Chapter 21: In the Tent, Intent to Kill is Thicker than Monsters

“Lord Lynn really knows how to appreciate fine flavors.”

Alicia pushed the soup pot even closer to him.

“There is still plenty in the pot. Please, take your time, Lord Lynn.”

Lynn looked at the large pot of bubbling purple substance, and his throat bobbed.

He began to doubt whether he would live to see tomorrow’s sun.

He painstakingly finished that pot of Holy Light Blessing Soup and gnawed on a few pieces of jerky provided by Vivian before finally ending that agonizing dinner.

His stomach was full, but both his gut and his nerves were utterly devastated.

As the night deepened, the camp on the outskirts of the Howling Wind Cave fell into silence.

After the campfire was extinguished, Vivian reinforced the camp’s perimeter with an invisible Alarm Barrier.

Alicia, meanwhile, set up a small Prayer Array in the center of the camp, which emitted a faint Holy Light to disperse the nighttime dampness.

Lynn was assigned a tent.

It had been constructed by Vivian using her greatsword to jab a deep pit into the ground, followed by Alicia using a Divine Art to reinforce the edges of the hole before pitching it with fabric and magic fibers.

The interior space of the tent was small, but it was exceptionally sturdy.

He crawled inside.

Spread across the ground were two sleeping bags sewn from the fur of an unknown magical beast.

One was to his left, and the other was to his right.

He stared at the two sleeping bags, his body stiffening.

He knew these were not just sleeping bags.

They were two traps, or perhaps, two graves.

“Lord Lynn, please rest well,” Alicia’s voice drifted in from outside the tent.

“You’d better sleep like the dead, or you’ll regret it,” Vivian’s voice followed immediately, carrying a sharp warning.

Lynn lay down in the middle sleeping bag, not daring to move an inch.

He closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing, doing his best to look like he was fast asleep.

Every hair on his body stood on end as he waited.

He knew that tonight, he would likely face a true ‘night raid.’

Time passed, and the only sounds left in the camp were the chirping of insects and the rustle of the breeze through the leaves.

After an unknown amount of time, a faint “click” sounded from outside the tent.

One of the alchemy traps Vivian had set was triggered, but she made no sound.

Using her sharp senses, she confirmed it was merely a passing magical beast.

Lynn’s nerves tightened even further.

Then, he heard the zipper of the tent being pulled open softly.

A figure slipped inside soundlessly.

A faint scent of blood filled the air—the kind of aura found only on a knight who fought magical beasts year-round.

Lynn’s body went rigid.

‘It was Vivian.’

Vivian’s figure stopped before the sleeping bag on his left.

She didn’t make a sound, her movements incredibly light, forming a stark contrast to her rudeness during the day.

He felt the edge of the sleeping bag being gently pulled open, and then, a source of heat drew close.

Vivian had actually crawled into his sleeping bag!

Lynn’s body tensed instantly, but he still tried to maintain steady breathing, pretending to be deep in sleep.

He caught a faint scent of sweat and leather from her, along with the chilly air of the night wind clinging to her shawl.

Vivian’s breathing was shallow, and her body was pressed tightly against his.

Lynn could feel the lines of her muscles.

Her hand, covered in calluses, rested against his waist.

This was not tenderness; it was imprisonment.

It was a declaration of sovereignty and a means to prevent any possibility of escape.

**[Vivian’s Blackening Value: 88%]**

The number surfaced quietly in the darkness.

Cold sweat soaked Lynn’s back.

Just then, there was movement on the other side of the tent.

A delicate fragrance wafted through the air, carrying the holy scent of plants and herbs—the unique scent of Alicia.

With Vivian pinning him from the left, Lynn was almost unable to move.

He felt the sleeping bag on his right being lifted as well.

Alicia had come in.

She also crawled into Lynn’s sleeping bag!

Lynn’s mind went blank.

He was completely sandwiched in the middle, unable to move a muscle.

Vivian’s breath was by one ear. Alicia’s breath was by the other.

Their bodies were pressed tightly against his.

On the left was the pressure of cold leather and muscle; on the right was the soft silk and the fragrance of herbs.

**[Alicia’s Blackening Value: 89%]**

Both Blackening Values were steadily climbing.

Lynn could feel the fingers of the hand Vivian had on his waist tighten slightly.

He could also feel Alicia’s arm wrap around his shoulder, gently pulling him toward her side.

There was no sound, no dialogue—only a silent struggle of strength.

They were fighting over him.

Lynn felt like a piece of meat caught between two slices of bread.

Both slices were squeezing hard, and he was about to be crushed into a pulp.

Alicia’s fingers stroked the side of his neck softly, as if performing some kind of Ritual.

Every hair on Lynn’s body stood on end.

Meanwhile, Vivian’s palm rubbed his waist gently, carrying a possessive intent.

Caught in the middle, Lynn’s muscles were taut, and he didn’t dare move.

He pretended to sleep, more committed to the act than ever before.

He even slowed his breathing, fearing that any movement would detonate these two bombs that could explode at any moment.

Inside the tent, it was dead silent, save for the rapid thumping of Lynn’s heart echoing in his ears.

This silent confrontation was more nerve-wracking than any verbal argument.

He knew that if he made the slightest move, these two women could start a silent slaughter inside the sleeping bag at any second.

He felt as though he wasn’t sleeping tonight.

He was playing a game of balance with his life on the line.

Survival instinct kept Lynn motionless.

He only hoped for dawn.

Finally, he heard a soft hum from Alicia’s side, though her emotions were unreadable.

Then, Alicia’s fingers stopped moving against his neck.

Vivian’s hand also withdrew from his waist.

Lynn’s body remained as stiff as a stone.

He didn’t know what this meant.

“Had they reached some sort of temporary equilibrium? “

‘Or was something even more terrifying about to happen?’

He held his breath and waited.

As the minutes ticked by, there was no more movement in the tent.

Only then did Lynn dare to slightly relax his tensed muscles.

He knew the crisis hadn’t been resolved; it was merely lurking in wait.

This night raid was far more terrifying than he had imagined.

There were no monsters, yet there were beings that made him even more afraid.

He didn’t sleep at all.

When the horizon began to turn white, Lynn finally dared to move his limbs slightly.

He found that Vivian and Alicia had already left the sleeping bag.

The tent was empty; he was the only one left.

He threw back the sleeping bag and sat up.

From outside the tent came the “crackle” of the campfire, Alicia’s soft humming, and the low sound of Vivian’s sword scraping against its whetstone.

Lynn’s stomach twitched again.

He checked his body and found no new wounds.

He had successfully survived the night.

But Lynn understood that this was only the beginning.