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While Desmond couldn’t be considered to have gotten godly results from the pair of gems. Ultimately, he turned two impractical and strange gems into a practical resource at his disposal; that alone was a great result. A little anxious to test the results, Desmond wanted to leave the armored armadillo’s nest in search of suitable prey.

The path back to the previous cavern was uneventful. Not many subterranean beasts likely dared venture into the armored armadillos’ territory, which would change once their absence became too conspicuous.

Desmond pulled out the map he had brought with him, plotting a route to his target area; he opted for less-traveled routes, aiming for faster progress. Desmond wanted to deal with his target first before exploring the mines for treasure. Hence he had no interest in the course his prey used, which was longer and passed through supposedly gem-rich areas.

It was a shame that fate had an annoying habit of getting in Desmond’s way, as his progress in the mines stopped as soon as he tried to get out of the cavern he was in.

“Catch that bitch; we’ll make more money selling her into slavery than we’ll ever find in these cursed mines.”

“Yes, Boss.” X4

“Stop running, you fucking whore. Just stand still and let us tie you up; I promise we’ll be nice.”

A series of shouts and hurried footsteps spread from the corridor Desmond was heading for. It didn’t take a brain bigger than a peanut to realize that this was a pursuit in progress. Without even thinking, Desmond caught his breath, suppressed his mana fluctuations to the utmost, and stepped back silently.

.....

Desmond wanted nothing to do with what was happening and what would happen, it just wasn’t his business, and he wasn’t the kind of nosy person who would butt in where he wasn’t called. Desmond had already hidden behind the rock that led to the armored armadillos’ nest long before the source of those footsteps and screams reached the cave. Now he just waited for whatever had to happen.

From the words they had said to each other, as well as the flow of the conversation, Desmond already had an idea of ??the kind of person who would pass through the cave entrance first; however, he was still stunned when he saw her.

Her hair was a dull black, long enough to reach her shoulders. Her auburn skin looked smooth and immaculate, and her figure was seductive to the extreme. Her face was three-quarters mature beauty plus one-fourth adorable innocence. There was no room for doubt that she was a gorgeous woman. But it wasn’t the woman’s beauty that caught Desmond’s attention, nor her strangely attractive reddish skin, but the fiery magma that made up most of the woman’s thighs and forearms.

Desmond had seen his fair share of humanoid species in the world of Veritas, but this was the first time he had seen someone like the woman. Most of the humanoid species on Veritas appeared to be 80-90% human, with only a few minor animal traits; this woman was far from that standard.

Even the woman’s clothing was quite different. Where most would be wearing some form of armor or defensive robes with a rather medieval air, the woman wears what Desmond describes as a Persian dance gown. The dress perfectly encapsulates the most sensual parts of the girl while exposing a lot of her reddish skin. For obvious reasons, the dress also avoided the parts of the woman’s body that were made of magma.

The woman seemed to be hurt and scared, running as fast as she could while holding one of her arms tightly, from where blood trickled onto her coal-black fingernails before it fell to the ground. Each drop of blood was like fresh magma, creating a sizzling sound as it fell to the ground, but the girl didn’t seem to notice; she was utterly focused on escaping.

Upon a closer look, Desmond noted that there were patterns on the girl’s body, like external veins where magma flows, but nothing seemed to spill out of the girl. Desmond guessed that, although invisible, there must be skin holding the magma inside the girl.

One of the magma veins extended into the palm of the girl’s hands, where she held a strange cylindrical stone object. Desmond was trying to look at the object closer when a hiss broke his concentration. As a seasoned archer, Desmond recognized the sound immediately, but there was no time to even notice the girl.

An arrow of insidious trajectory shot out from the tunnel’s darkness from which the girl had emerged. Without warning, the arrow ripped deep into the girl’s right calf, spilling more of her fiery blood, also slowing her escape velocity.

The girl’s body trembled in pain, but she still clenched her teeth and tried to keep running away. Her determined face barely managed to distract one of the tears that slipped from her eyes, painting a tragic scene.

Mercilessly, a second arrow came from the darkness, tearing through the other calf of the girl, almost taking away any ability to continue fleeing. Even a fool could see that the archer was just toying with her; both shots were too perfect to be a coincidence.

The girl showed an expression of deep pain and despair for an instant, followed by a strong resolve. As she turned to face those trying to capture her, desmond could almost read what the girl was thinking, “I’d rather die fighting.”

Only then did Desmond know that it was the object in the girl’s hands; it seemed to be some kind of special weapon of her race. Magma spread out from the stone cylinder, solidifying its fiery state in a sort of war hammer. Even Desmond was quite intimidated by the Warhammer made of magma. Still, with his keen eyesight, Desmond saw that there were a lot of problems with the girl’s posture and the way she held the hammer. She clearly wasn’t very skilled with that weapon.

Although Desmond had his own comments to make about the girl’s distinct lack of martial prowess, his attention had already been drawn to the group of five entering the cave. If it wasn’t for the gravity of the situation, Desmond would have wanted to laugh or at least make a sarcastic comment about the girl’s pursuers. It was hard not to when four of them were basically werehyenas, and their leader was a werelion.

Even an uneducated person like Desmond had seen that children’s movie about lions, and it was hard not to associate the group of five with the villains in that movie. Of course, with the vicious expressions and bloodlust these people gave off, only a person with a death wish would take them as the villains of a children’s movie.

“When are you going to stop running, Aisha? Do you really need us to hurt you more for you to become obedient? Don’t make us waste our time and hurt you even more. After all, we’ll make less money if we ruin your precious body before selling you.”

As expected, the leader of the hyena pack was a complete jerk; Desmond wasn’t surprised. Desmond spent less than half a day in these tunnels but still had been enough to run into a bunch of greedy and egotistical assholes. These treasure-filled mines had become a beacon that attracted all kinds of people with selfish and dark desires.

The woman, apparently named Aisha, answered, her voice deep, mature, and seductive, filled with resolve. “First dead.”

There was something primal conveying in the woman’s voice, something beyond the ability of the hunter’s book to translate. This allowed Desmond to hear what he believed to be the world’s purest, most beautiful language.

Desmond didn’t understand what the woman was saying; her language was something guttural but melodious, deep, and ancient.

The hunter’s book only managed to translate the phrase “First dead,” so Desmond must have missed most of what the woman said, but he was almost grateful. Otherwise, he would never have heard such a beautiful language.

In fact, Desmond wasn’t the only one who was a bit mesmerized by the strange primordial language the girl used, but also her pursuers seemed a bit distracted by it. It appeared that she hadn’t been using that language before.

Aisha seemed to have expected such an outcome. The moment her enemies were distracted, she lashed out with her Warhammer. Since escaping was nothing more than a dream, she would try to take at least one of them to hell with her. Hopefully, that would piss them off enough that they would kill her instead of capturing her; for Aisha, it was the best possible result.

Aisha’s physical strength could not be underestimated; with a stomp that fractured the stone floor, her body shot out like a cannonball. One could imagine the kind of momentum her hammer would carry once she swung it.