Translator: CinderTL
Celeste slowly opened her eyes, a flicker of dazed confusion crossing her gaze, as if awakening from a deep dream.
Then, her pupils contracted sharply.
She saw her headless body dissolving into ash.
She saw Roland's silver-scaled hand hovering nearby.
And she felt the cold, empty sensation at her severed neck.
"What... what have you done?"
Her voice was no longer the seductive whisper she had used before, but a sharp, incredulous shriek.
The sound didn't originate from her throat; instead, it vibrated directly through the surrounding air, like a cry from the depths of her soul.
She could clearly sense that some incomprehensible force, like unbreakable shackles, had bound her remaining consciousness and soul tightly within her severed head.
Even more chilling was the realization that her eternal connection to the abyss had been completely severed.
This is impossible!
By all logic, when a demon like her was slain on the Material Plane, her soul should immediately return to the abyss, to be reshaped within its chaotic essence.
Though it would mean losing most of her strength and requiring a long recovery, it at least meant survival—a chance to return.
But now, her soul seemed nailed to this decaying skull, the familiar call of the abyss growing distant, as if separated by an impenetrable crystal wall.
A primal fear, born of her survival instinct, mingled with overwhelming resentment, burning fiercely in her eyes.
She glared at Roland, her gaze seeming to drag his soul into this eternal prisoner cage.
"What have you done to me?"
Her voice twisted with rage and terror.
"Why... can't I go back?"
Witnessing this, a flicker of surprise crossed Roland's dragon eyes.
"This is... the Plunder trait?" he murmured, his brow furrowing slightly.
This trait, granted by the Hidden Profession [Pirate], had brought him countless spoils, but imprisoning an enemy's consciousness within their own skull was unprecedented.
"Could it be that what Succubus Celeste treasures most is... her own head?"
The thought struck him as absurd, yet it seemed the most logical explanation in the moment.
After all, for a succubus whose weapons were seduction and beauty, this flawless face might indeed be her most prized asset.
However, the clamor of the battlefield quickly snapped him back to reality.
The distant sounds of combat reminded him that the crisis was far from over.
He keenly sensed that while the head in his hand retained a bizarre "vitality," the once-dense abyssal aura had completely vanished, as if purged or sealed away by some unknown force.
No time to investigate further.
Roland swiftly tore a leather strap from the fallen soldier beside him and unceremoniously bound Celeste's lips, silencing her silent protests.
Then, treating the still-glaring head like a peculiar war trophy, he stuffed it into the satchel at his waist.
If he hadn't feared a living succubus, why would he fear a sealed head?
He could study it later at his leisure.
Just as he finished fastening the satchel and straightened up, familiar, playful footsteps approached from behind.
"Look at that!"
Bard Galvis's signature, slightly exaggerated exclamation echoed through the air.
"Seems I missed quite the... unconventional farewell ceremony?"
As he spoke, Galvis peered through the gap in his satchel, studying Celeste's severed head with keen interest before turning his curious gaze to Roland's dragon-transformed figure.
Surprisingly, he didn't press for explanations about this bizarre transformation. Instead, amidst the deafening clash of battle, he calmly retrieved his parchment and charcoal pencil.
"Hold still! Just stay like that!" the poet gestured excitedly. "Scales, vertical pupils, and that aura—this is absolutely epic material!"
At that moment, Avril's nimble figure darted past, her fingers tapping lightly on the dragon scales on Roland's arm, producing a crisp, resonant sound.
"Whoa," she said with a playful wink. "Now you're truly 'armed to the teeth,' Roland."
Watching his two companions remain so nonchalant even on the battlefield, Roland sighed helplessly.
"What's the current situation?"
"Princess Gloria and Duke have barely managed to regroup their forces."
The silver-haired girl remained as composed as ever, though a fleeting flicker of surprise crossed her eyes as they swept over Roland's still-lingering dragon transformation features.
"The soldiers are still engaged with the remaining demons. The situation is extremely precarious."
Noticing Theresa's lingering gaze on him, Roland sighed softly.
"I'll explain these changes to you later."
"There's no need," Theresa replied, tucking a strand of silver hair behind her ear with a firm tone. "I was merely surprised, Mr. Roland. Nothing more."
This unspoken trust brought a faint smile to Roland's lips.
"So..."
The elf girl spoke up, breaking the brief silence.
"What are your plans now, Roland?"
Hearing Avril's question, Roland's gaze swept across the chaotic battlefield. His decision had already been made.
Withdrawal.
He was, after all, a foreigner, unexpectedly drawn into the Golden Valley Kingdom's conflict. His sole purpose in this venture had been to find and slay the demon possessing Arno, thereby lifting the curse upon himself.
Now that Succubus Celeste had been vanquished, Roland had no reason to remain on this battlefield that held no significance for him.
If anything still held him back, it was the two friends trapped within the city: Sean and Darco.
Thinking of them, his gaze involuntarily drifted toward King Monen's distant battlefield.
Monen lived up to his reputation as a legendary warrior. Even facing simultaneous assaults from abyssal demons and Nine Hells Devils, his ordinary longsword moved with effortless grace.
Silver battle qi transformed into a rainbow-hued arc that tore through the sky with each strike, forcing the massive Toad Demon to retreat repeatedly.
The devil named Malcolm could only rely on his agile movements to evade, clearly on the defensive.
Observing the situation, Roland calmly assessed the situation.
With his nascent mastery of dragon transformation and the ability to unleash Holy Strike at will, ordinary demons and devils posed no threat; clearing them out would merely be a matter of time.
The only concern lay with the two high-level otherworldly beings Monen was currently engaging, but they were clearly too preoccupied to interfere elsewhere.
Having confirmed that their journey posed no real danger, Roland turned his gaze toward Golden Grain City, which lay unusually silent due to its main demonic forces being engaged outside the walls.
"We're going in," he declared decisively.
"Two of my friends might be inside. I need to..."
Recalling his past with Sean and Darco, Roland took a deep breath, his hesitant tone suddenly hardening with resolve.
"...rescue them."
His proposal met with no opposition.
Theresa nodded silently, Avril tightened her grip on her bow, and Galvis swiftly packed away his paper and quill.
Yet just as they were about to move, Roland's brow furrowed sharply.
A familiar, unsettling burning sensation still lingered faintly in his left chest.
A cold suspicion gripped him.
Instinctively, he summoned the Job Panel visible only to himself. His heart sank.
The trait labeled "Gaze from the Abyss" remained clearly imprinted there, radiating an ominous glow.
The curse...
had not been lifted.
(End of the Chapter)
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