Page 335 of The Villainess Whom I Had Served for 13 Years Has Fallen

Rowen, walking silently through the labyrinth, glanced back at Yuria, who followed with a tense expression.

'She seems very nervous.'

She wore her anxiety openly, her walking stiff, and her expression set like stone. Rowen, who wasn’t skilled at banter, wished he could ease her tension with a small joke. But, instead, he let out a bitter smile and shook his head.

'I’d probably just scare her more.'

Being a renowned figure whom no one in the empire didn’t know, it was understandable that she might be more on edge around him.

[The Empire’s Sword.] Aside from Desmond and that suspicious guy, everyone else feared him.

Yet, considering himself a proper adult, Rowen decided to speak to Yuria. It felt too impersonal to be silent after they’d been teamed up.

"Your name is Yuria, right?" "Yes...!" "You’re from the North?" "That’s correct...!" "No need to be so formal. I have a daughter myself, after all." "Yes!"

Hmm...

Rowen decided to break the tension by asking Yuria ? Nоvеl??ght ? (Exclusive on Nоvеl??ght) a question he’d always been curious about—one he’d never asked Malik, Rosy, or even his youngest, Hannah.

"How are you finding life at the academy?" "...The academy?" "Yes." "It’s good." "What do you like about it?" "Um..."

Yuria, observing Rowen’s demeanor, thought his mannerisms were a bit like her headmaster and the commander. Of course, they each had a unique way about them, but she thought the way they spoke was quite similar.

"There are a lot of good people, and it’s fun." "I see."

As they exchanged these seemingly inconsequential words, Rowen noticed Yuria relaxing a little, and he casually offered her a word of encouragement.

"Are you nervous?" "Yes...?!" "I asked if you’re nervous." "Oh..."

Yuria looked down at the dusty white wall. She hadn’t wanted to show it, but she was indeed nervous. The shock from the cultist attack hadn’t fully settled, and she could still hear the bone-chilling cries in her mind, as if they were happening right now.

She could still hear the echoes of ‘Save me,’ ‘Help me,’ like ghostly whispers, filling her ears. What might happen here? Would someone be chasing them? These fears kept surfacing in her mind, compounding her tension and making her acutely aware of the abnormality of the cultists.

Rowen, understanding her state of mind, didn’t press her. He simply offered her a gentle smile and said,

"Don’t be too tense." "Yes..." "Whatever happens, I’ll protect you, so just focus on gaining experience." "...Understood." "Of course, don’t relax too much." "Yes...!" "That’s much better."

Rowen nodded, advancing deeper into the white corridors lined with platinum armor, holding swords, navigating through the complex maze.

After about ten steps,

-Ahh...

He stopped in front of a fork in the path, sensing an eerie aura, and sighed.

"It’s cold." "..." "This doesn’t feel like the Holy Sword’s presence." "..."

Rowen thought about the strange presence he’d felt since the beginning, like a thorn lodged in his side.

'Do they have another agenda?'

The energy didn’t feel human, nor did it seem like something the Holy Sword would emit. It felt like the Holy Sword was there to suppress something.

Whatever it was,

"We need to go this way."

For now, they had no more information.

Rowen moved towards the ominous left fork, his steps steady.

After a few paces, he entered a spacious area that made him frown.

"...Hah."

Black and white. The stark contrast of colors made Rowen let out a wry chuckle. He couldn’t be certain, but he felt there were secrets here he didn’t yet understand.

A temple failing to stick to its pure theme. A mix of black and white in contrast to the pure white surroundings.

And,

"It’s excessively vast."

The size of the space greeting Rowen was almost beyond belief, as though the mountain had been carved out to create it. A space split between black and white, with dozens of pathways and a grand mural stretching across the ceiling.

On the dark wall, a man holding a sword was depicted, and on the pure white wall, a woman wielding a splendid sword. Rowen voiced the question that popped into his mind.

"Grotesque." "...It is." "Excessively spacious and grandiose."

In a temple built to house the Holy Sword, Rowen found himself questioning aloud once more.

"It doesn’t suit this pure temple to have black here."

Whoever built this temple, their intentions were hard to grasp with modern minds. What was clear, though, was that the ancient person who built this temple didn’t plan to give up the Holy Sword easily. Otherwise, why hide it so deep within a massive labyrinth?

Rowen nodded, taking his first steps into the enormous chamber.

"A coexistence of black and white." "..." "Something’s off." "..." "It feels like they’re trying to hide something. Like the Holy Sword is a stake to suppress something." "..." "This enormous temple feels more like a vault to contain a leaking force..."

Yuria, not fully grasping Rowen’s words, simply looked around with an anxious expression.

"Just idle musings. Don’t overthink it."

Rowen chuckled, moving further into the expansive space. If the corridors they had passed through were like hallways, this was more akin to an auditorium or, if one compared it to a sewer, a space where all the water converged.

"Quite complex." "..."

Rowen clicked his tongue and began moving forward once again.

Then,

-Click.

He held his breath, hearing approaching footsteps.

An intruder. Or perhaps someone with the same objective.

-Click. -Click. -Click.

Yuria swallowed hard, gathering divine energy in her fists as Rowen drew his sword, ready for battle.

He turned to Yuria and spoke calmly,

"Don’t be nervous. The person beside you is the strongest in the Empire." "..." "Judging by the energy, it’s not Ricardo." "..." "Then... an Apostle."

Rowen slowly imbued his sword with an aura, the golden aura symbolic of ‘The Empire’s Sword.’

Overwhelming and intense.

"An enemy, no doubt."

As the figure’s face emerged from the darkness, Rowen narrowed his eyes.

Wearing a thick robe and openly exuding ferocious magic, the person advanced towards Rowen and Yuria without hesitation.

Rowen moved Yuria behind him.

"Stay alert." "Yes." "If more Apostles arrive, we’ll retreat, so be prepared to retrace our steps."

Nod.When Rowen saw the approaching figure’s face, his eyebrow twitched.

Although the darkness made it hard to see clearly, the features of the approaching figure—a woman—were unmistakable.

"An elf...?" "...!" "Why is an elf here?" "She was the one earlier...!" "Shh. I heard from Ricardo."

It was an elf.

...

The elf, who had unleashed a grand spell on the academy group, slowly approached Rowen.

Rowen spoke coldly to Yuria.

"Get back."

No sooner had Rowen finished speaking than a countless number of black spears descended from above the Apostle of Compassion.

Fast and forceful. Falling upon Rowen and Yuria.

...

Deflecting with his sword, Rowen took a steady breath and addressed the Apostle of Compassion.

"What’s your name?" "Apostle of Compassion." "Your real name?" "..." "Not in the mood to talk, it seems."

Rowen spoke to the Apostle of Compassion, relaying the information he knew.

"Why is an elf attacking humans?" "..." "Humans and elves signed a peace treaty in a secret meeting thirty years ago." "..." "A stoic elf."

The Apostle’s cold green eyes locked onto Rowen as she spoke.

"Filthy Empire’s Sword." "You know my title?" "Filthy hypocrite." "I never thought I’d hear such words from an elf." "..." "As far as I remember, I’ve done nothing to earn an elf’s disdain."

The Apostle crafted a bow in her hands.

"Humans are the worst." "I’m not so sure elves are any better." "Shut up." "..."

Rowen lightly stepped forward, slashing out with his sword.

In that moment, the string of the Apostle’s bow sang as it released an arrow that cut through the air.

Sword and arrow collided.

-Kiiiiiing!

As a storm raged, Yuria squinted against the violent wind, and the elf’s robe fluttered wildly.

-Scriiiiiitch... screeeeech...!

Though Ricardo’s Tyrfing could neutralize magic, Rowen’s sword couldn’t, amplifying the impact.

-Kiiiiiing!

The elf’s robe danced in the storm’s fierce winds, and her eyes trembled.

"Don’t show it..."

In that brief moment, Rowen saw it.

"Don’t let them see..."

He saw the elf was afraid.

As she raised her hands to clutch her slipping robe, Rowen unleashed another wave of sword energy, giving her no chance to hide.

Though he didn’t know why she trembled, there was no room for mercy on the battlefield.

"Hup...!"

-Slash!!!

The Apostle of Compassion dropped the robe, barely reacting in time to defend.

Then, as her robe fell away, Rowen and Yuria’s eyes widened.

"You..."

Rowen spoke, his voice trembling.

"You were a slave."

Underneath the Apostle’s robe was a massive burn scar covering her face. And on her collarbone, a mark symbolizing slavery revealed her past.

The Apostle of Compassion’s eyes began to quiver at Rowen’s words.

"Don’t look..." "..." "Don’t look at me..."

Madness filled her eyes.

Madness born of humans.

A madness she couldn’t forget even if she wanted to.

"Those eyes..."

She charged forward.

"I’ll tear them out."