Chapter 336: Snake Demon, Gorgon (6K First Chapter)

「……」

Looking at the pitiful girl, Herbert's mind flashed back to the data on the Snake Demon he had seen at the Warden's.

Snake Demon.

A type of demon, and among the tens of thousands of demon lineages, a notably unique branch.

Snake Demons possess a unique and horrifying appearance: overall, they combine human and serpent traits, yet push the terror of both to its extreme.

Their bodies are tall, averaging two meters in upright height, with tails more than twice the length of their upper bodies.

Their slender limbs seem composed of countless flexible joints, moving with a fluid yet chillingly serpentine glide.

Their skin is covered in dense, hard scales that shimmer with a cold, icy luster; the scales vary in color, mostly dark tones like ink-black and deep purple.

Despite their massive size, their innate talent allows them to move with almost no sound, making them shadows lurking beneath the night.

Dangerous—and lethal!

But do not mistake their stealth talent for an assassin's style.

That would be entirely wrong.

Though gifted, like all abstract demons of the Abyss, Snake Demons prefer direct, frontal combat.

Demons must fight!

Fighting—thrilling!

Their huge size grants them immense strength, especially their multi-meter-long tails, capable of delivering lethal constricting strikes.

Some Snake Demons with special bloodlines can grow a second pair of arms—or even a third!

Each hand can wield a weapon, and combined with their powerful bodies and hardened scales, they are practically cheating in close combat.

Of course, they are not without predators.

Herbert's own unique demonic transformation ability—the Blade Demon—is the Snake Demon's natural enemy.

Tail constrictions?

No one would be foolish enough to wrap themselves around a hedgehog covered in blades—even a demon wouldn't.

As for outnumbering in weapons?

The Blade Demon's entire body can turn into blades; they have no fear of such a disadvantage.

"Snake Demon? But it doesn't feel quite right… seems impure…" Herbert narrowed his eyes, thinking rapidly.

The girl's appearance and aura clearly confirmed her identity as a Snake Demon—she undeniably carried Snake Demon blood.

But her aura was not solely Snake Demon.

Moreover, compared to this half-human, half-serpent girl, true Snake Demons lean more toward scaled, humanoid demons.

"This level of demonic heritage… is she a hybrid?"

Herbert rubbed his chin, confirming his thought.

The girl's demonic heritage was far thinner than that of the 【False Berserker·Gorn】 he had encountered before.

In the blending of bloodlines, human blood clearly dominated, suppressing the demonic blood.

"Besides Snake Demon and human, she likely carries another non-human bloodline."

As for which non-human bloodline, only a thorough physical examination could confirm it.

But that didn't matter.

Not at this critical moment.

Herbert's immediate priority was to assassinate Shi Shi and halt the ritual—not to conduct ecological research on some random demon girl he'd stumbled upon.

In fact, coldly speaking, what happened to this girl didn't matter at all—even if she were hunted down and killed, it wouldn't be significant.

If Herbert and his group failed to stop Shi Shi, everyone in the city would die.

It was merely a matter of sooner or later.

Herbert understood this better than anyone.

Yet he still stopped walking.

But not out of some unyielding sense of justice or adherence to the Holy Knight's code.

It was out of curiosity.

"Where does this familiarity come from?"

What truly made Herbert pause and think was not her non-human heritage, but an inexplicable sense of familiarity—as if he had seen her somewhere before.

Herbert carefully recalled every detail in his mind, but found no source for this feeling.

Meanwhile, as Herbert strained to remember, the scene before him reached its climax.

The severely wounded girl struggled desperately against eight short assassins; her wounds grew deeper and more numerous.

Her clothing was torn to shreds, her scales sliced and pierced, oozing purple-black blood.

Her movements were weak and sluggish; she countered only by instinctive defense.

Yet despite her frailty, on the verge of collapse, the eight assassins still dared not close in.

They seemed to fear something, circling her in a ring, darting in and out like kites, striking only when they could.

As Herbert puzzled over this, the situation suddenly shifted.

"No good!"

"Get out of the way! It's coming again!"

"Dodge!"

"Shadow Jump!"

They spoke nearly in unison, scattering in all directions.

Some used their cloaks for cover, others vanished into shadows beneath their feet, while a few rushed behind the girl.

But one man reacted a fraction too slow—and locked eyes with the girl.

"No, damn it…"

Click-click-click!

His body petrified at incredible speed, turning to stone within a few breaths.

Then, a furious snake tail smashed him to pieces!

Crack!

"Hmm? Eyes with petrification ability?"

Petrifying gaze.

Herbert stared, wide-eyed at this classic scene, recalling countless works from his past life.

"Niece's Temple Environment Is Quite Nice," "Medusa Stone Factory," "How to Properly 'Use' Medusa's Hair," "Feasibility of Using Medusa's Head to Create Terracotta Warriors…"

Medusa?

No—Gorgon?

Medusa was merely the name of the girl defiled by the Sea God; her species' scientific name should be Gorgon.

"Snake Demon" plus "Gorgon" plus "human"… what a messy bloodline.

That night, the Snake Demon and the Gorgon must have both been drunk.

"What an interesting bloodline!"

Unable to resist his awe, Herbert drew his sword and walked toward her.

If he watched any longer, he'd only end up with a Gorgon specimen.

As Herbert drew his blade, Elisabeth, walking beside him, crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "Hey, are you going to meddle?"

Though she never feared death, she had no desire to die pointlessly.

If one could live, who would choose to die?

The situation was urgent; they had no time to waste on side matters.

Don't let time wasted here ruin the mission.

Herbert kept walking, turning his head slightly, his gaze dropping to the vampire lady beside him, smiling: "You say that? How is this meddling? I'm a Holy Knight!"

"Protecting the weak is my duty."

It's my job!

"Hmph."

Elisabeth glanced sideways, scoffing: "Holy Knight? Are you?"

Herbert smiled and nodded: "I think I am."

Seeing Herbert wasn't offended, Elisabeth pouted slightly, uninterested, and stopped opposing him—but asked one more question.

"Will we make it in time?"

"Of course we will, right?" Herbert turned to look at the dark elf beside him.

Svan Ni silently nodded, agreeing with Herbert's judgment.

She had never stopped his reckless actions from the start.

After careful confirmation, the blood sacrifice ritual had only just been activated—not yet fully operational—and still required time.

Two possibilities could explain this.

One: Shi Shi didn't want to draw attention, preferring to slowly boil everyone alive.

The other: the ritual's activation time had arrived, but the required materials weren't perfect yet, needing further additions.

Either way, it gave them breathing room.

Herbert nodded, turning his gaze to the eight dark elf assassins, studying the crest embroidered on their cloaks.

"Besides, causing them trouble is also helping ourselves."

Besides relying on Svan Ni to bypass most guards, they needed to plunge the entire Mor clan into chaos, scattering the forces stationed within.

The more forces they dispatched, the weaker the defense around Stilla became, making it easier for them to carry out a decapitation strike.

Although some would remain untouched by outside interference, at least the power of the others was weakened.

"And listen… they're planning to offer this girl to the Grand Mistress—do you think that will help them succeed?"

"Remember, the enemy of your enemy is your friend."

Herbert sighed, his pace quickening as he raised his sword and charged toward the center of battle.

Tap, tap, tap!

He turned three steps into two, bent his knees, and leapt violently upward.

Whoosh—

He gripped his sword with both hands, raised it overhead, then brought it down with the force of his fall, slashing at the nearest assassin.

Jump! Slash!

"Who?!"

Only when Herbert launched his attack, stepping outside Svan Ni 's spell's protective range, did the assassins finally realize the presence of the three of them.

But it was already too late.

Their first sight was Elisabeth on the ground, sneering; then they noticed the legendary Dark Elf behind her; finally… they saw the leaping slasher hovering just above their heads.

What?!

Where did he come from?

And that was the last thought of this lucky assassin.

The next instant, he was split diagonally in two in the most brutal manner.

The blade entered at the right shoulder and sliced out through the left lower side.

Without even feeling pain, his soul dispersed, sucked into the shadow beneath the boy.

Nienasha, though temporarily dormant, instinctively absorbed any external sustenance—leaving none behind.

"What?!"

The sudden turn of events startled the other six hidden assassins, who instantly erupted in fury.

"Who are you?!"

"What did you do?!"

"What are you doing? You—"

After landing, Herbert didn't pause—he twisted his blade and slashed sideways at the nearest assassin beside him.

"Too much talk."

The assassin reacted quickly; realizing he couldn't dodge, he immediately flung open his cloak, trying to obscure Herbert's vision and buy himself time to breathe.

But Herbert's movement showed not a single instant of hesitation—he slashed straight through.

Ssssh—

The sharp blade sliced through the cloak effortlessly, revealing the terrified eyes beneath.

At that same moment, the assassin saw Herbert's eyes.

They appeared to smile—but held an icy, merciless chill.

!!!

Looking into those eyes, the assassin felt his body freeze with cold, momentarily paralyzed.

My body…

At the last second, the assassin snapped back to his senses, tapped his toe, and leapt backward—barely avoiding the blade's tip.

Hssst.

No—the golden light clinging to the blade slashed across his chest armor, cutting it clean open!

Blood sprayed out.

"Hss!"

Realizing Herbert could truly kill him, the assassin screamed in rage: "Damn it! Stop! We're the Mor clan's Shadow Daggers!"

He didn't ask Herbert's identity—he immediately threw out his greatest card.

This was Mor clan's Maraghas City, a family that had ruled here for over a thousand years.

Even a powerful dragon doesn't crush the local snake.

Even if you're a dragon crossing the river, you still owe some respect to the local snake.

"Mor clan?"

In a flash, the assassin heard Herbert's mocking low laugh.

"Yes. I'm looking for the Mor clan."

A flash of white light swept away all surrounding shadows.

It forced the assassin, who had tried to merge into darkness, to stumble out mid-motion.

Damn it!

"No! You don't… cough!"

Ssssh!

The blade, merciless, sliced in from the side of the abdomen, swiftly cutting through skin and organs, pushing forward—until it struck the spine and lodged in the gap between vertebrae.

Facing this unexpected situation, Herbert blinked: "Oh?"

"Hah! Cough… cough…"

The assassin's face twisted in agony, blood dripping from his lips as he grinned through his coughing.

He was going to die.

As death neared, his ferocity surged!

The assassin hurled his poisoned dagger at Herbert, eyes wide, determined to witness the moment the blade pierced his skin.

The distance between them was too close—the other had no time to react.

This was his last chance.

Kill him!

Die with him!!!

"Die!"

Then, the dagger was casually flicked away mid-air by the white-haired boy's finger.

Ting.

Huh?

He stared in disbelief at the boy's fingers.

Pure as jade—untouched by any dirt, not a single scratch.

"Didn't you ever think… maybe I let you do that on purpose?"

Herbert smiled strangely at the confused assassin, then twisted his wrist, forcing the blade to rotate.

Crack.

The blade lodged in the spine's gap acted like a crowbar—prying it open, then continuing its horizontal sweep.

Patah.

The assassin's upper body tumbled to the ground, his expression less pained than bewildered.

He saw beside him—the other five, none had survived.

The six Shadow Daggers, the Mor clan's pride, now six small, withered corpses, with a glistening blood orb floating beside them.

Beside the orb, a pale girl with crimson eyes pinched her nose and waved her hand dismissively: "Ugh, disgusting. So many toxins mixed in—no appetite at all."

On the other side, the familiar-looking man poured a vial of potion over the snake demon, then, noticing Herbert's gaze, silently glanced back.

And that gaze was even colder than the boy's!

It felt like looking at worthless rotting meat.

He muttered, unable to comprehend what had happened.

"Why? Who are you… cough!"

Who?

Who are you?!

Why are you attacking us?

Herbert glanced at him in surprise after hearing the whisper: "Huh? When did the Evil Realm start caring about reasons? Does killing even need an explanation?"

Reason?

None needed.

Encounter? Fight. Want to kill? Kill. Why need a reason?

"…"

Hearing this answer, the assassin froze, then resignedly closed his eyes.

He died without even a final curse—his soul absorbed into Herbert's shadow.

The entire massacre, from start to finish, took less than a minute.

Leaping in, sweeping out.

Herbert earned the title of Best Support with an impressive record of two kills and six assists.

Even after everything settled, Teresa remained in a daze.

"... Huh?"

What happened?

She continued swinging her arms and long tail, trying to attack every enemy before her.

But after the reinforcements—the dark elf woman—glanced at her casually, she suddenly snapped back to awareness.

She was jolted awake.

After some unknown liquid was splashed onto Teresa, she gained renewed strength, and her wounds healed at an astonishing rate.

She wiped her eyes, and her chaotic memories finally calmed.

I remember...

In Teresa's hazy memory, she had been running nonstop, fighting those terrifying creatures.

Their blades cut into her skin, agonizingly painful, and the wounds kept itching endlessly.

She could only flee in disgrace, constantly reacting defensively, always running...

She lost all sense of direction, darting through the city, only to be caught again and again.

Teresa believed she would die there—her heart had long since surrendered to despair.

Until, a figure radiating golden light descended from the heavens like a god, shattering the darkness before her.

In an instant, those terrifying assassins turned into piles of bloody flesh and desiccated corpses.

That towering, radiant figure was exactly like the knight she had dreamed of countless times.

He stepped forward in her hour of peril, rescuing her from danger.

And this time—it was not a dream!

It was real, undeniable reality!

"Miss, are you alright? Can you hear me?"

The gentle voice brought Teresa back to herself; she focused her eyes and looked toward the figure approaching her.

"Ah..."

The moment she saw him clearly, she gasped, eyes wide in disbelief.

The girl saw a face more beautiful than she had ever imagined.

This is what my knight looks like... Is this really not a dream?

Less rugged and masculine, more gentle and ethereal—yet the warm smile remained unchanged.

"So you can hear me. Heh."

Herbert watched the girl's dazed gaze and smiled, shaking his head as he extended his hand.

"Give me your hand. Do you have the strength to stand?"

Stand?

Oh oh oh, stand up—how could I be sitting here in such an undignified posture?

Teresa snapped back to herself, nodded, and shyly reached out her hand, hoping to lightly grasp his.

"Ah!"

Then she saw her own hand.

It was a monstrous hand, caked in filthy blood and covered in scales.

The nightmare once again engulfed her soul.

"No, no, no!"

Teresa yanked her hand back, recoiling, muttering: "I..."

She suddenly realized the chasm between her and him.

He was a knight. She was merely a lowly monster.

A monster that must be destroyed!

"I'm not a Serpent Demon!"

"I was cursed!"

"Don't kill me! I—I—I..." Teresa shrank back, desperately trying to explain herself.

Then she saw the knight's brow slightly furrow—he truly found her repulsive.

"I'm sorry... I'm ugly now. This isn't me..."

"Please don't look at me. Don't look..."

She raised her hands, trying to shield her face.

Teresa didn't know what she looked like now, but monsters must be terrifying.

Yet as she raised her hands, the knight stepped forward abruptly, seized her wrist, and pulled her hands away from her face.

"No, no..."

Teresa struggled, but her monstrous strength was no match for his; she could only turn her head aside, whispering.

Until she heard a teasing chuckle: "What are you hiding? This looks fine."

"Huh?" Teresa turned back, dazed, and met the knight's gentle gaze.

He released her wrist and gently patted the top of her head, his fingers brushing through her blood-stained hair as he smiled: "Don't hide. Don't be ashamed. You're still beautiful."

I'm... beautiful?

Teresa processed these words she had never imagined—tears welled up.

Do I really not have to hide anymore?

Really...

Just as tears were about to fall, her expression changed; she pointed frantically behind him: "They! They're alive!"

"Oh?"

Herbert turned to look at the two "lucky" ones he had sliced into four pieces.

Now, the corpses that should have been dead had risen, stitched together haphazardly, charging at Herbert without fear.

"What's this? Resurrection? Forced into undeath by His domain?"

Herbert blinked at the rising monsters, utterly unfazed—even sheathed his sword.

Watching them draw near, he tilted his head slightly, amused: "Seeking revenge? You haven't woken up yet?"

"I am a Holy Knight."

As he spoke, holy power surged from Herbert, coating his palm.

The white-haired boy took one slow step forward, fingers extended like a blade, and with effortless grace, swept his hand to the right as the monsters reached him.

Ssshh.

The two sides passed each other.

The Holy Knight stood calm and still.

The corpses, animated by the dark god's domain, thudded to the ground—lifeless once more.

At the same moment, in the Lord's mansion.

The "Servant" narrowed his eyes as he watched eight markers vanish simultaneously on the sand table.

He clenched his fist and murmured softly: "Looks like a dangerous one... slipped in."

(End of Chapter)