At this point, Lu Mao could only take things one step at a time.
He pretended to look calmly at the light blue mark on Misha's palm, hesitating for a moment before speaking.
“If I'm not mistaken, this should be a Tracking Mark.”
Misha's face paled instantly. She stared at her fingertips for two seconds, then whipped her head up to scan their surroundings—the passage, the stone walls, the crack overhead seeping dark purple magicules. She swept her gaze over every shadow that could hide something, but there was nothing.
“When did this happen?”
Her voice was surprisingly calm, but her knuckles turned white as she gripped her staff. “The only things I've touched recently are you, Gerak, the stone altar, and...”
She choked on her words.
She looked down at her left hand, then up at Lu Mao. Their eyes locked in midair, and they blurted out the same word at the same time.
“The altar.”
If it was the altar, then the beastkin, Gerak, should have this mark on him as well.
The beastkin rogue was still unconscious. He leaned against the boulder, his right leg bent at an unnatural angle. The edges of the wound on his calf, where a chunk of flesh had been torn away, were still black. Lu Mao's potion had neutralized the poison, but the wound itself would take time to heal.
He was sleeping deeply, his breathing steady. For once, his rugged beastkin face bore no expression of pain; he looked like nothing more than an exhausted, ordinary casualty.
Lu Mao squatted down, turning Gerak's hands over to inspect them one by one.
Right hand—normal, with only the calluses on his palm from gripping a dagger for a long time. Left hand—normal, with dried blood under his fingernails, likely left over from the previous battle. Wrists, forearms, elbows—none showed any unusual glow or patterns.
Since there was nothing on his limbs, then it had to be...
Lu Mao rolled Gerak over. Sure enough, on the beastkin's back, an extremely faint blue light pulsed rhythmically through his coarse linen clothes.
If one wasn't looking for it, it was practically invisible.
So there really was something wrong with that altar.
Lu Mao secretly felt glad that he hadn't cared about what the altar was for at the time. If he had been foolish enough to touch it, he would probably have been branded with this mark as well.
Still, if he had actually touched it, the system probably would have warned him, allowing him to discover it sooner and take action.
But that was all hindsight. The most important thing right now was to hurry up and regroup with the rest of the Hero's party.
After all, they didn't know what kind of creature would track them down using this mark. Regrouping as soon as possible was best—the more people they had, the more ideas they would have.
“We need to hurry and meet up with your captain and the other two now. Otherwise, if those goblins catch up, it's going to be trouble...”
Just as Lu Mao spoke and prepared to hoist Gerak onto his back, he was met with Misha's gaze—filled with suspicion and even a hint of hostility.
“How... how do you know there are three people on our captain's side?”
It was no exaggeration to say that Lu Mao's mind went completely blank the moment he heard this. He froze in place, his brain lagging for a solid two seconds.
Even before meeting Misha, he already knew their party consisted of five people. Because of this preconceived knowledge, he had forgotten that from Misha's perspective, he shouldn't have known this.
“Oh, an adventurer party I encountered before also had five members, and it included a cleric and a beastkin as well. So I subconsciously pictured your group just like them. My apologies.”
Lu Mao knew the excuse was incredibly weak, but he couldn't think of a more plausible explanation on such short notice.
Was he supposed to confess that he had a system? Or say that his employer knew their information?
Setting aside whether she would believe him, who would want to team up with a stranger who knew their background inside out?
“I'm sorry, Lu Mao.”
Misha gripped her staff tightly with both hands again, her voice laced with warning.
“Based on your strange behavior and those antidotes specifically tailored for goblin poison, along with everything else, I cannot take you to my captain. I must be responsible for their safety.”
Lu Mao knew very well that the trust between them had fractured.
“The tenth floor you want to reach is very close to here. You should go.”
“Both of you are marked now. Without my help, how are you going to carry a wounded man and find your teammates?”
Lu Mao tried to argue his case, but it was clear.
“Gerak is my comrade. Even if I die, I will carry him to our captain.”
Misha's reply was absolute.
Having said that, she looked at the mark on her hand with a complicated expression.
“I should have realized sooner... The mark on my hand, you're the one who did it, aren't you?”
“What?”
Lu Mao thought he had misheard.
“The mark appeared on the very hand I shook with you, and the other appeared on the back of Gerak, whom you carried. Tell me, what does your employer want from us? Are you here to stop us from destroying the altar?”
Lu Mao's expression became even more conflicted. Her words were half-truth and half-fallacy wrapped in logical consistency, leaving him momentarily at a loss for how to react.
“You aren't as simple as you look, are you? To deal with us, you must be at least a Gold Rank adventurer.”
“I...”
“I mean, why does it have to be now?! We were so close... If we just completed this quest, we would have gotten the Panacea...”
Misha's voice echoed through the passage, her final words trembling slightly.
It was the rage of someone who had been pulled back from the brink, who was just about to say thank you, only to realize that the hand reaching out might have had malicious intent from the very start.
Her fingertips still retained the sensation of shaking Lu Mao's hand, yet on the back of that very hand, the light blue Tracking Mark pulsed on and off, as if mocking her naivety.
“The Panacea?”
Lu Mao subconsciously repeated.
“Shut up.”
Misha's breathing grew increasingly rapid, her chest heaving violently. The crystal at the tip of her staff began to flicker uncontrollably.
Her holy light, which was originally a soft, milky white, was now shifting toward a harsh, cold white. The leather wrapped around the shaft of her staff emitted a faint burning smell.
“The captain and the others risked their lives to enter the dungeon for my sake. Gerak is like this because of me too...”
She lifted her head. Her eyes were slightly red, but the gentleness and restraint from before were completely gone.
The light blue Tracking Mark flickered on her fingertips, each pulse feeling like a countdown.
“Who on earth are you? Who is your employer? Are you after the altar too? Are you trying to stop us from completing our quest?”
【Warning: Cleric Misha is in an abnormal emotional state】
【Target is currently in an "Out of Control" state. The probability of aggressive behavior has risen to 73%.】
“I'm leaving.”
Lu Mao raised his hands and began to back away. “You don't need to force me. I'll leave on my own.”
He knew that communication was no longer possible under these circumstances. He had no choice but to give up. Turning around without a hint of hesitation, he walked toward the entrance of the tenth floor.
Misha didn't reply. The tip of her staff was aimed straight at his chest, the cold white light condensing into a fist-sized orb of light.
She didn't fire it, but she didn't lower it either. She was using the last shred of her sanity to restrain herself.
Lu Mao retreated to the corner of the passage and took one last look at her.
Misha's lips were trembling, her eyes incredibly red, but her staff remained raised, perfectly still.
He turned, his figure completely dissolving into the distant shadows.
His footsteps gradually faded into the distance.
Her fingertips were still trembling. The crystal at the tip of her staff still radiated residual heat, and the red mark burned on her palm where she had been scorched—but she didn't stand there for another second.
Even before the footsteps had completely vanished from the passage, Misha had already bent down. Though her body was still shaking from her intense emotional outburst, she had no time to wait for herself to calm down.
The blue light on the back of her hand continued to flash, each pulse feeling like a deadly countdown.
Slipping her staff into her belt, she squatted in front of Gerak and slung one of the beastkin's arms over her shoulder. Taking a deep breath, she pushed up with all her strength. As the beastkin's full weight bore down on her, her slender shoulders slumped, and her spine let out a faint pop.
He was too heavy.
Misha gritted her teeth and adjusted her center of gravity. Gripping Gerak's wrist tightly across her chest with one hand and supporting his waist with the other, she took her first step forward, half-dragging and half-carrying him.
Her breath was shallow and rapid. Sweat trickled down her brow, blurring half her vision. She tossed her head to shake the long hair away from her forehead. The orb of light floated listlessly behind her, its brightness fading, casting shadows that made the stone walls on both sides of the passage look like two gray curtains slowly closing in.
The staff slung at her waist bumped against her leg with every step, but she had no time to adjust it. The Tracking Mark on the back of her hand continued to flash, its frequency increasing, as if something was rapidly closing the distance between them.
She didn't look back; she didn't dare to. The only sounds left in the passage were her ragged breathing and the scraping of the beastkin's boots against the stone floor as she dragged him, step by painful step, deeper into the passage.
As for the direction Lu Mao had gone, the darkness had already swallowed him whole.
Walking in opposite directions, neither of them looked back.
Rate on N.U.
