Chapter 196: Allen Waits for an Opportunity to Farm Experience Points
The argument between mother and daughter ended on a sour note.
It was a completely predictable outcome.
Agatha was the very picture of a rebellious teenager, totally unwilling to accept the strict lifestyle of her family.
After the meal, Allen returned to his room.
With a pouch full of gold coins, of course he was staying in a private room—one of the deluxe singles with a bathtub, no less.
As the tub filled with hot water, Allen eagerly stripped down in one smooth motion.
"Hiss... damn, that's hot."
Gritting his teeth, Allen forced himself into the scalding water and stubbornly declared, "I'm going to adapt to the heat with sheer willpower."
"Mmm... now this is what I call comfort."
Once the water temperature became bearable, Allen leaned back contentedly against the edge.
Ever since arriving in this timeline, he hadn't had a proper hot bath.
After all, ancient living conditions weren't exactly luxurious. On the continent of Europa, commoners usually bathed only in the summer and just muddled through the winters—there was no chance of enjoying the same luxuries as nobles.
And in Kamar-Taj, the climate was springlike year-round, so no one really used hot water. Everyone bathed in cold water.
Plop...
A bubble surfaced from the water.
"Bath time isn't complete without bubbles—that's when you know it's real."
Unconsciously raising both hands, Allen wore a sheepish expression and said, "Lefty, Righty, it's been a long time since our last steamy bonding session. How about we rekindle that fiery connection tonight?"
Leaning left, Allen mimicked Lefty's bratty tone, "Ignore him. He's just trying to reward himself. Look at how many women he's flirted with across all those timelines. He hasn't paid us any attention in ages."
Leaning right, he mimicked Righty's gentle voice, "He hasn't done anything over the line. I believe he's a faithful man."
"Knew it—Righty's the best. Lefty's just jealous of our relationship and always trying to drive a wedge between us."
Saying that, Allen gave his right hand a loud smooch.
Knock knock knock...
Just then, there was a knock at the door. A voice called from outside, "Guest, would you like more hot water?"
"Come on in."
Creak!
At Allen's reply, the door opened with a soft creak.
Night had already fallen. The dim lighting in the room only faintly outlined the figure of the attendant at the doorway.
Plap... plap... plap...
The attendant approached step by step, while Allen, back to the door, was busily scrubbing grime from his armpits.
He often carried things under his arms, which made him sweat more than usual there—he had to be extra thorough.
After all, his armpits and the crack of his butt had become a kind of makeshift spatial pouch. While he didn't carry much, it was enough to free up his hands.
He remained completely unaware of the attendant's abnormal behavior.
A pair of pale hands slowly reached for Allen's neck.
Beneath the long, disheveled hair, the attendant's face was deathly pale, corpse-like, and her lifeless gray-white eyes resembled litchi seeds devoid of life.
Just as those hands were about to touch his neck, Allen suddenly reached back and grabbed them. Without even turning around, he asked, "Do you guys offer back scrubbing service here?"
"Mm…"
The attendant responded faintly.
Allen slumped forward against the tub, closed his eyes in comfort, and instructed, "Your hands are freezing—warm them up first. Then go to town on my back. Don't hold back just because I've got delicate skin."
"..."
The attendant tilted her head stiffly, visibly confused, but still continued with her mission to strangle him.
The pale hands once again reached toward Allen's fair neck.
"Allen!"
Just as the attendant was about to strike, the Ancient One's voice rang out from outside the room. The interruption startled the figure into pulling her hands back and turning toward the doorway.
In the next moment, Geralt, Agatha, and the Ancient One burst into the room.
Allen, still lounging in the tub, spun around and quickly covered his chest with a towel. In a flustered tone, he explained, "This isn't what it looks like! It was just a back scrub—nothing else happened, I swear! Please believe me. Give me a chance to redeem myself. I may be shameless, but I'm not depraved!"
"..."
The three of them gave him speechless looks—his explanation sounded like a guy caught in the middle of a paid love affair, busted by the cops.
Agatha rolled her eyes and reminded him, "Look at the person next to you."
"That's the inn attendant, obviously."
Allen looked at the "attendant" with a puzzled expression, then exclaimed in surprise, "Girl, were you raised on formaldehyde or something? Your skin's so white and that messy hairstyle—it's got that sickly punk vibe going on. Didn't expect you to be so avant-garde!"
Geralt interjected, "She's a corpse fiend!"
"A pharmacist?"
Allen's face lit up in realization, then curled in disdain. "So she's a pill pusher? Please. My record's six rounds in one day—four hours each. Why would I need meds to help?"
Shing!
A flash of sword light.
Geralt beheaded her in one clean swing, then patiently explained, "Corpse fiends are a kind of monster. I suspect a necromancer is behind this."
"Killing her's a waste. Should've gone one round while she was still warm."
"Aah—!"
Allen stood up from the tub.
The Ancient One instantly covered her eyes and let out a scream.
Agatha widened her eyes, not wanting to miss any details, only to end up disappointed. "Quit screaming. He's wearing pants."
Allen, now standing upright, was wearing striped hospital pants. With a calm expression, he said, "I wear pants in the bath. That way I can wash them while I wash myself. What's the problem?"
No problem.
That was actually a pretty efficient idea.
Allen muttered darkly, "I'm not telling them it's because I'm worried about triggering a 404. That's why I wear pants while bathing. No chance of violating any guidelines here."
"No time to waste."
Geralt urged, "The place is swarming with monsters outside."
"They're going all out now, huh? Finally, a chance to farm some EXP."
The moment he heard that, Allen leapt out of the tub and pulled a long-unused Tetanus Dagger from the crack of his butt.
"Yao-mei, grab my clothes! It's time for a killing spree—let's make the enemies cry 'dame'!"
With that, Allen bolted from the room like a rabid dog, completely unstoppable.
Meanwhile, the coven of witches had gathered downstairs, forming a barrier to block the monsters outside the inn.
Evanora, still unable to let go of Agatha, hadn't led her forces in retreat.
She heard heavy footsteps, then saw a shirtless Allen barreling down the stairs, dagger in hand.
"Don't go out! It's dangerous!"
Evanora rushed to stop him, but Allen smashed right through the front door, leaving a human-shaped hole in the wood.
The three who followed close behind watched his wild charge and suddenly felt like the crisis ahead might not be that bad after all.
"Agatha, come with me. The entire town is shrouded in a sinister force—I'm worried it's a trap set by the enemy," Evanora said anxiously.
Her command of white magic was exceptional. When she went all out, a frost-blue magical crown would appear over her head—a mark of high mastery in magic.
Of course, the true exemplar of the full-form magical crown was the Scarlet Witch, who could maintain it even in her normal state.
The mage hierarchy consisted of seven ranks: Apprentice Mage, Official Mage, Elite Mage, Veteran Mage, Shadow Crown, Magic Crown, and Supreme Mage.
The title of Supreme Mage was synonymous with Kamar-Taj, whose founder Agamotto was widely recognized as the first of the order.