Warriors will die if they charge.

Under the pale, icy blue moonlight, Marcus's sword fell on Kelly's neck, and the ripple that had once protected Oha in the Golden Palace reappeared.

He roared furiously at Emma, ​​who was surely watching from somewhere:

"What the hell do you mean? Fair play at cards! Now that we're out of the treasure vault, you're giving this bitch a preferential treatment?"

Kelly lifted her small feet from the swampy mud, the suffocating tension from when the blade appeared vanishing instantly. She raised her delicate chin, adjusted her crown, and with what she thought was an air of authority, swept her gaze over the enraged dock warriors:

"Dare to lay a hand on the Queen, and you'll be hanged, Marcus."

"Fuck you!" Marcus swung his sword wildly, not knowing why Kelly had suddenly appeared, and at the same time, Duncan and O'Ha were nowhere to be seen.

But he didn't care; he'd kill this guy first, and then think about the rest later.

The Queen stood still, watching silently as the thugs attempted to violate the majesty of the monarchy with swords. The devil's promise had finally been fulfilled; she was no longer harmed by swords.

"I should have grabbed another bottle of immortality potion," Kelly murmured, tossing her red hair that fell over her shoulder. Ignoring the furious slashing of the dock warriors, she pulled her small feet out of the swamp and slowly walked forward.

The obsidian collar has now become her guide. By crossing this narrow swamp, she will be reborn, cleansed of past filth and sins, and crowned queen.

"Tough guy, don't waste your time, something's not right."

Bardin clutched the "Dwarven Relics of the Dark Ages" tightly in his right hand, while using his sword sheath to support himself as he moved through the swamp with his left. The dwarven physical characteristics made him extremely poor at adapting to this special environment, and the mud was almost up to his thighs.

The dwarf pointed to the footprints behind Kelly, saying that based on the physics of the swamp, the mud that had been pushed into the ground should quickly gather together.

But these footprints turned into two rows of obvious holes, from which wisps of crimson smoke drifted out.

The smoke drifted in the wind under the icy blue light of the white moon. Marcus inhaled a wisp and immediately felt a fiery burning sensation in his lungs, like taking a big drag of an unfiltered cigarette, making his head spin.

Looking at Her Majesty the Queen walking alone ahead, he immediately guessed the truth: Emmaly had no intention of letting the "heroes" leave alive!

Turning his head away from the gradually spreading red gas, Marcus took a deep breath. Theropods can hold their breath for twenty minutes. He turned back and growled at Bardin:

"Throw that lousy book away! We need to speed things up."

"No, tough guy, I will try my best to move forward and not slow you down." Bardin shook his head, clutching the millennia-old burden of his race tightly with both hands.

"If I'm going to die, then die here." The dwarf raised his head, looking directly at the solemn, hardened man.

"You're a gambler, so you know how to make choices. Even if it means death, I won't give it up. Go now."

Marcus, who had been gripping the shield with his left hand, suddenly released it and shouted to Emmaus, who was nowhere to be seen, "I will relinquish my shield and sword."

"You can only give up once."

As expected, the devil never tells the truth.

Marcus cursed inwardly and threw away the heaviest shield:

"Shield."

The weight was reduced by more than half at once. He held his breath, took a few steps back, and grabbed Bardin's arm:

"Walk!"

"Red pine flowers, you bloom in the June sunshine, radiant and beautiful."

I will lead the sheep to the top of the mountain and put you on my head.

You are beautiful and charming, let's go see the one we love together, but he only has eyes for you.

"Jealous girl, I'll make you crush me into flower juice and smear it on fallen petals..."

Kelly's bizarre singing made Marcus, who was passing by, shake his head inwardly; she was insane.

He didn't know the specific reason, but there must have been a serious conflict and disagreement among the stray dogs in the vault, which led to Duncan and O'Ha's disappearance.

He firmly believed in one principle: when hiring for the rye wine company, he would not accept any scoundrels with ulterior motives, no matter how strong they were.

Marcus dragged Bardin forward, using his steel sword as a crutch for support, struggling to move through the swamp, when he heard a dull thud behind him.

He turned around and saw Kelly, wearing a crown, lying in the swamp, the mud swallowing her body from the edge, gradually covering her fair and pretty face.

She was singing a song from her hometown when she suddenly stopped, her gaze fixed on the cold, white moon that had passed through the central courtyard of the sky, and she murmured:

"Duncan, command your dragon to burn Glenn Village to the ground and castrate House Solo of the Conrad family."

The crown was eventually buried in the mud; what killed her was not the sword she feared, but the illusion she was obsessed with.

She smiled radiantly, and the oxygen that rushed into the swamp created rainbow-like bubbles on the surface of the mud that reached above her chest.

A gust of wind blows, the bubbles burst, and the dream dissipates.

A crown without subjects and responsibilities is no more than a red pine flower submerged in mud.

madman.

Marcus thought to himself that the red poisonous fog had become visible to the naked eye, so thick that it had stained the swamp blood red. Suddenly, he felt his left arm being pulled backward, the weight of which was extremely heavy, and he fell directly into the mud with his entire body.

Bardin fell into a coma. He couldn't hold his breath for as long as Marcus. The dwarf, who lived underground for most of his life, only lasted two minutes longer than Kelly.

Looking at Bardin lying in the mud, whom he couldn't lift with one hand, and Marcus standing up again, he thought to himself.

What should I do? Let him go? If this continues, my lungs won't have enough oxygen to make it through this swamp.

No, you can't do that, Marcus!

You're a fucking tough guy!

A person who abandons their teammates is a coward!

Marcus tossed aside the cumbersome longsword and grabbed the bronze horn of the "Dwarven Dark Age Relic" with both hands, trying to shake off this heaviest of objects.

But Bardin's arms were like iron clamps, showing no sign of loosening even when he was unconscious, and he kept repeating some unintelligible dwarven language.

"Alright," Marcus nodded inwardly. "I'll go all in with the devil this time, and take the old stubborn dwarf with me."

He grabbed the dwarf by the armpits with both hands, moved his feet backward, and slowly dug two trenches in the swamp.

The oxygen in my lungs gradually ran out, my throat felt like it was filled with a scorching hot iron ball, and my respiratory tract was filled with thick smoke.

But he kept repeating the same thought to himself, driven by a stubborn, never-give-up spirit.

The Warrior's Handbook has two records of people dying in the swamp, but neither of them was about dragging a dwarf to death, so I won't die!

The obsidian collar was sending increasingly frequent messages to my brain: Almost there, almost there...

These sweet words, seemingly meant to persuade Marcus to take a break, only made him curse inwardly, "Screw you, you're almost there."

You didn't tell a single lie, but you didn't utter a single word of the truth either. What do you mean by "about to end"? You mean "about to die"!

After an unknown amount of time, he silently dragged the dwarf, who felt as heavy as a mountain, to the edge of the swamp. The sensation of his thighs touching a hard object was blurred in the lack of oxygen.

Marcus looked up at the endless swampy ravines, feeling astonished.

How far did I drag Bading along?

Unable to suppress his physical urges any longer, he loosened his tightly closed mouth and nose, and red mist rushed into his respiratory tract, causing a tingling sensation in his brain.

Did I lose the bet? That's terrible.

His vision blurred for a moment, and bright torches flashed before his eyes. He seemed to have returned to the basement of the third treasure vault.

The young man in the black robe stood in the center of the basement and gently clapped his hands:

"Congratulations, hero who has completed the Dark Trial. Take what you desire; there will be no more treasure vaults."