“What are they doing?” Hugo whispered curiously to Finn, keeping his voice low as they hid inside an empty room.
Their infiltration had gone surprisingly smoothly.
The so-called defenses of the Thieves’ Guild were nothing but a joke—no one had noticed the two of them slipping quietly into the Underground Headquarters.
The sentries lounged about carelessly, yawning endlessly. This bone-deep laziness, steeped in a unique brand of gang arrogance, made them reckless and overconfident.
It was only now that Finn truly understood the reason Allen insisted on militarized management and strict discipline.
There was already an invisible chasm between the Dawn’s Children and these underworld powers of the old world—not in strength or numbers, but in the overwhelming gap of organization and execution.
On one side, a renewed, razor-sharp blade; on the other, a tangled mess of rotten wood.
Finn even had time to take a short nap to regain his strength.
This time, the girl assigned to guide them through the Thieves’ Guild Headquarters was not the flower girl Finn always thought about—Ella.
Earlier, when Finn chatted with the new guide, he managed to get some information out of her.
She said Ella was being kept at the Headquarters, apparently having caught the eye of a certain “Patron.”
This made Finn’s feelings complicated: relief that Ella was still here, but also a wave of worry and frustration.
How is she now? Who is that “Patron”? Merciful Lord, please keep her safe.
After his silent prayer, Finn estimated the time. It should be around midnight.
Most of the Thieves’ Guild core members had arrived. He saw many familiar, arrogant gang bosses swaggering into the main hall.
“They’re getting ready for some so-called ‘evening party.’ The Guild calls it a ‘welfare event,’” Finn explained quietly, his voice thick with hatred and disgust.
“Welfare?” Hugo watched as those haggard, lifeless-eyed girls were herded out of the Land of Tenderness like livestock, forced to crawl on all fours, paraded for the scum to pass judgment on.
Rage began to burn in his eyes.
Finn analyzed calmly, his voice suppressed. “They’re probably slaves who’ve lost all value, so filthy even the dregs don’t want them. I’ve heard rumors… Their final ‘worth’ is being sent to the heretics as sacrifices to the Evil God.”
“So that means there really are heretics here?!” Hugo’s brows knitted. “I’m confident I can take them, but shouldn’t we notify the Inquisition?”
“If heretics are confirmed, the Judgement Court will send support.” Finn answered with certainty.
“Really?!” Hugo was especially shocked. His good brother Allen really had some clout! He could even mobilize the mysterious Inquisition?!
At that moment, the situation on the floor changed dramatically. A fat, greasy man in luxurious silk—obviously the Thieves’ Guild Leader—appeared before the noisy gangsters, flanked by a squad of armed Enforcers in full plate armor.
Beside him stood a mysterious man in a black robe, his presence cold and sinister. The crowd instantly fell silent and greeted the Leader respectfully.
“That guy in the black robe must be the heretic, right? That outfit, that aura—classic villain template!” Hugo muttered softly.
But this time, Finn didn’t reply. His eyes were fixed on the spot next to the black-robed man—a shivering, cowering girl. It was Ella!
Damn! That so-called “Patron” was a heretic?! This is bad! I have to find a way to save her! Finn’s pupils contracted sharply, his breathing suddenly growing ragged.
Hugo immediately noticed his abnormal reaction and instantly guessed this girl must be very important to Finn.
Though Hugo and Finn were only temporary teammates—Allen had just told him this was his little brother.
But a brother’s little brother was his little brother too. If the little brother’s girl was in danger, how could the big brother just sit and watch!
“Everyone!” The fat Guild Leader announced to the crowd in an excited tone, “Tonight’s welfare event is unlike any before!”
“We’ve done this so many times—surely you’re all bored of delicacies, tired of fine wine, had your fill of beautiful women. Even watching gladiatorial fights and traitor executions must be getting old! So, this time, I’ve especially invited a Master for everyone!”
The crowd looked at each other, murmuring.
The Leader continued, “This Master will perform a wondrous ritual for us. Join the ritual, and you’ll receive the Blessing of the God and gain power! That’s worth far more than any material pleasure, so look forward to it!”
Though most of those below didn’t really understand what the ritual was for, since the Leader said so, they naturally applauded and cheered.
“Master, do you have anything to say?” The Leader asked the black-robed man respectfully.
The heretic’s voice was hoarse and grating: “…I need some time to prepare.”
“Very well!” The Leader turned to the crowd.
“Since the Master needs time, let’s take this chance to lay out the rules. Leaders of each district, step forward in order and report your Quarterly Performance!”
He then raised his arm, launching into a long-winded, tedious “corporate culture” speech—a chaotic mix of warped brotherhood loyalty, strict hierarchical obedience, and near-superstitious reverence for “tradition.”
He loudly extolled, “Without the Guild, there is no Family. To love the Guild is to love the Family!”
Over and over he hammered in “Law of the Jungle” and “Wolf Culture,” his words dripping with clumsy mimicry and zealous admiration for feudal order.
As the gang leaders nervously reported their protection money collections, the accountants beside the Leader rapidly worked their abacuses.
Finn watched coldly, noting that those normally domineering gang bosses, who strutted arrogantly on their own turf, were now like pitiful dogs groveling before the Leader, terrified that poor “Quarterly Performance” might see them banished to remote, wretched corners—or worse.
Is this the deterrence brought by power and absolute violence? Finn knew that the position of Guild Leader would soon have a new occupant.
Even so, he kept observing and studying these so-called “methods of controlling subordinates,” pondering the rules of this dark power structure.
Even enemies had things worth “learning from.” His wisdom was nothing compared to Allen’s, but he could work hard to learn, to better share Allen’s burdens in the future.
When the reward-and-punishment segment ended, Finn noticed that the Guild Leader looked anything but pleased—his face clouded with gloom.
Finn knew the rules well: Small gangs paid protection money to big gangs, big gangs paid protection money to the Thieves’ Guild, and the Guild, in turn, had to pay tribute to their “Protector Umbrella”—those true Kingdom bigwigs behind the scenes. It was a tightly linked chain of evil.
Clearly, this quarter the Guild’s protection money haul had not met expectations—or rather, had failed to satisfy their Protector Umbrella’s appetite.
The Leader didn’t erupt in rage. He just wore a sullen expression and turned to the heretic. “Master, are your preparations complete?”
“Still need some fresh blood.” The heretic rasped.
“No problem!” The Leader clapped his hands, a cruel smile on his face. “Bring up those traitors who tried to bite the hand that feeds them!”
His men immediately dragged out several men, tightly bound and gagged with filthy rags. All of them bore fresh wounds, evidence of torture.
The Leader kicked the most gravely injured man to the ground and spat contemptuously, “This idiot! Fell in love with a slave, tried to run away with her! The stupidest part is, he didn’t even make it two streets before we caught him!”
Finn’s eyelids twitched violently.
“Come on, got any last words before you die?” The Leader motioned for his men to rip the rag from the man’s mouth.
The moment the man could speak, he struggled desperately, trying to lunge at the Leader, but was pinned down by Enforcers.
He roared, “What did you do to her?! What did you do to her?!”
“What did we do?” The Leader sneered. “Nothing much. You know our business. Some Patrons… have special tastes, and tend to break their ‘toys.’ Our own girls are valuable assets, can’t waste them. But a disloyal slave like that… perfect for their fun.”
He casually pointed at the group of haggard girls being herded out, “See over there? Those bitches—find yours among them.”
The man’s hopeless gaze swept the crowd of numb girls, and soon, he locked onto one—a figure whose eyes were utterly empty, all four limbs lost, stumps roughly bandaged, barely alive, dragged out like a dead dog…
“No… no!!! You beast! Monster! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!!” The man utterly broke down, his howl heart-wrenching.
“Heh, scum like you acting like some lovesick fool?” The Leader sneered. “Go on, drain his blood! The Master needs blood—he’ll be the first.”
“Let me go! Don’t! Please—no—AAAAAHHHH!!!” An inhuman, harrowing scream echoed through the underground.
The man suffered unimaginable torture and, before all eyes, was bled dry and died in agony.
The girl dragged out seemed to hear his screams—murky tears slid down her hollow cheeks.
The black-robed heretic watched the bloody scene coldly, as if observing livestock at slaughter, even a trace of pleasure curling his lips.
“Not bad… fresh blood and pain… I think the Lord will be pleased.”
Even those gang bosses, long accustomed to violence, turned pale and uneasy at such cruelty.
Watching all this, Finn thought of Allen’s “Fearsome Bullying Show” he’d once put on for the Wild Dog Gang.
Back then, Finn thought Allen’s torture of Old Jack was a bit too much, but now he understood—heretics like Old Jack deserved it! Allen’s actions weren’t torture, they were justice!
“Remember this, all of you!” The Guild Leader’s cold voice rang out again, sharp as a winter wind.
“This quarter, many of you failed your quotas. Next quarter, if any gang can’t finish its task, you’ll have no reason to exist. The Master’s rituals always need ‘fresh blood.’”
“We’ll finish the job! We swear!” The gang bosses were so terrified their souls nearly fled, frantically pledging.
“Master, can we begin the ritual now?” The Leader turned eagerly to the heretic.
The heretic glanced at the selected “sacrifice” girls and frowned with disgust.
“I said I needed girls, but not this garbage and broken goods! The Lord won’t like these soulless scraps! Those girls over there,” he pointed toward the Land of Tenderness, at the still “intact” slave girls, “why not give me those?”
Sweat beaded the Leader’s brow. “They… they can still work, still earn… In the future, Master, they’ll all go to you first…”
“Forget it.” The heretic seemed too lazy to argue. His gaze turned to Ella, who was shivering at his side. “Are you still a virgin?”
The Leader quickly replied, “Yes, yes! Master, she’s absolutely pure! Clean and untouched! If you wish, she can serve you exclusively from now on!”
For an instant, despair filled Ella’s eyes.
In the end, she hadn’t escaped her tragic fate.
Finn had told her before he’d come back for her, he’d save her. But now, he was nowhere to be found.
And she… she would soon die.
She had struggled so hard… Maybe this was simply her fate… She was like a sunflower striving toward a sliver of light, but the sun never came, and she was about to wither in this darkness.
No… “Sparrow”… Finn… help me… Though hope was faint, in utter terror, she still instinctively called out for the one who’d given her even a fleeting glimpse of hope.
The heretic stared into Ella’s eyes, where despair mingled with a weak, lingering hope, and a twisted smile appeared. “Yes! That’s it! Heart already given, but about to be defiled… That despair and struggle, that’s the ‘soul’ I want! Only that will please my Lord!”
He swept his gaze over the crowd, where greedy, lustful flames were beginning to burn in the eyes of the scum below, and in a cruel, inciting tone declared, “The ritual requires a pure sacrifice… I’ll take her purity first! Then… she’s yours! Whoever fully breaks her first, will be the first to receive my Lord’s blessing!”
“Oooooooh—!” The hall erupted in frenzied, beastlike howls!
“Bastards!!” Finn couldn’t hold back anymore! He drew his dagger, about to rush out no matter the cost!
But a strong hand clamped down on his shoulder. It was Hugo.
“Leave it to me.” Hugo’s voice was steady as stone. He patted Finn’s shoulder, then in a flash, donned his clown mask.
The next second, he crashed through the window, like a golden sun blazing into the Thieves’ Guild’s sight.
“Who’s there?!” “How did he get in?!” The abrupt disturbance threw the whole hall into chaos.
The heretic narrowed his eyes, sensing the Crestbearer’s aura radiating from Hugo. “Crestbearer…?”
“Crestbearer?!” The Guild Leader turned pale with shock.
Why would a Sword-Bearing Noble show up here?! They prized their Crest-bloodline above all and would never lower themselves to set foot in a filthy place like this, risking even a trace of their bloodline being sullied.
Leaving their bloodline on lowly slaves would be a disgrace and disaster for the entire Family!
This man wasn’t some customer who forgot to leave… No, he was the enemy!
“Who are you?! How dare you barge in here?!” The Guild Leader barked. The Enforcers around him instantly drew their weapons.
Hugo ignored the blades pointed at him.
He struck a pose he thought looked especially cool—a Kamen Rider transformation stance—then drew a deep breath and shouted at the top of his lungs the catchphrase Allen taught him, which he thought was the coolest thing ever:
“I’m just a passing Kamen Rider! Remember that!”
He raised his hand, pointing straight at the Guild Leader and the heretic, voice ringing loud and clear: “Now, let’s count your sins together!”