Surviving the Apocalypse: All I Want Is to Find a Husband-Chapter 173: Questionable Music Skills

Medeia honestly had no idea what to do with these army boys. She had intended to kill them at first, but after discovering their ages, the thrill of battle completely vanished.

So ... now what?

"If I fix your tires, will you leave?" she sighed, crossing her arms. "Take the offer, boys. It’s the only way you’re walking away from this alive."

The soldiers exchanged wary glances, confusion flickering in their wide eyes. Why was a demon offering them mercy?

What kind of lunatic would trust the words of a demon?

"You’re trying to trick us!" one of them blurted out, voice shaking. "The moment we lower our guard, you’ll kill us all and drag us straight to hell!"

Oh, how she wished she still had the power to send souls to hell at will. Those were the good old days.

Medeia let out a sigh. "You know, even demons were once angels." She tilted her head, watching their nervous expressions. "So let me teach you something, boys. If you keep fighting me, you die. But since I’m being nice and offering you a deal, you should take it while you still can."

"What’s the difference?!" another one snapped. "If we go back empty-handed, the colonel will kill us anyway!"

"Yeah! We’re dead either way!"

"Back off, demon! Or I’ll throw holy water on you!"

Medeia blinked.

Holy water, my ass.

[Why are you like this, Host?]

[Shouldn’t you be happy? The system classifies them as evildoers.]

Medeia rolled her eyes. These kids were barely old enough to shave, let alone make their own choices. Brainwashed and thrown into war like disposable pawns.

She wasn’t sure if she was annoyed at them or the bastards who sent them here.

’Evildoers, my ass! Are you seriously telling me these clueless kids are on the same level as Warstock, the psychopaths who experimented on children? Or the Stormclad bastards who tried to rape me?’

Give her a break.

Sure, technically, they could grow into monsters like that one day. But that depended on who was pulling their strings while they were still young.

These kids still had a chance before they rotted into something truly monstrous.

’You wouldn’t even let me kill the Warstock doctors, so why the hell are you pushing me to kill these kids?’

’I thought you were all about second chances? Or does that only apply when it’s convenient?’

The system went silent. Maybe it was processing Medeia’s argument. Or maybe it was just scrambling to justify its own inconsistent logic.

Then, unexpectedly—

[Congratulations, Host! You have passed the system’s test!]

[Hidden Quest Completed: Helping the Helpless Without a Mission!]

[Reward: +2,000 XP, +1,500 C-Points.]

What the hell was going on here?

How dare the system give her a test without telling her first?!

Now, she really felt like nothing more than a contestant in some twisted survival show!

[Congratulations! You have reached Level 29!]

[Stat increase: +2,900 MP (Total: 48,400), +1,300 HP (Total: 17,950), Strength: +45 (Total: 300)]

[Reward Item:

Nightmare’s Whisper (Grade-S) — Effect: A flute that releases sound that can cause drowsiness, disorientation, and eventually forces the affected individuals into a deep sleep for 10 hours. It can affect up to 30 targets within a 30-meter radius.]

Medeia stopped complaining in her mind as an idea finally struck her, a way to deal with the bunch of fools standing before her.

They still had their guns pointed at her, but not a single one dared to fire. Seriously? What was the point of carrying a weapon if they were too scared to use it?

"Surrender, demon! We’ll shoot you to death!" one of them shouted, voice cracking halfway through.

Medeia groaned, rubbing her temple. The sheer stupidity was giving her a headache. "Oh, for duck’s sake. Just shoot me already."

The young soldiers hesitated, eyes darting between one another as if silently asking, Did she just tell us to shoot?

"Shoot now or never!"

Her sudden shout startled them, and in their panic, they instinctively pulled their triggers all at once.

Medeia moved instantly, dodging the rain of bullets with ease. She leaped onto the roof of an old, crumbling building, her movements fluid and effortless. With a flick of her wrist, she pulled Nightmare’s Whisper from her inventory.

"Alright, babies," she murmured, spinning the flute between her fingers before bringing it to her lips. "It’s time to sleep."

Taking a deep breath, she blew into the flute with all her might. A piercing, ear-splitting sound rang through the air that sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

The soldiers screamed, their weapons clattering to the ground as they clutched their ears. Some dropped to their knees, writhing in agony, while others staggered, their vision swimming.

[Host, you’re supposed to play the flute with a melody!]

"Oh, what’s the point of that?" Medeia scoffed. "The description only said its sound would knock them out, so it doesn’t matter whether I play a beautiful melody or just blow into it."

[Doesn’t this flute work like a siren’s spell? They always use their sweet voice to influence people’s minds? If a siren produced a sound this awful, sailors would probably slaughter them on the spot instead of falling under their spell.]

"Well, lucky for me, I’m not a siren."

Without another thought, Medeia brought the flute back to her lips and blew into it again, this time, even louder and more off-key than before.

"AAAAAGGHH! MY EARS! MY EARS ARE BLEEDING!"

One by one, the soldiers crumpled to the ground, their hands clutching their ears as if trying to block out the unbearable screeching. Some groaned. Some twitched. A few just blacked out instantly.

And right before unconsciousness claimed them, she swore she heard one whisper in agony: "A demon’s scream..."

... Technically, not wrong.

But at some point, Medeia started to wonder if they were just roasting her flute-playing skills.

[What skill, Host?! WHAT SKILL?! This is a crime against music! How can anyone be this horrifically bad at playing an instrument?!]

"On my defense, the only sounds I ever heard in hell were either tortured screams or endless sobbing," Medeia said, lowering her flute. "But that’s beside the point. What matters now is ..." She gestured at the unconscious bodies sprawled across the snow. "Mission accomplished."

She chuckled to herself, pleased, then hopped down from the roof. Without hesitation, she started gathering their weapons, snapping each one like brittle twigs.

"So ... what now?" she muttered, eyeing the pile of young soldiers. "People don’t die from ruptured eardrums, right?"

[Probably not,] the system replied.

[But if you’d played that flute any closer to their heads, their brains might have exploded as well.]

Medeia rolled her eyes. "Oh, don’t be dramatic."

[So, what’s the plan, Host? Are you going to load them onto the truck?]

She clicked her tongue, already exhausted just thinking about it. Sure, she could do it, but dragging 28 unconscious bodies one by one? No, thanks.

"This sounds like a Lucian problem," she decided with a smile.

With that, she turned on her heel and pushed open the pub door with a loud bang, making everyone inside flinch.

The injured soldiers inside had been hastily bandaged, the air thick with the metallic scent of blood and herbs. In the far corner, Lucian had just finished amputating Mateo’s right leg, pressing a mix of medicinal plants against the raw wound to stop the bleeding.

"Lucian, honey!" Medeia called out, voice saccharine. "Can we fit 28 more men in our truck?"

Lucian barely had time to look up before Max spun toward her, pointing an accusing finger.

"You’re a monster!" he shouted.

Medeia gasped, one hand flying to her chest in an exaggerated display of shock. "Oh, my ...."

Then, in a second, her expression shifted, lips curling into a sly smile.

"Of course not, silly," she drawled. "Do you think the Lost can still talk? And besides—" she flicked her hair over her shoulder "—what kind of monster still looks this stunning?"

"She has shapeshifting abilities," Lucian said, sounding more offended by Max’s accusation than Medeia herself. But instead of dragging out the argument, he exhaled sharply and turned his attention to her.

"What happened? And why did I hear that god-awful noise just now?"

"Honey ... not you too." Medeia clicked her tongue, visibly annoyed that everyone had something to say about her musical talent. But she waved it off and got to the point. "Come outside with me for a second."

Lucian followed her without question. Once they stepped into the cold, Medeia told him everything she knew about those young soldiers.

His eyes then turned toward the twenty-eight young soldiers who scattered across the snowy ground. Their bodies twitch slightly from the lingering effects of her performance. ƒreewebɳovel.com

Lucian slowly dragged a hand down his face. "Medeia, if you wanted to bring them back, maybe you shouldn’t have wrecked their cars."

He looked at her the way someone would when their partner showed up with a box full of stray cats, except, in this case, the ’cats’ were unconscious soldiers.

Medeia clasped her hands behind her back, swaying slightly on her heels. "Sooo ... do you think we can squeeze them into the truck? You know, with the firewood?" She tilted her head. "I mean ... we could just stack them, right?"

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