Catgirls And Dungeons
Chapter 234: Gamble

Chapter 234: Gamble

"WHAT?! NO—IMPOSSIBLE!!!"

Lucian’s voice cracked with disbelief.

He thrashed.

He screamed.

He couldn’t comprehend it, couldn’t understand it.

At Ereskia’s current state, at her level of mana and exhaustion, she should’ve only been able to use Sheol once. That devastating slash from before... that was supposed to be it!

There was no way she could summon the sword again, no way it could still be charged, glowing with energy, as if the first attack had never even been unleashed!

Then how?

How the sword still charged with energy, like the attack had never been unleashed?!

But in the end, he would never be able to know the answer anymore.

Because...

SLASH!!!

Ereskia swung Sheol wide, the black blade howling through the air like the reaper’s scythe, aimed straight at Lucian’s neck.

Azazel’s Guard shifted its form to protect him, but Ereskia’s chain of darkness had now obstructed its formation. The armor formed a fraction of second too late. And even if it did form in time, Sheol, at this range, in this moment, would still able to carved through it like paper

A single breath passed.

A heartbeat.

Then—

A sickening, wet sound tore through the air, followed by a splatter.

Szztt...

A geyser of blood exploded from Lucian’s throat.

His mouth opened wide in stunned silence, a gurgling gasp caught in his chest.

And then—his head detached.

THUD.

The head hit the ground with a dull, final crack.

His body followed, collapsing forward, blood gushing from the stump, pooling fast beneath him.

_______________________

Victory...

A heavy silence fell over the ruined battlefield.

"Sister!" Larpard cried out as he stumbled forward, dragging his battered body toward Ereskia with all the strength he had left.

He caught her just in time, her body already limp, on the verge of collapsing face-first into the bloodstained floor.

His arms wrapped around her carefully, cradling her like something sacred, something fragile that could shatter at the slightest touch.

His eyes were soaked, completely drowned in tears.

But there was no time to cry.

No time for grief.

He gently lowered her to the ground, laying her on her side as carefully as he could, as if even a single wrong move would break her for good.

And then, his hands trembling as he scrambled through their inventory. Throwing aside torn cloth, empty vials, and other stuff, he searched desperately, for anything that could help.

A potion. A bandage.

And then, his fingers brushed against a vial.

He took it out. And there it was, a crimson-gold potion that cost them a fortune two days ago, stashed for emergency use before ever stepping foot inside this cursed dungeon.

He rushed back to her, pulled off the stopper with his teeth, and leaned in.

But—

"Larpard..." Ereskia murmured, her lips barely moving.

Her eyes fluttered open, just a sliver, heavy with exhaustion.

"I did it..." she whispered.

Her voice was like a dying breeze, thin and fragile, so small that it barely made any sound.

And yet... a smile tugged at her lips.

"Haha... am I... super cool?"

From the very beginning, Ereskia had known.

Lucian was no fool.

There had to be more to him, something he kept hidden. A trump card, maybe? A final, merciless ace up his sleeve.

After all, what kind of madman would stand so confidently... so smugly... even when facing Sheol, the Sword of the End?

No. That arrogance wasn’t empty.

That certainty had to come from something, some contingency, some secret defense he had never shown.

Ereskia didn’t know about his Azazel’s guard then. But she still prepared.

And so, she took a gamble. A brutal, reckless, all-or-nothing gamble.

That devastating strike she launched earlier, the one stopped by Azazel’s Guard? The one that had looked like Sheol’s ultimate power?

Turns out, it wasn’t Sheol at all.

That was merely a normal slash with the sword, a deliberate deception, one last desperate trick.

However, to be able to make it believable, Ereskia had to pay another great price: her final, only mana ring left.

And thus, she sacrificed her final mana ring, her last reserve, crushed and spent all in one motion to boost that attack to unimaginable level.

All of it, just to sell the illusion, to make Lucian believe the sword had been emptied, that the divine wrath of Sheol had already been unleashed.

And then... the bait.

The sword she had let fall to the ground wasn’t Sheol, but a replica, crafted through her own magic and swapped with a quick sleight of hand. Because both blades were pitch black, the fake looked like Sheol, felt like it, so real that even Lucian was fooled.

And so, when he held that fake in his grip, victory in his eyes, his guard lowered ever so slightly, that was when she struck.

That was the moment she unleashed the real Sheol, fully charged, unrestrained, hungry for divine retribution.

Just as his defenses were at their weakest...

Just as he believed he had already won.

And somehow...

By the thinnest margin, she had won that gamble.

"Please! Don’t talk!" Larpard scolded, his voice trembling as he knelt beside her. "Just drink this—it’ll help with the pain!"

"Alright..." Ereskia whispered, barely audible.

She did her best to raise her head, taking the vial he offered. The potion’s bitter scent stung her nose, but she forced herself to drink.

Only half the vial went down before—

Cough.

She choked, sputtering.

"Sister!" Larpard cried out, alarmed, his hands darting forward to steady her.

"Hey, don’t worry..." Ereskia coughed again, her voice a soft murmur. A weak smile touched her lips. "It just tastes terrible... that’s all..."

"Ha..." Larpard let out a shaky breath, part relief, part exhaustion. "You scared me."

He pulled her gently into his arms, holding her close, his grip firm as if to anchor her to the world. His other hand found hers, squeezing it tightly.

And Ereskia, like a weary but obedient kitten, grimaced, then finished the rest of that disgusting potion.