"That was you, wasn't it?"
"What was?"
Sigvald, sitting on a small stool, washing his hair in this shared bathroom, answered my question with one of his own… While I sit on my own little stool, also washing my hair the same way as he does. With our backs to each other, surrounded by a handful of other boys taking care of each their own hygiene.
And honestly, this whole bathing setup feels like a surprisingly decent luxury for the Karthmere bastards to grant us.
Most likely, it isn't out of kindness—but because even they can't stand the stench of dozens of sweaty bodies crammed into a muggy, underground chamber with no ventilation… It's just that this place can only be accessed after all the trials for the day are over.
And yes, that means all the trials for Day Three have officially ended— which is why we're able to be here right now… Alive and well. Once again, not a single one of us has been eliminated—neither from carelessness nor from being murdered by another contestant.
"The girl who acts like she's weak... the one with the pretty face. You're the one who manipulated her into joining our team, aren't you?"
"Well, I do remember seeing someone like her while I was spreading those rumors about you, so maybe—indirectly—you're not entirely wrong."
Just as he finishes speaking, I hear a splash of water pouring over his body. Sigvald decides that's enough to count as a bath and starts to wrap things up.
"Why? Is she any good?"
"Good? Wait until you hear her backstory."
"That scary, huh? You're welcome then."
"Yeah. She's a Charmer by the way. And probably the most talented one I've ever seen."
"Charmer?" Sigvald's tone shifts—confused, maybe even a little wary. "I've never heard that term before… What is that?"
"Seriously? And you call yourself an intel?"
"Hey… I'm being honest here. I'm pretty confident in what I know… But in all my life, not a single person I've met has ever used that word."
"Maybe Charmers really are that good at manipulation… good enough to keep people from realizing they even exist in the first place."
"I don't know… Maybe? Anyway, I'm pretty sure I've got enough sway to get my group to follow my lead if I tell them something. They even agreed right away when I suggested keeping our group's identity secret from the others. So, eliminating all of them at once—without drawing suspicion from the remaining teams—should actually be doable now."
Sigvald is already getting ready to leave after explaining his little achievement, probably realizing that someone might start getting suspicious if they see the two of us talking like this.
So he's expecting a quick response from me… right when I'm actually thinking about complimenting him for what he managed to pull off in just two full days.
But for now, I'll assume he's had his fair share—maybe even too many—of praises from his old master, enough that he no longer needs any more.
Thus I keep it short.
"Tomorrow, during the third trial, tell your team to start spying on me and Garrik. Say you're curious about why the two of us are leveling up so much faster than everyone else."
"Wait… I gotta know. What level are you right now?"
"Ten. Both me and Garrik."
"Wow… You two are insane."
"Anyway… the day after tomorrow, have your team use the same leveling method. That's when Garrik and I will ambush you."
"Consider it done."
Sigvald vanishes right after that, even dropping the usual friendly air around him—perfect timing, just as a group of people who might actually know us both walk by between where we were standing.
And then… that day finally arrives.
~~~~~
"But I need to know… Are these people really worth killing? I don't like carrying guilt for murdering decent folks. Not again. Never again."
"You're such a kid," I mutter, half-mocking Garrik.
We sit crouched in silence, backs pressed against a stone pillar, buried deep in the darkness. Our voices stay low—barely more than whispers—as we strain our ears for the slightest sound around us.
Waiting.
Any moment now, five people should be coming through this path. Just like us, they're planning to sneak away from the others to farm some experience and level up faster.
"So what, you're saying the older we get, the more that feeling just fades away? Like… do we eventually get used to it?"
"I don't like how you said that like I'm some kind of grandpa... But honestly, I don't know the answer. I've never felt guilty for killing anyone—at least, not when I did it for money. Sorry if that disappoints you. But don't worry… These people? They're part of the rot. That's Sigvald's moral code, anyway."
"Alright, Alright, I'll take your word for it. But… What if Sigvald's planning to double-cross us? Can we really trust that kid?"
"Aren't we all not trusting anyone in this place? It'd be stupid for you to even trust me. Let alone anyone else. But Sigvald… he's a genius."
"How so?"
"Just like he doesn't fully trust me, he knows I don't fully trust him either. So to prove he won't betray us, he's been spreading an image of mine to lure strong people into considering me and our team as an ally. Basically, he's setting up a situation where my death would bring serious consequences to anyone who tries to betray me—even himself… especially himself."
"And how do you know that's real? Isn't that just your theory?"
"You remember what happened to Gideon, don't you? And those three who showed up to help me… Then there's Eirwen."
"Eirwen? Who's Eirwen? That's the first time I've heard that name..."
"Exactly. Because it'd be disappointing if you had heard of her."
"What?"
"Ssshhh... I hear footsteps."
Though it's not just the sound of multiple footsteps closing in—Garrik and I can also hear their voices from afar…
Where one of them speaks to the others, "You can't deny what I said. Right? This might be the perfect time to kill those two. I mean, it's been over two hours, and undead this deep are known to be more numerous and more powerful. They've got to be exhausted by now."
"Careful, Tyron," comes another voice—this one colder, flatter, and unmistakably Sigvald's. "Like I told you before, that kid Deon is no pushover… I've never seen anyone with reflexes as sharp as that bastard's. Same goes for Garrik. Don't forget, he was the first to take that chimera's head clean off. Fastest caster I've ever seen... and dead accurate, too."
That consideration seems to be well-received by the other four, before Sigvald lets out a quiet sigh and continues, "We really need to think carefully about who we're going to kill."
As the boy and the others are talking about something very interesting—something that makes Garrik and I exchange looks immediately, almost in perfect sync. Like two people hit by the exact same idea at the exact same time.
But we decided to stay silent and keep listening, knowing they still shouldn't reach this spot for at least another minute.
"Yeah, I get it. You don't need to repeat yourself, Sigvald. I'm just saying, if the perfect opportunity shows up—when they let their guard down and can't react in time… we can't afford to miss our chance to kill them both."
"I understand… Really. But for now, the point is, just focus on gathering as much EXP as possible so we don't fall behind the others… We'll take turns using light magic so no one gets drained, I'll go first and maybe… All of you can try not to—"
Sigvald's words abruptly cut off as the group suddenly sees me crashing and dragging across the floor in front of them—completely helpless.
Something about it makes that intel kid let out a heavy sigh—somewhere between shock and disappointment in himself… But at the very least, the incident causes two of them to reflexively rush toward me, swords drawn and ready to strike, completely unaware that Garrik is already casting a spell from behind a stone pillar, hidden in the shadows.
It's yet another Garrik's high-velocity wind spell—faster than they could ever react—a near-invisible projectile, like a bullet or a needle, rips clean through each one side of their skulls and bursts out the other.
A kill shot from the shadow… The two never even realize what hit them, lulled by the very thing they'd been waiting for all along. And it leaves just two more—both a few steps too slow to join the charge, since they jolted to a halt right in front of Sigvald, stunned by the sight of their comrades falling in less than a second.
Something that gives nothing more than a perfect opening for the intel kid, who wastes no time. In a blink, his dagger flashes, slashing clean across both the backs of their necks.
And just like that, it's over.
Two die at the exact same time—right after the other two… And that leaves just me, Garrik, and Sigvald, staring at one another in silence.
"Well... I know this was an ambush, and we did plan to avoid a full-blown fight—just a fast, clean kill with no warning... and everything went perfectly. But why the hell does it feel like the ending's missing a climax?"
Garrik's voice drifts out casually from behind the stone pillar, while I'm still lying motionless on the floor, playing dead.
Somehow it causes the silence to again creep back in between the three of us… until Sigvald becomes the second one to finally break it, letting out what's probably his real thoughts.
"What the fuck is this, seriously? So this is your fucking plan?"
"I heard something about not missing the chance to kill me when the time's right… something about the perfect opportunity and all that. So, I improvised," I reply casually while pulling myself up and brushing the dirt and dust off my clothes… still a bit puzzled about what exactly has Sigvald so disappointed by the success.
"Ah, nevermind… You know, I was just expecting something far more graceful than you suddenly showing up like that in such a ridiculous way."
"Come on… At least the plan worked without a hitch." Garrik steps in to defend me, his voice still echoing from the shadows behind the stone pillar.
"I know… I know that… But honestly, I was just as caught off guard as the others by how suddenly the plan changed."
"You hear that, Deon? Unbelievable… And you call yourself an intel?"
"How old were you when you died again?"
Sigvald suddenly asks, like it's the most natural thing in the world... Something that might've hit a little too close to home, judging by the look on Garrik's face.
So he scoffs, then replies with a bite in his tone, "What's with the sudden burst of seniority? Come on… We're all stuck in bodies the same age now, so how about we act like it?"
Such grumble draws a glance between me and Sigvald—and we both can't help but chuckle a little. "Alright then, tough guy… Why don't you help me level up instead of standing around the shadow, huh? We've only got less than an hour left before we're forced to head back, and I'm not planning to fall too far behind you and Deon."
Garrik grins at me when he hears that from Sigvald—like a kid who's finally been accepted as a real friend by his best friend's friend.
And honestly? It's kind of infectious… So, yeah, I nod back with a smile of my own, then gesture toward the part of the chamber where the undead are already waiting—crowded, restless, and ready to be turned into EXP.
Where Garrik and I only managed to gain one level today, while Sigvald—who we helped—shot up by four. But really, that's expected.
The guy's been five levels behind us, considering his role usually keeps him from doing too much actual fighting.
Besides, the higher someone's level gets, the more EXP it takes to reach the next one—while the amount we earn each day stays pretty much the same, even with the Nyxthorn root's multiplier in effect.
Not that I can complain, really. We're fighting the same weak undead in the same numbers as yesterday, and the day before that after all.
And if we decide to go all out and fight those monsters nonstop, we also have to consider the competition—other teams wanting a piece of the same action…
So yeah, that's why we agree to stick to the same method yesterday and now. The only difference? Sigvald tags along with us for the full three-hour stretch of the third trial this time.
~~~~~
"After our stunt yesterday, there's no way I'll be able to form another team that'll actually listen to me if I suggest keeping our alliance a secret—like I did with the group we killed before," Sigvald says between labored breaths, still swinging his weapon through waves of undead without pause.
And really, he's got a point. Those four he convinced into teaming up with him—they were the last unaligned stragglers left.
Sure, maybe a few loners are still hanging around out there, but according to Sigvald, they're not even worth the effort. Not cruel enough. Not rotten enough inside to justify taking out.
Besides, most of them flat-out refused to work with anyone from the start, and their numbers are thinning fast.
So, Sigvald figures it'll be far more practical—and strategic—for him to request entry into a team that's already established.
"But that means it'll be the last team you get to tear apart from the inside," I point out. "Because you can't be seen as the only survivor twice in a row from a team that just mysteriously ends up dead."
"Exactly," Sigvald nods, as if he'd already accounted for that.
"That's why—after we take down one more team—I'll come out and make it clear to everyone that I've officially joined yours."
Like it was all part of the plan from the beginning.
And just like that, the day winds down, no different than the one before.
We clean ourselves up in the communal bath, washing off the blood, sweat, and whatever else clung to us from the hunt.
By the time dinner rolls around, I head over to the long table already occupied by Siona, Eirwen, Garrik… and the quiet executioner kid. The one I still haven't asked a name from. He might as well be part of the team by now—he's been tagging along with the girls more than I have lately, especially with how deep I've been in schemes with Garrik and Sigvald.
The kid sits slightly hunched, eyes rarely lifting from the table, lips curled in that ever-present, unsettling smile. Honestly, from any angle, he comes off as creepy—freakish even. Like he wandered out of the wrong genre entirely.
But according to Siona and Eirwen, he's "incredibly gentle."
Of course, that's not something I'm about to take at face value. Not yet.
~~~~~