Forsaken Priest of the Hero's Party-Chapter 101: Resurfacing Trauma

This is the end.

Even Parnell, usually the optimistic one, could not deny it. Lucia, the natural pessimist, had long since abandoned hope. In truth, neither saw many options remaining.

As Parnell thought through their situation, she saw only three choices left :

Resist and face capture, take their own lives before defeat, or surrender at once to avoid further suffering.

Harmael had proven formidable even against their peak. Now, they were in the worst possible condition.

If they fought, they would be overwhelmed and inevitably taken prisoner. And it was best not to expect the Magic Tower or the Holy Kingdom to pay a ransom for their return.

Even if the Magic Tower poured out riches and the Holy Kingdom pleaded for their Hero, Harmael would not free anyone capable of opposing her.

And if she ever deigned to release them, it would be only after shattering their spirits, leaving once-mighty heroes as hollow echoes of themselves.

That would be no different from losing everything.

And that slim mercy hinged on whether the Holy Kingdom or Magic Tower would shoulder the cost of broken heroes.

Though not entirely hopeless, rescue odds were dismal. The likely outcome: negotiations collapsed, and the inevitable followed.

Like circus animals, they would become objects of ridicule for all demon races, used as propaganda tools. They had no idea what kind of humiliation they would be subjected to.

Better to choose death now than endure endless torment, sooner or later, they might beg for death regardless.

Should I just die...?

Even the two older men who had once been arrogant enough to call themselves Grand Masters, who had the skills to justify it, had to go into seclusion for decades after being defeated by the Black Sword. Despite focusing entirely on recovery and consuming the imperial palace’s resources like water, they never regained their previous power level.

Lucia and Yurinel were far weaker than Rayman and Geher without the Holy Sword and the vandication. Those two could still wield some power as Masters, but Lucia and Yurinel now felt invisible chains bound their hands and feet.

Parnell fared only marginally better. Her mana core, strained beyond its limits, no longer operated at full strength.

It had already reached a point where mere time and effort wouldn’t be enough to restore it. Even with ample time, recovery was uncertain, and Harmael had no intention of giving them that chance.

“Why so silent, Lucia Western? Where’s that arrogance of yours? You had plenty to say not long ago.”

Harmael, who had been waiting for this moment, lightly flicked her fan. A gentle breeze swelled into a storm of magical energy, whipping through the air.

The two women were hurled like autumn leaves, skidding helplessly. Lucia bit her lip to stifle her fury.

Why is it that in family conflicts, a meddlesome sister-in-law can feel more infuriating than a cruel mother-in-law? And what if that sister-in-law not only refused to intervene but actively took part in the abuse? Harmael was even more loathsome than Grimudo, the source of their suffering.

Their clash with Grimudo had been an absolute, undeniable rout, no excuse could soften its severity.

He met them head-on, granted them time to ready themselves, then pulverized them with sheer force.

The phoenix he had brought merely observed while he alone overpowered all three of them.

With such a one-sided outcome, what justification was there? Could they claim he had fought dishonorably? That they were in poor condition? That they had been deceived or caught in some elaborate scheme?

There had been no deception, no trickery. They had simply lost. As painful as it was, they had to accept that truth.

And Harmael? She was entirely different.

Look at her, like a viper lying in wait, setting elaborate traps, manipulating even Grimudo, and striking only when they were weakest.

Such a crushing defeat was bitter medicine for the losers.

Rage flared within them, yet fury could not alter reality. Label them cowards if you will, the outcome was sealed before the first strike. Their defeat was absolute.

With such an enormous disparity in power, fighting to the death was futile, their foe could overwhelm them without effort.

An ant could struggle and fight all it wanted, but a human could crush it underfoot—or worse, capture it alive just for amusement. That was the grim reality they faced.

“Keep that silence, and I’ll seal your lips myself. Better scream while you still have a voice, or kneel and plead for mercy.”

Though Harmael wielded a fan, her expertise lay in earth magic and palm techniques. She tapped the air lightly, and a tiny, grayish-white speck formed, a bead that gleamed like white jade. Inside, the faint image of a dragon flickered in and out of sight.

“Then again, it’s no fun if you submit too easily. I hope you hold onto that defiance for a while. That way... I’ll enjoy breaking you even more.”

It was the Jade Dragon Technique. Just as the bead was about to be released from her fingertips—

A searing pain shot through Harmael’s skull, as if her mind were cleaved in two and her thoughts scattered like leaves in a gale.

“Aagh!”

Lucia and Parnell jolted upright, shock rooting them in place. Yurinel, only just on her feet, stood frozen in astonishment.

None of them had done anything, yet Harmael was screaming.

Even the lark, startled, fluttered wildly inside its cage.

Harmael felt something foreign grip her chest for the first time, a chill.

Harmael fumbled as she canceled the Jade Dragon Technique, pressing her hands against her head. There wasn’t a single mark, no sting or wound, but the pain was undeniable. She recognized it immediately.

“Gri- Grimudo...!”

A cold dread washed over her, sweeping away every shred of pride. This was a mental attack, wasn’t it? Had that monster been manipulating her all along?

Harmael clutched her throbbing head and scanned her surroundings, but Grimudo was nowhere to be seen. It didn’t seem like he had launched another mental attack.

Could Grimudo strike her mind from some distant, unseen location? Given his might, it was conceivable, yet if he meant to kill her, he would have done so instantly.

“What’s happening? Why is she acting like that...?”

“If we attack now... maybe...”

“No. We need to run.”

Yurinel, barely steady on her feet, forced her trembling legs to move and whispered urgently, too focused to marvel at this sudden twist of fate.

“It seems Grimudo’s psychic assault reopened an old wound in her mind.”

“Even so, Harmael’s power hasn’t diminished. Attacking her would be suicide. Right now... even if the Demon King stood still like a statue, we couldn’t touch her. All we can do is escape.”

Yurinel’s words rang true. Just as physical wounds leave scars, mental attacks also leave lingering damage.

The body and mind are resilient and capable of healing over time.

But pushing a wounded limb too soon will not make it heal faster, it will just reopen the injury.

The mind is no different, it demands rest. Overtaxing psychic strength before recovery tears open old wounds, triggering episodes like this.

The three exchanged glances, and without a word, they fled.

Harmael could only watch their retreat, powerless to follow. Her voice thundered in their wake:

“Come back here, now!”

“Would you go if someone told you to?”

In ancient times, when mental techniques were widely known and everyone trained in both attack and defense, understanding how to recover from such wounds was common knowledge.

Even then, methods existed to mend a wounded psyche.

Now, both psychic healing and the very idea of mental assault had vanished from memory, lost even to legend. Harmael had never before endured such an attack.

Naturally, this so-called ‘common sense’ was lost to her and everyone.

Only now did she grasp how devastating a mental attack could be, but awareness did nothing to dull the agony. She lacked the presence of mind to respond.

“Those wretched fools...”

Crunch. As the pain eased, Harmael ground her teeth, yet her fury fell not on Grimudo but on the three women and the bird who dared escape.

Just as she was about to give chase, she hesitated, her expression shifting into one of fear.

What had just happened made it painfully clear, something was wrong with her mind.

It wasn’t beyond repair yet. She would recover if she rested and refrained from using her mental power. Yet continued strain would deepen the damage beyond self-repair.

No, that can’t happen. What’s the point of sitting on the throne if I become a mindless husk?

The thought of becoming mentally crippled sent a deep, visceral fear through her. No matter how much power one possessed, if the mind collapsed—if the self crumbled—what mattered if one was a Demon Lord or a King?

A shiver coursed through her at the thought of mindlessly defiling palace walls.

That was an end she refused to face.

For now, rather than reckless pursuit, she forced herself to pause and survey her surroundings.

Fortunately, they were not far from the Demon Realm, just beyond its borders. She needed only dispatch troops to encircle and trap them here.

Enjoy your brief reprieve.

The Demon King’s fury burned with renewed determination.

Once I have you in my grasp, I will exact full payment for this disgrace.

In that moment, the earth trembled and a deafening blast echoed afar. Harmael dismissed it as a phantom of her psychic wound, undeniably thunderous, yet nothing in sight had shifted.

The Caldera supervolcano was far to the south. The eruption’s roar had reached them, but the lava was too distant to pose any threat, and even the ash had yet to arrive.

“I can’t tell if I’m unsteady or if the world itself sways. This mental wound is deeper than I feared.”

She mistook the tremors for mere illusions, another aftereffect of the mental attack. It was a misunderstanding but an understandable one.

Harmael’s unease grew. How severely must her mind be fractured for the world to tilt so? For her vision to blur like a drunken haze?

Regardless, the shaken Demon King decided to postpone her pursuit.

The hero party had earned a brief respite, but it wouldn’t last long. After all, Harmael was still watching them.