Reverse Dungeon Chapter 140

CLACK.

Keith’s sword slid partway from its sheath before returning with a sharp tallic snap.

The sound alone was enough.

Fobo instantly realized what it ant.

‘This insane Holy Knight—when the hell did he free his hands?!’

At first, when the ‘Tyrant’ Ian had ordered him, “Pretend we’re slaves you captured and take us to the Devil Worshippers,” Fobo had actually felt relieved.

Ian had even pretended to be cautious, deliberately ordering Fobo to tie them tighter. Thanks to that, Fobo had been able to bind Ian’s party using the durable knotting techniques passed down among dwarves.

But he had also witnessed a slave overseer get subdued in the blink of an eye.

There was no room for carelessness.

‘I just need to bring them straight to the boss.’

That had been his plan for survival—obey the Tyrant’s orders without actually betraying his own side.

No matter how terrifying the Tyrant’s party supposedly was, they couldn’t possibly stand against overwhelming numbers.

Especially not against the boss.

The boss had received nurous blessings for his devotion to ‘those above.’ Through them, he had gained the dwarf skill known as ‘Iron-like Body,’ fad for its absurd durability, and ‘Rock-like Fist,’ renowned for devastating power. He had even abandoned the weak title of village chief and now demanded everyone call him Boss instead.

The boss would stop them.

And the restraints binding the prisoners only looked like ordinary ropes. In reality, they had been crafted using a special dwarven technique that cut a captive’s strength in half.

A weakened Tyrant’s party wouldn’t stand a chance against the boss and his n.

And even if things sohow spiraled out of control, the boss’s residence stood close to ‘their’ dwelling place. If anything happened, ‘they’ would intervene imdiately.

Once it was all over, the boss would surely praise him.

Maybe even ‘they’ would recognize him.

Fobo was fully confident he could talk his way into earning rit.

...Assuming he survived long enough to reach the boss.

A cold chill crawled down Fobo’s spine.

Forcing himself to calm down, he shoved his friend aside.

“What are you doing? These are valuable sacrifices. Don’t touch them.”

“No, I wasn’t trying to touch them...”

“Then what? Since when are you this playful?”

“Fobo, you care more about these sacrifices than your own friends? Disgusting. Forget it.”

The red-faced dwarf grumbled and wandered back off.

Only then did Fobo let out a breath of relief.

“This way.”

He bowed politely.

The Holy Knight crossed his arms with the face of a devoted believer, as though he had never threatened anyone monts ago.

Fobo carefully glanced at the knight’s wrists.

At first glance, they appeared tightly bound.

But if you looked closer, the ropes were rely looped around his wrists, the loose ends discreetly held in the knight’s own hands—ready to be cast aside the instant he chose to draw his weapon.

Fobo pretended not to notice and continued leading them toward the boss.

Past the village and through a narrow gorge, the number of people gradually increased.

Most of them were slaves.

Their heads hung low as they were dragged around in chains. Their hands, however, were left free for labor.

Right.

Who said only demons could own slaves?

The boss had declared that they, too, possessed the right to keep slaves.

Most slaves were humans, and compared to dwarves, humans lacked both strength and dexterity. That made them far easier to control.

Inferior creatures like these had once flourished across the land.

The thought itself was absurd.

Fobo truly couldn’t understand his ancestors.

Wasn’t the boss correct?

What exactly had dissatisfied Naita, that old scholar, enough for him to split away?

Fobo could never understand what went through Naita’s head—or the dwarves who followed him.

While the dwarves here prospered under ‘their’ protection, most of the ones who followed Naita had died miserable deaths.

‘They brought it on themselves.’

Worse still, because of their foolish sins, they had been denied the blessings bestowed across races.

‘Them.’

The ones who called themselves ‘Devotees’ were known to the world as Devil Worshippers.

But they did not worship demons.

They sought to beco demons themselves.

By offering sacrifices to the evil god and absorbing magic power, they believed they could ascend into a superior race.

Every dwarf in the village longed for those blessings.

And the stronger the boss beca, the deeper their admiration grew.

‘This is my chance.’

Fobo resolved to turn this crisis into an opportunity for advancent.

Soon, the boss’s guards ca into view.

And standing beside them was a dwarf nearly a full head taller than the others.

“Boss!”

“Fobo? What are you doing here?”

The response ca not from the boss, but from one of the guards.

These bastards had grown arrogant simply because they served directly under the boss, and they treated the other dwarves with thinly veiled contempt.

Suppressing his irritation, Fobo answered.

“I’m not here to talk to you. I need to speak with the boss. Boss, I’ve captured so extraordinary slaves. Just look at them.”

Keeping his distance from the Holy Knight—the infamous ‘Agent of God,’ whose monstrous strength he feared more than anything—Fobo presented the prisoners.

He had no desire to have his neck snapped.

The others were dangerous too.

Fobo intended to take no unnecessary risks. As he subtly edged closer to the boss, the guards frowned openly.

‘Look at this suck-up.’

Their expressions practically scread it.

Fobo didn’t # Nоvеlight # care.

Standing beside the boss was the safest place possible.

And there was sothing critical he needed to whisper into the boss’s ear.

He had to reveal their true identities.

“If you wasted my ti over sothing trivial, I won’t let it slide. ...Hm?”

The boss responded absently, his eyes still fixed on the strange diagram he held in his hand rather than on Fobo.

But the mont he looked up, his expression changed completely.

“Well, well. And here I was thinking we were running short on sacrifices... Looks like so excellent offerings delivered themselves right to our doorstep. Where’d you catch such premium stock?”

“Hehe... I happened to be taking care of so business nearby...”

“You abandoned your post, didn’t you?”

WHAM!

The boss’s monstrous fist slamd into Fobo so hard stars burst across his vision.

Before he could even recover, another strike lashed across him like a whip.

“Excellent! Fobo, you magnificent bastard!”

“H-Hehe... Boss...”

The blows sent him staggering naturally closer to the boss.

‘Good.’

‘I’m safe now.’

Excitent surged through him.

All that remained was to earn even greater rit.

He pointed toward Ian.

“These people are actually—!”

That beca Fobo’s final mory before everything went black.

He never even understood what had hit him.

‘Just as Lord Ian predicted.’

Ever since Ian had placed him at the front, Keith had remained wary of Fobo’s betrayal.

Putting the most trustworthy knight at the forefront was basic strategy.

At the sa ti, Ian himself was the type of ruler who preferred leading from the front lines.

For morale, it was undeniably effective. When followers believed their leader shared the sa dangers they did, courage naturally followed.

Though, objectively speaking, a ruler belonged in the safest position possible.

Which philosophy was truly correct was difficult to say.

Strategy and tactics always changed depending on circumstance.

And in that regard, Ian was flawless.

He inspired loyalty by leading personally from the front while simultaneously demonstrating overwhelming strategic brilliance. By placing Keith ahead as a safeguard, he gained the advantages of both approaches at once.

To Keith, Ian was the ideal ruler.

Though occasionally a little too fearless.

At tis, recklessly so.

And so Ian had stationed Keith at the front.

Which ant Ian must have foreseen situations where Keith’s direct abilities would beco more important than strategy itself.

Remaining vigilant, Keith succeeded in silencing the dwarf before he could finish speaking.

“Grab him!”

“He got loose?!”

“Fobo tied him up like an idiot!”

In the end, Keith allowed himself to be restrained again—this ti with triple the chains.

Before they captured him, he had glanced toward Ian, silently asking, ‘Should I take them down?’

Ian had given a slight shake of his head.

So Keith surrendered without resistance.

“What a spirited one. Full of life. Makes for a better sacrifice.”

The boss dwarf wasn’t particularly shaken by Keith’s sudden outburst.

Poorly restrained slaves attempting escape or rebellion was common enough.

Since the man had submitted imdiately after being caught, he clearly wasn’t completely stupid. Had he resisted longer, he would’ve been beaten half to death already.

Still, an attempted escape deserved punishnt.

An example had to be made.

Otherwise the other slaves might start getting ideas.

“Take them to the special sacrifice chamber. And give that one a proper taste of the whip. Teach him how things work around here.”

“That’s our specialty, Boss. Leave it to us.”

The two guards snickered as they dragged the prisoners away.

anwhile, the boss rubbed his hands together with anticipation.

Soon.

Very soon.

The mont to report that all the sacrifices had been gathered was approaching.

And once that happened—

He would shed the skin of this inferior race...

...and rise as a true demon, rightful ruler of this land.