Boss's Strategy, Hand-Delivered

The previous life's players had described Valen in disgusting enough terms.

But when she saw him with her own eyes, she realized those descriptions had still been far too restrained.

It was a twisted, bloated man's face, forcibly mounted atop a mass of writhing flesh.

Beneath that face, countless arms, thighs, torsos, and half-rotted heads had been crudely stitched together with thick black thread, forming a Corpse Giant Serpent.

It slowly dragged itself across the floor, leaving behind slick, sticky brown trails.

Some of those limbs, belonging to different corpses, had rotted black, while the fingertips of others still twitched unconsciously.

He was larger than the Valen she had imagined—and far more revolting.

She wanted to vomit, but she could not.

What would the original Isolde have done?

That lunatic would only have regarded the thing before her as the greatest masterpiece in the world.

Isolde clenched her palm, using the pain to suppress the wave of nausea.

When she raised her face again, the horror in her eyes had turned into near-obsessive fanaticism.

She stepped forward and gave the performance everything she had.

"My great father, you... have become even more perfect."

The instant the words left her mouth, her scalp went numb with disgust.

Fortunately, Valen enjoyed it. The face atop that mountain of flesh turned toward her, satisfaction surfacing in his cloudy eyes.

"Isolde, my good daughter." His voice reverberated through the study. "Come here. Come closer."

Isolde began walking. With every step, she could feel strands of slime stretching beneath her shoes.

Valen's enormous body coiled in the center of the study like an altar built from corpses.

The fingers hidden in Isolde's sleeves curled slightly as she repeatedly reminded herself:

Endure it!

Don't vomit. Don't tremble!

And definitely don't let this walking stitched abomination realize she isn't the original!

Valen lowered his head, his bloated male face nearly pressing against hers.

The stench of decay hit her, and Isolde nearly ascended on the spot.

She kept her breathing light and slow, then lifted her eyes, leaving nothing but admiration in her gaze.

"Father." she said loudly, "Did you summon me because you have another new masterpiece to grace me with?"

After saying that, she wanted to give herself an award.

As expected of a mad beauty's body—its professional skills were remarkably polished.

A low laugh rumbled from Valen's throat, making the entire Corpse Giant Serpent tremble faintly.

Several eyeballs embedded between seams of flesh were squeezed into rolling.

"Isolde, my good daughter, you have always understood me best."

Isolde sneered inwardly.

I don't want to understand. Whoever wants this blessing can have it.

Valen dragged his enormous body toward the desk. His tail swept over the floor and knocked over several glass jars.

The jars shattered, cloudy liquid spilling everywhere. Half of an unknown spine rolled to Isolde's feet, but her eyelids did not so much as twitch.

The original Isolde would not have been afraid of such things. She would only have found them insufficiently perfect.

Yes! She had to grasp the essence of Isolde's personality.

So she glanced down at it, her voice even carrying a trace of regret.

"This bone has lost far too much of its power. What a pity."

The smile on Valen's face deepened. "Yes, it is too weak."

His enormous body rose and fell slightly, dark red slime seeping from the seams of flesh.

"I need more bodies. Stronger arms, more complete hearts, skeletons better suited to bearing power."

He turned his face toward Isolde.

If you enjoy this book, remember to add it to your bookshelf so you can find it next time.

"My daughter, just as before, put on that white dress and pretend to be a pitiful noble girl imprisoned in an ancient castle."

"Cry more weakly. Be more afraid."

"Make them think they are warriors who have come to save you."

As he said this, he seemed to find it amusing, and a hoarse laugh squeezed from his throat.

"They always fall for it."

Isolde lowered her eyes, her voice tinged with mockery.

"People love believing they are heroes. How laughable."

Valen looked at her with satisfaction and continued, "As long as they reach the banquet hall, I will prepare a grand feast for them."

Right. Valen's Blood Feast, as the players in her previous life had called it.

The players who survived later mentioned that the first party wipe in that dungeon had come from trusting Isolde's cry for help.

They had thought the beautiful, fragile girl was a reward NPC, never realizing that she was the best-acting fishhook in the entire dungeon.

But now, the fishhook had changed from the inside. Who would catch whom in this round remained to be seen.

Isolde raised her face, sickly excitement lighting up her eyes.

"Please rest assured, Father. I will select the most perfect materials for you."

"Whether it is skin, bones, or souls, I will choose them strictly for you."

Valen grew even more pleased. He particularly enjoyed the emotional gratification Isolde gave him.

But as his enormous body shifted slightly, Isolde's gaze suddenly sharpened.

Deep within that mass of flesh, near the third section of the spine, a point of silvery-white light briefly flashed, like moonlight covered by filthy blood.

But she had seen it clearly.

It was the Silver Core, Valen's true weakness.

Isolde immediately looked away and pretended to admire the beast claw newly sewn onto his shoulder.

Valen noticed nothing. He merely flicked his tail irritably, tearing open several stitches as dark red slime flowed down the seams of flesh.

"The stitching has become increasingly unstable lately." Valen's tone was cold and sinister. "These inferior body parts cannot withstand my power, and the Corruption Power has begun rejecting new flesh."

Isolde asked obediently, "Do you need me to stitch you back together?"

"Not yet," Valen said. "Soon, someone will bring high-quality body parts. Once the fusion succeeds, my strength will rise to another level."

He looked down at her. "When the time comes, you will assist me. I need to temporarily strip away part of the protective spell array to complete the fusion."

Isolde nearly failed to hold back a laugh.

Well, isn't this practically creating an opportunity for her to strike from the shadows?

But she could not show it.

Isolde should have been fanatical, excited, as though she had heard a divine oracle and could hardly wait to kneel and sing praises of his greatness.

So she raised her face, sickly light gleaming in her eyes, her voice trembling faintly. "It is my honor that Father is willing to let me participate in such a great ritual."

Valen's face moved close to hers, his cloudy eyes staring at her for a long time.

In that instant, cold sweat nearly seeped down Isolde's back.

Had he discovered her?

Valen was not some minor monster that could be killed with a single slash.

This thing had lived for so many years and had even turned the entire ancient castle into its nest. Its brain had to be useful, too. Perhaps one wrong sentence from her just now would be enough for him to tear her apart and stitch her back together.

The study was so quiet that only the sound of dripping slime remained.

A moment later, Valen smiled. "My Isolde, you are indeed still so devout."

Isolde smiled as well, gentle and sickly, but there was only one thought in her heart.

Damn it, she had nearly thought she was about to be remade from scratch.

Valen's voice sank again. "This time, I want better materials. Do not bring in worthless trash like last time."

Isolde's eyes darkened slightly. In her previous life, she had heard far too many words like that, and an instinctive disgust had long since formed within her.

Now that those words came from Valen's mouth, they unexpectedly placed them on the same side.

Fine. He had directly touched one of her trigger words.

Then they all deserved to die.