"Incredible..."
Stop the riddle, Logos! What's really going on?
"It's not some kind of magic that drains your body; Whitesmith's body is fine, much stronger than before."
The Banshee queen stopped casting her spell, her handsome face unable to hide her surprise.
"According to the spell's assessment, Whitesmith's physical endurance has reached an excellent level, just shy of the threshold of excellence."
(Ark's evaluation criteria include: defective, average, standard, good, excellent, and unmeasurable.)
"Excellence!?"
Grandma Angel screamed in disbelief. No one laughed at her outburst; everyone was stunned by the fact.
What level of physiological tolerance is considered excellent?
Among the Elite Operator frequently encounter monsters, only ACE, the ace Shieldguards, and Mantra, who is still on missions, possess exceptional physical endurance.
(Mantra: A veteran Elite Operator of the Babel Tower, formerly Sargon, Originium Arts possess the ability to transmit information and read minds.)
"However, this improvement seems to come at a price. Whitesmith's physical tolerance has increased, but his Originium Arts adaptability has decreased."
The logos faithfully reflect the spell's record, and medic Touch remains troubled by this incredible image.
"Unbelievable... Using methods that improve physical fitness to treat Oripathy is actually feasible?"
"No, no, no, Oripathy itself weakens the host's bodily functions. Whitesmith's condition is practically like he's been transformed into a different race compared to treatment!"
[By the way, would you mind switching races?]
Recalling the words he had omitted, Whitesmith subconsciously touched his eyes, which had turned crimson. His vision, which had been blurred by Oripathy, was now incredibly clear.
If she's not Sarkaz, then what is she?
The Elite Operator were discussing it intensely, their voices filled with both shock and undisguised joy.
In any case, it is an undeniable fact that Whitesmith's health has improved, and for this alone, they should be very grateful to the mysterious doctor.
"Whitesmith, is that guest still in the Engineering Department?"
"Oh? Yes, I am."
"How about we hold a banquet to celebrate and thank that mysterious healer?"
Logos' suggestion was unanimously approved by the Elite Operator, and Outcast volunteered to take his arm.
"I'll handle the Doctor's side, and As for Ascalon, we absolutely have to get her involved this time!"
Once the decision was made, the agents dispersed to spread the word, while Mechanist and Whitesmith returned to the Engineering Department to invite Lucky.
What is Lucky, one of the main characters at the banquet, doing right now?
He was contemplating life.
Logically speaking, being held by a beautiful girl who is both exceptionally beautiful and has a great figure should be a pleasant experience.
In principle Lucky should be happy, but in reality, it's unlikely he will be.
"Hehehe... smells nice... hehe..."
To everyone's astonishment, Closure usually had a shrewd look on her face, was now hugging Lucky and rubbing his face repeatedly like a drunkard.
[Blood Intoxication]
When faced with blood that perfectly matches their taste, some Vampire become excited, while others experience a state similar to being drunk.
Clearly, Miss Vampire Demon is currently in this situation.
"Warning, dear Closure, your current condition is 98% consistent with being drunk. We recommend immediate rest and taking hangover medication to recover."
The bat-shaped drone beside her offered helpful advice, but Closure had no time to respond.
"Slurp~~"
The sharp fangs that could easily pierce skin were unable to break through her defenses, so Miss Vampire Demon could only continue to inhale the scent that she was addicted to.
Being treated so intimately by a beautiful girl, if it were the real Vane, he would have returned the kiss without hesitation.
Unfortunately, Lucky was just a little bat.
Did the hardware not know that during the manufacturing process?
When sexual desire is at zero, distance creates beauty.
"Get away from me! What can you do besides get me covered in your spit?"
The black-hearted dumpling struggled fiercely, while the Wandering Soul Core beside it let out a sharp laugh.
[Vane (Lucky): Quack! Second brother, save me!]
[Vera: What is it now?]
[Vane (Lucky): You might not believe it, but I'm being held by a beautiful girl and can't get away. I desperately need help!]
[Vera:...]
[Gorth: The child's dream has gone mad.]
[Group Announcement: Vera has blocked Vane]
[Vera: Okay, that nuisance is gone.]
[Gregor:... Remember to lift the ban once you've calmed down.]
[Vera: Let's not talk about that guy anymore, boss, where are you?]
[Gregor: We've entered Leithanien, and the current region is...]
Sinking in disbelief at the unfamiliar characters in the travel brochure, Gregor turned his head away.
How do you pronounce this?
The three arrived at a perfect time; these days happened to be the prelude to the town's auditions for a music extravaganza.
Gregor bought a Pelo animal-shaped mask on a whim, which he used to disguise himself as a rebellious Ancients.
"His head is going to fall off."
Amidst the horrified gazes of the tourists nearby, Jian used one hand to straighten Gregor's crooked head, while using the other to lift Ceobe was lying on the ground.
"And you, don't pick up things from the ground to eat."
"Honey cake..."
Staring longingly at the honey cake crumbs on the ground, Ceobe almost burst into tears.
We clearly agreed not to steal food...
An illiterate husband and a mentally challenged child.
In an instant, the surrounding tourists looked at the mace with pity.
Jian ignored the stares.
As the silly dog gazed at him with its big, teary eyes, even his heart, as hard as steel, softened.
"Utica."
Having answered the previous question, and seeing the look in Machete's eyes, Gregor understood and went to the nearby vendor.
The cut pieces of Pure Gold were placed on the table. The shopkeeper silently put them away and quickly left Gregor's stall.
The silly dog harvested a whole box of honey cakes, its tail spinning like a propeller.
Amidst the increasingly complex surroundings, the group continued along the street.
Leithanien--
Terra a country that is both rigorous and romantic, renowned for its classical culture, including music and art.
Unlike Kazimierz, where commercial activities are only visible in towns, culture is ubiquitous in Leithanien.
There were more street musicians than vendors, with various instruments playing harmoniously, and people politely stopping to listen.
"How does it feel to be back in my hometown after so long?"
Gregor, one of the listeners, clapped, but the one being asked the question seemed less enthusiastic.
"To be honest, I'm finding it a bit boring."
Jian looked around, and sure enough, after her words, many people cast unfriendly glances at her.
"This music was being played here before I left, and it hasn't changed at all over the years."
"What do they call it again? Ah... right, classical charm."
"It seems this lady is a supporter of the emerging music movement?"
In response to the mace's words, a merchant-looking man named Caprinae stepped forward.
"Oh? It seems there have been some new changes in Leithanien?"
"New changes? They're nothing but underhanded tricks."
After verifying that the mace was not a newcomer, the merchants' attitude became more amiable.
"Do those poor souls rejected by music think that by charging an instrument and playing that ear-polluting rock music, they can ascend to the Sanctuary of music?"
"Can you imagine? They don't even know magic, yet they want to perform on stage!"
The magic insulator (Mace) and the magic killer (Gregor) listened quietly as the merchant grew increasingly indignant.
"And this concert, heaven knows what the two empresses were thinking? They actually gave those jugglers the opportunity to perform!"
"Hmph, but the nobles won't give those guys a chance, not even Count Urtica..."
As if some taboo had been broken, the surrounding sounds suddenly fell silent.
The music stopped, whispers arose, and the merchant excused himself and fled under the watchful eyes of the crowd.
Until that figure completely disappeared, Ceobe, who was silently munching on a honey cake, shook his head.
"Ceobe doesn't like him!"
"I don't like it either."
Jian looked at Gregor, whose voice was deep.
I don't like the look in his eyes.
Although the merchant was initially puzzled, he soon recognized who the mace belonged to.
Even so, the disdain hidden in his eyes remained.
The mace, however, didn't care.
"Don't worry about it. In Leithanien, a skilled warlock is far more respectable than a so-called knight champion."
Gregor certainly understood, to use Vane's words—
Just like the will of dominance of Konoha Village, Leithanien discriminates against everyone who doesn't understand magic or music, regardless of whether they are nobles or commoners.
Gregor was still annoyed, but he didn't mention it again, and the group headed towards the town's gate.
The music festival in Leithanien, according to the promotional brochure, will hold auditions nationwide.
Like a selection tournament for knights, the best continuously advance from the bottom up, eventually arriving at Zwillingstürme to participate in the grand festival of musicians.
Leithanien's music was certainly good, but none of the three were really interested in listening to it.
According to the slave-catching team's confession, their buyer was the legendary Count Urtica was elusive and rarely seen.
Gregor didn't know if it was true or not, but he still intended to speak with the Earl himself.
Without having to participate in the concert auditions, the three successfully infiltrated the convoy entering the city through a sincere and generous financial offensive.
However, as the group got into the car, Ceobe, who had been quietly munching on honey cakes, suddenly became agitated.
"Boss! Something bad is happening..."
"Sh--"
Gregor raised his hand in a gesture for silence and sighed:
"There are so many people."
"Of course, sir. It's peak tourist season now, is that why you're here?"
"Hmm... I guess so."
Gregor started chatting with the overly enthusiastic tour guide, and amidst the bumpy ride, Mace began to close his eyes and rest.
As the sun sank behind the horizon, the convoy finally arrived at its destination at dusk.
Utica, a small city within one of the nine special economic zones.
Without much obstruction or even a thorough inspection, the convoy entered the checkpoint without any hindrance.
Unlike the towering skyscrapers of Kazimierz, Leithanien's architecture perfectly matches the atmosphere of its classical past.
The only towering structure is the aristocratic tower in the city center, a symbol of status and prestige.
As selected musicians, they were supposed to go to the tower to meet the Earl of the territory, but the caravan kept heading in another direction.
No one spoke, and the atmosphere grew increasingly quiet.
"We're getting further and further away from the tower."
The tour guide's smile remained unchanged as he rubbed his hands together and said with a smile:
"It's like this, it's too late, and it wouldn't be appropriate to disturb the Earl at this hour."
"Everyone, get some rest for the night. We'll go see the Earl first thing tomorrow morning! Don't worry, the accommodations are all arranged!"
As he spoke, he leaned closer to the window and enthusiastically introduced the shops outside.
By this Ceobe had finished the entire box of honey cakes and was slowly falling asleep to the guide's melodious narration.
The convoy continued onward, and the scenery outside the window began to change.
The buildings on both sides went from exquisite to dilapidated, and the streetlights went from bright to dim.
Where is this?
"Special Zone for Infected." The tour guide remained enthusiastic.
"Her Majesty the Queen is merciful; even though they suffer from Oripathy, she allows them to live in the city."
"Really? Then Leithanien is quite a nice place."
Gregor's voice was devoid of emotion, and the tour guide's smile appeared strangely sinister in the dim light.
"Of course! The Queen treats her subjects like her own children, and healthy people treat those Infected like their own brothers and sisters... Look! Everyone's face is beaming with happiness--"
The convoy continued onward, now illuminated only by the cold moonlight and the pairs of open eyes in the darkness.
As if having a nightmare, Ceobe tried to bare his teeth, and his limbs began to twitch.
Gregor gently Ceobe's head, again and again, helping him to fall back asleep.
The convoy finally stopped, and a series of silent figures stood up.
"Sir, it's time for us to get off."
"But my companions are all asleep."
Gregor stood up. Mace, who was beside him, was indeed asleep, sitting quietly in place.
"..."xN
No one responded, so the convoy members put on robes and masks.
The tour guide's enthusiastic voice turned cold under the mask.
"It might be easier if you just went to sleep like them."
The colorless and odorless incense blended seamlessly with the atmosphere of Leithanien, but the man in front of him seemed completely unaffected.
"There's nothing I can do. With the poison shield on, these incense sticks are useless against me."
"If that's the case, why not remind your companion?"
Seeing that Gregor had already noticed, the tour guide became even more interested.
"What, do you want to join us?"
"No, she just needs a good night's sleep."
Gregor looked to the side; Mace hadn't slept for a day and a night since encountering Ceobe, so now was the perfect time for him to catch up on sleep.
"You heartless bastard, how much your companions would hate you if they knew."
She already knew.
The tour guide stood frozen in place, while Gregor moved his arms and legs, his unsupported hood swaying eerily with his movements.
Suddenly, everyone present felt inexplicably uneasy.
Under what circumstances can a wild animal sleep peacefully?
Either the location is 100% safe, or one possesses the strength to withstand a sneak attack.
So, which category does this situation fall into?
[Rapid music!]
As if a symphony had been completed in an instant, along with the music, a magical radiance enveloped the surrounding area.
As well-trained tower sorcerers, they were confident that even the Golden Law Guard standing in the center would not be able to withstand so many attacks.
What is this growing unease?
Gregor raised his arms, and the bandages wrapped around his twin swords were instantly sliced into pieces.
Two perfect crescent moons spread out horizontally, even brighter than the moon in the sky.
As if unwilling to harm the beautiful moonlight, the musical notes formed by the spell returned along their original path, striking the spellcaster's bewildered face.
Their confidence was justified; those seemingly harmless musical notes were indeed incredibly powerful.
The head and mask exploded, and the defender who immediately deployed his protection was also decapitated by the blood-stained blade behind him.
Gregor raised his Holy Shield, the shield spreading out like an umbrella to protect the two beneath him from the splattering blood.
"Aaaaaaaahhhhh!!!"
The horrific scene before my eyes, the fallen horns telling of the tour guide's good fortune in escaping the danger by standing at a low point.
"What did you do! What did you do!?"
Unable to comprehend what was happening before their eyes, why the ensemble spells were turning against the caster, and why the carefully laid defenses were as fragile as paper.
"As you can see, they were all taken care of."
After saying it, Gregor felt a little troubled.
He shouldn't be rambling on, but he'd been holding it in for too long, and he really couldn't hold back any longer.
Gregor scratched his head, causing his already crooked hood to snap completely horizontally, his lifeless eyes staring silently downwards.
The tour guide screamed and frantically backed away, scraping against the ground, before finally leaning back in the chair where he usually chatted and laughed.
"Who are you?! Who are you?!"
"Just a tourist passing by."
The tour guide stood there, stunned, and muttered to himself:
"... Aren't you Golden Law Guard?"
Who is that?
"..."
Those who knew themselves had misjudged the target from the start, and the tour guide's fear instantly turned into anger.
"You hateful brute! You have no idea where you are, or what kind of terrifying conflict you've gotten yourself into!"
Not from the slave-catching team?
Belatedly, Gregor racked his brains and suddenly remembered the precautions Vane had mentioned.
There's a group of Witch King Remnants Witch King Leithanien dedicated to recreating the era of his rule. It seems like it's them?
Gregor was still thinking, and the tour guide was still cursing.
As if realizing death was imminent, even their Victorian of communication turned into Leithanien profanities.
"Never mind, none of it matters."
Seeing Mace frown, Gregor grabbed the guide's head, mask and all.
With a forceful pull, the Witch King's mask, used to symbolize concealing his identity, shattered into pieces.
In the tour guide's final struggle, the hood that was about to fall off Gregor's neck finally rolled off.
The eerie soulfire burned silently, and the captivating cross-shaped starlight caught the eyes of the Witch King Remnants.
"I came here for conflict."