SWY 69

“D-did he… die?”

Derry, who had followed behind, asked carefully when he saw the grief on Sharhan’s face. Sharhan didn’t answer, only gave a small nod. Derry’s face fell as he hurriedly checked under John’s nose for breath.

“I thought he might survive with proper treatment…”

Though it was only for a short time, Derry had personally squeezed herbs and fed them to John. His voice trembled with sorrow. Sharhan felt heavy too. Strictly speaking, John had nothing to do with him. But having exchanged words and shared space gave enough weight to leave a bitter taste on his tongue.

“U-ugh…”

Someone groaned and opened his eyes. He was one of the survivors from the inn, though Sharhan didn’t know his name. He looked about thirty, with a mole next to his nose.

“Are you awake?”

The man glanced around, confused, then tried to sit up at Sharhan’s question, only to collapse from pain. Sharhan helped him up and untied the ropes binding him.

“Y-you’re… one of the people Captain Abel brought…?”

“I’m Sharhan. What happened?”

“I’m not sure either. The people Captain Abel brought suddenly collapsed, and then armed men barged in. We tried to resist, but we were no match. They beat us brutally and dragged us here. Ras, Kamil, and Renel were especially badly hurt. Las was already injured… Is everyone else okay?”

“I don’t know either. This place only had your group.”

The man looked around and grimaced when he saw a few familiar faces collapsed nearby.

“Do you know what happened to the others?”

“All I heard is that they were taken away.”

“W-where to?”

“They said the arena. I’m going to find my companions. The rest of you, run or hide, whichever you prefer.”

Sharhan stood. The man, now anxious, began to rouse the other inn survivors. Meanwhile, Sharhan unlocked every cell door.

But no one rushed out. They hesitated, glancing around warily. Some were too injured to move, others were so paralyzed by fear they couldn’t even think of escape.

Only the man who had asked Sharhan for help earlier had a spark left in his eyes. For the rest, Sharhan had no intention of forcing them one way or the other. Stay or flee, it was their choice.

“H-he’s dead…”

One of the inn survivors looked at John with pity.

“I know.”

“He tried to resist despite his condition and took a bad beating… I guess he couldn’t make it.”

John had been unconscious at the time, so he hadn’t eaten the hunters’ food, thus he hadn’t collapsed. That led him to resist and take a beating he wasn’t in shape to survive.

It was sad, but there was no time to wallow. What mattered now was finding Lestel and the Red Wolves, no matter what it took.

“Derry, let’s go.”

Without another word, Sharhan headed back to the entrance with Derry. The hallway beyond the door was still quiet. Sharhan stepped out cautiously. If he wanted to find the arena, he’d need to catch one of the hunters.

‘Shouldn’t have killed them all…’

Another pang of regret struck him as he turned left and advanced carefully. That’s when he heard footsteps. He and Derry ducked behind a cabinet.

Sharhan smiled coldly.

‘Well, well, just the sleazy bastard I wanted to see.’

It was Randel, one of the “Filthy Crotches.” He favored a spear, and his right eye was nearly blind. Sharhan was hidden on his blind side.

He waited in silence until Randel came close, then pounced and covered his mouth.

“Mm! Mmm!”

Randel struggled. Sharhan slammed a hammer into his knee with a sickening crack. The leg gave out instantly.

“Where’s the arena?”

Sharhan briefly removed his hand from Randel’s mouth, only to slam the hammer into his head next. Blood poured from the wound.

“Where is it? Don’t waste time, Randel.”

“H-how do you kno… You, you’re the Red Wolves’ flower?”

Sharhan grinned and smashed Randel’s shoulder.

“Bastard, how many times do I have to say not to call me that? Now talk.”

“You’re still just as pretty. The Lord will be thrilled to see you. He still says he misses you now and then.”

“Screw your ‘lord.’ You think calling yourself a lord makes you one? You filthy crotch. Quit stalling and tell me where–”

“Sha, Sharhan!”

Derry shouted just as something hit Sharhan in the waist. He staggered back. It was a steel ball, thrown by Delos. Over ten hunters surrounded him like bodyguards.

“My lord!”

Randel limped over to Delos.

Delos opened his arms wide like he was welcoming a long-lost lover.

“I saw four Red Wolves dragged into the arena and thought, could it be? And it was, the Red Wolves’ flower himself. They told me the new consort we brought last night was just my type, but I didn’t expect it to be you. Damn, I should’ve taken you to bed last night instead of mourning my poor bald brother. But it’s fine. Mourning ended last night. I’ll make up for it tonight.”

“Still as disgusting as ever, Delos.”

“And you’re still as sharp-tongued as ever. I like that.”

“How dare you speak the Lord’s name so casually?!”

One of the men snapped. Delos raised a hand.

“Let it go. Sharhan, I’m not a mere mercenary anymore. Address me properly as Lord Delos.”

“Like hell I will.”

Sharhan sneered. The hunters’ faces twisted with anger. Even as he mocked them, Sharhan’s eyes darted around, looking for an escape route.

“I do like a little bite in my consorts… but some manners are in order.”

Delos stepped forward. Sharhan suddenly hurled the hammer, it smashed into one of the hunters.

“Derry, run!”

Sharhan and Derry bolted.

“Catch them!”

Footsteps thundered behind. Sharhan sprinted through the unfamiliar mansion, kicking and punching anyone who got in his way. But eventually, they were cornered. Almost thirty men surrounded them.

Derry glanced at Sharhan, as if to ask if he should attack. Sharhan shook his head. Revealing Derry’s magic now would only let them take out a few. Better to stay hidden and wait for a better chance.

“I knew you were a tease back when you refused to spread your legs on the battlefield. You always drove me crazy. Bring him to the arena. I want to watch the Red Wolves die, and when he’s breaking from the pain, I’ll make him mine.”

“You perverted freak.”

“Only now realizing that? I get the hardest when the smell of blood is thickest. That’s why I always take a consort to the arena. When the stench of death is strongest… that’s when I’m at full mast. Sliding into a trembling body right then is ecstasy.”

Delos laughed, groping himself, and turned around. Sharhan and Derry were dragged away.

The place they were taken to was a massive banquet hall outside the mansion. But it wasn’t an ordinary hall. Behind a hidden door beside one of the pillars was a staircase leading down to a huge underground space, a circular arena.

Tall walls kept anyone from escaping. Armed men with spears stood guard near the edge. The viewing stands were set above, overlooking the arena. It was clearly a secret underground colosseum run by Delos.

Delos sat at the central seat, and his men took their places. Sharhan was dragged to the seat next to him. Delos wrapped an arm around his shoulder and whispered:

“Behave. If you want your friends to survive even a little longer.”

“You’re not tying me up?”

“What fun would that be? Watching you powerless in freedom, crushed by despair, that’s the real show.”

“You’ll regret this.”

Sharhan muttered. Delos grinned and shouted:

“Bring in the slaves! And release the moving corpses!”

Two doors opened. From one side came the predators, teeth clicking. From the other, unarmed men were shoved inside.

Sharhan clenched his fists.

Lestel.

The Red Wolves were there too, but all he could see was Lestel, swaying unsteadily, still dazed.

“Lestel!”

Sharhan shouted.

Lestel froze. Then slowly, he raised his head. His eyes cleared, and found Sharhan immediately.

Their eyes locked in midair.