard down and give you eternal pain even after death..!’]

And the moment the seal was broken, I killed him.

But somehow, he didn’t die—he came back to life and thoroughly shattered my pride, forcing me to submit.

Because as much as I was filled with power to bursting, the slave’s imprint of having to obey the man’s words was deeply engraved on my soul.

Afterward, he began actively using me to conquer the dungeon.

He repeatedly mocked me and trampled on my pride as a former hero, but his judgment, excluding personal biases, was still impressively excellent.

Almost as if he had the omniscient ability to know everything about the enemies we faced.

In this way, while treating me roughly, he invested resources, equipment, and time as if valuing me, and sought to protect me.

The same applied even to the slime, an inferior creature he had tamed before me.

Except for his occasional inexplicable behaviors and girlish screams when startled, the man was clearly a good person.

‘It’s a flaw that he’s too intense when he copulates to recharge magic. Plus… his sexual desire is too strong..!’

Although I had never dated or married in my lifetime, I could tell that the man’s lust was abnormal.

Because literally spending all night and still having energy left didn’t make sense even when I applied my own knowledge!

Somehow I felt a little heated, but it must have been my imagination.

Though eccentric, he was clearly closer to being a good person.

This became evident during our encounter with Dave, a criminal exiled to the sewers.

He hesitated to kill Dave who had ambushed him with intent to kill.

As if he feared that killing a criminal like Dave would shatter his own humanity.

Even though he would have died himself if he had faltered just a little.

Honestly, by that point, my aversion to my master who used the strange pseudonym “aaaa” had almost disappeared.

And I might have had some hope.

[‘No. Heroes I’ve seen before did this much too. In the end, when they meet that doom…’]

Perhaps I had become attached. I found myself wishing that my master wouldn’t encounter the predicted doom.

I wished he could live an ordinary life and postpone the soul-shattering pain as long as possible.

But as if he had no such intention, my master has now shown me the black jewel with red lines glowing ominously.

That unholy mass where the cursed, blasphemous magic of doom lies crouched—the Radiant Asymmetric Polyhedron, the core cause of all the anomalies and monsters that appeared in White Chamber.

Seeing my master declare that he would become a hero with a refreshing expression, despite directly facing magic that no human could withstand, I was stunned as if struck from behind.

‘Perhaps all this time, I’ve been waiting while deceiving myself.’

For a human like my master.

“KYAAAAAAAAAAH!!! It’s a flying spider!!!”

SCREEEEECH!!!

Just as I was thinking this, my master was again screaming like a little girl and flailing about at the sight of a spider hanging from the ceiling.

“…Or maybe not?”

***

“Phew! Even Spider-Man wouldn’t fly around like that. If you’re a spider, you should crawl on the ground like one. Getting cocky.”

After splitting in half the spider that had tried to force-sell me a cocoon no bigger than a square meter for the exorbitant price of my life, I wiped the sweat flowing down my forehead with satisfaction.

They say being a landlord is better than being a creator, but only if it’s a decent building—if it’s trash like that, I wouldn’t take it even for free.

“Ugh… so sticky. I hate bug fluids because they don’t come off easily…”

“The bodily fluids of spiders living in these sewers are contaminated and damage leather, and they don’t come off easily, but they wash away easily with acidic potions. It’s annoying when it sticks to your body, but wash thoroughly.”

Though her tone seemed sullen as usual, the content was quite gentle.

Looking closer, I noticed Severa’s gaze toward me had warmed, making me wonder if there was some change in her feelings.

What could she be thinking?

And the answer, as far as I could guess, was utterly simple.

“Have you fallen for me? I have become quite handsome, I admit.”

Although I got a nasty scratch from shaving with an axe like that Viking brother I once saw in a video, that shouldn’t matter because the original was awesome.

If anything, didn’t it add to my masculinity?

No matter if she’s a soul, if a woman sees my clean appearance, her womb can’t help but tremble.

“This is really troublesome. I’m too busy for romance right now. But if you’re okay with a relationship between a 24-hour-lustful-always-in-heat-chewy-onahole and its perfect master, that’s fine.”

“…Trash.”

The strange softness in her eyes was replaced with contempt, as if looking at garbage, and with a “poof” sound, she returned to her onahole form.

She likes it but acts like she doesn’t.

Thinking she’s really not honest with herself, I headed toward the stairs to Floor 5 where the criminal with a knight background and the Wanderer would be waiting, with lighter heart and steps.