First Blood

Hearing Moros's praise, Elysia was briefly taken aback before a sweet smile appeared on her face.

Though she was not a professional musician, Elysia still gratefully accepted praise from her audience.

"What an adorable little fan..."

After sizing up the little boy before her, Elysia smiled and asked Moros a question that seemed quite strange to anyone else.

"Did you already know me?"

After all, she was Origin's Herrscher. Though far from fully matured, Elysia could still perceive many things that others could not.

She could sense the delight hidden in Moros's gaze whenever he looked at her.

This subtle emotional undertone might have been difficult for others to notice, but to Elysia, it was as clear as a mirror.

As expected of Elysia, she could even tell that...

Moros sighed inwardly and fell silent.

He neither wanted to lie to Elysia nor could he answer that question without lying.

"..."

Moros opened his mouth, but in the end, he said nothing.

Seeing his reaction, Elysia narrowed her eyes mischievously.

"Honestly, couldn't you be a little more straightforward, like me, and just tell me I'm cute?"

She winked playfully, seemingly teasing Moros for his shyness and restraint.

Was this what they called a social terrorist? Terrifying indeed...

Thinking that, Moros gained an even more direct understanding of Elysia's abilities.

Still, this was fine...

After all, he was an Exemplar Tier being. By mobilizing the magic within his body, Moros could still force himself to calm down.

"Miss, you are very lovely. My name is Moros. May I have the honor of knowing your name?"

"My name is Elysia. As you can see, I am a shy maiden as delicate as a flower."

Though she was a little displeased that Moros had skipped over her earlier question, considerate Elysia would not press a child who looked so adorable.

She was a true lover of beautiful faces. How could she do something so inelegant?

"All right, it's getting late. If my adorable little fan has nothing else to do, I'm going back to rest."

Elysia covered her mouth as she yawned, looking utterly adorable.

"You know, staying up late is a beautiful girl's greatest enemy. So, little Moros, see you next time."

"Mm, see you next time."

Moros responded with a smile, though he felt a little wistful inside.

It was not until Elysia disappeared from sight that Moros belatedly realized he had not gotten Pink Fairy Lady's contact information.

This annoyed Moros somewhat, but he quickly adjusted his mood.

After all, this encounter with Elysia had been an unexpected delight. He had only come to Changkong City to study abroad, never expecting to meet the traveling Elysia.

He knew such encounters were rare, and he also understood that life's twists of fate were impossible to predict.

Moros decided to let nature take its course and trust fate's arrangements.

He believed that he and Elysia were destined to meet again in the future.

On the way back to the cabin, the two bodyguards never stopped exchanging glances.

Did the young master take a liking to that little girl?

No idea.

Should we tell the boss about this?

No idea.

How do you not know anything?

No idea.

"Hmm?"

At that moment, Moros, who was walking ahead, suddenly stopped.

"Who are you?"

He asked calmly, his voice carrying a trace of authority.

Only then did the two bodyguards realize that they had been surrounded by several stern-faced men in suits.

Though Frakt could be considered an important figure in that nameless little town, he was ultimately only a Black Hand in the underworld. The professionalism of the bodyguards he provided was not something worth expecting too much from.

Of course, there was another important reason Moros had noticed these ill-intentioned people before his bodyguards, aside from the bodyguards' questionable professionalism.

That was because he had already advanced to the Exemplar Tier. His physical abilities rivaled those of an A-Rank Valkyrie, and his senses naturally far surpassed those of ordinary people.

"Moros?"

"Who are you?"

Repeating the question, Moros circulated the magic within his body and gathered it around his surface, forming a layer of invisible magical shielding.

As an Exemplar Tier mage, though his knowledge was still insufficient, developing a defensive measure similar to Mage Armor was hardly unimaginable.

The magical shield Moros had created was not particularly reliable in terms of strength, but it could still withstand a physical attack dealing less than 10 points of damage.

Even a single bullet from a modern automatic pistol hitting a vital spot dealt only 7 points of damage.

Unless it was a powerful handgun like the Desert Eagle, which used .50 caliber Magnum rounds, this shield was fully capable of blocking ordinary pistol bullets.

Of course, that was for a single bullet.

But for Moros, he only needed to withstand the first shot.

Once he successfully blocked that sneak attack, the spells Moros had mastered would give him more than enough ability to escape danger, even if he faced an army of ordinary people.

"Move!"

Having confirmed that the little boy before them was their target, the men in black did not waste words.

They quickly spread out and formed an encirclement, completely cutting off every escape route for Moros and the two bodyguards.

At the same time, several of the men in black pulled silenced pistols from their clothes, preparing to carry out the assassination.

"Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!"

After the rapid succession of gunshots, the two bodyguards who had just been gossiping about the person they were meant to protect fell into pools of blood.

As for Moros, he clutched his bleeding shoulder and leaned against the cabin wall, his face pale.

For an Exemplar Tier being, taking a bullet in a nonfatal area was not a serious injury.

But for Moros, who had never been hurt since childhood, the pain of a bullet entering his body was enough to leave him in unbearable agony.

He clenched his teeth tightly.

, desperately trying to keep the pained groan from escaping his throat.

"Number 37, are you rusty? You couldn't hit him from that close?"

The leader of the men in black berated his subordinate in dissatisfaction.

He removed the empty magazine from his pistol and swiftly inserted a fully loaded one, his eyes cold and resolute.

Clearly, to him, killing a little boy was utterly insignificant as long as it completed the mission.

First Blood

Careless!

The pain in his shoulder jolted Moros awake, making him realize that he was not as strong as he had imagined.

Or rather, like a flower raised in a greenhouse, Moros could not fully exert all his strength.

If he went all out and summoned all of his Undead Troops, he could contend with a modern armored division.

Yet under a sneak attack, a mere team of assassins had managed to make Moros bleed.

But Moros was ultimately an Exemplar Tier being. Once the assassins had failed in their initial ambush, their fate was already sealed.

"Summon Creatures!"

With Moros's whisper, an undead squad led by corpse mages appeared right before the assassins' eyes.

Summon Creature: Summons an army. Each soldier summoned costs one point of magic.

Under Moros's precise control, the undead squad appeared in exactly the right position, separating him from the assassins.

"What the hell are these things?"

Faced with the undead squad that had appeared out of nowhere between them and their target, even the professionally trained assassins revealed stunned expressions.

That was hardly surprising.

Imagine zombies, ghosts, vampires, and corpse mages—monsters that existed only in fantasy and legend—suddenly appearing before your eyes. The shock and disbelief would be enough to leave anyone speechless, their mind blank.

"Kill them!"

Moros's command was cold and decisive. He had been consumed by anger, and the still-bleeding wound on his shoulder reminded him just how deserving of death these assassins were.

Upon receiving the necromancer's command, the two corpse mages simultaneously raised their staffs.

Meanwhile, the other undead launched swift charges at the assassins on both sides.

"Open fire!"

The assassins' leader reacted quickly. The gun barrels that had been aimed at Moros swiftly turned toward the undead charging at high speed.

As he pulled the trigger, the other assassins followed suit and opened fire.

Their weapons spewed deadly flames as they tried to stop the undead rushing toward them.

However, these creatures of fantasy seemed unafraid of bullets. They continued charging through the rain of fire, occasional sparks flying from their bodies, yet suffering no real harm.

The undead charging at the assassins were not like Moros, whose combat ability could be affected by pain.

Though their individual strength was inferior to that of the necromancer, as military units, their battlefield coordination and refined killing techniques allowed them to perform far beyond the combat-inexperienced Moros.

First, two dark green spell rays fell into an area where the assassins were relatively concentrated, dissolving every assassin within it.

Then, the vampires wielding Steel Longswords mercilessly charged into the formation and began a swift slaughter.

Before the ghosts even reached effective killing range, every assassin had already been eliminated.

Looking at the assassins' remains, severed at the waist by the vampires' blades, Moros suddenly realized that he had just killed flesh-and-blood humans, not the wild monster units from the Demiplane.

Yet even with that realization, Moros felt no nausea or urge to vomit.

So novels were all lies after all...

He chuckled inwardly, feeling unusually disdainful of those novel scenes depicting the tremendous psychological shock protagonists experienced upon killing someone for the first time.

"Stay alert!"

After issuing the order to the undead, Moros walked over to the mutilated corpses of the dead assassins.

Necromancy!

Under Moros's spellcasting, the souls of the assassins who had just been killed by the vampires were dragged out.

"Tell me, why did you want to kill me?"

Moros stared directly at the assassins' souls, his tone cold and blunt.

"I'm not dead?"

"Brat, what kind of attitude is that?"

"Fuck, why should we answer you?"

"..."

The souls awakened by the power of necromancy clearly still had not grasped the situation.

Seeing this, Moros did not waste any words and directly taught them a lesson.