Arthur the Disgraced (IV)

Arthur gasped, clamping a hand over his mouth as he stumbled back to Du Chen's side, clutching the iron bars and retching uncontrollably. "How utterly brutal!"

"What in the blazes happened?" Du Chen asked, also moving towards the cabin door.

"Francis!" Arthur seized his arm, then clutched his chest, gasping for breath. "Be careful," he warned, "it's gruesome out there."

"Don't worry, I've seen my share of bloody spectacles!" Du Chen reassured him, then eased the cabin door open a crack. A single glance was enough to send a shiver down his spine.

Beyond the door stretched a mahogany corridor, typical of seafaring vessels. Yet, its walls were grotesquely adorned with corpses! Each body was impaled to the bulkhead by long drum-nails, used for securing cargo during voyages. And every last one had been flayed.

Their demise mirrored Frith's—the Flaying and Shrouding Rite!

Damn it, his Guardian Battle God had been here!

Du Chen's mind raced. The Flaying Battle God hadn't appeared during his skirmish with the Thorned Beast, nor had he intervened during Du Chen's capture. This could only mean one thing: the Guardian Battle God had discovered his disappearance, pursued his captors, and then ruthlessly slaughtered the assassins on this vessel.

Regardless, with the Flaying Battle God having made his move, Du Chen was certainly out of immediate danger.

Du Chen let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Behind him, Arthur began to retch violently. Du Chen turned, patting Arthur's back. "Everyone out there is dead," he said. "Stay here and rest. I'll go take a look."

"M-m-mm, just be careful, eugh..." Arthur managed, punctuated by another heave.

Arthur, who had never witnessed such a gruesome sight, felt his insides churn like a tempest-tossed ocean. He could only nod, utterly speechless.

Du Chen cautiously stepped out of the cabin. A quick glance revealed at least a dozen bodies littering the corridor. The closer ones were relatively intact, but those further down were... melting!

Drip! Drop!

The corpses were dissolving into putrid sludge, dripping onto the floor with a muffled, viscous sound.

"Damn it, destroying evidence!" Du Chen cursed, quickening his pace and sprinting out of the corridor. On the deck, he found more than a dozen puddles of dark-greenish sludge, but not a single corpse remained—they had all completely melted away.

The whistling sea breeze swept across the deck. Du Chen turned his head, scanning his surroundings. The ship was anchored amidst a cluster of reefs, not far from the coast of Battle God Isle. Eerily quiet, not a soul was in sight.

Du Chen circled the deck, noting that the lifeboat-dinghy was still suspended from the ship's side. He walked over to it, simultaneously reaching into his pocket for the small blade he kept there. But as his fingers brushed the contents, he discovered a piece of cloth tied to something.

He pulled out the strip of cloth. Written on it in blood, in the common tongue of the Aethelgard Continent, was a line of small script.

"The assassins who saw you have all been 'dealt with'. Sever ties with that boy immediately. He has too many troubles; if you stay with him, I might not even be able to protect you!" Du Chen flipped the cloth strip. The other side continued: "I had intended for you to live a lifetime as a normal person, but who would have thought you would manifest a Heaven-Bestowed Hydro-Body! Continue on your path to Battle Godhood; I will come for you in a while!"

Du Chen reread the cloth strip several times, flipping it back and forth. The handwriting was identical to the signature on the letter that had accompanied the necklace he'd received previously. Without a doubt, this was from the Flaying Battle God.

"Arthur," Du Chen muttered, "the people hunting you are causing my Guardian Battle God so much trouble he's actually complaining! Looks like you're quite the magnet for chaos!" Du Chen destroyed the note, then used his blade to sever the rope securing the lifeboat. He called out loudly, "Arthur, come out! Everyone outside is dead!"

Arthur emerged, his face ashen. "Francis, the corpses in the corridor have melted!"

"Yes, I saw," Du Chen replied, leaping into the lifeboat first. "Let's go, quickly!"

Arthur followed, scrambling into the dinghy. "Who saved us, exactly?" he asked, a puzzled frown creasing his brow. "Francis, do you know?"

Du Chen shrugged. "Regrettably, I was just about to ask you the same question." With that, he handed Arthur an oar, and the two began to row towards the shore.

As he rowed, Du Chen mused, the Flaying Battle God was right. Arthur was far too much trouble. Their encounter was a mere chance meeting; there was no need for him to share in Arthur's misfortunes. He needed to find a way to distance himself from the boy.

Just as he was pondering this, Arthur spoke up. "Francis, I believe it must have been my grandfather's secret protectors. Sigh, I've dragged you into this mess. Fortunately, all the assassins on the ship are dead. I... I think it would be better if we parted ways!" He looked at Du Chen apologetically, explaining, "Please don't misunderstand, it's not that I don't want to be your friend, it's just... I have too many troubles around me, and I'm afraid I'll implicate you again."

*This kid is shrewd enough to say exactly what I was thinking!* Du Chen inwardly mused, then smiled. "I understand completely. In that case, we'll part ways as soon as we reach shore. Anyway, all the assassins who saw me are dead, so as long as I'm not with you, I won't be in danger. But you should also be very careful!"

"Thank you," Arthur said, appreciating Du Chen's concern. "Once ashore, I'll go find my Guardian Battle God. I owe him an apology." He then added, "Once all my troubles are resolved, we can still be friends, right?"

"Heh heh, of course!" Du Chen extended his hand.

Back on shore, the two immediately parted ways. Arthur set off to find his Guardian Battle God. Du Chen, to his surprise, found that the running portion of the Intensive Training was still ongoing. Glancing at the sky, he noted it was past midnight, and many Battle Mages with weaker constitutions were still desperately running.

By his reckoning, only a few hours had passed from his capture to his escape.

The Flaying Battle God certainly worked with swift efficiency.

Du Chen feigned nonchalance and rejoined the runners. When the final scores were tallied, he was astonishingly still ranked in the middle tier among the three thousand new students.

When the sun finally rose, Du Chen and most of the other candidates were gathered in Battle God Square, where the training had commenced. However, most of the students were too exhausted to even stand. Dean Ricardo, the Black-faced Devil, stood on a high platform, bellowing, "Excellent! You are all exemplary! However, three hundred and twenty-seven of you failed to complete ten laps before sunrise! Your score for this segment is ZERO!!"

"Damn it, this training is utterly inhumane!" Steve gasped, collapsing beside Du Chen and panting heavily. "No wonder they call him the Black-faced Devil!"

"Forget about it, elder brother," Du Chen chuckled. "This is just the beginning. We still have a whole month of this!"

Ricardo bellowed again, "I heard someone call me the Black-faced Devil! Good! I like that title! Now, I shall let you hear what a *true* Black-faced Devil sounds like!" His dark face twisted into a menacing grin. "The second phase of training begins! For the next three days, you will remain in this square. You are permitted to drink water, but eating is strictly forbidden! Anyone caught using their battle qi to ward off hunger will be immediately expelled!"

"Gods above!" the students wailed in despair.

"Let those who wish to cry out, do so loudly!" Dean Ricardo roared with laughter. "In three days, you won't even have the strength to whimper!" He then gestured for his subordinates to cordon off the square.

"Heh heh!" Steve tugged Du Chen's arm, whispering conspiratorially, "Thanks to your tip, I've got beef jerky hidden in my boots... Huh? Oh, dear brother, a beauty is looking for you. I'll leave you to it!" He turned and quickly made himself scarce.

Not far away, Helen, looking slightly pale, was walking towards Du Chen. "Francis, you were clearly ahead of me on the seventh lap. How did your final score end up lower than mine?"