The Successor of the Underworld is a Cheat Player

The Successor To The Underworld Is A Cheat Player 11

“They don’t seem to have any intention of moving for a while. Or…”

Is there a reason they can’t move?

Whatever it may be.

Snick.

They confirmed what they wanted to confirm.

“Deren.”

Sein had also been trying to confirm for three days.

“You’ve located the Ogre, right?”

The Ogre’s position.

Finding where the guy was hiding after tidying up the back alleys.

“I found him.”

“As expected. Good job, Deren.”

In the early stages of this dog-eat-dog life, the ability that allowed one to survive.

Swish.

Sein rose from where Frog had been seated.

Step.

His footsteps.

Naturally, Deren moved with Sein as if they were one, followed by Cyclops with a keen eye.

“So, where is that guy?”

“He’s in the iron mine area.”

It’s an iron mine.

“There’s nothing that doesn’t exist in Borfeo. It’s a city to my liking.”

And this city.

Squeak.

Will soon be his.

The Saint who emerged from the pier.

He continued to walk.

Blip.

With a small step, he climbed onto the shelf where the past goods had been placed.

“Nice to meet you. Are there any new faces here?”

The Saint Demoros’s voice echoed.

“Those who easily open their mouths as if they had been warned were nowhere to be seen.”

Or maybe they were silent because they had just witnessed the subordinates of the Prog being dealt with.

“How does it feel to have a city you were living in peacefully taken by someone else?”

The Saint asked.

“How does it feel to have a city ruled by you taken away?”

Grin.

“How does it feel when a guy you thought of as a brother dies right in front of you?”

The Saint sighed.

“Disgusting!”

Someone shouted.

“Shut up, you idiot.”

The Saint said sharply.

The guys quickly shut their mouths.

“If you were upset and in pain, you should have taken action earlier. If it was agonizing, you should have gone crazy.”

The smirk on the Saint’s face was mocking.

“What have those who did nothing got to say?”

Blip.

The Saint descended below the shelf.

He turned his back.

“It doesn’t matter what happens. Just follow me…”

Grin.

“I’ll give you what you want.”

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Cyclopsfa fifty.

Progfa twenty.

Wearing clothes as they pleased, holding weapons as they pleased.

“Let’s go, you idiots.”

They began to follow the Saint.

“I’m not a patient person like you guys.”

On the walls of Borfeo, where the guards kept a vigilant watch.

“….”

A woman with black hair was sitting there.

Her name was Arin.

A witch.

Once feared and reigning with terror as the witch of the legion.

“It’s been a while.”

Someone greeted her, the one who single-handedly destroyed the kingdom, the new empire, and even the three dark families all looked up to her.

“Who?”

Arin responded without even looking at the person offering the greeting.

A giant warrior clad in black armor.

Slowly, the warrior took off the helmet and spoke in a neutral voice.

“I met you once at a past gathering. I am Babvik.”

Long flowing red hair.

The exposed face was as neutral as her voice, with strong features standing out.

“Oh, I remember.”

Only then did Arin turn her head to look at Babvik.

“Your physique was fascinating, caught my interest.”

“Thank you.”

Given Arin’s necromancer status, there was clearly room for misunderstanding, but Babvik seemed unfazed.

Babvik spoke.

“I never expected to meet a witch in these parts.”

Babvik was usually a man of few words, but not when facing a witch.

“I’ve heard you’ve been keeping a low profile for a while.”

“There were things to do.”

“If there were things to do….”

Rumors were circulating.

“Are you looking for a candidate?”

A candidate.

There were rumors spreading throughout Borfeo about someone stirring up trouble in the alleys, using the name of Sein Demorus, the madman of Chichiron.

“Yes.”

“You’re the candidate sought by the witch….”

Arin, just her presence alone had the power to shake the continent.

Now, she had not only taken part in selecting a candidate but had become a patron as well.

“It’s intriguing.”

“You’ll see soon enough, won’t you?”

Arin said.

“Stop standing there and come sit next to me.”

“…Thank you.”

Barvik, as if deeply moved, sat beside Arin with tears in his eyes.

On the castle wall where the view of Borfeo was clearly visible.

In the city where deep darkness had descended.

Crackle!

Torches flickered, illuminating the movement.

“Barvik.”

Arin called Barvik.

“Yes.”

“You are prepared enough, right?”

“…You are kinder than I heard.”

Barvik said slowly, nodding his head.

Without even looking at Barvik, Arin continued speaking.

“Your fate will be determined by the outcome.”

“…….”

“If an unworthy person proclaims the name of Demorus.”

Barvik remained silent.

“It depends on whether you are worthy.”

Arin said.

“You will know soon enough.”

The flickering torches were not just lit in one place.

In various other places.

Soon, a small war would begin in the back alleys of Borfeo.

And depending on the outcome, the fate of Borfeo and Barvik would be decided.

“Because it’s a fight between candidates.”

A being known as Ougera.

His true identity was another Demorus.

“I will keep it in mind.”

Another name for Arin, the witch of the legion, was the witch of destiny.

Among the three absolute witches existing on the continent, she was one of them.

Barvik could only hold his breath, facing the impending fate.

*

*

*

Step by step.

A saint walking out.

Step by step.

Followed by dozens of subordinates.

Crackle!

Their shadows loomed large on the building in the flickering torchlight.

Thud!

The residents of Borfeo who were still awake shut their windows tightly and went to bed.

“Heh, hee-hic!”

The drunkard wandering the streets stumbled and hastily fled, causing a commotion.

Glistening eyeballs.

Swish.

Weapons gleaming in their hands.

Chaos was spreading in the alleys of Borfeo.

“Oo, oo-oo.”

As everyone tensed up, Sein nonchalantly hummed a tune.

A song heard through rumors.

A song popular in his hometown, nonexistent in Sanctuary.

“Chichiron was too small to be fun.”

Chichiron, a backwater of backwaters.

A small rural village with barely a hundred residents if you counted everyone in the alley.

But now.

“Now I’m starting to enjoy this a bit.”

Those following Sein numbered close to a hundred.

So, it was only natural to feel joy.

Like a scene from a movie seen in his very young days.

Thump.

He was experiencing the same scene and feelings from back then.

Even though it was no longer just a game to enjoy.

Thud.

It was inevitable to feel a sense of joy.

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Sein finally came to a halt.

Boom!

Torches were also shining from the opposite side.

It was quite a wide street for a market during the day.

Keeping the street between them.

“Are you the madman from Chichiron?”

Wolf, the owner of a section of Borfeo’s alley, stood with his men, leading them.

“And are you another nuisance from Borfeo?”

“…What…?”

“Just so you know, I don’t tolerate discrimination against the disabled!”

Sein’s voice echoed fiercely in the dark alley.

“Hah.”

Wolf let out a hollow laugh.

“As crazy as they say you are.”

“Correct yourself. I’m not a scoundrel, but a dog.”

Srrrung.

Sein spoke like that and drew his sword carelessly.

The wolf’s eyes gleamed.

‘Sloppy.’

He was once a squire.

Once a slave, he caught the eye of a knight and was chosen as a squire, receiving training from the knight.

Because of that, it was clear that Sein’s stance was quite sloppy now.

Srrrung.

In contrast, the wolf holding the sword had a rather impressive stance.

“A cripple.”

Sein’s voice echoed.

“I’ve heard your story. You, a former slave, pitied by a knight who took you in, assassinated him and stole the sword, didn’t you?”

Upon hearing Wolf’s sudden past, his face wrinkled.

“You became a cripple because you resorted to thievery.”

“Shut up!”

Despite shouting, Wolf didn’t stop assessing Sein.

‘Can’t underestimate him.’

Demos, though lacking, had harmed even Cyclops and Progrock.

There must be a move hidden in the sloppy stance.

“It seems Ogre won’t show up, so is there a need to stand there?”

Sein said.

“How about joining us now? As I said, I don’t discriminate against disabilities.”

“….”

“Well, doesn’t seem like you’re considering that.”

Concentrating on Sein’s hand and sword, Wolf seemed ready to not miss a moment.

“I don’t really need a thief around.”

“….!”

At that moment, instinctively, Wolf leaned his head back.

Something flashing through the air.

Swish!

A dagger was swiftly flying towards his exposed neck.

Whoosh!

A chilling sound echoed from the subordinate standing behind him.

“Thud!”

Echoing screams.

In a split second, had he not dodged, the attack might have pierced his forehead, resulting in death.

“What a cowardly move…!”

Mid-conversation, Wolf, trembling at Sein’s attack, raised his head.

“Cowardice? What’s cowardly about it? It’s just an alley.”

But despite that, Wolf had no choice but to stiffen his neck.

There was clearly Saint, who had been far away just a moment ago.

“I told you.”

He was suddenly in front of him, wielding his sword.

“I don’t tolerate discrimination.”

Wolf moved his sword with all his strength, awakening his magic.