A chorus of terrified screams erupted from all around, and Emily, who had been crouched on the floor, slowly raised her body, her gaze vacant as she took in the horrifying scene unfolding before her.
Dylan Agreas Jiemeld’s severed arm was grotesquely stretching and retracting like a sticky thread. Everyone was transfixed by the unsettling sight, and now, no one was looking at Emily.
The mask she had worn, one that sought admiration and praise, was stripped away, exposing her to a mix of confusion, disappointment, and disdain. Just moments later, the crowd’s attention shifted entirely to Agreas, leaving Emily in the shadows, unnoticed. She felt a strange sense of relief at this realization, which sent a shiver down her spine.
—How could someone like me ever be favored by the goddess…? It was never meant to be from the start…
She had believed, without reason, that she was something special. She had been elated, caught up in her own fantasies. Yet, the foolishness that had been laid bare only tormented her more as she became aware of it.
“…Eternal youth and immortality, isn’t that wonderful?”
A voice murmured from somewhere, slick with a sense of entitlement, likely belonging to some high-ranking noble or wealthy individual. Among the fearful crowd, a few seemed to be drawn to this notion, despite their panic.
A chill ran down her spine, and she felt the hairs on her body stand on end. Not long ago, if she had heard that she could live forever, young and beautiful, she might have rejoiced. But now, it was different.
—Forever? Forever, I would be seen as a fool, a fraud…?
Despair sharpened Emily’s thoughts. Compared to the blind elation she had felt before, she could think clearly now. What lay ahead was an undeniable reality: she had lost everything, or rather, she had never possessed anything at all. If a world of immortality awaited her, and everything continued on forever, what would become of her, now that her deception had been exposed? The thought filled her with an unbearable dread.
Dylan Agreas Jiemeld, with his serene smile, still appeared beautiful, but the regenerating arm was a grotesque sight, evoking an indescribable revulsion.
It was hard to believe that this was merely a convenient gift of eternal youth and immortality. The unease stemmed from the realization that she had just been used by Agreas until now.
She felt a profound chill, yet she couldn’t move from her spot. She had no idea what to do. There was no one around to conveniently come to her aid. She couldn’t expect Elliott or the knights to treat her any differently than before.
As those thoughts crossed her mind, she suddenly recalled Elliott being consumed by the Undead Slime.
—I’m really… only thinking about myself…
She had been in love, or so she had thought. The more she became aware of her own selfishness, the deeper she felt herself sinking into an abyss.
Amidst the swirling chaos of shock, fear, and a hint of base expectation, she was abruptly gripped by a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she saw Marianne, her expression devoid of emotion. It was a face frozen in a grimace, lacking the usual serene smile.
“…Lady Marianne? What are you going to do with me…?”
The fragile words barely escaped her lips, and there was no response.
The Court Mage, who had been maintaining the barrier, was in a state of panic as he observed the scene in the VIP seating area. He had thought he was merely filling in for the Clergy during this large-scale spectator subjugation. But this was clearly something else entirely.
The physical barrier created by the mage, rooted in the rare power of magic, had its limits.
A disconcerting sound, like glass cracking, echoed as he looked ahead to see the mass of Undead Slimes in the arena attempting to break through the barrier.
“…The barrier won’t hold much longer!”
As the mage shouted, Agreas turned around, a broad smile plastered across his face.
“That’s fine. That is merely the beginning of the sea that will create a new world. Even if we are consumed, we shall not die. It is akin to returning to the womb of our mother.”
His words, tinged with madness, sent a shiver down the mage’s spine.
With a sharp crack, the barrier shattered in the distance, and screams erupted from the crowd in the spectator seats. One by one, the barriers began to break, and a wave of dark, ominous sludge spread forth. The sight was far from anything that could be described as a new world; it was hell itself.
“Behold, the beginning of a beautiful world of immortality!”
Agreas, his arm nearly fully regenerated, spread his arms wide as if he were a saint receiving divine revelation, laughing once more.
As the last barrier fell, a thick wave of Undead Slime surged into the VIP seating area.
The Chancellor, panicking, shielded the king with his body, but in an instant, half of him was ensnared by the viscous tide, powerless to do anything. Even the weapons of the nearby royal guards began to dissolve, emitting white smoke. In the midst of this overwhelming despair, he still scanned the area for any signs of hope.
In the distance, across the arena, a group he had never seen before emerged from the southern gate, opposite the VIP seating area.
A peculiar covered carriage and a dozen knights clad in black, riding horses and wielding shields. Behind them followed knights bearing the emblem of the House of Marquis Beresford.
“Is that…!”
“Could it be Lionel…?”
The Chancellor noticed the direction of the king’s gaze and raised his own head. The figure at the forefront of the Black Knights was a familiar face. The king’s voice, filled with a mix of faint hope and deep regret, was almost a plea.
Agreas also noticed this and twisted his handsome face into a grimace of disgust.
“What do they want now, showing up at this late hour?”
His voice dripped with scorn.
Listening to Agreas, the Chancellor clenched his teeth in anger and regret, yet he prayed fervently for the appearance of what might be their last hope in this dire situation.
As they passed through the southern gate of the arena, Dolf and Priest Sidney, seated at the Coachman’s Seat of the carriage, exchanged serious glances as they surveyed the scene before them.
“This is quite the predicament. We were supposed to circle around and infiltrate, but we ended up right in the middle.”
“At this point, it hardly matters where we enter. But what a dreadful sight it is.”
The two elderly men spoke in a relaxed tone, lacking any sense of urgency, while Gilbert, peeking out from the small cabin at the back of the carriage, couldn’t help but chuckle. Beside him, Flora was staring in shock at the unfolding scene.
“You two, stay hidden. We must keep our trump card until we assess the situation.”
“What situation? This is all just the Undead Slimes, isn’t it…?”
As they conversed, Lionel, at the front, pulled his horse to a halt. He must have touched the Undead Slime seeping into the ground, as white smoke began to rise from the horse’s hooves.
“This is bad. Pull the horses back! It’s an Iron-Eating Slime… The horse’s shoes are being eaten away.”
At Lionel’s command, everyone dismounted and began to pull their horses back.
“Hmm, just when we thought we were in the clear, something troublesome shows up. Now, what should we do?”
Dolf stroked his beard as he surveyed the entire arena before him.