The Hunted Regressor: My Heretic Saint System-Chapter 74: Dog Eat Dog

***

The explosion’s echo still lingered when the dust began to settle.

Trees lay snapped and splintered, this once-dense part of the forest now nothing more than a scar of broken stone with a single massive crater yawning open beside a small hill.

Not so far away from such ruin was the shimmering light of a Divine Stair.

It was almost... beautiful.

Two figures stared at that scene.

Both were wrapped head-to-toe in black, their long cloaks rippling in the wind that rose from deep below.

Even their faces were hidden, no features visible save for the faint glint of eyes beneath their hoods.

Neither of them spoke for a long moment; instead, they stared into that endless pit, watching faint sparks fade somewhere in the dark.

"...he fell."

The taller one broke the silence first.

"He really fell."

The shorter figure turned, the faint outline of a frown under his hood.

"No shit, he fell. Half the ground went with him."

They both looked back down again.

"Do you think he’s alive?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

...A distant rumble answered them from the depths.

It was something that didn’t need mentioning.

"Wasn’t he supposed to be lucky?"

The taller one tilted their head, still peering into the abyss.

"Yeah, supposedly... but maybe his Rune is broken."

The absurdity of the moment could only slowly settle in.

Because yes, what had just happened before them... wasn’t really possible.

The odds of two Runebearers randomly finding an undiscovered entrance to Hell were close to zero, even when considering that most entrances to Hell were usually close to Divine Stairs.

They knew that.

Everyone knew that.

Most, if not all, entrances had long since been sealed, warded, and studied, or at least mapped out. For one to still exist out here, and for it to crack open because of a fight, was beyond impossible.

It was insane.

The silence they now shared was heavier.

Because both of them realized what came next, or rather, what they should do next.

They were to go back, report what they saw, and deliver the news that Ignotus of House Plant, Genus’s very son, had fallen into Hell.

But neither of them moved.

Though this was their job...

"We can’t."

The two didn’t know what to do.

"You think..."

The taller one rubbed the back of his neck.

"If we go back now, he’ll kill us?"

The shorter one didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to; they both knew the answer was "yes."

House Lord Genus would chop off their heads.

The man didn’t at all take kindly to failure.

Especially not the kind that involved Runes.

So, instead, they exchanged one last long look, carrying mutual dread, panic, and resignation, before sighing at the same time. Neither wanted to find out the answer.

"Let’s wait here."

The shorter one blinked.

"...Wait here? You mean—"

"Yeah. Maybe he’s alive, maybe he isn’t. Either way, if we stay here long enough, we can pretend we’re still searching and buy ourselves some time."

He considered it for a few moments and then nodded.

"I say we go for it."

So that was that.

They decided to wait.

Neither of the two said it aloud, but both were hoping for a miracle. One that would either bring Ignotus crawling back up from the pit or at least give them an excuse that would sound half-believable when they eventually faced Genus’s wrath.

In other simpler words, they hoped he’d survive the fall and be swallowed by Hell’s Corruption. Because then, they wouldn’t need to worry about losing their heads, only about having a proper excuse for how they hadn’t found him yet.

After all, with Corruption, Ignotus’s Runes would be swallowed along with his Soul.

The Law of Retrieval—or, as it was officially known, the Rune-Lease Decree—would’ve already started its process if Ignotus had died by the fall alone.

Forced by a spell, his Runes would return to their source, straight to the family vault.

Once that happened, their own deaths would follow not long after.

Perhaps the chopping block was already readying its blade.

Which was why...

The two didn’t bother thinking about who was chasing Ignotus, their supposed young master. Or even the weird light blue lightning sparking off him, but only about how to save their own hides.

If it wasn’t obvious enough by now, they weren’t loyalists of House Plant.

They were simply hired shadows.

Servants sent to watch the young master from afar, not to protect him.

And that, they decided, meant that this wasn’t their fault, no, not at all. Even though they’d lost him halfway, only finding him again when he was a minute or so away from death, lured in by all the rumbling.

"Still..."

The shorter one glanced back uneasily at the pit.

"Shouldn’t we... I don’t know... send a pulse down there? Check for Divinity signatures?"

"You want to poke Hell with a stick?!"

The taller one snapped.

"Be my guest."

"...fair point."

It was almost mocking.

A place of divine safety, right next to the most forbidden abyss in existence.

Heaven and Hell sharing the same cliff.

The two shadows didn’t care much for the irony.

Again, this was Hell.

Even Blessed, Third Class Runebearers, struggled to come back from there.

Yet, even if, by some incredible miracle, Ignotus somehow survived...

If he somehow climbed out of this piece of death.

It wouldn’t matter; he wouldn’t be allowed to live.

Not for long anyway...

House Plant wasn’t known for being merciful to the "talentless."

Whether or not such cruelty extended to their own blood, the shadows didn’t know, but they were sure to find out.

And if not the family themselves, then later, when the news reached their vassel Houses, they might send Sealbearers after him. Of course, it’d not be to rescue him or bring him home, but to retrieve what mattered most.

The Runes.

Though Runes of Luck, they’d still be useful.

They belonged to the bloodline, and they’d remain so.

Because that was how this realm worked.

It was a ’dog-eat-dog realm.’

One child’s fall became another’s rise.

A brother’s death meant a sister’s ascension.

That was the way of every House.

They liked to call it a mercy...

Nobles preferred Divine continuity.

The passing of a torch.

After all, they were ’noble.’

And nobility remained with kin.