The two of them climbed upward, one ahead and one behind.
The slope was steep and slippery, requiring caution with every step.
Wohard performed admirably.
Despite suffering burns, having been corroded in battle with the Slime King, his whole body covered in slime, and wearing ragged plate armor, he still climbed with ease.
Sovinia, in contrast, had emerged from the previous fight with her white robes spotless and hardly out of breath.
This was thanks to the Infinite Change Cards—once she played a card, she paid no cost, neither physical strength nor magic power.
But it was already the third time Sovinia had seen Wohard’s backside, his battered Lockmail Apron covering only half of his rear.
He still carried his axe in one hand, climbing the steep slope with the other, pausing now and then to wait for Sovinia.
Sovinia was not pleased and could only curse the bird claws in her heart.
But at this point, she could only urge her legs to climb upward, though her feet felt as heavy as lead and her arms were growing weak.
No matter how she tried, she couldn’t surpass Wohard.
“Sovinia, are you there?”
Sovinia instantly perked up, preparing a lie: “Here.”
Wohard said nothing more, continuing to climb the steep slope.
Unable to hold her tongue, Sovinia asked, “Did you call me for something?”
“I just wanted to make sure you’re keeping up.”
That sentence landed on her pride as the First Heavenly King like an iron boot.
Back in the day, this Heavenly King would have stomped and leapt up there in a heartbeat.
Sovinia took a deep breath, forcing her legs forward, but her body still felt weak, and she just couldn’t overtake Wohard.
***
About three-quarters up, Sovinia felt more and more uneasy.
A strange sensation rose from her abdomen.
It was unfamiliar—even as an old Demon Race member with a century of battle experience, Sovinia couldn’t recall feeling this before.
It was an empty, powerless feeling, making each step shaky.
Her stomach felt as if it were being stirred by an invisible hand, unpleasant in the extreme.
When she finally reached the top of the slope, Sovinia didn’t take Wohard’s outstretched hand, climbing up herself.
The strange sensation only became more pronounced.
What’s going on?
She frowned, stopping to steady herself against the rock wall.
Is this a curse? Or some kind of slow-acting toxin?
She recalled the battle—none of the Slime’s mucus had struck her directly.
The sensation had come without warning, and soon that emptiness intensified; her limbs grew weak and, for a moment, her vision blurred.
Wohard looked at her. “Are you all right, Lady Sovinia? Do you need to rest?”
His voice carried the fatigue of battle, but he was clearly better off than Sovinia.
“I feel… my strength is draining, my stomach is empty, and a little… dizzy. I suspect some kind of organization.”
Wohard listened intently, noting the slight pallor of Sovinia’s face and frowning.
He took two steps closer, carefully observing her state.
“Is it that sword?”
“No.”
“This kind of Demon Race curse, I’m not familiar with. Do you know anything about it?”
“No.”
“Then…” Wohard fell into thought.
Just then, a clear sound came from Sovinia’s belly.
“Gu——”
In the quiet at the top of the slope, it was perfectly audible.
Sovinia’s body stiffened instantly: “What’s this? Some curse’s precursor? That sound came from inside me!”
The heavy look on Wohard’s face vanished, replaced by surprise and sudden realization.
He paused, looked at Sovinia, sighed deeply, and shook his head.
***
Sovinia felt as if she’d witnessed all her enemies beheaded.
If she were stabbed in the back one more time, it’d be the same.
Sovinia said, “Go on, say it.”
“You’re just hungry.”
“Hungry?” Sovinia repeated the unfamiliar word. “Hungry? But I just finished a battle—and won.”
A century as a member of the Demon Race—too long for her.
So long she’d forgotten that when she was still human, her stomach could get hungry.
For Demon Race of her level, killing and battle alone could supply all the energy needed.
No need to eat, yet she could build muscle and remain healthy, never getting sick—though always gifted with various Blessings, which left her “distinctive” in appearance.
Wohard’s expression grew stranger. He said,
“It’s because you fought—the battle drained your energy, so you’re hungry. It’s normal. I actually have some food left. Would you like to try it?”
He took from his belt pouch, sticky with Slime mucus, an oilcloth-wrapped object.
Unwrapping it, he revealed a rock-hard chunk of bread and a few pieces of dark-colored dried meat.
The food looked awful, giving off a faint salty and smoky smell—and yes, a hint of Slime mucus too.
Sovinia eyed the black bread, which could serve as a stone, then felt the growing emptiness and weakness in her belly.
She didn’t hesitate, reaching for it.
First, she took a small bite of dried meat.
It was dry, hard, and bitterly salty, but as she chewed, the flavor of meat fat spread through her mouth.
When she swallowed the meat, her stomach churned, the craving within her all too familiar—just a bit like the feeling she got when hunting heads in battle.
No longer holding back, she began to eat in big mouthfuls, tearing at the dried meat.
Wohard watched her devour the food, not thinking her eating looked ugly at all, but rather—
Even the noble Elven Princess, when hungry, ate like a starving wolf. What a hard life.
His impression of her shifted again.
At least this princess wasn’t delicate in the least.
Very soon, all the food was gone. Sovinia felt strength fill her again, the weakness and dizziness gone—though her mouth was dry.
Wohard said, “You managed to eat that much without water… Are you feeling better?”
“Yes,” Sovinia replied.
Wohard looked at her, seeming to recall something, and casually asked, “Have you ever eaten just to fill your stomach before?”
“Eaten just to fill my stomach?” Sovinia reflexively repeated, confusion in her tone as if it were the most natural thing, “Eating is for enjoying flavor and pleasure, isn’t it? What’s it got to do with filling your stomach? Battle suffices.”
The words were barely out when she realized something was wrong.
Why is Wohard asking so many questions?
There could only be one answer: she’d revealed too much of her Demon Race mindset.
She might as well have written “I’m a Great Demon Race member, I don’t need meat to fill my stomach, just chopping off heads will do” on her face.
She immediately fell silent, her golden eyes fixed intently on Wohard, watching for his reaction.
She suspected Wohard had caught on from her ignorance of “hunger,” and now was trying to trick more out of her.
Wohard, hearing her answer, was briefly stunned, then nodded. “I see.”
I see? What did he realize? Sovinia’s heart leapt.
He must have marked me as a prime suspect already. As expected of a hero—naive in his kindness, but sharp and calculating… Such a bother, such trouble.
Yet what Wohard was thinking was: I see, truly the Elven Princess—raised in luxury, surrounded by servants, probably never even knew what hunger felt like.
For her, eating was just a pastime, not a necessity for survival.
So this is a real princess? I always thought princesses were just higher-ranked noble ladies.
***
At that moment, a sound louder than Sovinia’s earlier “gurgle” broke the silence.
This time, it came from Wohard’s stomach.
Sovinia looked at him.
Wohard, a bit embarrassed, rubbed his belly.
The prolonged fight and tension had also worn him out.
Sovinia asked, “You’re hungry?”
Wohard said, “Yes. Do you have any food?”
Sovinia instinctively pointed at the Demon Race corpses below. “How about we go down and eat some?”
Yes, some Demon Race needed to eat, or to heal their wounds. Recycling energy from “fellow” corpses was a method both eco-friendly and convenient.
Wohard said, “That was a good cold joke—don’t say that next time.”
Sovinia felt she was teetering on the edge of exposure.
If she were Wohard, she’d have figured out long ago that this so-called Elven Princess was really Kimi the Coldhearted, the First Heavenly King.
She had to do something to save herself.
Looking at this sticky, exhausted hero with battered weapons, an idea came to her.
He needed food and rest. As it happened, she knew a relatively safe place nearby—her own sleeping chambers.
There was a kitchen, and food she’d previously kept for enjoyment.
Humans needed to eat—this was their weakness.
She just needed to slip a little poison into his meal, and she’d have the means to hurt this Vicious Dog and avoid getting her head chopped off if she were exposed.
A perfect plan—the only thing left was to lure this Vicious Dog into her chambers.
“You see, you’re hungry too.” Sovinia’s voice was very gentle. “How about this—we find a place to rest first. I know where Kimi the Coldhearted’s bedroom is, and I know how to open the door, so it’s very safe and we can rest…
“There’s also food in his room…”
As Sovinia spoke, Wohard looked at her, waiting for her to finish.
But the more she spoke, the more she felt suspicion in his eyes.
Had he guessed she wanted to poison the food?
She wanted to touch Wohard’s hand to be sure, but couldn’t think of a reason—otherwise, she’d just expose herself further.
Sovinia could only force herself to keep going. As long as she could get Wohard to eat, that would do.
She went on, “Besides, I… I’m actually quite good at cooking. These past few hours, it’s all thanks to you. Please let me make you a meal as thanks, all right?”
At this, Wohard’s weary face lit up with a big smile.
Sovinia remembered her old war dog, who also liked to grin like that.
“Really? That’s great! To be honest, I’m about to starve. Thank you so much, Lady Sovinia!”
The Vicious Dog has taken the bait—after all, I’m smarter than a Vicious Dog.
Sovinia lowered her gaze, her long lashes hiding her eyes.
“You walk ahead, I’ll guide the way.”
Wohard walked ahead, still talking as he went: “I never expected Lady Sovinia to be able to cook, truly…”
Sovinia followed behind him, saying, “Turn left at the next fork.”