Dark Fantasy: Super Coward Mode

Chapter 136

When do you think humans feel the greatest sense of crisis?

Is it when their lives are threatened?

No.

When their goals crumble into despair?

No.

When they read ominous words carved on the ground?

No.

"Z҈mi҇͂͗̓̈͆́͒̋ya҉̧̯͔͎̭̜͉͈̩͈̗ pon҈̨̛ o̵̢͠ḑ̸҇i̸͢͡n̶͢͞o̷̧͝k̴̡͠a҈̕͢ya̸͜͝"

It is when the name of an Outer God whispering your own name starts to echo ever closer.

Right now, I was doing my best to maintain a poker face, pretending not to hear it. But judging by my earlier reaction, the Slayer seemed convinced of her strategy and kept whispering her name directly into my ear.

Escape was impossible.

She was holding me tightly, as if I were her personal doll, whispering incessantly into my ear.

I’m not thinking strange thoughts.

No, I’m trying not to think strange thoughts.

Being held in the soft embrace of a noble lady, listening to the soothing melody of her whispers—feeling like I had the entire world at my fingertips.

I’m definitely not entertaining such absurd fantasies!

Ahem.

Anyway, the real issue was this:

While I couldn't catch every word she was saying, it didn’t matter. The parts that should’ve been incomprehensible—the name—came through crystal clear.

If only her name carried a blessing instead!

Then I could simply feign ignorance and call it out safely!

What infuriated me even more was realizing that the Slayer’s obsession wasn’t just some misguided rofan cliché mindset.

No, her entire persona seemed genuinely aristocratic.

Names with “pon” in them? That’s a typical hallmark of nobility!@@@@

How on earth does the Outer Gods’ world even operate?

At this rate, even if Londan fell into ruin, she’d still cling to me, whispering incessantly to achieve her goal. Sweating nervously, I finally opened my mouth.

“Th-that...”

The Slayer’s eyes lit up as she looked at me.

Her anticipation was palpable—she must have thought I was finally about to call her name. But I had a trick up my sleeve.

“Pon...?”

Carefully, I repeated the syllable "pon." If I could convince her that this was all I’d heard, it might explain my earlier surprise and buy me time.

I looked at the Slayer, silently praying that this would work.

But—

The Slayer merely placed her index finger over my lips.

Startled, I stared at her as she shook her head slowly.

“Husband.”

“...”

“That is not the answer I wanted to hear.”

“...!”

A shiver ran down my spine.

I had to admit it—I was completely outmaneuvered, psychologically ensnared by the Slayer.

“Or perhaps... ah, I see. That must be it.”

“...?”

“You’ve used the powers of the Young Dragon too much, haven’t you? Your overall energy must have diminished.”

“...!”

I couldn’t even respond.

By the time her words registered, the Slayer’s fangs were already sinking into my neck.

A cold yet sharp pain spread through me. But as her energy flowed into me, a warmth spread through my body, leaving me feeling languid and drowsy.

This time, however, it was far more intense than before.

Wait, hold on.

With that, she stormed out of the room.

Phew.

Yet, why did this feel so ominous?

Like something worse was just around the corner.

No, surely it’s just my imagination.

+++++

After the Slayer finally left, granting me some much-needed freedom, I made my way directly to the old prophet’s place.

Since the heretic-cleansing operation, the old man had been officially recognized for his contributions, earning the rare permission to establish his own religion.

This decision technically broke one of Londan's most rigid rules. Still, given his role in aiding humanity, the Knights couldn’t afford to repress him outright—such an action would have been met with heavy criticism.

I’d been too busy recently to visit him, but now I could finally tackle what I’d been meaning to do: learning more about the Observer.

It was time.

After all, I’d nearly gathered the power necessary to face the Snowy Mountain Giant.

The return of the Commander and the Martial God.

The addition of five Outer Gods, including Nutricha.

And most importantly, my own combat strength had grown absurdly powerful.

Now, I needed to eliminate as many variables as possible.

It’s always the damn variables that destroy nations.

Like how the Sui Dynasty was obliterated at the Battle of Salsu because they couldn’t predict the traps laid by General Eulji Mundeok.

As King Yeonsangun once said, “Those who forget history have no future.” I etched those words deeply into my mind as I walked.

Lost in thought, I eventually arrived at the grand cathedral the prophet had established.

Transforming an abandoned building into something this majestic? Maybe that old man should’ve been an architect instead of a religious figure.

Shaking off such trivial musings, I cautiously opened the door and stepped inside.

The interior was eerily silent.

Not surprising.

Even if people were suddenly told it was okay to believe in a god, how could they trust that after a lifetime of considering faith taboo?

It’s like being told the food you’ve always thought was poison is actually safe to eat—who would eat it without hesitation?

“Is anyone here?”

As expected, the rows of chairs inside were completely empty.

Hmm.

Seeing it like this tugged at my heartstrings in its own way.

For someone who had contributed so much to the country, couldn’t at least one or two people come to visit his establishment?

I sighed and took a seat in one of the vacant chairs, staring blankly into the void.

That’s when I heard a faint, conversational voice from somewhere deeper inside.

What was that?

Someone was here?

I stood up and carefully followed the sound, making my way toward its source. When I saw what lay ahead, I froze.

“Ha-ha-ha! Who else but me, old man? If the Commander can die and come back to life, I’m just the guy who doesn’t die at all!”

“Well, seeing you alive again is a relief. Visit often—I’ve been lonely with no one dropping by.”

“Of course! You don’t even have to ask. I plan to come by every day if I have the time. We need to bring back the glory days, old man!”

There they were, engaged in conversation: the Martial God and the prophet.

Feeling like I’d just stumbled upon something I shouldn’t have seen, I decided to quietly turn around and leave.

Crunch.

Damn it.

A stray leaf on the floor crumbled loudly underfoot.

“What’s that? Sounds like we’ve got company.”

“Ah, I’d better check it out.”

Both of them turned their heads in my direction simultaneously.

“...Oh, what’s this?”

“Sir Tanton?”

My desperate attempt to flee had already been thwarted.