November 16, afternoon, central Red Quarter.
Once a bustling district of bright lights and lavish indulgence, it was now filled with soldiers of the patrol teams in star-blue uniforms and light armor, as well as police officers in black-and-blue uniforms. They moved back and forth along the badly damaged buildings and roads, carrying stretchers, supplies, notebooks, and more.
"There's another body over here!" A patrol soldier waved, then, together with his comrades who had hurried over after hearing the call, dragged a deformed human body out from beneath a collapsed beam.
"This one's still breathing!" another urgent cry came from the distance. Doctors and healers hired by City Hall, along with priests who had volunteered from several temples, hurried over.
Lobik Dila, the first-rank Head of the West City Vigilance Hall, stood atop a small hill of collapsed buildings, his feet planted on bloodstained construction materials.
He had just sent away several City Hall officials whose clothes and backing were equally immaculate, smiling as he politely saw them off and humbly accepted their idiotic complaints: "Look at this. How did something that was supposed to be your responsibility turn out like this? Don't you know we at City Hall have to work and serve the people too? Where would we find the time to waste manpower here?"
Behind Lobik was an open space beneath a large canopy. It had been hastily cleared as a temporary morgue, and nearly a hundred bodies now lay there, including innocent civilians and gang members. Many officials wearing masks moved around the corpses with paper and pens. Every so often, a body would be identified by relatives who had rushed over after hearing the news or who had been desperately searching for their loved ones. What followed was naturally a burst of soul-rending grief.
Some relatives recognized the officials' uniforms. Those who became especially agitated even charged forward, only to be pulled back by the soldiers and police officers who had been prepared for this.
Lobik lowered his head and let out a deep sigh.
Fortunately, it was winter. The flies had not gathered yet.
Lobik stepped onto a signboard cracked into five or six pieces—it seemed to have belonged to some kind of board-game parlor—and walked down with a stiff expression.
A delicate swordsman chess piece fell from the ruins beneath the bloodstains.
Lobik stopped.
He slowly bent down, picked up the piece, and brushed off the dust.
But the bloodstains on it had already congealed and could not be wiped away.
Those bastards.
Lobik stared at the chess piece in his hand, his face livid.
The swordsman piece happened to be missing the hand that held its sword, as if it had been snapped off by a sudden force.
The Head of the Vigilant Hall turned and looked toward one side of the ruins. There, a man in a dark-red leather coat was also watching everything.
The man in the red coat turned and looked at the Head's displeased expression.
"I won't agree to it!" Lobik said decisively.
"Are you sure?" The man in the red coat revealed his face. His thin cheeks were covered in stubble, and his tone was filled with hostility. "This is a request from the Blood Bottle Gang and that lord."
"Nekla! This isn't what we agreed on! Even that lord wouldn't agree to you blowing Red Quarter into ruins and taking—nearly two hundred lives!" The Head of the Vigilant Hall gritted his teeth, almost forcing the words out through his anger.
"And now you still want—their corpses?"
Lobik felt that his dissatisfaction was about to break through the heavens.
But the man he called Nekla, though his face was icy, said without the slightest concern, "That isn't accurate. Only a dozen or so buildings in the center of the district were destroyed, weren't they?"
"Besides, I truly didn't know that the Head of the West City Vigilance Hall, who stood by with folded arms all night, also possessed a sense of justice and compassion. Come to think of it, we lost quite a few people last night too, didn't we?"
You scum. When your gangs were fighting each other, did you really expect me to send men to help you? Lobik thought furiously.
"This was a loss for the Blood Bottle Gang, and a loss for that lord. Naturally, it's also a loss for you, Head," Nekla continued.
Why was this piece of scum driven out of the Western Front? They should have cut his head off outright!
Lobik cursed inwardly.
Nekla said coldly, "So, for the sake of that lord's interests, it's only some corpses. Surely you can make the decision, Head?"
But Lobik did not give in as he expected.
The Head strode up to Nekla until they were so close their noses nearly touched. His eyes blazing with fury, he said, "I don't give a damn how many of you Blood Bottle Gang scum died. I'm obeying that lord's orders, but he never said you lot would cause a disaster like this! Everyone in the Royal Capital knows about it this morning—you were blowing things up for fun in Red Quarter! Even the Imperial Council is discussing the gang battle in the Western City District!"
Nekla's gaze changed.
He took a step forward without retreating, pressing his forehead against Lobik's, and glared into the Head's eyes with hatred and fury. "Then you should know that our anger is no less than yours! The Blood Bottle Gang never lets things go unpaid. Blood debts must be repaid!"
Nekla's provocative answer also stoked Lobik's fury.
"Stop bringing up your damned affairs! Especially you useless failures!" he shouted. "The Blood Bottle Gang never lets things go unpaid? Believe it or not, if I withdraw the police and patrol teams right now, you piece of filth won't even make it out of Red Quarter!"
Nekla furrowed his brows resentfully, the fury in his eyes growing stronger.
Lobik glared back without yielding an inch.
The surrounding patrol members noticed what was happening and silently moved closer.
Two captains who were Terminus Swordsmen had already turned cold. They placed their hands on the hilts at their waists.
Nekla caught sight of the soldiers from the corner of his eye, and his heart tightened.
This big Green Skin really has nerve.
At the same time, he noticed several ill-intentioned gazes among the residents watching from outside the cordon. Every so often, some would disappear, only for new gazes to emerge and focus on this place.
Damn Brotherhood.
Red Quarter no longer belonged to the Blood Bottle Gang, after all.
Considering the Vigilant Hall's strength and the Brotherhood's threat, Nekla forcefully suppressed his dissatisfaction and took a step back.
The Air Elementalist has disappeared. At least until the Blood Elementalist returns, we have to submit.
Damn big Green Skin—and that damn great noble.
"I apologize for my words and actions, Lord Lobik Dila." He placed heavy emphasis on "Lord." A smile bloomed on his thin face as he lowered his head and bowed, as though his previous anger had all been fake.
The bow was not quite proper.
"We truly shouldn't have caused you this kind of trouble. I'll leave at once and go confess my fault to the Duke."
Nekla smiled shyly, turned around, and walked away.
He did not stop until the expected response came from behind him.
"Wait!"
Lobik clenched his fists, telling himself not to act rashly.
Damn it.
Damn it.
Could it be that once I took that step back then, I could never turn around again?
Lobik helplessly waved his hand, sending away the men who were about to surround them.
The corners of Nekla's mouth curled upward in triumph.
The Head of the Vigilant Hall closed his eyes in pain. Only after a long while did he finally speak in a trembling, lowered voice.
"Damn it—fine. You can take the bodies, but no more than twenty! And they must be unclaimed!"
The smile on Nekla's face finally became sincere.
"As you command, Lord."
He enthusiastically addressed Lobik by his title once again.
Unclaimed bodies? Nekla sneered inwardly. Since it's the Blood Bottle Gang asking for them, naturally they're "unclaimed."
Isn't that so?
What a pleasant cooperation between the police and the people.
Nekla gave another improper bow and turned to leave.
Lobik watched his back, shook his head, and asked helplessly, "What exactly do you want those corpses for?"
"To entertain a few Old Friends for the big shots." Nekla did not turn around, but his tone was chilling. "We need to prepare a feast."
Nekla disappeared from sight, and several watchful gazes in the crowd disappeared with him.
Lobik lowered his head and saw his reflection in a pool of blood at his feet.
It was a helpless middle-aged man with graying hair and weathered wrinkles.
A wave of disgust welled up in Lobik's heart.
He took a deep breath and looked at the chess piece in his hand. The one-armed swordsman was smiling at him.
The Head of the Vigilant Hall released the piece with a sorrowful expression and turned away.
The unarmed swordsman fell into the bloodwater, replacing Lobik's reflection.
Six in the afternoon, Mindis Hall.
"Four five-man teams, clearly divided duties, perfect coordination, all led by Transcendent Rank leaders and staffed with Mortal Tier experts. Though they were highly skilled and experienced, judging from their equipment and identities, they were indeed hired."
Gilbert stood up beside a corpse and waved for the guards to carry it away.
"Mercenaries and adventurers who dared attack Royal property. Either their employer promised an extremely generous reward, or they were confident in their ability to avoid the risks."
The middle-aged noble stood in the first-floor hall with his hands behind his back. Suppressing his disgust toward his collaborators, he spoke toward an empty corner.
"As a former adventurer, what do you think?"
A hoarse voice came from the void.
"Both, with the latter being more likely. Their employer didn't tell them the truth—things like, 'You won't encounter any experts above the Transcendent Rank,' or 'There won't be more than twenty guards.'"
"Or perhaps their employer never imagined that our security force would be far beyond what an ordinary property would have—and that you would be here as well," the middle-aged noble replied.
One corpse after another was carried down from the stairs, the ceiling, and the corridors.
Gilbert watched the guards carry out the intruders and clean up the bloodstains, lowering his head in thought.
"But it was still too easy."
He muttered to himself.
"Even though we doubled the number of guards at Mindis Hall, even though we had fifty well-trained Mortal Tier and even Transcendent Rank Terminus Swordsmen, even though they were merely hired to test us—we still dealt with them far too easily. It was too simple."
The guards carrying corpses past him paid no attention to Gilbert's muttering.
It was as if the middle-aged noble were speaking to the air, until Yordel's figure suddenly appeared beside him.
"They had no resolve to fight to the death, nor did they intend to inflict casualties on the guards." The masked secret guard spoke in a low voice. "If I had acted a little later, they should have begun retreating."
Gilbert frowned deeply.
"That's not right. Even if they were only probing us, their attitude and methods were far too careless. It was almost as if—"
Yordel replied at exactly the right moment, "—as if they had come here to seek death."
The gray-haired middle-aged noble nodded.
"If their employer truly was one of the few people we suspect, then they must have known that if we really possessed an important secret, an arrangement like this would be utterly useless."
"Then why did they come? To cover for someone else?"
Yordel shook his head. "I didn't sense anyone else."
"If there's no one else—"
At that moment, Gilbert and Yordel simultaneously raised their heads and looked toward the entrance.
Beneath the setting sun, an ordinary carriage rolled along the main road toward Mindis Hall.
After hearing a guard's report, Gilbert nodded. "Jinnie has arrived."
"That woman..." Gilbert frowned. "She used to hate sitting in cramped carriages and the like. It seems she restrained her own likes and dislikes to avoid attracting attention."
Upon hearing this, Yordel suddenly raised his head!
At first, Gilbert was puzzled by the enormous reaction from the secret guard whose expression could not be seen.
But then his own face changed drastically, and he looked back at Yordel in shock.
"To hide 'people's' eyes..."
No way.
"Didn't you say you hadn't sensed anyone else?" Gilbert asked, his face livid.
Yordel turned his head toward the upper floor, his figure flickering.
"I left eight Terminus Swordsmen upstairs—" But before Gilbert could finish, Yordel vanished before his eyes!
Wait. If he didn't sense any other "people"—
Gilbert slapped his forehead hard.
"Everyone! Gather on the third floor at full speed! Protect the target!"
Tales was drenched in cold sweat as he watched the man before him nervously.
Just moments ago, this pale-faced adult man in an ornate pleated-sleeve shirt and expensive leather boots had suddenly appeared between Tales and the eight Terminus Swordsmen!
No wind, no sound, no aura, no trace.
Then, from the corner of his eye, Tales saw the eight Terminus Swordsmen behind him spurt blood from their necks one after another!
By the time Tales had fully turned his head, they had all collapsed on the floor. They could only twitch and emit meaningless low moans.
It was not as if he had never encountered powerful enemies. The Magic User Ashida was one example. But Tales had truly never encountered an enemy who appeared so abruptly.
So abruptly that his visual nerves could not even react in time!
He had not seen how the man moved at all.
Tales instinctively tried to shout, but a right hand suddenly appeared before his eyes!
The well-dressed man suddenly covered Tales's mouth.
Tales still could not see his movements clearly.
Even an expert like Rolf the Wind Ghost moved with swift and fierce speed, but at least his movements had trajectories and afterimages!
But this man's movement as he raised his right hand had none at all.
It was as if the frames of an animation had been skipped.
After struggling in vain, Tales gave up wasting his strength. He calmed down, did his best to steady his pounding heart, and looked at the man before him.
The man was slightly taller than Yordel. His neat blond hair was combed smoothly back from his forehead, and his emerald eyes were clear. Though his face was sickly pale, he was truly—Tales could describe him only this way—extremely handsome.
Compared to Ashida's somewhat feminine beauty, this man belonged to the "sunny and dashing" type. Combined with his simple yet elegant taste in clothing and accessories, he would surely captivate a crowd of girls whenever he went out.
Unfortunately, Tales could not feel the slightest warmth from him.
A pleasant fragrance of perfume wafted from the man. Even a bumpkin like Tales could tell that it was nothing like the cheap perfume worn by commoners at the markets.
Now, the handsome man bared his pale teeth in a smile and said to him,
"I was only here to stretch my muscles—but look at what I've found."
"An offspring of the Short-Lived Species."
Short-Lived Species?
Tales seized on that peculiar choice of words.
"The scent on you—tsk, tsk, it's truly delicious."
"As expected, fine food is always found in unexpected places!"
But in the next moment, the relaxed-looking blond man's expression suddenly changed.
He covered Tales's mouth, his hand flickering and shifting again. In the next instant, Tales was held hostage in his arms, his mouth covered.
"Quite the quick discovery—the mask is something I can't deal with either," the handsome blond man muttered. "I'll pack you up and take you home to eat."
"Good thing the sun is about to set."
That was the last thing Tales heard.
In the next moment, his vision was engulfed by a wave of searing blood-red, and the world spun around him.
The scene inside Mindis Hall seemed to spin, growing smaller and smaller.
Before he lost consciousness, Tales vaguely saw Yordel's mask appear in the middle of the eight corpses of the Terminus Swordsmen.