Healing System-Chapter 317: Peaceful Inn

So he's a little off the fucking rails, isn't he? Michael thought warily.

The demons down there were innocent, or so they seemed. Yet Arthur proceeded to massacre them without even having a single conversation.

Safe to say, this wasn't a guy he wanted to deal with, but since circumstances made it so, Michael wouldn't shit-talk him just yet.

After all, to kill someone like this, he would need to make him lower his guard.

And this fish fucker is definitely not going to do that.

Nonetheless, he turned toward him and proceeded to tap on his shoulder.

"Relieved?"

"Very." Arthur nodded with a smile. "I wonder if there are any more of them? I still have so much strength left to exhaust."

"Why don't you just let them be?" Michael brought up. "Food is better when it's made, not created. My food is shit, so I'd much rather eat something nice for once."

"Now why would I give demons time to prepare?" Arthur asked with a tilt of his head. "Do you think I'm some amateur? Just how many demons do you think I've killed?"

"I frankly don't give a shit," Michael replied. "But there's one thing that worries me. Are you sane?"

Arthur's gaze sharpened. "Are we going to have a problem?"

But Michael didn't back down. "I understand being a psychopath is taxing work; however, if all you do is kill everyone we meet, then I'm afraid we're going to have a completely different chat."

The moment Michael's words fell, Arthur reached out his hand and attempted to grip Michael's neck.

Michael already saw that coming, so with a mere twist of his body, he delivered a lightning-fast uppercut to Arthur's jaw, making him stagger back.

Arthur was obviously surprised; after all, Michael was much weaker than him.

However, Arthur's technique was piss-poor, so Michael wasn't exactly having trouble in that department.

But of course, if Arthur chose to summon one hundred tsunamis on his face, then Michael could do nothing but take it like a champ.

Nonetheless, Michael proceeded to glare at Arthur, who glared back at him.

And after just a few minutes, Arthur let out a sigh as he wiped his chin.

"Very well, I promise not to destroy the next settlement we find."

"Sure, and I promise not to hit you in the chin as long as you keep your promise," Michael replied.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "That doesn't sound like a very good promise."

"It's good enough, unless you have something else in mind?" Michael chuckled, and with that, the two finally made up.

Not fully, of course. He could still feel the pressure from Arthur, which not only meant he had his guard up, but he was also ready to kill Michael at any moment.

But I might just be paranoid, Michael sighed.

Nonetheless, the two proceeded to pick a random direction and fly toward it.

Like before, it took a while until they found a settlement.

This time, it was a massive city, much bigger than the one Arthur had wiped out.

Michael could see Arthur's hands trembling, almost as if he couldn't hold himself back.

"You're going to break your promise already?" Michael asked, amused. "You're not very good with promises."

"I'm not breaking anything," Arthur scoffed. "I just detest those beings with all my heart. I can't wait to get some food and finally kill them all."

Michael raised a brow. "So will you kill them even if they've done nothing wrong?"

"Their ancestors had done more than enough wrongs," Arthur replied. "I'm merely paying back the generational debt."

"To literal children?" Michael asked. "Even if they're demons, just look at them. They're running around and having fun, yet you're ready to end them right here and now. It's a bit ruthless, don't you think?"

"Ruthlessness was what made our race thrive," Arthur stated. "We didn't become one of the strongest races in the universe by being merciful. Demons don't deserve mercy, and the same applies to humans."

"Oh?" Michael tilted his head. "Have you ever heard of the Evangelist group?"

"You..." Arthur turned to him with a glare. "You know them?"

"Yep..." Michael sighed. "They're partnered with demons or something. However, not all humans are the same, as you might already know. The Evangelists are a small minority."

"But they are still—"

"No, they aren't." Michael cut him off. "You're grouping together the sins of a few people onto an entire race. I get you might not be the sharpest tool in the shed; however, I assume the same applies to your demon ideology. A minority killed your people or something, and you came to hate them."

"That's correct," Arthur said with a nod.

However, Michael didn't even humor him anymore. He was just repeating the same things over and over again like some kind of broken record.

Therefore, Michael merely shrugged at him. "Let's go eat, and don't do anything stupid. Make your own assessment, and don't judge them by what their ancestors did to your race."

With that, he walked forward until finally, he reached the very outskirts of this city.

Immediately, several demons walked up to them, and just as Michael had expected, they didn't hold any malice.

"An angel? Wow... what are you doing so far out?" one of the demon guards asked.

"I got lost," Michael replied calmly. "Though I'm seeking some shelter and food with my friend over there, could we go in?"

"Of course," the demon guard nodded with a smile. "We don't turn away guests. Please have an enjoyable stay in Velthora."

Velthora huh? That pops up in my memories, Michael thought and walked past the guard.

Although Arthur was still reluctant, he proceeded right behind Michael, walking inside the city.

"See? Nice people," Michael remarked. "Would that demon kill your ancestors?"

"..." Arthur continued glaring at Michael until eventually, they arrived in front of a particular inn.

The Demon Juice Inn.

Michael's thoughts were a bit off about the name; however, he chose to ignore it for the time being and go inside.

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Thankfully, it wasn't a brothel, but just a simple, seemingly ordinary inn.

The two soon approached the innkeeper and sat down.

"Welcome, travelers," the innkeeper said with a wide grin. "Would you like some demon juices inside you?"

"...?" Michael's brow twitched. "No thanks? Can we get an... uhh..."

Michael soon began calling out multiple items on the menu. Even though he had gotten some of the memories of this land, it was still a little hard to read their language.

However, after a bit of trial and error, he became fluent in it.

And finally, they finished their order and remained seated at the front.

As a kind gesture, the innkeeper passed them a few mugs of ale, and despite Michael's reluctance to drink alcohol due to his previous experiences, he downed it anyway.

After all, who he was in the past didn't define his current self—at least not that much.

"Enjoying yourself?" Michael asked teasingly.

"It's good ale," Arthur replied nonchalantly and took a few sips. "Though I can't say I like any of these demons, the innkeeper also seemed like a freak."

"Why? Is it because he offered some demonic juices?" Michael chuckled. "It was pretty funny, and I'm pretty sure he was serious... I'm kind of curious what those juices were though."

A shiver ran down Arthur's spine. "Don't even dare order demonic juices, or I shall wipe this entire city off the grid."

Michael rolled his eyes and saluted. "Aye, captain."

Nonetheless, after a few minutes' wait, their food finally arrived.

Despite Michael's initial expectations of it looking like some eldritch horror, that was frankly not the case. Instead, he had a plate full of french fries, and of course, a steak by the side.

I missed this so much... Michael thought, and immediately dug in.

Arthur still seemed reluctant to eat his fried chicken, but after just a few moments, he dug in as well.

To Michael's surprise, Arthur seemed more keen on eating the food than him, to the point where he devoured his fried chicken and even asked for more.

In the meantime, Michael had to deal with another matter.

How am I going to pay for all this?

He could probably summon some sort of shy rock, but odds were, it wouldn't be worth anything. Therefore, Michael simply waited to break the news to Arthur.

"Hey, I have a little request if you don't mind..." Michael trailed off, scratching his cheek. "You see, we don't have any money."

"So?" Arthur tilted his head, taking a bite out of the fried chicken. "Why should I care? We can just dine and dash."

"Nah, we're not thieves—at least I'm not," Michael replied with a sigh. "I think you should offer to wash their plates."

"What?" Arthur froze, nearly dropping his fried chicken. "You're 500,000 years too young to ask me to wash the dishes."

"Well... guess we'll be spending some time in prison then," Michael remarked, and soon, the innkeeper returned, a wide smile on his face.

"Cash or credit?"