After repeating the process with the other white stocking, Castorice slipped her delicate feet into the high heels. She stood up, tested her balance on her tiptoes, and took a few steps, feeling completely natural and comfortable.
To be honest, she even found the white stockings surprisingly comfortable.
It's worth noting that unlike Cipher, Castorice had exceptionally slender legs. Even when pressed tightly together, a small gap remained between her thighs, wide enough to slip a hand through.
In the game, Cipher's nickname for Castorice, "Princess Homebody," was perfectly fitting. Just looking at her legs, one could easily imagine a sheltered noblewoman who rarely left her mansion and barely exercised.
Once Castorice was fully dressed, Cipher swept her into a princess carry. She supported Castorice's thighs with one hand and wrapped her other arm around her shoulders, feeling as if she were holding a feather—almost weightless.
For Castorice, being carried like this for the first time was a novel experience. Clutching Pollux, perched atop her head, tightly to her chest, she suddenly felt Cipher activate Divine Speed and burst into a rapid run.
A golden flash streaked across the Alliance territory, covering nearly half its expanse in just over ten minutes to reach the northernmost Chaos City.
Of course, this included time spent getting lost, retracing their steps, and finding their way again. After setting Castorice down, Cipher bent over, bracing her hands on her knees and gasping for breath. It was the first time she had sustained Divine Speed for such a prolonged period and covered such a vast distance.
Castorice gazed at the distant city. The first thing that caught her eye was the abnormally dilapidated, half-built city wall. It sloped steeply from left to right, resembling a crude triangle.
Outside the wall stretched a dense sprawl of tents. Though the sun had yet to rise, Castorice could already see countless figures moving about.
One man, who had been walking normally, suddenly shoulder-checked the person beside him. As his victim stumbled, the attacker bolted away.
Two others seemed to have gotten into an argument and were already trading blows.
A third person crept cautiously into a tent, glancing around furtively, then emerged less than five seconds later clutching a large bundle of stolen goods.
Robbery, brawls, and theft seemed commonplace in Chaos City, living up to its nickname. After all, being exiled here was proof that its inhabitants were far from virtuous.
This realization struck Castorice: she couldn't simply stroll into the city in her current attire. Her elegant dress and white stockings stood out starkly against the city's gritty atmosphere, utterly out of place in this lawless environment.
While Castorice's combat prowess meant she feared no one in the city, avoiding unnecessary trouble was always preferable.
Cipher turned her attention to a merchant caravan stationed outside the city walls. Surprisingly, even this place attracted traders.
For merchants, profit outweighed all risks. Chaos City, with its desperate shortages, offered lucrative opportunities. Basic food or ordinary clothing could fetch exorbitant prices.
What if the city's inhabitants lacked money? They could barter with other valuables. As Cipher approached the caravan, she witnessed a man trading a helmet for a loaf of bread.
As for the helmet's origin, it was likely brought here by a newly exiled criminal. Through various means—perhaps theft or robbery—it had changed hands several times before finally ending up here.
Cipher could see cracks and bloodstains on the helmet, but being metal, it was undoubtedly worth far more than a loaf of bread.
Selling goods in this place, however, was always risky. Just as the helmet seller handed over the helmet and received the bread, he suddenly charged toward the caravan's supply wagon, grabbing a large handful of loaves and clutching them to his chest.
The next instant, a sword pierced his chest from behind.
After all, the "customers" here were ruthless criminals, and such raids on caravans were common. To trade here, merchants had to hire a sufficient number of skilled adventurers as guards; otherwise, they wouldn't even know what killed them.
The merchant surveyed the corpse on the ground, noting the blood- and dirt-stained bread clutched in its hand. "Tsk, tsk, tsk," he clucked. "This kid must be new around here. How dare he try to steal from me? Doesn't he know my guards are the fiercest in Chaos City?"
"Well, no harm done," he added. "Saved me a loaf. Just wipe these loaves clean and sell them to the next sucker."
"Fiercest guards, huh?" Cipher muttered to herself as she approached, deciding to start her plan right here.
The caravan consisted of five wagons: two for passengers and three for supplies—food, clothing, and a collection of oddities salvaged from Chaos City.
Under the influence of Divine Speed, Cipher raced straight to the clothing wagon. Upon opening the compartment, she was greeted by dozens of identical black cloaks.
Cipher stared blankly. "...Is this the only style you carry?"
On second thought, a black cloak was probably the most practical garment in this lawless place. Cipher picked one up and examined it. It was slightly larger than the "Thief's Cloak" she'd bought in Stone Pine City—more than large enough to completely envelop Castorice.
Cipher then went to the food wagon, carefully selecting a generous supply of clean and well-preserved provisions. Strictly speaking, as a death demigod, Castorice didn't need to eat. If that was the case, could Cipher also abstain from food?
Still, she preferred to maintain a semblance of a normal human routine, sleeping when it was time to sleep and eating when she was hungry.
Before leaving, Cipher approached the merchant, gently patted his shoulder, and squeaked in a deliberately strained voice, "Good luck, big brother, the guard of the most amazing merchant! Make sure you protect your precious goods!"
Despite Cipher's meticulous selection, her Divine Speed meant that only a few moments had passed. The merchant, still basking in his earlier display of bravado, froze at the sudden voice in his ear.
He whirled around to find the third and fourth cargo wagons, where his supplies were stored, standing wide open. Cold sweat drenched his body, and his legs trembled like leaves in a storm. "Holy shit!!!"
By the time Cipher returned to Castorice's side, she was helping her drape the black cloak over her shoulders. This meant Pollux, the little Round Sparrow, could no longer perch on Castorice's head. The tiny bird fluttered its wings a few times before landing on Castorice's chest.
"It... it tickles a little," Castorice murmured, scratching gently. She had discovered that her body was unusually sensitive. Don't get the wrong idea—this wasn't the kind of sensitivity you'd find in a racy comic book. Rather, she had an abundance of ticklish spots.
Her armpits and the sides of her waist, for example, were so sensitive that even a light poke from her own hand would send her into a fit of giggles. She hadn't tested the soles of her feet yet, but she suspected they would be just as sensitive.
This was likely due to Castorice's complete isolation. She had never been touched by another person—after all, a single touch meant death. This prolonged isolation had likely caused her extreme sensitivity.
The solution seemed straightforward: have someone tickle her ticklish spots repeatedly. Desensitization training should... solve the problem, right?
With this thought, Cipher couldn't resist reaching out and grabbing Castorice's armpits. But before she could even begin tickling, both of them burst into laughter.
"Forget it... never mind," Castorice finally said, abandoning her desensitization training. After all, she wouldn't let anyone touch her anyway, so it didn't matter how ticklish she was.
Cipher handed Castorice the food she had just gathered, leaving behind some Gold Dragons as well. Only after finishing everything did she depart for Aria's camp.
Now Castorice was alone. Well, not exactly. She lowered her head and poked Pollux, the little Round Sparrow perched on her chest. The tiny creature chirped in response, sounding utterly adorable.
With renewed determination, Castorice strode forward, officially entering the chaotic streets of Chaos City.
Her current objective was to gather information. As the final battlefield between the seven Heroes and the Demon Lord, Chaos City might hold clues about the Divine Artifacts wielded by those Heroes. The question was, how should she investigate?
Dio had previously warned that Aria's Hero Party would be relatively safe as long as they didn't provoke the three local powers of Chaos City: the Northern Barbarians, Black Hand, and the Archbishop of the Church of Death. Conversely, as the city's overlords, these three individuals undoubtedly possessed the most comprehensive knowledge.
Castorice pondered her options for a moment, then decided to find this so-called "Black Hand" first. The nickname was simply too hilarious to ignore, and she was immensely curious about the kind of person who would bear it.
Normally, city gates would be guarded by soldiers, and some major cities even charged an entrance fee. But Chaos City, true to its name, had no soldiers, nor even a proper city gate. After navigating through the tent district surrounding the city walls, one could simply slip through any gap in the fortifications.
However, before Castorice could enter the city, she encountered a minor "incident."
The tent district outside the walls lacked anything resembling a proper road. The only difference was the density of tents—some huddled close together, others stood farther apart. Castorice had to weave through the wider gaps between them. But before she could take more than a few steps, a hand shot out from a nearby tent, grabbing for her right ankle.
Naturally, Castorice easily sidestepped the clumsy attempt with a flick of her leg. A scruffy man with bulging eyes slowly crawled out of the tent, chuckling softly. "Well now, where did this little beauty come from?" he rasped.
Castorice's cloak completely enveloped her, but as she walked, her calves inevitably peeked out. Even so, they shouldn't have been visible from a normal perspective.
Unless someone was lying on the ground, looking up, they could only catch glimpses of her calves as her cloak swayed with each step. Castorice never expected to encounter a real-life "Voldemort" in this place.
But another oddity nagged at her. Even if someone had seen her calves, how could they possibly judge her appearance? How did this person know she was beautiful?
Precognition? X-ray vision? Or something else entirely?
The man continued, "I don't know why your legs are so pale. Are you sick? Doesn't matter, heh heh. As long as you're a girl, I'm happy. Or even a skinny boy would do..."
Castorice remained silent, speechless.
Well, she'd overestimated this guy. He hadn't even recognized her white stockings. He'd simply seen her slender calves and assumed she was female, and apparently, in his eyes, any woman was a beauty.
It wasn't that he had any special powers; he was just too indiscriminate.
As the man leered and advanced toward her, Castorice silently extended her right hand. The movement caused more of her body to emerge from beneath her black cloak.
A beautiful dress adorned with countless exquisite butterfly-shaped ornaments, and most importantly, a glimpse of the lower half of her face. In that instant, the man froze, rooted to the spot, muttering in disbelief, "An... an angel?!"
Castorice's appearance alone created a stark contrast against the squalid backdrop of Chaos City, indeed evoking the image of an angel descending to earth. However, she wasn't a virtuous celestial being, but a "Death Angel."
While the man stood frozen in shock, Castorice stepped forward and gently tapped his shoulder. In the next instant, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed to the ground, dead on the spot.
This place was filled with vicious criminals, and she felt no remorse for killing them.
Castorice continued onward, assuming the incident was just a minor interruption. To her astonishment, it proved to be anything but. Less than a minute later, having walked barely two hundred meters, another "Voldemort" suddenly reached out to grab her leg, spouting almost the exact same line:
"Such lovely legs, little beauty~ Let me take a look~"
Thud!
Castorice tapped the man and kept moving. But less than a minute later:
"Oh my, didn't expect my luck to be this... Thud!"
"Don't be scared, I'm here to... Thud!"
Castorice stared in disbelief. She began to wonder if she was trapped in some kind of time loop. Could the people in this city really be this absurd?