Chapter 145

Words : 1121 Updated : Oct 7th, 2025

Chapter 145: Chapter 145 It seemed Clayton’s hopes were destined to be crushed. The mysterious figure continued sprinting toward him at an incredible speed, despite clearly being injured. Clayton glanced over his shoulder repeatedly, cursing under his breath. Eventually, the figure caught up and tackled him with force. Clayton felt like his body was locked in place by an invisible grip. He struggled instinctively, desperate to break free, but couldn’t move. The pressure on his chest alone told him just how physically powerful this person was—a strong knight. Realizing resistance was futile, Clayton stopped struggling. He forced himself to calm down, trying to appear resigned. The moment the mysterious figure sensed Clayton had ceased resisting, he gave a curt nod. "Good. You know your place. I’m not in the mood to stir up trouble, so I hope you know what’s best for you," he said sharply. Clayton nodded, though his reluctance was obvious. The man rolled his eyes at the expression and muttered inwardly, Who do you think you are, acting tough in front of me? If I weren’t in this state, you’d already be flat on the ground. Then, he gave a simple order: Carry me. Despite being barely able to stand, the man showed no hesitation in bossing Clayton around. Clayton didn’t dare argue. He obeyed quietly—though deep inside, he began planning ways to get rid of this dangerous stranger. He knew staying close to someone like this would only invite more trouble. The rich family alone was proof—they were actively hunting this man down. Even so, Clayton didn’t rush. He walked as instructed, silently observing. "All right, let’s stop here. We’ll rest for a bit," the man eventually said. Clayton stopped and gently set him down against a tree. Then came more commands: build a fire, prepare food. Once again, Clayton complied without a word. After everything was ready, they ate in silence. The food vanished quickly, and for a brief moment, there was peace. But soon after, as the man began to relax, a wave of drowsiness swept over him. At first, he thought it was simple fatigue—but something felt off. He turned to Clayton, who sat nearby with an innocent expression. "You..." he mumbled weakly. "D-Did you... poison my food?" His eyelids were growing heavier by the second. Clayton shook his head nonchalantly. "Nope. I just used a bit of pollen from a Starry Night Tuberose," he said casually. The man looked alarmed—then oddly relieved. He knew that kind of pollen wasn’t toxic. It simply induced deep sleep. Before he could say another word, he slumped over and fell into unconsciousness. Clayton didn’t move right away. He remained cautious, unsure if the man was faking or had some kind of magical trap on his body. Strong individuals like him usually had safeguards. After carefully confirming the man was truly asleep, Clayton finally exhaled in relief—as if a massive weight had been lifted. "Whew... that was way too close," he muttered. In truth, Clayton had been preparing to use that sleeping pollen ever since his encounter with the Rich family. He hadn’t needed it then, since they hadn’t been hostile. But this stranger? Even if he hadn’t acted violently, he was still an enormous threat. Clayton couldn’t take any chances. What frustrated him most was how long the sedative took to kick in. He feared the man would notice—but luckily, he hadn’t. That only made Clayton respect his endurance more. Now certain the man was out cold, Clayton debated what to do next. For a moment, he considered reporting the man’s location to one of the elite families and collecting a reward. But he quickly dismissed the idea. Too risky. What if they decided to silence him—or simply refused to pay? Better to stay uninvolved. If this guy ended up mauled by beasts or stumbled into a bad situation, that was someone else’s problem. He also had no interest in stealing anything. He just wanted to get away. But just as he was about to leave, a cracking sound made him freeze. He turned—and saw the man’s mask had broken. The face beneath it was... familiar. "Huh? Isn’t this the woman who appeared when I first entered the dungeon? The one who looked at me while I was seriously injured and just walked away?" Strangely, Clayton felt a flicker of sympathy. At the very least, she hadn’t killed him when she’d had the chance. Now, he hesitated to leave her alone in the forest. Maybe I should treat her wounds? He didn’t understand why. Why help someone who’d ignored him completely? Was it desire? No, it didn’t feel like that. The only explanation that made any sense—though it still felt odd—was respect for a strong person who showed mercy. Mercy, in this case, meaning: she could have killed him, but didn’t. It’s like this, Clayton thought. Imagine you’re an ant and I’m an elephant. I see you, but I don’t step on you. Wouldn’t the ant be grateful? Even if he couldn’t fully justify his reasoning, he decided to help. He called over Gemma to assist in carrying the woman. After some searching, they found a secluded cave where Clayton set up a temporary shelter. Once they were settled, he summoned his mini skeletons and gave them clear instructions. One of them was assigned to treat the woman’s injuries—Clayton made it very clear that he didn’t want to touch her himself, to avoid any misunderstanding. The rest of the day passed without incident. Clayton, utterly exhausted, collapsed into a deep sleep. Meanwhile, the mini skeletons continued their work, carefully tending to the injured woman. ... Later that night... The woman, still in poor condition, slowly regained consciousness. A sharp pain throbbed through her head, making her instinctively clutch it. As the pain subsided, she noticed a soreness across her body. When she tried to sit up, her eyes went wide—she was completely naked. Memories rushed back. Anger flared. That bastard... he did something indecent to me...! Fuming, she tried to get up and hunt Clayton down. But then—light footsteps echoed nearby. She froze. She was sure it was him. A sly smile crept across her face. A plan formed: she’d pretend to be asleep and catch him in the act—red-handed. Quickly, she lay back down, feigning unconsciousness. Holding her breath, she braced herself for whatever was coming. The footsteps grew closer. Soon, a figure entered and approached her. With gentle, deliberate movements, it began tending to her wounds. At first, she tried to stay calm. But the longer it continued, the more confused—and annoyed—she became. Finally, she opened her eyes and glared. And then she saw who it was. Her expression twisted in shock and disbelief. "Eh...?"

Chapter 145

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