The Devil's Cage 1418 Stumble Upon

The High Demon, b.l.o.o.d.y Mary, realized that ever since its near-indestructibility was discovered, it was used even more frequently than before. And after the contract changed to zero cost, wherever there was danger, b.l.o.o.d.y Mary would be there.

b.l.o.o.d.y Mary was also very certain that if it were possible, its contractor would definitely use it 24 hours a day.

"Stingy capitalist! Cruel Exploiter! Merciless enslaver!"

...

b.l.o.o.d.y Mary threw insult after insult at Kieran, and without a doubt, if Kieran had the heart to check, he would know how b.l.o.o.d.y Mary viewed him.

But b.l.o.o.d.y Mary didn't care.

From top to bottom, from inside to outside, everything of b.l.o.o.d.y Mary's belonged to Kieran, and it still had to carry out its task like an overworked slave. And since it literally sold itself to Kieran, allowing it to rant for a bit wouldn't be too over the top, would it? 

Of course, b.l.o.o.d.y Mary knew how useful it was to its contractor, and given its contractor's character, as long as it was useful, his tolerance level would be higher, but not without a limit.

So, after a few more rants, b.l.o.o.d.y Mary focused on the things at hand: baiting!

Using Rorl as bait, or more precisely, using Rorl as a front while b.l.o.o.d.y Mary was the true bait.

b.l.o.o.d.y Mary had quite the confidence that it could lure out its target though. As long as the Server III didn't show any death notifications, he would show up.

No faction would tolerate a traitor, especially if said traitor had a certain position and grasped quite the information.

As for Server III's statue, other than itself, its contractor, and Rorl beside it, no one else knew.

"The strong always control the fate of the weak. Even death isn't a choice for the weak."

Since Rorl couldn't dissuade b.l.o.o.d.y Mary, he sighed heavily.

A few days of living dangerously was enough to make a powerhouse suspicious of anything, let alone Rorl, who wasn't that powerful, to begin with. Rorl plunged his head into the game because of an impulsive decision, and right after the newbie trial, it showed him the harsh reality, thus causing him to hide in Iron Chariots, living at the borderline.

One shouldn't expect a person like Rorl to stand up and chase his target.

It may happen, but Rorl hadn't done anything like this before in his life.

All he wanted to do now was to run back to his room and never come out again.

The big city was too dangerous, even more dangerous than the dungeon world itself.

He would rather die in the dungeon world than get in the conflicts between players.

Rorl was like a death row convict standing before the execution ground; when the first shot was fired at him but the bullet didn't come out, he'd feel a little grateful for escaping death, but when he realized he would welcome a second shot because of his ident.i.ty, despair would smear all over his face. However, to his surprise, the despair he felt wasn't the end yet, because the second shot didn't fire at him right away, thus he had to live under extreme fear.

If he had the chance to speak, he would cry out loud and beg for a quick death, not a slow torture.

"Death? Death is the biggest mercy that you can get. The terrifying thing is… After you die, you come back to life and still have to sell your life to others."

b.l.o.o.d.y Mary couldn't help but curl its lip into a disdainful smile when it heard what Rorl exclaimed.

Dying once was nothing to b.l.o.o.d.y Mary. 

How many times had it died before?

It had had its chest stabbed, its head cut off, its body shot into a sieve by bullets, its limbs blown away into pieces…

Death after death, it was an unending cycle. 

Other than ranting about a thing or two, did it exclaim about anything before?

Hmph, corny guy!

After the comment on Rorl, b.l.o.o.d.y Mary turned its attention to its surroundings.

If b.l.o.o.d.y Mary had to list out one good thing about carrying out its contractor's tasks, it would be that sending it to all kinds of situations allowed it to see all kinds of things.

Under its contract's protection, it could touch the sun and feel its warmth.

Compared to the dark, cold, and humid hole that it once resided in, it felt a little happy.

'It'd be great if I didn't have to die so many times,' b.l.o.o.d.y Mary added quietly in its heart.

It could come back from the dead, but the pain and memories would live in its mind.

Memories built upon countless times of dying was enough to crush anyone, and if it weren't for its special trait, it would have vanished into dust.

"Buy me a meal at this one," b.l.o.o.d.y Mary said to Rorl as it pointed at a restaurant beside the road.

"What?" Rorl jolted. He never thought b.l.o.o.d.y Mary would ask for a meal from him.

Rorl wasn't a good player. In fact, his financial status was extremely poor; he'd even tried to split his current Points into 10 portion so that he could prolong his survivability.

b.l.o.o.d.y Mary didn't even care about the man and walked straight in.

Rorl tried to split his current Points into 10 portions, but b.l.o.o.d.y Mary didn't even have a single Point.

Kieran had a lot himself, but aside from the question of whether a High Demon could use Points or not, even if it could use Points, would it borrow from Kieran?

The answer was obvious.

Borrowing money from a stingy scrooge?

The wrath of a stingy scrooge was something b.l.o.o.d.y Mary couldn't afford, thus it bore things deeply in mind.

This restaurant was modified to look like a player's room. It wasn't open to the public on the inside. Instead, a few tea tables were placed outside with a fence built around the house; a big sign was hung over its door—

Pastry House.

The word 'Pastry' was formed with baguettes, cookies, and b.u.t.ter cakes instead of the usual rubber, plastic or wood.

The design was a little weird but attractive enough.

b.l.o.o.d.y Mary picked up a decent small as it sat down on one of the tables. It pressed the buzzer on the table, but the buzzer seemed to just be a decoration because the ring didn't even sound out in the player's house.

"Go knock on the door," b.l.o.o.d.y Mary told Rorl.

After a quick glance at the price menu on the table, Rorl, who heaved a breath of relief, didn't reject; he walked towards the door that was decorated as a bar.

While Rorl knocked on the door, b.l.o.o.d.y Mary looked at the end of the street.

A red figure was slowly walking over, and although it seemed to have noticed b.l.o.o.d.y Mary's gaze, it didn't hasten his steps, as though he wasn't worried about b.l.o.o.d.y Mary getting away.

Huu!

b.l.o.o.d.y Mary sighed helplessly.

It wasn't afraid to die, but that didn't mean it was welcoming toward death.

Reality would not bend towards a person or a thing's wish; hence, b.l.o.o.d.y Mary stood up.

"I thought I can some some pastries here…"

b.l.o.o.d.y Mary wanted to walk towards the red figure as it mumbled to itself, but then, the door of the Pastry House opened up slowly.

Starbeck walked out the door. He was holding a basket of spices since he was out here shopping for ingredients.