Skyl carefully studied Millicent's expression, hoping to detect some hint of a reaction beneath her usual serenity.
"Well? Any suggestions?"
The swordswoman raised her head. "I don't really understand it, but it must be quite impressive."
Skyl nodded in satisfaction. "You have a good eye. The entertainment network's main functions are transporting people between worlds, sending them into instanced planes, and letting them happily kill monsters and level up. Players can even be resurrected after death. All they need is some time to recover, and they'll be back in perfect condition. It lets people enjoy life as a game without holding back. When it comes to cultivating talent and advancing civilization, it's basically Miracle-Gro."
Millicent examined her player interface. For someone born in the Lands Between, this kind of built-in cheat ability was still a little too far ahead of its time. She was unfamiliar with game-like character sheets. Even though she had lived in the Harry Potter world for a while, there had been very few forms of entertainment available to them at the time.
Anyone familiar with tabletop role-playing games, however, would have immediately understood the information on the interface.
Skyl had borrowed elements from Ao's system, but he had not copied it wholesale. Most of the interface objectively described reality rather than reducing everything to rigid numbers. Millicent could now see her weaknesses at a glance and plan the direction of her future training accordingly. Compared with her previous method of relying entirely on intuition and personal insight, this approach was unquestionably more focused and offered far more choice.
With fifteen levels in Flowing Swordswoman and four in Sword-Singer, Millicent's total class level had reached nineteen. Level twenty marked the legendary threshold, so she truly was only one step away.
Once Millicent trained her Spirit Sword ability to Level 2, she would be able to enter the Ansei subclass.
Her attention settled on the Shehai entry.
Shehai: 74/74
The Sword-Singer class was extremely unusual. Before manifesting a Shehai spirit sword, its practitioners had to rely entirely on plain, unembellished swordsmanship. Other classes of the same level would already be displaying their unique strengths. Spellcasters possessed all manner of spectacular spells, while even an ordinary warrior had flashy attack combinations.
Sword-Singers, by comparison, appeared completely unremarkable. They were practically at the bottom of the rankings and probably could not defeat anyone except a ranger.
Only after summoning the endlessly versatile Spirit Sword and gaining access to powerful sword magic did the class truly become formidable.
Millicent had a feeling that once her maximum Shehai reached one hundred, she might be able to attempt manifesting her Spirit Sword.
That meant she needed more battles.
"Skyl, I need to keep moving."
The swordswoman had always been decisive. After bidding Skyl farewell, she immediately prepared to continue on her way.
"Wait."
"What is it?" Millicent spun around at once. No matter the circumstances, Skyl always came first in her mind.
"Eat before you leave. A short delay won't hurt."
...
The closer Millicent came to the lowest reaches of the Haligtree and to the demigod Malenia, the more severe the signs of Scarlet Rot became.
Everything along the way seemed to prove that the broken woman who had been afflicted by Scarlet Rot since birth was now close to completely degenerating into an incarnation of the Rot itself.
Millicent felt increasingly anxious. She feared that if she arrived too late, she would no longer be able to return the pride and dignity Malenia had entrusted to her.
She crossed through the city walls and approached the drainage channel beneath Elphael. The stagnant pools there had turned a muddy reddish brown, filled with concentrated Scarlet Rot. Even brief contact with bare skin risked infection. Once the Rot took root inside the body, its victim was guaranteed a hideous fate.
The environment was appalling. The air reeked, and Kindred of Rot could be seen everywhere. These twisted creatures stood slightly over six feet tall and resembled horrifying combinations of house centipedes, millipedes, and other many-legged insects. They also bore some resemblance to mantis shrimp, earning them the nickname "shrimp-bugs." Rows of long, withered arms lined both sides of their bodies, making them look like monstrous aberrations stitched together from corpses.
The moment a Kindred of Rot noticed an intruder, it attacked without mercy.
They wielded Pest's Glaives made from sharpened shell, moved with astonishing speed, and struck with vicious precision. Their unnatural anatomy made every movement unpredictable. Their most disgusting and terrifying attack, however, was Pest Threads. They launched swarms of homing, bone-like filaments from their backs with enough force to pierce stone slabs. The projectiles were fast, numerous, and relentless, like being targeted by an entire swarm of attack drones.
Millicent was quite familiar with them. In fact, there had once been a time when they were practically her "friends."
Back then, Scarlet Rot had lived within her body, giving off a scent that filled the Kindred with ecstasy. The creatures had worshiped Millicent as though she were a goddess.
What they truly worshiped, however, was the Rot and Malenia, who embodied it.
Now Millicent wanted to kill every last one of them and leave none alive. She wanted those abominations to burn in Hell's poisonous flames for ten thousand years, until nothing remained but ashes.
Her Shamshir severed the pale gray head of a Kindred of Rot. Its tenacious vitality kept its pincer-like mouthparts opening and closing, stubbornly resisting death like the jaws of a decapitated snake.
The pools were filled with enormous, revolting eggs resembling swollen sores, along with newly hatched Rot Larvae.
"I should have asked Skyl to come along and blast all this filth into the sky with a Fireball..." Millicent muttered to herself.
Holding her breath, she stepped onto one of the massive branches that wound throughout the Haligtree and hurried toward the drainage channel's exit.
A sharp hiss cut through the air.
Dozens of Pest Threads shot toward her from behind.
Millicent leaped into the air and twisted her body, evading the tiny projectiles. The short bone spines swept past her sides like gusts of wind.
Her judgment of the distance was so precise that they did not even tear her clothing.
She landed on a branch and turned to look behind her.
The attacker was not a Kindred of Rot, but a young woman.
She stood on another branch a short distance away, wearing the same kind of traveling coat as Millicent. One glance was enough to identify her as another outsider who had forced her way into this place.
Millicent could hardly believe that she had encountered a stranger in such a remote and perilous area.
"Who are you? Why did you attack me?"
The young woman did not answer. She remained motionless, standing like a corpse.
Three more women wearing similar clothing emerged onto the surrounding branches, bringing their total number to four. Each carried a different weapon, but their appearances and clothing all bore a noticeable resemblance to Millicent.
"Do I know you?" Millicent asked. "I'm sorry, but I've lost my memories of the past. If we were once friends, perhaps we could sit down and talk."
The woman carrying a scythe answered her.
"We are your sisters. We all came from the same source, Millicent. We were born in the Swamp of Aeonia and taken in and raised by our foster father. We were born to fulfill a purpose, but you betrayed us.
"You are the most exceptional among us. Our foster father is deeply disappointed in you. If you insist on abandoning the warmth of the Scarlet Rot, then we have no choice but to kill you."
"Who is this foster father you keep mentioning?"
Millicent felt deeply troubled. Memories of the time when Scarlet Rot had infested her body rippled across her mind like stagnant water disturbed by something lurking beneath the surface. They clung to her like leeches that had swollen to monstrous size without her noticing. Even now, the fear they brought left her restless and uneasy.
"Join us, Millicent. Embrace the Scarlet Rot and blossom into the most beautiful flower of Aeonia. When the Goddess of Rot descends upon this world, all of us will become Valkyries beneath her banner. That day is close. You must not be absent."
The woman produced a golden needle. The suspicious flecks of red rust covering its point immediately set off every warning instinct in Millicent's mind.
She absolutely could not allow that needle to pierce her.
Before she could give an answer, all four women charged with their weapons raised.
Millicent had no choice but to let the sword in her hand speak for her. Its words were forged from iron, uncompromising, unstoppable, and incapable of retreat.
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