Vile Evil Hides Under The Veil
chapter-1368

The Paladin of Pain could not even face the red bear, let alone attempt to halt his ruthless slaughter of the elven warriors.

When the red bear roared at Lysa, Reva almost soiled her pants. She felt a surge of terror within her guts, her instincts urging her to escape the battlefield entirely.

However, her legs refused to obey, locked in place by the lingering effects of a potent intent-based magic. The faint echoes of her demonic consciousness confirmed her own fear, retreating further into the depths of her soul.

Reva's disbelief grew as she realized that even the hidden depths of her own demonic consciousness were filled with fear. This sensation had only manifested when she interacted with Demonmir, but now she sensed a fear greater than anything the demon prince of Wrath could induce.

Instinctively, Reva understood that there was a higher entity within the demonic hierarchy, one wielding this powerful intent-based magic. Yet, she could not discern the identity of this enigmatic figure. All she saw before her was a colossal and bloodthirsty red bear, leaving her to question its true nature.

How did a red bear appear on the battlefield?

The question echoed ceaselessly in Reva's mind as she remained motionless, fixated on the harrowing sight of the bear advancing towards the crawling Lysa. Every second stretched into an agonizing hour as she watched in paralyzed silence, hearing Lysa's desperate cries for her.

The night elf pleaded for the tenth member of their team to appear, but Reva abandoned Lysa without hesitation. Her sole desire was to command her legs to flee this place, to escape the nightmare unfolding before her.

Her eyes turned a fiery shade of red, consumed by the terror that engulfed her. She could no longer discern what was happening within or around her, for her focus was solely on Lysa and the menacing red bear that embodied her darkest fears.

The effects of the intent-based magic on her soul were of no concern to her; after all, what good was a correct diagnosis when there seemed to be no remedy? She paid no heed to the inexplicable desire of her demonic consciousness to conceal itself. Even witnessing Lysa's impending demise did not stir her empathy. All she yearned for was to evade the wrath of the red bear.

Yet, what unfolded next shattered any semblance of reality, leaving Reva questioning if she had stumbled into a twisted nightmare. Goosebumps prickled her skin as the bear's Wrath mana body dissipated, revealing the figure of Eren concealed within.

Regret flooded through her, regret for ever agreeing to this ill-fated mission. She cursed herself for entertaining the ludicrous notion of confronting Eren, realizing that facing one's deepest fears is not always a wise choice.

Particularly when those fears are rooted in logic and reason.

Reva found a strange sense of relief wash over her as she witnessed Eren swiftly sever Lysa's head with a single sword slash. With Lysa's team wiped out and no one left alive to bear witness to her actions, Reva no longer had to justify herself.

She could craft a myriad of excuses and safely retreat back to the kingdom of Layos. She had made up her mind never to confront Eren again, even if forced onto the battlefield by Layos. After all, she had managed to survive and thrive on the battlefield for nine long years, enduring numerous assassination attempts. She had the utmost confidence that she could endure and prevail once more.

To make her escape a reality, Reva silently thanked her luck for going unnoticed by Eren. And, by some force within her, she managed to reclaim control over her frozen legs. All she needed to do now was run.

'Run, Reva... Run. Run. Run. Run. Run,' she repeated to herself, urging her own feet to carry her away from the battlefield. She was willing to forsake Isen's company entirely and become a full-fledged Cultist ranker if it meant securing her escape.

However, something caught Reva's eye, causing her to halt in her tracks once again. She observed Eren's condition, seeing him lost in his thoughts, breathing heavily with depleted mana reserves. As a healer, she could discern the subtlest of body language, leading her to conclude that Eren's fatigue was genuine. He was physically and mentally drained.

'This… this is a chance,' Reva thought to herself, observing Eren's unsteady steps and apparent distraction.

Memories of the mental torment she had endured for nine years flooded her mind. She couldn't pinpoint the exact culprit behind her rank regression, but she had a strong suspicion that Eren was involved. Reva realized that as long as he remained alive, she could never truly be free.

With her heart steeled and her fists clenched, Reva made the decision to seize this one-in-a-million opportunity. Her mind raced, contemplating multiple scenarios in a fraction of a moment.

Drawing upon her accumulated experiences and honed skills, she committed herself to finishing what Lysa's team had started. Like an ephemeral wind without origin or destination, the Paladin of Pain vanished from her position after what felt like an eternity of inaction.

With unwavering finesse and a deep well of experience, Reva stealthily closed in on Eren from behind. Drawing upon her extensive knowledge of human anatomy, acquired through countless acts of torture, she aimed her strike with deadly precision, targeting Eren's heart.

This was a task she had performed time and again, a dance of death she was all too familiar with. The only difference was that this time, the stage was the battlefield, not her secluded Kill Room. How difficult could it be?

The dagger's tip found its mark as Reva's strike proved successful. A surge of exhilaration coursed through her veins as she felt the blade sink deeper into the core of Eren's being.

For the first time in nine long years, she experienced genuine joy, as if her greatest objective had been achieved. A profound sense of relief enveloped her, and she willingly released her grip on the dagger.

In her mind, she believed her attack had sealed Eren's fate, trapping him in an inescapable web of agonizing death on the battlefield.

Or so she thought.