No More Pain For This Villain.

Chapter 378 Fallen Grace -

Chapter 378  Fallen Grace -

"That was... not that bad," Devon mutters as he steps out of the darkness, his figure bathed in crimson blood.

It took about four to five minutes, accompanied by guttural screams from his opponent, before he reemerged, completely unscathed.

Falco appears slightly stumped, raising an eyebrow. "Looks like you're made of tougher timber than I thought," he remarks, then steps into the darkness without hesitation.

The faint glow from Falco's fire illuminates the beast's lifeless corpse, casting flickering shadows that dance across the chamber walls.

This room is much smaller than the grand chamber behind me. A few broken pillars litter the space, some still standing as though defying time itself. The ceiling isn't as tall, giving the area a suffocating feeling. Beyond it, another door stands ominously, separating us from the next chamber.

"Did you receive the message?" Falco's question is directed at Devon, his tone sharp and to the point.

"Yeah," Devon sighs, brushing his greyish-white fur in what seems to be a habitual gesture.

If not for my enhanced senses, I wouldn't have noticed, but Devon has undoubtedly grown stronger since the time I first met him. Back then, he was just a traveler in need of a guide. Who would've thought that same traveler would later turn out to be one of the most wanted criminals in the Hestia Empire?

Anyway, back to the present—what message?

I turn toward Aron, who's standing closest to me. "What message?" I ask, keeping my tone casual.

He shifts slightly, glancing at me. His expression remains hidden beneath his mask, but his hesitation is clear. "I don't... know," he finally says.

Lying? Maybe. But there's nothing I can offer him to make him spill the truth right now. If the information is tied to his patron god, he wouldn't just share it willingly.

I sigh, resigning myself to wait. Patience is key—timing even more so.

"Hey."

Aron's voice cuts through my thoughts.

"What?" I ask, curious at his sudden interruption.

"Why did you come here?" he questions, tilting his head slightly. "Knowing you, wouldn't it have been natural for you to reject this whole thing?"

Knowing me? The implication leaves me momentarily off guard. Is he suggesting he knows me well enough to doubt my decisions, or is it just a passing observation?

Still, I can't deny that I'd prefer to keep everything related to Adam and the gods far away from my life. But things rarely go as planned.

"I think it's better to be in the middle of the chaos while the world is burning down than in some quiet corner, only to wake up and realize the world has ended," I reply with a chuckle. "Might as well try to save it while I can."

There's some truth to it—however small. I'm not sure how I'd feel if I went to sleep only to wake up dead, unaware of how or why it happened.

"You think of yourself as a hero, huh? Quite surprising," Aron says with faint amusement in his voice.

"Says the chosen one," I counter with a smirk.

He nods, turning his gaze forward. Silence falls between us.

The heavy door creaks open, revealing yet another chamber cloaked in dim light. Flickering torches cast wavering shadows on the moist, moss-covered stone walls. At the center of the room crouches a grotesque monster, its sheer size dominating the space. It towers as tall as a two-story building, an unholy amalgamation of creatures stitched together by some nightmarish design.

Its body is a grotesque blend of bat and dog, covered in thick, jagged scales that gleam faintly in the torchlight. Leathery, tattered wings jut from its back, twitching with a restless energy as though they're itching to take flight. Its elongated snout bears a nightmarish array of razor-sharp teeth, each one glinting ominously. Its clawed limbs scrape against the stone walls as it clings to the ceiling, moving with a sickening, unnatural grace. Glowing red eyes dart between us, filled with a predatory hunger.

Falco doesn't step into the room. He remains at the threshold, his presence calm but commanding. His posture is almost too relaxed, as though this monstrous creature is nothing more than a minor obstacle. He narrows his eyes slightly, taking in the beast with measured precision.

"The Earfang Bat," he announces, his voice cutting through the oppressive silence of the chamber. Calm and unhurried, his words echo off the stone walls. "Ren and Mary, you're up. Take it down."

He doesn't move. He doesn't prepare for a fight. Instead, he watches with an unsettling confidence, as if the outcome is already decided. His presence alone feels like a dare to defy him.

I glance at him, raising an eyebrow. "Why not everyone?" I ask, masking my annoyance with feigned ignorance.

"I already know how strong they are," Falco replies curtly, his tone sharp and final.

The Earfang Bat lets out a guttural growl, its claws dragging across the stone ceiling with a screech that grates against my ears. It's watching us, waiting, its glowing eyes calculating who will make the first move.

I take a step forward, the sound of my boots scuffing against the stone reverberating in the chamber. My gaze shifts toward Mary. She's still standing frozen, her weapon clutched tightly in her hands. Her sharp, focused eyes are wide now, staring at me with an intensity I can't quite place. It's not fear that's holding her back—it's something deeper, something I don't have the patience to decipher.

What's her deal? Cold feet? Ugh. Whatever it is, I don't even feel like wasting a single word on her right now. I let out a long sigh and turn my attention back to the monster.

At most, this thing's a six or seven-star. I can handle it myself.

I spin around, my eyes landing on Aron. "Lend me that sword," I say, holding out my hand.

Aron hesitates for a moment before unsheathing his weapon, the blade catching the light as he passes it to me. "Don't you dare break it," he warns, his voice laced with a grudging trust.

"It won't," I reply confidently, gripping the hilt. This isn't like the flimsy mythril swords from the system store—this blade feels sturdy, solid, a weapon worthy of battle.

I take a step forward, the weight of the sword settling in my hands. The Earfang Bat snarls, its claws scraping the stone as it shifts, readying itself for the confrontation.

If nobody comes or goes out of this room...then what does this thing even eat?