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Chapter 29: You’re Joking, Right?
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Viya ran into the fog behind her, and as she ran, the mist grew thicker until it completely obscured her vision.
The Minstrel made no move, watching Viya flee with the stillness of a statue.
A few minutes later, she saw Viya return, panting heavily, from the other side of the fog.
“I should have lost them.”
Viya bent over to catch her breath. When she looked up, she saw the distant castle, the impassive gaze of Lady Minstrel, and the water soldiers standing motionless around her.
Her expression froze.
“You cannot escape,” Minstrel said. “Beyond this sea lies an even vaster expanse. Running is meaningless.”
“But we’re supposed to be learning how to sing! Why are we fighting?” Viya didn’t understand, unable to connect the two concepts.
“That’s correct—you must learn how to sing,” Minstrel nodded but still avoided answering Viya’s question.
Instead, she flicked her fingertips like a conductor in a theater, commanding the water soldiers to attack.
This person is impossible to communicate with!
Viya tried again: “Can you give me a demonstration? Otherwise, I don’t even know where to start.”
“My song never ceases,” Minstrel replied indifferently.
I hate riddle-talkers… Viya gritted her teeth in frustration. She realized that anything related to faith always came with cryptic behavior—never straightforward answers.
Minstrel seemed to recall something and added: “Your body will not die here, but if this repeats too many times, the numbness of your spirit may never heal.”
Viya’s face instantly drained of color.
She suddenly had a thought.
Reciting His name had drawn the attention of His apostle—an ordinary occurrence.
But what if it wasn’t an ordinary believer who appeared, but an extremist fanatic? The kind who starts with intimidation, hoping you’ll die quickly, or if you survive, they’ll find excuses to torment you further.
After all, Mr. Yog wasn’t recorded as one of the orthodox gods—there was no telling what kinds of personalities His apostles might have.
When she recalled the unreasonable challenges, Viya felt utterly defeated.
Fighting was out of the question—she couldn’t win.
Running was equally futile—she likely wouldn’t escape.
So the only option left was…
Viya crossed her hands, her expression earnest:
“Noble mythic descendant, I truly harbor no presumptuous thoughts. I could never take even the smallest place in the heart of that great existence. As fellow believers, can’t you show some leniency?”
“You are unworthy to believe in Him,” Minstrel said coldly.
Viya softened her tone: “Then I won’t believe.”
“Then you deserve death ten thousand times over,” Minstrel responded icily.
This fish is insane!
Viya cursed inwardly, but her face froze as a blade of water pierced through her chest. Her vision went black instantly.
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When she opened her eyes again—
“First time.” Minstrel’s voice was ethereal yet cruel.
Water soldiers materialized around her—three of them this time. They wielded daggers, slowly advancing from both sides.
Viya focused entirely on dodging, though she wasn’t sure what purpose it served.
But she was far too inexperienced. A single misstep allowed a water blade to pierce her chest once more.
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“Second time.”
This time, there were only two water soldiers, each wielding short swords, but their movements were much swifter. Viya couldn’t even track their forms. Within seconds, her vision went dark again.
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“Fourth time.”
Each iteration brought a different configuration of soldiers, rendering memorization useless. This time, four soldiers weren’t particularly strong, but their weapons varied. One lured her attention while the other three struck during her distraction.
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“Fifth time.”
Viya grew wiser. She realized that if she stayed within a certain range, the water soldiers would use ranged attacks, so she positioned herself at the edge of their effective range, forcing them to approach from the same direction. This significantly reduced the pressure.
But soon, something tripped her, causing her to lose balance and fall.
In the final moments before the water soldiers finished her off, she caught a glimpse of Minstrel’s faint smile through the gaps.
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“Eighth time.”
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“Tenth time.”
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“Twenty-first time.”
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Countless iterations later.
Viya lay on the water’s surface, ignoring the approaching soldiers. She stared blankly at the azure sky, no longer paying attention to Minstrel’s words.
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Gradually, Viya lost the will to resist.
Even if she could hold out for a few more seconds against the water soldiers, what difference did it make? The outcome was always the same.
She flipped over, lying face-down on the water’s surface.
The depths below were pitch-black, terrifyingly dark, as if they would swallow her whole. The surface rippled with faint undulations…
Ripples?
Viya’s lifeless eyes suddenly sparked with awareness.
She lifted her head and followed the source of the ripples, finding nothing there—it was as if they had appeared out of thin air.
These overlapping waves resonated endlessly, like a silent, lingering melody.
No!
Viya suddenly snapped awake.
The haze in her mind cleared, replaced by crystal clarity.
Why had her actions been so abnormal since arriving here?
Why had she always fled from the water soldiers, never summoning the will to fight?
Why…
A flood of illogical behaviors rushed into her mind, filling her with a sense of unease.
Viya closed her eyes. Mana points began to glow faintly, like fireflies in the night.
At this moment, those dim “fireflies” connected into tracks, forming long strings that vibrated at unique frequencies. If not for the heightened sensitivity she experienced here, she might never have noticed them.
So this was the “song” the Siren spoke of—a silent force manipulating her emotions.
Viya understood.
Awkwardly and slowly, she extended her mana, lightly touching one of the “strings” and plucking it to produce a discordant note.
Instantly, the leading water soldier halted its advance, losing its will to fight and turning into a statue.
Seeing this, Viya’s expression brightened. She repeated the action until all the water soldiers stopped moving.
After finishing, she let out a long sigh and collapsed onto the water’s surface, exhausted:
“It’s… not bad, right?”
She panted heavily.
Though the action seemed simple, it required immense control—like using an iron rod to pick up peas. Each attempt drained her mentally.
Minstrel remained unperturbed: “You’ve taken the first step. The rest is about mastering it and engraving it into your instincts.”
“It shouldn’t be too difficult,” Viya said with a smile after catching her breath. “After all, the first step is always the hardest. The rest will come naturally.”
“Come naturally?”
Minstrel murmured softly, neither confirming nor denying.
She clapped her hands.
The water soldiers reassembled on the horizon, clad in heavy armor, moving with incredible speed and wielding long weapons.
Their numbers stretched endlessly—hundreds, perhaps thousands, or even tens of thousands…
Viya’s scalp tingled.
“Are you joking?”
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