The Shepherds Are Dense

Chapter 126: The King’s Worries

When Lily awoke, she unraveled her binding ropes in an instant, as if by magic.This was the domain of her mystic art, “Thread Control.”

[Binding] was one of the many secrets of spider silk.

To Lily, threads and ropes were extensions of her limbs—controllable, reliable, and harmless to her.

This body was far stronger than her own, its heartbeat more forceful.

In the utter darkness, she slipped silently into stealth.

Lily stood in the corner, closing one eye slightly.

She split her focus, reading the task requirements before her with one eye.

With the other, closed, she sensed her surroundings.

In her perception, the world turned black and white.

Each heartbeat painted clear white outlines in her dark vision.

They faded gradually, sharpening with the next pulse.

But nearby, two human outlines faded much slower.

In Lily’s [Spider Silk Sense], their hearts seemed to erupt with threads.

The faint vibrations of their heartbeats mapped onto the floor, forming a web-like network.

Within a few breaths, the human shapes became sharply defined.

Their heartbeats quickened as they realized their predicament.

The rhythmic webs on the floor grew larger, pulsing faster.

“Anyone there?”

One of them called out.

“Help me!”

The other’s heartbeat slowed abruptly.

A faint amber glow flashed from him, partially petrifying his ropes, stripping their elasticity.

He broke free with force and shouted.

“I’m coming to help—who are you?”

“I’m King,” the first replied.

“And you?”

“I’m Antler.”

The man who’d used petrification answered.

“There should be one more person in this room.

Can you tell us your name?”

Lily coughed lightly, signaling she’d heard.

“So it’s the Adaptation Path gentleman.”

Antler reacted instantly.

‘This is bad,’ he thought, reviewing the ritual’s tasks.

None of his pre-arranged allies were here.

Instead, he was stuck with the silent Adaptation ascender and the combat-weak botanist.

Botanists weren’t like traditional alchemists.

Alchemists, though poor in combat, could at least provide potions.

Botanists, however, focused on growing, enchanting, or controlling plants.

High-level botanists could awaken massive ancient trees into powerful treants.

In a forest, King’s combat ability would shine.

But in this enclosed space, a botanist was nearly useless.

Being in the same room made them temporary teammates.

The worst part? King’s presence meant the strongest, Alastair, was elsewhere.

A demon-possessed being wasn’t as strong as the demon itself.

But even a fraction of a shadow demon’s power was unbeatable in this ritual.

‘This is really bad,’ Antler thought.

Getting the Holy Lance would reveal his location to others.

Achieving a kill-based victory was even harder for a low-level Twilight Path ascender like him.

Antler figured Alastair, seeing the tasks, would aim for a slaughter victory.

That meant plenty of corpses—non-conflicting with Antler’s goals.

His tasks weren’t too hard.

“Revive a corpse in the magical cauldron” gave 800 points per body.

Reviving himself and surviving until the end earned 1500 points.

He also had a “lock doors” task—petrifying door keyholes with his ability for 500 points each.

At this height, he could petrify but not undo it, shrinking everyone’s movement space with each lock.

This could be a killing method—make noise to lure the giants, then lock others out.

Pre-locked doors could also serve as traps.

If he accessed the Holy Lance, he could petrify it, sealing its power.

That would stop its holder from using it against giants, earning him 1000 points.

If the holder died because of this, he’d gain another 500.

By his count, he could easily secure 5000 points, making a points-based victory simple.

As a seasoned transcendent, Antler knew one truth: tasks were clues.

The cauldron’s revival likely worked only once and was usable by anyone, not just giants.

The high points for escaping the temple suggested it was extremely difficult and time-consuming.

With a one-hour limit, time might run out.

Reliable teammates could make it feasible, but with his current group, he’d focus on stopping others from escaping.

That was simple.

Find and seal the main gate.

If others couldn’t escape, they couldn’t claim the 2000-point task and overtake him.

To achieve this…

Seeing Antler hesitate to free him, King understood.

After a brief pause, he broke the silence.

“Then kill me.”

His words drew both their gazes.

Antler asked with feigned concern.

“Are you sure that’s okay?”

‘Hypocrite,’ Lily sneered inwardly.

King was pragmatic.

“Honestly, I never expected to advance.

If this were a forest ritual, I might’ve tried.

But in this setting, I’d rather give up.

This is a Crescent Ritual—without enough strength, I can’t advance.

You’re my big client, so I’ll give my chance to you.”

His sincerity was genuine, Antler’s experience confirmed.

With someone willingly stepping out, the deadlock broke.

Antler crouched, groping forward to untie King’s ropes, letting him sit comfortably.

Then he asked.

“If you’re not aiming to advance, why join the ritual?”

“I’m here to sell goods. Business has been rough lately.”

King sat up, candid.

“Advancement rituals at this stage don’t kill, just weaken you for half a month.

Participants are nearby transcendents, all first-tier.

I didn’t expect to get pulled to Avalon twice recently.

Star Antimony’s been too chaotic to gather enough ascenders.”

“What’s going on in Star Antimony?” Antler asked, concerned.

“The Rosicrucian Order and the Royal Alchemical Society are at odds.

Necromancers, usually mediators, are just watching this time.

Things escalated—two months ago, a famous alchemist was cursed to death.

Now demonologists are getting slammed by the press, but the Rosicrucians are silent.”

King sighed, complaining.

“For some reason, finished alchemical potions are pricier, but material costs are dropping.

Feels like a war’s coming.

That’s why I’m selling at rituals.

The workshops I supply keep demanding discounts, threatening to stop buying.

I won’t indulge them—my materials aren’t watered-down junk.

Every vial of essential oil is full strength!

But they’ve colluded, refusing to buy unless I drop to 70% of my cost.

I told you, Mr. Antler, my 20% discount was their wholesale price.

They want 70% of that—I’d make no profit.

I’m not slaving for alchemists.”

King shook his head.

“If I’d advanced to third-tier years ago, it’d be different.

Third-tier botanists can do alchemy, sell finished products.

But I was busy making money—incense, oils, perfumes, seeds.

Made good money for years.

Now? I’m too old, with a wife and daughter to support.

No energy to study alchemy again.

Might as well sell at rituals.”

He grabbed Antler’s hand, pleading earnestly.

“I’m giving you my shot this time.

Use my kill count, my corpse, whatever.

Just don’t forget our order!”

“Don’t worry.”

Antler nodded, exuding authority.

“I’m a big name in Avalon. I don’t welch on deals.

Once I’m back, I’ll send half the deposit to your address.

You can start production after receiving it, ship in two batches.

You won’t lose out. How’s that?”

“You’re a good man!”

King thanked him.