The Devil's Cage Chapter 1279 – ‘Reality’

Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

The faint gaze didn’t go away, but Kieran walked out from the shadows.

“Found you,” he said coldly.

Before Bloody Mary could react, Kieran fired his gun.

Bang!

[Python-W2], loaded with [Penetration Round], pierced the High Demon’s chest.

Shot by the special bullet, Bloody Mary fell to the ground with a disbelieving face.

What happened?

Who am I?

Why am I here?

2567, did you get the wrong script?

Aren’t we on the same side?

Endless questions flooded Bloody Mary’s mind like a tide, but before it could make sense of the situation, Kieran walked up and pointed his revolver directly at its head.

Bang!

After its head was shot, Bloody Mary dissolved into nothing.

Kieran still stood at the spot, as if he was searching for something. He frowned as he left, as if to show that he couldn’t find anything.

30 seconds after Kieran had left, Bloody Mary appeared again.

Looking in the direction where Kieran had left with a slightly pale face, its eyes showed not only viciousness and malicious intent, but also panic.

In its heart?

Bloody Mary received Kieran’s new mission again, and were it not for the restrictions from the contract, Bloody Mary would have spit in Kieran’s face.

What the hell was that?

You didn’t tell me beforehand because you wanted to make it seem real?

What? You’re saying that I should maximize the effect of my ‘undead’ ability?

Excuses!

All excuses!

You’re treating me like some cheap goods!

Why don’t you use the other seven bastards?

Bloody Mary cursed in its heart but that didn’t stop it from leaving the scene at a slower pace.

However, just as Bloody Mary was about to turn into an alleyway, a voice sounded.

“My lord, please wait for a moment.”

…

Kieran didn’t go to the bakery for his breakfast the next morning, and instead chose to have it in the hotel, Stove-grilled Fish.

“Toast, asparagus roast meat soup.”

Lagren served breakfast to Kieran.

The breakfast that he served was actually leftovers from the night before; Lagren had simply combined the roast meat and asparagus, forming the so-called asparagus roast meat soup.

Kieran didn’t mind though—the food was still edible and the portion was generous.

After Kieran checked into the Stove-grilled Fish, the number of other guests had dropped significantly: other than Smith and the girls, there was no one else.

Put simply, beside the necessary food left for Smith and the six young girls, all the food went to Kieran. So he was in a decent mood.

He chomped on the toast, emitting a loud crunch from his mouth. A mouthful of soup later, the rich flavour of the roast meat spread on his tongue. He didn’t drink it with a spoon, instead, he picked up the bowl and poured the soup with the asparagus, meat, and everything else directly into his mouth. He tilted the bowl steeper, the soup going down his throat with a gulp.

Kieran then squinted his eyes with pleasure and chewed.

Lagren had been watching Kieran from the start.

When he noticed that Kieran didn’t mind eating leftovers, Lagren mumbled in his heart, “You aren’t one but your habits are all the same.”

Monster Hunters were a special bunch.

Without a care for glory, they lurked in the darkness, hunting monsters. They kept a rather apostolic lifestyle as well.

Monster Hunters had lodging spots in all sorts of places—from the park benches to the tunnel under the bridge. As for food, they would only throw it away if it was truly spoiled.

Maybe there were others that also shared these habits, but not many had the powers of a Monster Hunter to match them.

It was a very objective reality.

In a world where monsters lurked in the darkness, power would grant one conveniences that he would never expect, including but not limited to money and position.

The goals of commoners that required a lifetime to achieve were procurable for those with powers by a mere wave of the hand.

Other than Monster Hunters, Lagren had never seen a man with strength like Kieran’s while still maintaining a simple life.

He was more certain than ever that Kieran was related to the Monster Hunters.

“Three more, please,” Kieran said.

“Okay!” Lagren picked up the plates and went into the kitchen quickly, cheering for himself within his heart.

“You must be the descendant or disciple of some famous guy! I will find the traces he left behind and shock you!”

While Lagren was serving Kieran his second round of breakfast, Smith brought Saya and the other girls down from their room.

“Good morning, mister.”

The six girls politely greeted Kieran and sat at the table with him. Smith, who was habitually quiet, nodded before sitting with the girls.

Smith was acting according to the instructions on that ball of paper: try to be as normal as possible, no need to purposely avoid people or get closer.

All he had to do was act natural while still conforming to his habits.

Breakfast wasn’t any merrier after Smith and the girls joined in.

Kieran wasn’t used to speaking during meals—he preferred to savour his food in silence.

Smith, who adopted a quieter nature, wouldn’t speak first either.

The girls behaved well too, eating quietly and maturely without making a fuss or any noise.

“This is…”

Lagren crossed his arms and leaned back against the bar counter. He wanted to say something about the scene before his eyes but suddenly reacted to the atmosphere and swallowed the words back into his throat.

He knew that if he spoke them, Kieran and Smith would be okay, but the girls might not be able to handle them.

“Those bastards! Disregarding lives!”

The hotel owner slapped himself softly and walked out of the hotel.

After a while, he returned with bags of warm milk and cakes.

“Here, eat some while they’re hot.”

Looking at the girls’ vigilant and cautious eyes, Lagren shrugged and returned to the bar counter.

He had expected that outcome, so he wasn’t surprised.

But what happened next surprised Lagren a lot because Saya, the youngest, gave Kieran a glass of milk.

“Thank you,” Kieran accepted the glass and nodded.

Lagren pouted as he watched Kieran drain the cup of milk. He grunted out of disdain and went to light a cigarette.

But after he lit the match, Lagren thought of something. He killed the fire and placed the cigarette back in the box.

Then, after a moment, he threw the cigarette box into the trash can beside him.

He turned around and started to hammer something behind the bar counter.

Ding Ding Ding.

A while later, a ‘No Smoking’ sign was hung up in the lobby of the hotel, the words written very messily.

“You can’t smoke in a hotel now?” the young Spec Ops member mumbled softly, immediately attracting Lagren’s unfriendly gaze.

The young man smiled awkwardly and scratched his head.

He then strode over to Kieran. He hadn’t forgotten the purpose of his visit.