Reincarnated as a Princess's Pet: With Trash Stats, but SSS-Rank Skill

Max ran straight down the sewer corridor. His footsteps echoed against the damp ground. The sound chased him.

The place where the spell had come from was getting closer and closer.

"...I have to get there..."

He breathed heavily.

"...before it’s too late."

Something moved from the ground. A completely rotten hand.

It grabbed his leg.

Max stopped dead in his tracks.

"...let go of me, damn it!"

The zombie, dressed in torn clothes and with ripped flesh, pulled hard.

Max gritted his teeth. He lifted his foot and crushed its head.

Crack.

The hand loosened.

"...I don’t have time for this."

He pulled out his hammer.

The first zombie lunged at him.

Max twisted his body—

Impact.

Its head exploded against the wall.

Another one.

And another.

Max threw the hammer. It spun through the air, striking and returning to his hand. Again and again. Carving a path forward. Without stopping.

Behind him was nothing but the sound of bones and flesh colliding. Screams.

Azael and his summoned skeletons. Holding back the tide of zombies.

Max didn’t look back. He kept running. Striking with his hammer and pushing forward.

Then he stopped for a second. He frowned.

"...the smell..."

He took a deep breath and realized it wasn’t as strong anymore. Less rotten. Less dense.

He looked up and saw more torches lit, illuminating the path. The light was clearer.

"...I must be close..."

And then, a wave of magical energy rushed toward him, straight at his face.

Max reacted. He raised his shield, letting the blast crash into it. A dull boom. The shield’s effect activated, and the energy rebounded, straight back at its attacker.

At the end of the corridor, a cry of pain echoed.

Max narrowed his eyes.

"...found you, bastard..."

He moved forward, slower now. Ready.

And then he saw him. A devil, pinned against rusted bars. Metal pierced through his body, bleeding out. It was another Dante, thrown there by the reflected energy from Max’s shield.

He stared at him and smiled.

"...honestly..."

He coughed, spitting blood.

"...your tricks keep surprising me."

Max frowned.

"...what...?"

Dante tilted his head.

"...since that time at the circus."

Max blinked.

"...the circus...?"

Dante let out a weak laugh.

"...it hasn’t been that long..."

He spat blood again.

"...or have you already forgotten me?"

Max took a step forward. His eyes widened.

"...no way..."

He tightened his grip on the hammer.

"...you’re..."

He frowned.

"...that clown from back then."

Dante smiled wider, showing blood-stained teeth.

"...glad you remember."

His gaze hardened.

"...I hope to see you again soon."

He coughed.

"...I won’t let you take what’s mine and ruin my plans again."

Max raised his hammer, ready to strike.

"...my friend isn’t yours."

He stepped forward.

"...nor the women you stole..."

Another step.

"...nor the ones you forced to marry you."

He lifted the weapon, ready to bring it down.

But at that instant, Dante extended his arm. Another wave of energy shot out, straight at Max.

His body was thrown backward. He crashed into a pile of rotten remains.

"...ugh..."

He tried to get up, but his entire body ached.

Dante looked at him and smiled again.

"...I see..."

Pause.

"...that trick doesn’t work twice."

His body began to change. Skin. Shape. Bones. They twisted, until he took the form of an orc. Green skin, long tusks, no horns or tail.

Max dropped to one knee, trying to stand.

"...damn..."

He heard footsteps behind him. Getting faster.

It was Azael, appearing at his side. His eyes scanned the scene.

"...what happened?"

Max pointed at the orc, breathing heavily.

"...Dante..."

Pause.

"...he possessed him a moment ago."

He gritted his teeth.

"...it was another fake."

He looked around, completely confused.

"...I don’t know what he was doing here..."

Azael didn’t answer immediately. He observed the place—the crates, the remains, the layout. His eyes sharpened.

"...I do."

He walked straight toward a pile of rotten wooden crates. He snapped his fingers. The skeletons moved. They pushed some aside, broke others. The wood gave way.

Beneath them was a large, filthy sack.

Azael crouched. Opened it... and there she was.

Abigail, unconscious.

"...he found her first."

Max felt his heart pounding in his chest.

"...Abby..."

Azael didn’t take his eyes off her.

"Now’s the time. Remove the collar."

His tone was firm. No doubt.

"...we need to get out of here as soon as possible."

Pause.

"...have your healer take care of her."

Max nodded and swallowed. His legs trembled as he tried to stand. The pain was intense.

"...gh..."

He leaned on his hammer and forced himself forward. One step, then another.

"...Dorian..."

He took a deep breath.

"...he’s going to have to take care of me too."

Azael smiled, but didn’t respond. He snapped his fingers. One of the skeletons approached, knelt, and with unusual care for something without flesh, lifted Abigail’s body. It carried her as if she weighed nothing.

Azael stood up. He gave the place one last look.

The orc.

The remains.

The shadows.

His expression tightened slightly.

"...we’re leaving."

Max reached Abby. His hands trembled. He knelt and brought his fingers to her neck. The collar was cold, tight around her throat. He grabbed it without hesitation.

"...I hope I’m not hurting you..."

He placed the coin into the slot at the center of the collar. The red markings glowed, and the metal gave way. It loosened and fell from the demon girl’s neck.

At that very moment, Abby let out a faint breath.

Max froze.

"...Abby..."

Azael slightly turned his head.

"...move, before more zombies show up... or something worse."

Max nodded. He clenched the collar in his hand and turned back toward the corridor they came from.

The skeleton was already moving, Abby in its arms. Azael walked ahead. Max followed them, dragging the pain in his legs.

Behind them, a distant sound.

The zombies, moving again. But it didn’t matter anymore. There was only one thing on his mind.

Getting out of the sewers... with Abby... alive.