Tamed Monster - Chapter 79

“How… how are we supposed to run away?”

“Why run?”

Her husband replied in a flat, unconcerned voice.

His complete lack of urgency made Sylvia angry. Maybe he didn’t care if he lived or died, but she did.

She wanted to live as long as possible—and die in peace when her time came.

“Because I want to live!”

She shouted, and Lancart nodded as if realizing something obvious.

“You’re right. Okay, let’s get out of here.”

With that, he grabbed her hand and broke into a run.

Sylvia was surprised by how quickly and nimbly he moved. Even more amazing, running through the swamp wasn’t nearly as hard for her as before.

Just days ago, even walking had been a struggle. Now the soft ground seemed to support her, almost as if she could trust it. Even if she sank to her neck in the swamp, she strangely felt she wouldn’t be afraid.

She put those thoughts aside and ran forward, fleeing the howls of the monsters.

Ironically, the direction from which the monster cries seemed farthest away was right where their goal lay—the lair of the head monster.

After a while, Sylvia realized this, but by then it was too late. Her husband’s grip was too strong for her to stop running, even when she wanted to.

She kept running, close to tears, with a sinking feeling that she was heading straight into danger.

It was difficult to keep her expression under control, but—unbeknownst to her—her face was actually quite serene at this moment, more so than when she’d gotten a good look at her husband’s bizarre anatomy earlier.

Strangely enough, facing possible death was less shocking to her than seeing what her husband had between his legs.

After a long, frantic dash through the swamp, they arrived beneath the cliff her husband had pointed out earlier.

It was dark, damp, and filled with a sinister energy that seemed to drag everything toward death. The monsters that had been chasing them stopped their pursuit, howling ominously but no longer following.

Unable to see what lay hidden in the shadows, Sylvia chose to look where her husband was staring.

There, a hulking black shape flickered in and out of the gloom, its sharp eyes watching them.

Lancart’s gaze, as he stared at his old friend Hector, was full of boredom. Only when he realized Sylvia was staring holes through his cheek did he force himself to look tense, tightening his facial muscles with exaggerated effort.

Nearby, a pile of weapons coated in deadly poison was stuck haphazardly into the mud—clearly displayed as if on purpose.

Hector had buried them deep in the ground, hoping the swamp would neutralize their toxins. Seeing that Hector had planted ten of them right where he slept, Kuinan shot him a deadly glare, dropping his act for a split second.

…Grrr…

For now, Hector was pretending he couldn’t speak human language.

Monster language sounded like harsh hissing, almost like a snake to human ears. Hector, aware of Sylvia’s presence, gave a low, beastly growl before speaking in the tongue of monsters.

[You. I’ve been watching you through the crow.]

From two days ago up to today, Hector had watched in horror as Kuinan repeatedly thrust his monstrous organ into the woman. If Kuinan had treated her like an object, as a true monster would, Hector wouldn’t have regarded him so antagonistically now.

But Kuinan hadn’t taken her like that.

He had held her as if she was a real wife—gentle, careful, almost cherishing.

To Sylvia, it might have felt like a violation, but to a monster’s eyes, the intention was clear. Kuinan hated females—whether human or monster. Every monster knew that about him. He’d even killed females before, tearing them apart.

[Do you like that woman?]

The only reason to keep the female alive was if she served some important purpose. But Hector’s confidence in that usefulness was fading. He drew his claws.

Flinch.

“What is he thinking?”

Kuinan couldn’t speak directly to Hector, so instead, he aimed the question at Sylvia, who could understand him.

Now, Hector radiated a genuine killing intent, ready to challenge Kuinan.