NOVEL NEXT Chapter 92: No False Pomises
chime rang in the silence, clear and resonant, cutting through the fading echoes of the serpent's death throes.
A translucent screen shimmered before Ethan's vision.
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[System Notification]
Venomfang Molter – Killed
Level: 38
Rank: Peak B
Experience Gained: 45,679
Skill Points Earned: 60,000 (shared)
---
Ethan's breath steadied. The glow of the screen reflected in his blood-smeared eyes as the details scrolled past.
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[Ethan Cross]
Level: 11
XP: 139,135 / 179,030
[Lirael Vaerune]
Level Up! → Level 10
XP: 85,977 / 78,235 (overflow stored until class assignment)
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Ethan lowered his blade, the golden glow gone now, leaving only the dark, light-absorbing metal of Duskfang. His arms shook with fatigue. His chest rose and fell in ragged bursts, every breath reminding him of bruised ribs and venom-stung muscles.
Across the clearing, the massive body of the Venomfang Molter twitched once more, then lay still. Its lifeless coils sprawled over shattered roots and bent trees, blood soaking into the moss beneath.
Lirael descended from her perch in the trees, landing lightly despite her exhaustion. She pushed a stray lock of hair back, eyes still wide as she studied him.
"You… did it," she breathed.
Ethan gave a half-smile, shaking his head. "We did it. Those arrows of yours kept me alive."
Her lips curved faintly, but her gaze lingered on his blade. "That power you used. That was aura."
He glanced at the dark sword, fingers tightening on the hilt. The memory of that golden sheen lingered—so vivid, so overwhelming—and then gone, leaving only questions.
"…Whatever it was," he said quietly, "it saved us. I'll figure it out later."
The two of them stood there for a moment in the settling quiet, the system's afterglow still hanging faintly in the air. For the first time since stepping into the clearing, they could breathe without the stench of venom choking their lungs.
But Ethan knew one thing with certainty. This was no ordinary victory.
It was the first step into something greater.
Ethan dismissed the glowing screen with a tired blink, but the numbers still hovered in his thoughts.
Fhew… that takes care of her bloodline awakening, he mused, eyes flicking briefly toward Lirael, who was brushing dirt from her cloak. And we'll still have plenty left for stats, even after spending some on potions or other consumables…
That thought reminded him of something far more pressing.
He looked down at himself.
His armor, once polished, was now dented and cracked, the reinforced plates along his shoulders warped from the serpent's coils. His tunic beneath was shredded and bloodstained, his skin mottled with dark bruises. Thin cuts ran across his arms, and worse—patches of flesh and leather alike had corroded where venom mist had clung, leaving angry red burns that throbbed with heat.
"...Yeah, no wonder I feel like a corpse," he muttered.
With a grimace, he pulled up the system interface and purchased a mid-tier healing potion. A vial shimmered into existence in his hand, glass cool against his bloodied palm. Without ceremony, he uncorked it and downed the contents in a single pull.
The effect was immediate. A cool rush spread through his veins, dulling pain and knitting torn flesh. The angry burns calmed, bruises faded, and the ache in his chest eased until only a ghost of discomfort remained. Even his breathing steadied, strength seeping back into his limbs.
He let out a long exhale, rolling his shoulder experimentally.
"Better. Much better."
The battered state of his armor told another story—it would need repairs before the next hunt—but for now, at least, he was whole.
Ethan exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck.
"We definitely need a healer in our party… If things keep going like this, the system's going to rip me off completely just keeping me in one piece."
A quiet pause, then Lirael's voice brushed into his mind, faint and teasing but edged with something sharper.
'Hmm? Another party member? With all those secrets of yours… you'd probably need another slave, so they don't go blabbing about them…' Her voice trailed off.
Ethan arched a brow. "...Another slave, huh?"
Her eyes widened. "Wait—you're actually considering it?! she shouted." Then, realizing her own outburst, she faltered, lowering her gaze. "No… wait. Yes. You're right. We do need another member. Like this, we're far too unbalanced."
But then, her voice shifted again, sharp as a blade. She looked at him with narrowed eyes, a flush creeping into her cheeks.
"And knowing you… you'd probably want another pillow for your other side, wouldn't you?"
The accusation hit harder than her arrows. Ethan actually flinched, caught red-handed by a thought he hadn't even said aloud.
"…ouch."
Lirael's glare stayed fixed on him, though her ears betrayed her—glowing red at the tips. She clenched her fists, then mumbled so quietly he almost missed it.
"…I'll allow it."
Ethan blinked. "What?"
Her voice snapped louder, flustered. "I said I'll allow it! Don't ask me again!" Then, softer—almost trembling: "But…"
Ethan tilted his head. "But?"
Her eyes flickered away, lashes lowering. "…Promise me you won't start treating me differently."
For a moment, Ethan just stared at her—utterly dumbfounded. What in the world was this girl even talking about?
Her unease was written in every line of her face. She wasn't just worried about another party member. She was worried about her place beside him.
Ethan reached out without thinking, taking her hand gently but firmly. Her startled eyes shot up to meet his.
After a heartbeat of silence,
Ethan held her hand tighter, his thumb brushing lightly across her knuckles. Her skin was warm, trembling ever so slightly, and for once she didn't pull away. His gaze locked on hers, voice low and steady, carrying a weight that felt different from his usual teasing confidence.
"Lirael… you're not just my companion. You're not just someone bound to me by a system or circumstance. You're… special to me. I don't ever want you to doubt that."
Somewhere in his time in this world, he started to look at Lirael in a different way, maybe it was his experience from his world or was it because she was something unique that Ethan had witnessed and her pure attachment to him that he felt that way.
Her breath caught, ocean eyes widening as though she didn't know whether to believe him—or to be swept away by the earnestness in his tone. Ethan leaned in slightly, his words growing softer, almost intimate.
"And as long as I live, you'll be the only one—"
Before he could finish, her slender finger pressed against his lips, halting the words in his throat.
She was staring at him—flushed, conflicted, yet sharp in her perception. A faint, shaky laugh escaped her, though it held no humor.
"Do I look like a fool to you?" she whispered. Her eyes wavered but didn't break away. "The only one? No… I'm not naive enough to believe that. More will come. And I'm sure…" her voice faltered, softening into something fragile, "…you'll love them too. Just as much as me."
She drew in a deep breath, lowering her finger slowly, her lashes falling to shadow her expression. "So don't give me false promises, Ethan. I don't want lies… even sweet ones."
The words lingered between them, heavy and delicate all at once. Lirael turned her head away, biting back whatever else she might have said, her hand slipping free from his.
Ethan stood there in silence, lips tingling where her touch had been. Her words echoed in his mind, leaving him restless and thoughtful, unable to deny the truth she had seen in him.
For the first time in a long while, he didn't have a ready answer.