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

“Pointing here?”

Muen stared at the direction the chain indicated, and his eyelid immediately began twitching like mad.

In the deep corridor, those deformed, corrupted lines kept writhing. Perhaps because they had “noticed” Muen’s gaze, some of the wrist-like grotesque tissues grew even more frenzied and chaotic, as if pumped full of stimulants...

Muen’s pleading eyes returned to his wrist again, hoping this was just his imagination.

No, seriously, we just barely escaped the tiger’s jaws, and now you want me to go pet its butt?

Do we have to jump straight to nightmare difficulty? Compared to this, it honestly feels like the survival rate would be higher if I tried to grope Ariel’s butt instead.

But no matter how Muen fiddled with his wrist or shifted position, that thin chain stayed nailed in place, unwaveringly pointing in the direction ‘It’ had left.

“Looks like this really isn’t a good choice.”

Peles stroked her hazy chin and considered. “Following right behind ‘It’ like this—even I can’t guarantee a hundred percent we won’t be noticed.”

Ariel was more direct. Her are you fucking kidding me glare stabbed viciously into Muen’s forehead.

“Th-that... yeah, it does look pretty unreliable...”

Muen scratched his head awkwardly and gave a sheepish grin. “But right now... this seems to be the only path available.”

The direction had been indicated. Whether to go or not was a personal choice.

But if they didn’t go, they’d be nothing more than headless flies blundering around this tower—so what had they nearly died to reach this place for?

So in reality, no matter how dangerous, they could only grit their teeth and choose this path.

“Well?”

Peles crossed her arms and glanced toward Ariel.

“Still going?”

“...What kind of sin did I commit in a past life.”

After a stretch of silence, Ariel let out a grief-stricken sigh and glared at Muen even harder. “What are you standing there for? Do I have to clear the way myself?”

“O-okay.”

Muen didn’t dare delay and took the lead.

Under ‘It’s’ pollution, the walls and floor here had completely lost their former metallic nature. Instead they resembled some kind of flesh. Stepping on them produced a disturbingly soft give.

It wasn’t comfortable. It was nauseating—like walking inside the stomach of some enormous creature.

Muen quickly reached the passage entrance, cast a light spell to illuminate the deep corridor, then plunged straight in.

The twisted wrist-like tendrils seemed to sense the presence of living flesh. Newly grown mouthparts screeched and lunged savagely toward Muen.

Ssss—

Flames spread, instantly engulfing the malformed things.

“Thanks.”

“Less talk.”

Following behind him, Ariel said coldly, “Say or do something that actually matters.”

“....”

Muen swallowed the habitual sweet talk—words that would have delighted eighty percent of girls on earth—and continued scanning the surroundings with cautious focus.

“Looks like the pollution hasn’t faded at all.”

“I’m not blind.”

“No, what I mean is: if pollution doesn’t naturally disappear—or only extremely slowly—why have we only seen it along ‘Its’ trail so far?” Muen flicked a glance back at Ariel, not far behind him. “This tower looks large, but not that large. As long as this residual image of ‘It’ has been wandering inside it—even just in one region—the pollution should eventually have spread throughout the whole tower.”

“....”

Ariel froze, then fell into thought. “You’re right.”

The pollution of an Evil God was notoriously difficult to remove and inherently “contagious.”

Within the Church, the Silent Bureau, and all organizations across the continent that dealt with Evil Gods, post-contamination cleanup was always an extremely complex and painstaking process.

It might be an influence on an individual or collective psyche, or a derivative creation born under an Evil God’s immense authority. In short... a nightmare. One mistake could bring catastrophic consequences.

Ordinarily, because of the world barrier, Evil Gods could not descend into the world. Their pollution could only affect it indirectly—most commonly through “believers.”

But ‘It’ was different.

Because whether in the histories Muen and Ariel knew or in what they themselves had witnessed not long ago, one fact stood out unmistakably...

‘It’ was a special existence that had truly descended into this world.

So even a “residual image” carried the most direct pollution—requiring no medium at all.

“Based on my guess, there are currently two possibilities.”

A prickling intuitive pain still battered Muen’s senses—the surrounding distortions trying frantically to pierce his flesh and spread their corruption into him.

But for him now, this level of pollution was useless. If anything, it made the Black Flame inside him stir with obvious excitement.

“First possibility: this tower has some ability to isolate pollution. So even after a thousand years, the contamination caused by ‘It’ has remained confined to fixed areas.” Muen stabbed several lingering malformed things, severing them completely.

“Possible. It’s a thousand-year-old structure—having that capability wouldn’t be strange.” Ariel nodded. “And the second?”

“The second...”

Muen’s eyes flashed. “This pollution is also part of the residual image.”

“What does that mean?” Ariel frowned.

“Doesn’t it feel strange?”

“Strange? What part?” Ariel looked him up and down. “You mean the part where an adult male is talking to me while wearing a woman’s body?”

“...Let me drink a potion first.”

“You sure drinking now won’t let the distortion here contaminate it and alter the effect?”

“...Fine.”

Muen sighed in resignation. “What I meant is these malformed things.”

“Malformed things?”

“Don’t you think it’s absurd?”

He skewered a piece of writhing tendril on his blade. Even severed, it twisted continuously, bursting with unbelievable vitality.

“This place was originally a laboratory built of cold steel. But now even the walls have been polluted and transformed into grotesque flesh structures. Even if this is ‘Its’ pollution, doesn’t that seem a bit too horrifying?”

“You think ‘It’ can’t do that?”

“No—‘It’ probably can. I’ve already seen another Evil God turn inanimate matter into living tissue. But isn’t this happening too fast?”

Muen narrowed his eyes.

From one end of sight to the other—only the places ‘It’ had passed through had undergone such natural, unimaginable distortion.

Of course, for an Evil God, “distortion” was normal. But this degree and extremity of transformation shouldn’t be.

Unless the Mother of Abundance had again personally descended with her authority.

“So this state feels more like...”

“Overlap?”

Ariel suddenly understood. “The overlap of real and false—reality and residual image?”

“I said this is only my second hypothesis.”

Muen spread his hands. “So no need to react that strongly. Maybe it’s like the first—just because there’s some—”

“Pretty smart, little brother.”

Behind them, Peles drifted up from Ariel’s ring like a lingering spirit.

“Your guess is about eighty to ninety percent correct.”

“Can you not call me little brother? I’m not little at all—huh?”

Muen’s expression froze. “You mean... my guess was right?”

“Of course.”

Peles nodded, then said meaningfully, “If I were you, I’d take one step back right now.”

Muen jolted and instantly leapt backward.

BOOM!

Brushing right past the augmented, full curves Ariel’s magitech had added to his form, a terrifying surge tore through the wall and swallowed the entire corridor of malformed flesh before him.

Muen’s pupils slowly dilated. Violent wind whipped his hair as he once again wore an expression of raw terror.

...Because in that instant, the view opened.

He saw cramped stone dwellings below, packed together like stacked blocks. He saw shattered fog, and within it the corrupted corpses dissolving into ash. The region before him looked as though some gigantic prehistoric beast had bitten a chunk out of it, leaving a vast breach through which the outside of the tower was visible.

And most importantly—

He saw an enormous number—at least hundreds, perhaps thousands—of robed figures floating in the air not far away, their faces obscured by writhing static noise.

The wave that had torn the tower came from those static figures.

“N-no way...”

Muen felt his legs actually going weak. Not from fear of heights—but because, as the firsthand witness who’d sacrificed his dignity to save Ariel, he knew exactly how terrifying those static figures were.

They had forced Ariel to unleash a desperate ultimate move just to barely escape. Their strength absolutely surpassed Zagu.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

Ariel cautiously peeked out from behind Muen—and went slack-jawed.

“Th-this many? A-and... these feel even stronger than the one I fought before...”

“Stronger?”

Muen clearly heard himself gulp. “You’re joking.”

“Not joking. You can tell from the aura alone. If I had to compare...”

Ariel thought, then said, “The one before was just their elderly and wounded trash-clearing unit. These—these are the real elites meant for the final boss!!”

“....”

Muen’s vision went dark.

Elites?

Hundreds—thousands—of elites?

Since when could the word elite be used together with thousands?

What kind of boss required deploying this many absolute monsters? Some world-ending—

Suddenly, like a bolt of current, realization struck him.

Furious magic surged like an ocean. Ancient sorcery twisted space. A thousand ragged robes snapped like war banners in a storm. Even the slightest leakage from their fingertips annihilated vast matter before Muen.

This formation was obviously not here to crush two pitiful bugs like them.

Which meant their true target was—

Muen slowly turned his head, instinctively about to look toward the center of the static figures...

“Don’t look. You should know better.”

Peles’s voice pulled him back from that strange attraction.

“You don’t have their isolation methods. You’re not qualified to directly behold ‘It’ yet.”

“So...”

“Exactly what you think.”

“But why?”

“Simple. Those static figures you see—including this entire battle—are all residual images. A vast, magnificent residual image. A reenactment of ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) the terrible battle that truly occurred here a thousand years ago.” Peles sighed softly, like mourning—or chanting a lament.

“Re... enactment.”

Muen chewed on the word.

What kind of power, what kind of unforgettable war, could still replay itself here after a thousand years—again and again?

So this was that era. This was... ‘It.’

“No wonder...”

Ariel also grasped it quickly.

“When the static figures appeared, they casually crushed many corrupted ones. So they were never on the same side. Just...”

“Just?”

“...Nothing.”

Ariel frowned slightly. She remembered that when the static figure fought her earlier, it had shouted things like “warrior—die—.”

Strange words. But if these static figures were ancient mages from a thousand years ago—and most mages naturally despised brute fighters—then the words weren’t so strange after all.

In any case, Ariel chose not to mention it now. With their thoughts already tangled and directionless, raising it would only add pointless confusion.

She’d bring it up later when there was a chance.

“But speaking of it—if everything here is a residual image of a great battle, then there’s another thing I find very interesting.” Ariel suddenly changed the topic.

“Another thing?”

“Right.”

She stepped forward to stand beside Muen and looked down.

Even inverted, the tower’s tip was over a hundred meters above ground. They were roughly mid-level, and it still looked like a drop that would flatten a person into paste.

Of course, that meant little to her. She’d fallen from higher.

“Why do you think this tower is upside down?”

“Why upside down? That’s a tough one.”

Muen thought. “Symbolism? Ancient architectural style? Landmark monument? There are too many possibilities.”

“No—it’s easy to guess. From my experience clearing multiple ancient ruins, in a core area like this, every structure’s shape has purpose. Nothing is built randomly.”

Ariel said, “For example, if I discover a suddenly appearing giant monster statue in a ruin, the probability it will later come alive and smash me is ninety-nine percent. Trust me—I’ve experienced this more than once.”

“....”

That... sounded disturbingly convincing.

“So this inverted tower appearing here must also have meaning?”

“Exactly. And since this is a battlefield—if you widen your thinking, doesn’t it resemble...”

Ariel suddenly drew her Skyfire greatsword and slammed it downward.

The blade pierced the flesh-like ground, its tip emerging from the hollow space beyond—

Just like this tower, inverted downward from above the earth!

Muen’s eyes lit.

“A weapon! This tower is a weapon!”

At that moment an image rose in his mind—

Countless mighty beings locked in mortal combat, blood drenching the land—then a colossal spear reaching the heavens—this tower—piercing through unknown depths of earth and, wrapped in endless radiance, pinning down... ‘It.’

Tilting the balance of that battle slightly toward humanity.

“In any case, like what you said before, this is only speculation. There’s no evidence yet,” Ariel said, pulling Skyfire free and sheathing it.

Don’t overthink, don’t overthink—and yet she’d thought so much. As if only by filling her mind with enough ideas could she drown the painful thoughts from before.

So annoying.

“No.”

Muen gave a bright, handsome smile that seemed to dispel even gloom. “This idea is extremely useful. As expected of you. I’d never have considered this angle. Following this line, I might also understand a bit why we were brought here.”

“...Then what next?”

“Next...”

Muen’s smile froze yet again.

Easy to say—but the problem now was...

Roars, thunder, and strange noise echoed through the black underground space. Terrifying battle shockwaves howled through, whipping Muen’s hair into chaos.

Yes—the problem was their path forward had been completely cut off by those aftershocks. Where was he supposed to go next?

He couldn’t just jump down from here... haha. Jokes are only funny once.

“Regarding that question—didn’t the thing on your wrist already give the answer?”

Peles again offered her perfectly timed hint.

Muen eagerly looked at his wrist—

—and instantly went from ecstatic to deeply miserable.

Because the chain had changed direction.

Now it pointed downward.

It really was that cliché.

But thinking carefully, the result wasn’t strange.

Because this was an overlap of residual image and reality. The residual image being swallowed by aftershocks didn’t necessarily mean reality below was gone.

Whether anything remained below could only be confirmed personally—like Schrödinger’s cat.

“Why do you always choose the hardest path out of countless options?”

Muen looked up at Ariel, on the verge of tears.

“So... you jump, I jump?”

“What kind of bird language is that?”

“You jump, I—AAAHHH!!”

Before Muen could finish his persuasive speech, he suddenly dropped in panicked free fall and vanished from sight. Ariel slowly lowered her leg.

“Too much nonsense.”

She stepped to the edge, letting the wind stir her hair, expression blank. Only the complex glints in her eyes gathered and deepened like a bottomless lake.

“Regretting it?” Peles asked gossipingly again.

Ariel didn’t answer. She only sighed.

“That hundred million is really hard to earn. So when you get chopped to death by me later, remember to wash yourself clean first—don’t dirty my hands.”

With that, Ariel also leapt, plunging into the unknown void below.