The Villain Who Invests in a Witch to Survive

Chapter 177: Looks Like This Is Where I Get Off

The ordinary explorers were scattered all over the hall.

Some leaned against the walls with their heads hanging low, as if they did not even have the strength to lift them. Some sat on the floor with their knees drawn up, burying their faces against them. Some curled into themselves at the base of the Stone Pillars, their shoulders trembling faintly.

No one spoke.

The only sounds in the entire hall were the faint rustle of vines growing along those dark gray walls, like something writhing in the shadows. Every so often, someone let out a soft groan, so faint it sounded as though it had escaped from a dream, only to be swallowed back down at once.

Ryan withdrew his gaze and sorted through the situation in his mind.

The first to arrive had probably made it here the night before—Parker Hewitt and Hayden’s group, for instance. The wounds they bore were not the sort mere skeletons could have inflicted. Allen had said their path was filled with skeletons, but at worst, those things should only have left them battered and disheveled. They should not have come out looking like this.

Which meant the two of them had already gone through that door.

Gone in, and come back out.

And after coming back out, they had said nothing. They had simply sent the next group in to scout the way.

Then that next group died.

And the one after that died too.

Now the third group was dead as well.

How many people had been in this hall to begin with? Ryan had not counted them, but it had definitely been more than this.

At present, there were only a little over a dozen survivors here. At least fifty or sixty people had entered the ruin in total. Surely the rest could not all still be wandering around above, unable to find the way.

The missing ones had all died behind that door.

Ryan glanced toward the doors lining the walls.

Wooden, faced with iron, studded all over with nails the size of fists. Some stood open, revealing bottomless darkness beyond. Some were closed, mottled with rust. Every one of those doors led to a path. Every path ended in this hall. Some people had emerged from those doors.

And some never had.

The only ones left alive now were these ten-odd survivors.

Ryan’s gaze settled on Parker Hewitt.

That man still had his eyes closed, his finger still tapping lightly against the hilt of his sword. Tap. Tap. Tap. The sound was faint, but in the silence of the hall, it was crystal clear.

Parker opened his eyes.

His gaze swept across the hall, sweeping over every person present.

And in that instant, Ryan saw several of the explorers shiver.

Not the controlled kind. The involuntary kind.

Some lowered their heads even farther. Some hunched their shoulders. Some edged backward, as though trying to hide behind the Stone Pillars.

Everyone knew what he was looking at.

Whoever got chosen might die.

Parker’s gaze swept around the hall once before finally settling on Ryan’s side.

Ryan did not move. He simply stood there and met Parker’s eyes.

Parker looked at him for two seconds, then shifted his gaze away.

Someone tugged at Ryan’s sleeve.

He glanced sideways and found Allen leaning toward him, his ash-smudged face wearing an expression so complicated it was hard to describe. Fear. Tension. And something else he could not quite name.

“Brother.” Allen lowered his voice so much it was almost inaudible. His breath brushed against Ryan’s ear. “Do you have anything that can leave markers?”

Ryan blinked and turned to look at him.

“What do you want that for?”

Allen jerked his chin toward Parker.

“No telling when it’ll be our turn to go in,” he whispered, the words practically squeezed through his teeth. “If you go in first, leave me some markers, and maybe I’ll have a chance to survive. If I go in first—”

He smiled.

The smile was faint, so faint it seemed forced out from the corner of his mouth.

There was something bleak about it. Something self-mocking. And yet, strangely enough, it was also loose and easy, as if he were saying, Well, that’s just how it is.

“Looks like this is where I get off,” he said. “Making it all the way here wasn’t easy. So maybe I can at least leave behind something useful for you.”

Ryan looked at him.

His face was still dusty, streaked with black where dirt and sweat had mixed together. The right sleeve was torn away in a large strip, exposing the scabbed wound beneath. The scab was dark red, and the edges were starting to look a little inflamed. His hair was a mess. His whole body was covered in dust and grime. At a glance, he looked no different from the other ordinary explorers around them.

But his eyes were bright.

Those light brown eyes stared at Ryan, bright and clear, without much fear in them at all.

Only something strange.

Trust, maybe.

Ryan gave a small nod.

He slipped the pack off his back and reached inside. After rummaging around for a moment, he pulled something out.

It was not large, about as thick as two fingers and as long as a handspan, like a black glow stick. Its surface was smooth and unmarked. Only the two ends held tiny crystals, their color so faint they almost vanished into the black casing.

He had made it himself.

The principle was simple. Once infused with magic, it would leave behind a magical trace in that location for a few hours. Ordinary people could not see it. Only someone using magic from the same source could sense it.

He had made three of them and had never had a chance to use them.

But just as he took it out, before he could pass it to Allen, Parker’s voice rang out.

“Everyone.”

It was not loud, but in the stillness of the hall it was as distinct as a stone dropped into calm water.

Every head lifted and turned toward him.

Parker pushed himself away from the Stone Pillar and stood up straight. He moved slowly, as though giving everyone time to see him clearly. The rolled-edged sword was still planted in the ground by his feet, but he made no move to pull it free. He simply stood there, hands hanging at his sides, his gaze passing over each person one by one.

His hard features were expressionless.

“The last team was lost,” he said, his voice flat, as if stating nothing more than a fact. “I’m saddened by it. But the exploration cannot stop.”

No one spoke.

The explorers kept their heads lowered. Some clenched their fists. Some bit their lips. Some simply stared blankly at the ground.

“We’ve rested long enough,” Parker continued. “And we’ve gained a few new arrivals. It’s time to decide who goes in next.”

Several of the explorers turned white.

Not merely pale. White, as if the blood had been drained right out of them. White like paper. White like the faces of corpses.

Some even shrank back, but there was nowhere to go. Stone walls stood behind them.

Ryan felt Allen’s fingers tighten on his sleeve.

That hand was cool, and its fingertips trembled faintly.

Parker reached into his coat and took something out.

It was a dial, about the size of a palm, bronze-colored and engraved with dense layers of runes. Those runes were carved deep, one layered over another, as if they had been inscribed countless times.

At the center of the dial was a needle, thin and sharp-tipped, gleaming faintly in the gray light.

It looked like some kind of magi-device.

“The same rules as before,” Parker said, lifting the dial so everyone could see it. “Fair. Perfectly fair. No one gets to complain.”

He let his gaze rest on them one by one.

“Gather around.”

The explorers hesitated.

Some lifted their heads, looked once at the dial, and then lowered them again. Some took half a step backward, bumping into the people behind them, but no one moved any farther.

Parker simply stood there.

That battered sword remained planted in the floor by his feet, its notched edge glaringly obvious in the dim light.

And when his gaze swept over them, no one dared say no.

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