Betrayed, I Met The Demon Lord

Chapter 89 - Quest In The Burning Dungeon, Part 7

The party moved across the open plains, a scattered formation of eight adventurers. At the front, Unicus led with a steady stride, followed by Savathon, Arnolt, Vaelthir, Sylva, the thief, and two others. At the back, Van walked silently, carrying an oversized bag stuffed with equipment—a load that could crush five men his size, yet he bore it effortlessly.

Savathon, the towering Dragonkin warrior, glanced over his shoulder at the quiet noble. His sharp eyes lingered on the enormous bag swaying with each of Van's steps, carried as if it weighed nothing.

"Psche," he clicked his tongue in irritation and turned his gaze forward.

"...What is it now?" Vaelthir, the silver-haired elf, asked in a low voice, his focus never wavering from the horizon ahead.

"Hmph. Didn't think you cared so much about me, elf," Savathon replied with a sneer.

"I've started to develop some sentiment, seeing as you've clicked that obnoxious tongue of yours at least twenty times in the past hour," Vaelthir shot back, his tone calm but edged with annoyance. Sylva stifled a giggle, finding amusement in their bickering.

"Watch it, elf," Savathon growled, baring his sharp teeth. His pupils narrowed into slits. "Talk to me like that again, and you'll lose your tongue."

"Is that a challenge, lizard?" Vaelthir replied coolly, his silver eyes flicking toward the Dragonkin, sharp as a drawn blade.

At the front of the group, Unicus let out a quiet sigh, a faint smile playing on his lips. It was a familiar routine. Behind him, Sylva echoed the sentiment in her thoughts.

'Every time... You're better than that, Vaelthir!' she thought with a shake of her head, though a small grin betrayed her own amusement.

"Hmph. That noble trash should've collapsed by now," Savathon muttered, his irritation boiling over as he glanced back at Van.

"He's wearing enchanted armor—his family's, as he boasted back at the guild," Vaelthir replied dryly, his tone laced with disinterest. "Haven't you noticed? He hasn't removed his helmet once, even though we're in a safe area. Likely because the enchantment breaks if any piece is removed. Sets like that are rare but not unheard of."

"Tch, you can buy your rank these days, then," Savathon spat, his tail swishing behind him. "Give me a break..."

"You sound rather envious..." Sylva murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

"What was that, brat!?" Savathon barked, his golden eyes blazing as he spun to face her.

Sylva darted behind Vaelthir with a mischievous grin, sticking out her tongue as she peeked out from behind the elf.

"Grr..." The Dragonkin growled, his frustration palpable, while Vaelthir let out a resigned sigh.

'My Lady,' the elf thought, his face calm but tired, 'must you provoke that lowly lizard like that? You're better than this.'

Van observed the group as they bantered and moved, their voices filling the silence of the open plains. He said nothing, yet a pang of nostalgia and longing stirred in his chest—feelings he chose to ignore as he continued walking in silence.

After several hours, the faint silhouette of a village appeared on the horizon, its rooftops barely visible against the fading light.

"Alright, let's set camp here," Unicus instructed, bringing the group to a halt. One by one, the adventurers began unloading their gear, letting out audible sighs of relief as they dropped their burdens onto the grass—all except Van. He stood still, the overstuffed bag strapped firmly to his back.