The sounds of humming echoed continuously within the dungeon of the Great Graveyard, occasionally interspersed with the swishing sound of weapons slicing through the air.

"Hurry up with those movements! You bunch of fools, is this how you do stealth?"

"Damn it, you're all so stupid it's killing me!"

"Sink your consciousness into darkness, don't bother with spells; feel the flow of breath and imagine yourself as a rat!"

"Damn... I'm thirsty, go get me some water."

The skeleton soldiers scampered off outside without a hint of complaint, even enjoying it.

Chris fanned the air with her hand and sat brazenly on a stone stool, embodying the image of a delinquent woman.

She didn't need to pretend though.

Infamous Silver Scimitars were all such people, weren't they?

She was merely returning to her nature.

Ever since that Demon tossed her here, half a year had passed.

At first, Chris struggled to adjust, but now she had become completely accustomed to dungeon life.

While there was no freedom here, there was also no need to worry constantly about enemies seeking revenge.

In the dungeon, she served as a guide for thief skills, helping the Demon King train his minions.

In exchange, she could move around the vicinity of the Great Graveyard and wouldn't be locked up like other adventurers, nor would she be frightened by ghost stories from the Demon King's minions.

Not that she could be scared anymore.

She'd long been desensitized.

The Demon King's minions were interesting, never caring about her captive status; they sincerely sought her guidance on thief techniques and occasionally offered peculiar tributes to her, asking how much some random favorability had increased.

She would usually give them a random number, then next time they'd bring more tasty food.

Really, it was quite amusing.

She had no affection for these sneaky Demons and wished they could all be purified by Holy Light.

Yet, as time went on, she realized these Demons weren't entirely detestable.

They were amusingly simple, without guile; they'd do whatever you asked, and sometimes she found them more reliable than her old teammates.

At least she didn't fear having her throat slit in her sleep.

Time steadily passed this way, until she assumed she'd spend the rest of her life in this dismal dungeon, when things began to change slightly.

It was one night she was sleeping deeply, only to be suddenly blindfolded and have her hands bound tightly.

Chris woke with a start, her heart pounding like a drum, instinctively wanting to struggle, but the restraint left her immobile.

Afterward, she was forcibly taken away, tossed onto a cart, and dragged through the dim dungeon passages.

Feeling the bumps beneath her, countless scenarios flashed through her mind—was the Demon King deciding to execute her? Or was she being sent for some horrific ritual?

She dared not imagine her fate, so frightened at one point her legs grew weak, nearly wetting herself.

However, when the black cloth was roughly torn away, she found herself in a square.

It seemed to be Mist Town, a place she had visited a few times, yet looking around it appeared wholly unfamiliar, as though she were in a fog-enshrouded illusion.

Most astonishingly, this square actually had a fountain, and the streets were lined with street lamps.

Thunder City's similar setups were usually in the busiest districts.

It seemed while she was imprisoned, outside the world had transformed dramatically.

A Corpse Ghost stood before her, a familiar Great Sword strapped to his back.

Although his helmet obscured his face, she recognized him as a former member of the Silver Scimitars.

Of course, he now had a new assignment.

"You're free." Bond murmured, turning and leaving without a hint of nostalgia.

Chris gathered her thoughts, instinctively calling out to him, "Wait! What about the others? Am...?"

Bond did not answer.

His assignment was merely to drop her off here, nothing more.

The Demon King said the dungeon had run out of space and decided to release some, returning those marked captives to the surface human society.

Perhaps those guys had already been let go earlier.

Chris stood there in a daze, watching her former comrade leave without hesitation; though unsurprised, she still felt melancholic.

The streets of Mist Town, with faint light piercing through layers of fog, shone upon the cobblestone paths.

Standing under a street lamp, Chris scanned the surroundings blankly.

She'd countless times thought of escaping the Demon's clutches, yet when true freedom arrived, she felt unprecedentedly lost... She had grown used to living encircled by the Demon King's minions.

Anger, fear, humiliation, resentment... and eventually surrendering like gambling away her pride, until it transformed unknowingly into subservience.

The guy wasn't really that bad, considering other Demon Kings who wouldn't just let a person live, their very souls crushed.

No need for Demon King alone—human Lords would similarly hang intruders; none ever had said to lock them up for a while and let them go.

Beyond that, he was always kind to his own people; as long as you didn't anger him, even his speaking voice was as gentle as a spring breeze.

Though unaware, deep within her soul, the Demon King's mark had long been imprinted.

And certainly, her feelings were real.

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