Chapter 569: 566 Armenes

Asai couldn't help but awkwardly ignore the silent pleas, the invisible daggers that were prickling his skin, as the templars looked to him for help.

 

"I don't want to be that guy that walks around indoors wearing sunglasses... But, I'm definitely going to get a pair made when I can."

 

With a cold heart, stone-skin and a face that refused to bend to emotions, Asai continued to watch as Victor Del Lagos, Istvan Deuce, Ian and Hebi were all desperately trying to sneak through the make-shift urban area within the training grounds. With Robin Sol standing guard at the very far end, acting the role of a guard who would launch her daggers and throwing knives in quick succession each and every time one of the men messed up, made too much noise, bumped into something, or simply poked their heads up too high.

 

"I don't remember being this strict back when I was training her..."  Sipping on a glass of purified water as if it were fine-wine, Asai continued to spectate the mighty prince of humanity and his prized templar knights, or what remained of them, shower in fear as knives kept flying over their heads. Catching a glimpse of the half-elf's bright smile, between her consecutive vaults, Asai continued to act indifferent and allowed her to do as she pleased. Perhaps this was her way of venting out her stress upon the man who wasn't powerful enough or resourceful enough to prevent himself from being taken in as a prisoner of war. If it wasn't for his lacking of character, Asai and her wouldn't have had to traverse such risks.

 

Honestly, Robin Sol was having a blast, the daggers and throwing knives kept spawning upon her person, and whilst such weapons couldn't be taken outside for usage, she endeavoured to train her stamina, endurance and ability to hold her vision from spinning if she were to one day acquire such a weapon.

As such, whilst the prince and his templars were diving, skidding, hiding and throwing themselves around corners to dodge the heavy rain, Robin was giggling, smiling and continued to allow her agile movements to flow as if she were an Olympic acrobat. With every vault, kick, flip and spin, volleys of daggers shot out in rapid succession.

 

 

"Istvan, remind me again why she's regarded as the saintess!?"

 

Istvan's gaze shifted from his prince's before peeking out from the corner just enough to see the supposed saintess in mid-flight, vaulting and spinning so fast, he failed to make out her person as she was beginning to appear as only a blur to him. Without mana, without her usual halo and wings, the half-elf didn't exactly emit positive vibes, especially when a torrent of throwing knives kept crashing and breaking into shrapnel all across the training grounds.

 

"Your Highness, I dare not question the choices of the heavens!"

 

Not daring to risk speaking blasphemy, as the church itself had yet to officially publicize their stance on the people's devout worship of the half-elf named Robin Sol, Istvan was deeply questioning his decision in accepting such training methods. However, as a man disciplined in open warfare and strategy, his words held no weight when compared to the two who were capable enough to bypass through an entire enemy kingdom's defences to rescue them. Undoubtable evidence of their combined and individual capacity in stealth, which was the one department the templars were regrettably lacking in. 

 

"If only I could use my mana..." "Those throwing knives wouldn't be a threat to me at all."

 

"But sir, the saintess isn't using her mana either?" Ian, kindly reminded his superior, as he threw himself across and behind another block that imitated a small hut, with its own painted windows and doors.

 

Being slapped in the face with reality, Istvan was once again regretting his prior lust towards the half-elf, praying that she would be as magnanimous as people believed, and not one to hold a grudge. Or perhaps, this was her reminder to him, to subtly inform him that she remembered the aphrodisiac in which he had slipped into her meal. With such swirling thoughts and regret wracking his mind, the man had no choice but to grit his teeth and keep his head low as he crawled across the ground like a crab.

 

 

..

 

 

Not exactly taking the situation seriously, Hebi regarded the training exercise as no more than a game. Having already advanced the deepest into the training grounds, relatively close to the end goal and becoming first to clear it, the woman simply covered her own general location with fog that would split into two directions, misleading the half-elf who couldn't utilize mana to empower her sight to see through such a simple trick. Although she was having a much easier time when compared to the templars, she was far more fatigued from manipulating her ability at such pin point precision, as she would generally just allow it to form and obscure.

Turning around to check whether her performance was impressing her saviour or not, she was surprised to find the spectator's stand empty, and a dagger flying extremely close by her ears, so much so that the sharpness of the severed wind sent shivers down her back.

As a snake that originated from a species that tended to engage in polygyny, where the males have multiple partners and females typically one, she couldn't understand why the saviour had yet to demand his just rewards. Glancing over the imitation-fence, Hebi tried to imagine herself and the half-elf servicing the man together, as the male reproductive organs of a snake include two penises, each with its own reservoir of sperm.

Whether her thoughts were easily readable through her face, or that of a women's natural intuition to sense competition, Robin began to lighten the pressure off the men and focused on bombarding Hebi's position, locking her down. In her golden eyes, Robin couldn't find it in her to trust the snake, which was due to her miniscule amounts of memories she had left to her of her dearest mother, ones where the night time stories she read depicted snakes as cunning and sly, often times having objectives of their own. Which in this case was particularly true, rather than their shared goal of reaching safety, Hebi was more or less only concerned about being seen as useful enough to be saved, not to be abandoned, and receiving potent male seed to continue her clan's lineage, to hopefully repopulate her kind.

 

 

 

 

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"Dolos, are you there?"

 

Having left the large training hall, through an art frame that acted as the windows between rooms, Asai now stood within a long grand corridor decorated with copious amounts of gold, so much, that it was honestly quite sickening to look at. Staring at a single portrait that remained entirely stagnant, unmoving, that depicted the man in the top hat sitting upon a throne. Whilst the other art works that connected the corridor to their private allotted rooms would sporadically shine and gleam with brilliance, a visual indicator of their active connection, the portrait before him was dull and old.

 

"I know not whether you can hear me, the words I speak, the thoughts I think, the appreciation within my chest. But... Thank you. I entered this dungeon as a challenger, an intruder. And yet, you've treated me like an esteemed guest, even going so far as to providing food and training space.

Thank you."

 

Observing the man in the top hat, watching for any visual indicators of sentience, Asai took a single step back before bowing in honest gratitude. Receiving no response, the human turned and made his way back to his allotted room, where he would take a moment to analyse his thoughts, wants, needs and consequences from his choices and actions from recent events.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

 

 

 

Seeing the human gone, Dolos shifted his gaze towards the side as he readjusted the monocle upon his eye. 

 

"I see now, why you favour this one human so much..."

 

Throughout the millennia, the gods and goddesses had on occasion bestowed individuals with boons and blessings, whether in rewards or upon a whim. And throughout those years, the receivers of such profound favouritism would always believe it to be due to their own actions, narcissism, entitlement and the reoccurring belief that they were a unique chosen one, designated to rule and conquer. Whilst the celestial beings did receive prayers, followers and believers who spoke of their greatness and magnality, they also received such faith laced with hopes of receiving more and more divine intervention. Essentially an ever increasing demand and desire.

With such history, Dolos and his guest found it greatly pleasant that the man hadn't expressed greater demands of assistance. After all, they were gods, and could easily remove the debuff that was currently restricting their mana-hearts. However, having clear access to his wants and needs, his thoughts and understanding the human to a substantial degree. Enough to realize that Asai was equally aware of their capacity to do so, but withholding himself from asking. 

As it would've been a gift too many, one that would've resulted in multiple divine-beings changing their positive view upon him if he had shown the same traits of prior receivers. People they had forsaken, undeserving of their attention.

As with all things, everything came at a cost. Adhering to such fundamentality, Dolos reclined into his throne as he sought to make himself comfortable, for he would be relegated to this lone painting for months to come, as the price for providing and bending the dungeon as a gift to his guests. 

However, he chuckled and laughed to his lonesome, as he had lied about the time manipulation. Something he couldn't stop himself from doing, as an innate prankster.

 

 

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