The Yellow-Haired Villain in Soaring Phoenix's Novels Also Desires Happiness

No hesitation was needed, no communication, no unnecessary words.

In that instant, facing those small suns rising into the air, everyone simultaneously drew upon their mana and battle aura, launching their strongest attacks toward the charging magic hounds.

If they just stood there dumbly and let those beasts actually complete that terrifying joint spell, even if they somehow managed to endure it, they’d be too exhausted afterward to face the rest of the pack’s assault.

There were simply too many of them. The ones casting spells now were only a fraction—behind them, more hounds were endlessly pouring out from the darkness.

And when facing an enemy that vastly outnumbered you, the moment you chose to retreat, it meant you were choosing to become meat on the butcher’s board—waiting to be carved apart.

That was why an active strike was a far better option than passive defense.

Only by doing that could they carve out even a sliver of a chance to win!

In an instant, endless mana and battle aura surged, dazzling magic and martial techniques erupted, overwhelming even the glow of those tiny suns and turning into a searing torrent of destruction.

Earthfire gushed, thunder exploded, gales roared, and shards of ice fell like rain.

With a thunderous roar, countless brilliant streams of light tore through the darkness, completely engulfing the magic hounds.

Turning his head, Muen felt a sharp pain in his eyes. Through the blinding light, he could only vaguely make out countless hounds being shredded in the torrent of destruction—but some still managed to slip through and unleash their spells. Beams clashed against beams, and the entire space felt as though the Little Boy and Fat Man had paid a cheerful visit together.

Muen, not skilled in large-scale spells or destructive attacks, didn’t rush in like an idiot with a sword. Instead, he simply tossed out several high-power magic devices he had bought earlier.

At a time like this, no one could afford to hold back. Besides, to him, those items weren’t such a big deal.

“Too bad I lost that storage ring.”

Muen couldn’t help sighing softly.

If he still had it—with the new-model military magic cannons and alchemical bombs he’d stored inside—just one concentrated strike on the stairway entrance could have pinned those hounds down for at least ten minutes, assuming the space itself could hold up under the bombardment.

“That should be enough to stall them for a while.”

Phil kicked away a flying hound carcass and glanced around, calculating their losses.

“How long exactly?” Anne’s tone was grim.

In the chaos just now, several people had been grazed by the hounds’ light beams, triggering their teleport scrolls and forcing them out of the field. The next wave would be even harder to withstand.

“Three minutes,” Phil said flatly.

“Maybe even less,” Margarita added.

“Those magic hounds may have come back °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° to life, but they’re not truly living things. Whether or not they feel pain, they definitely don’t have fear.”

Everyone’s faces changed.

They hadn’t noticed that before—but now that she said it, the realization was disastrous.

“So you mean, in three minutes—or less—we have to find a way to deal with that damned thing?”

Muen looked at the prisoner who was shakily standing up again and sighed softly.

“Sounds a bit too much to ask.”

The two earlier rounds of attacks had indeed revealed some of that creature’s properties—but only made it seem even more troublesome.

Their attacks did nothing. Its body was unbelievably hard, blades and bullets useless. Even hitting what should have been vital spots didn’t seem to matter at all.

It didn’t feel like a person anymore. More like...

“An alchemical device.”

A soft, springlike voice drifted over. Freya, serene as ever, appeared beside Muen with Brian—no longer blending into her shadow—and spoke gently:

“This person has indeed been turned into an alchemical device.”

“I thought you planned to keep watching from the sidelines.”

Muen cast her an expressionless glance.

“Muen, you always think so badly of me—it really hurts, you know,” Freya said pitifully. “I haven’t been slacking off.”

“Maybe,” he replied curtly. Time was short, and he had no interest in her theatrics. “What exactly do you mean by an alchemical device?”

“Just what the words mean.”

Freya drew out the eyeball-shaped orb—the replica of the All-Knowing Eye—and gave it a gentle shake toward the prisoner.

In an instant, countless golden runes surfaced on the prisoner’s body, wriggling about like dense clusters of tadpoles.

As those golden symbols appeared, Anne’s expression changed drastically. For the first time, the proud little girl lost her composure.

“It’s actually alchemy?!”

“Is that so shocking?” Muen frowned.

“Of course it is!” Anne’s eyes were wide, as if her worldview had just cracked. “This is alchemy! It’s the transformation of matter—but life and death aren’t part of that! This violates the very foundation of alchemy itself—”

“Don’t forget those hounds,” Muen interrupted softly.

“...”

Anne froze, her mouth opening but no words coming out.

Everything before them was indeed unbelievable.

But the power of gods had always defied reason—changing what humans held to be laws of the world was nothing to them.

“The prisoner before us has completely become an alchemical device. Judging by what’s happened so far, he seems linked to those magic hounds—basically, he’s the switch that controls them.”

Freya toyed with the replica of the All-Knowing Eye in her hand.

“In short, we can’t get around this thing. We have to face it head-on.”

“Cut the useless talk. Is there a way or not?”

The hounds were already charging again. Everyone tried to hold the line, but the numerical gap was overwhelming. Some had already broken through, rushing toward the few standing at the door.

Phil flicked her wrist; a giant black serpent appeared out of thin air and swallowed the hounds whole.

“We’re out of time.”

Silence fell. Everyone was deep in thought.

Freya, too, said nothing more.

Knowing what this creature truly was hadn’t made things any better—only worse.

If it were an enemy that could simply be killed, that would be easy. But a mere device—how were they supposed to destroy that?

“Monster.”

Suddenly, Liya—who hadn’t spoken since the beginning—tugged at Muen’s sleeve. She seemed to have noticed something.

“Those monsters.”

“What?”

“Muen, don’t you think? This person... he’s very similar to those twisted monsters we met before.”

“Monsters?” Muen blinked.

The prisoner before them certainly looked pitiful, but he didn’t think that thing was anything like the previous abominations.

They were clearly different.

“No, they’re the same. The soul feels the same.”

Liya stared straight at the prisoner, muttering as if to herself:

“So much pain. So much agony. His soul, just like the others we saw, is crying out in pain. Can’t you hear it? He’s begging for help—just like those souls before him—he’s begging for help.”

“Liya, what are you trying to say?”

“Purification!”

Liya’s voice rose.

“The same way we dealt with those monsters before—purify them, purify the soul!”

“Purify the soul...” Muen frowned. “But... last time, didn’t we have to kill them first before we could purify them?”

That was the problem. This thing in front of them couldn’t even be hurt. That was the headache—

“Why kill?”

Liya looked straight into Muen’s eyes and said softly,

“He’s already dead, isn’t he?”