They Hated Me in My First Life, But Now I Have the Love System
Chapter 335: Bloodied. Bruised. Trapped

Chapter 335: Bloodied. Bruised. Trapped

“Don’t just renew my life for the month,” she said. “Heal me. Every wound. I can’t fall now… The mission is not over.”

“Warning. This will cost all your good points. Every single one.”

“I know.”

Do you accept?

“…Yes.”

A surge of warmth filled her chest. Golden light swirled through her veins. Every cut sealed. Every bruise faded. Her strength returned like a flood.

She stood up, renewed, unbroken.

She walked back to the others with an even pace. The first thing Abuchi did when he saw her was to examine her up and down. He only relaxed when he saw that she was fine.

‘How remarkable,’ he thought. She fought nine second rate guards all at once and came out without a single scratch.

If only Abuchi knew that Nnenna almost died in that fight. He probably would not be so calm.

King Mesha, Ruth, and her mother had stared with wide eyes throughout the entire fight.

The prison bars could not hide their shock.

They recognized Abuchi immediately, his stance, his voice, the way he fought like someone with something to protect. Ruth’s heart pounded in her chest. It really was him. Her Abuchi.

But the other two fighters were harder to place. One was a young man, unfamiliar. The other… a girl. A courageous girl. Ruth squinted, a strange feeling twisting in her chest.

It looked like Nnenna.

But no, it couldn’t be.

Could it?

Ruth did not let herself believe it, not yet.

Then, after the sound of the battle died down, the girl stepped forward, breathing hard but standing strong. Her clothes were stained with blood and sweat, but her voice was clear.

“We are here to save you people,” she said.

Ruth froze.

Her mother let out a soft gasp.

And King Mesha narrowed his eyes in disbelief.

Not just a courageous young girl.

She was the second princess of Lionara.

Nnenna.

Abuchi knelt by one of the unconscious guards and pulled a set of keys from his belt. “Let’s go. There’s no time to waste,” he said, moving fast to open the cell door.

The prisoners were still stunned, but the urgency in his voice snapped them into motion. They stepped out of the cell quickly, glancing at each other, still trying to process what was happening.

But just as they reached the doorway

A loud creak echoed from the dungeon door.

The massive metal doors from the front side slowly slid open.

And then

Clap. Clap. Clap.

A slow, mocking applause filled the air.

A man stepped forward from the shadows of the open doorway.

He looked like a younger version of King Mesha, sharper features, cold smile, same royal blood in his veins.

Over a hundred guards followed behind him, their armor gleaming in the torchlight.

“Impressive, impressive,” the man said casually, his voice echoing through the dungeon like he was on stage performing for an audience. “Wow… what a thrilling rescue mission.”

He clapped again, slower this time.

“I mean, guys, don’t you think so?” he asked, turning to some of the guards beside him.

They hesitated.

Then, nodding quickly, they clapped along, not daring to leave him hanging.

His expression shifted. The show was over.

“Okay, enough fun,” he said, his tone now flat, almost bored. He waved a hand lazily. “Throw them back in the cell.”

The six people immediately moved into a defensive stance, fists clenched, eyes sharp. They were not going down without a fight.

But it was six against a hundred.

They fought hard, but the enemy was too many. Ruth screamed as Nnenna was slammed hard against the wall. John took a blow to the ribs. Abuchi tried to shield the others, but even he was knocked to the ground.

One by one, they were dragged, beaten, and shoved back into the cell.

The door slammed shut behind them.

Bloodied. Bruised. Trapped.

But Abuchi still raised his chin, defiance burning in his eyes.

“Aren’t you afraid of what you’re doing?” he said, breathing hard but still standing. “You think we came alone? We have armies waiting outside the city. If they don’t hear from us in an hour, they’ll storm this place.”

He smirked despite his swollen lip.

“You’re really going to risk it all… just to lock us up?”

The younger Mesha paused outside the bars. For a second, his eyes flickered, not with fear, but curiosity.

Then he smiled again. A slow, wicked smile.

“Oh, that’s right, your armies,” the cold man said, pretending to just remember. His voice dripped with mock sympathy as he turned to the guard beside him and gave a small nod.

In less than a minute, two more bodies were shoved forward and thrown into the prison cell.

Karen and Ekene.

Gasps echoed through the cell as the rest of the group rushed to them. Both were bruised, coughing, trying to sit up.

“Good,” the man said, spreading his arms like a stage performer. “Now all the heroes are in one place. That’s all the army, right? We’re okay now, yeah?”

He chuckled to himself, looking around at his guards like he was telling a joke at a dinner party. They laughed nervously, unsure whether it was a joke or not.

“Perfect,” he added, voice calm and flat again. “Execute them… in the morning.”

As if he had just said, “Serve breakfast.”

Then he turned around, hands behind his back, and began to walk away casually, like none of this was serious.

But just as he reached the first step leading out of the dungeon, a voice cut through the silence like a dagger.

“King Eglon,” Ruth said, her voice laced with sarcasm and disgust.

The man paused. He turned around slowly, eyebrows raised, feigning surprise.

“That’s hurtful,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest like she had wounded him. “I’m your uncle, Ruth. You should call me Uncle Eglon.”

Ruth stepped forward, bruised but proud. “I don’t have an uncle like you,” she snapped.