The opera house had descended into chaos, and the Nobility had long since abandoned any pretense of dignity, locked in battle with the Cultists.
After casting the first round of magic, El quietly withdrew and hid in a corner with Vita, watching the situation unfold.
“As expected, these Cultists are nothing but a ragtag bunch… Even with the advantage of a sneak attack, they can’t overcome the Nobility…”
El could tell that the demon cult had spared no expense for this operation; there were several Gold-ranked powerhouses among them, and their underlings were vicious, attacking with reckless abandon.
Yet now, both sides had fallen into a stalemate.
Though the Nobility had formidable overall strength, their guards had all been sent away by the “insider” Bogut Marquis, and their own combat power was a bit lacking, leaving them unable to fend off the Cultists’ assault.
The Cultists had temporarily ceased their attacks; their goal wasn’t to slaughter, and there was no need to fight to the bitter end. Moreover, there was one tall figure among the Nobility that made them wary.
Master Warrior Royas, a subordinate of Duke Lavaud. He had once been a wandering adventurer, recruited by the Duke during a commission.
Though his swordsmanship didn’t quite measure up to that of a titled knight, his formidable aura was nothing to scoff at.
“What on earth is going on…”
The warrior’s face was fierce, his chest bare, a massive scar slashing across it—the mark left from hunting a griffin.
Though Royas looked impressive, cowing the troublesome Cultists, his heart was filled with unease.
Wasn’t the operation supposed to start half an hour later? What exactly is happening right now?
That’s right—Royas, the man the Nobility had pinned their hopes on, was actually an insider himself. He had been entrusted by the Duke to be stationed at Bogut Marquis’ side.
Originally, when the Cultists started acting, all he needed to do was pretend to be overwhelmed and make sure none of the Nobility got killed; then his job would be done. Now, not sure what was happening, all he could do was try to mediate the disturbance.
All around the opera house were traces of battle, the atmosphere tense. The Nobility, who had been strutting arrogantly at the auction just moments before, now didn’t even dare to breathe.
El crouched down and took another black robe from his Storage Ring, draping it over the cat-eared girl’s shoulders to cover her exposed skin.
“No matter what happens next, don’t be afraid. It will all be over soon.”
Amidst the earlier chaos, El had rescued the cat-eared girl.
Just as Angell had said, no one cared about her fate; no one bothered about the whereabouts of a slave. Maybe she’d just been killed by a stray spell? The girl looked anxiously at El, recognizing him as the robed figure who had saved her before.
Why save me? When clearly…
“Young Master El, I’ve finally found…”
An old voice sounded behind El, but before it could finish, Vita had already raised her sword to the man’s neck.
The cold gleam of the blade made the newcomer’s eyelids twitch.
“Hiss… Stop, stop, I’m one of you,” Old Mike said hurriedly.
El looked at the middle-aged man with suspicion; he recognized the thief’s accent.
“I didn’t expect you to have this kind of skill.”
“It’s nothing worth mentioning. Young Master El, the Elf has a message for you…”
Old Mike got straight to the point without any hesitation.
Naturally, someone as weak as Old Mike could only serve as a lookout on the opera house’s perimeter.
The “weak” one referred to John; Old Mike certainly didn’t think these pests could ride roughshod over him.
Night had fallen deep, bringing with it an eerie silence.
This job was done—where to next? Once that young noble finished building his school in Wobei District, those brats wouldn’t need him anymore… Old Mike’s mind drifted aimlessly.
Continue rotting in the slums? He chuckled to himself.
Forget it… These old bones aren’t worth much anyway… Might as well take a gamble.
El Regis—he savored the name in his heart.
Let me see what kind of person you’ll become.
“Hey, John, why’s it so quiet over there? Let’s go check it out—how dare you slack off on such an important job…” a nearby Cultist said to him.
Old Mike’s thoughts snapped back to reality. “Fine, let’s go have a look.”
The light from the opera house spilled outward, making the surroundings barely visible.
Silence reigned. Old Mike’s steps crunched softly on the grass; he could even hear his own heartbeat.
How odd… Those disgusting beasts aren’t telling filthy jokes like usual.
Gradually, Old Mike realized—why were his footsteps the only ones he heard?
“Strongson?” he called out tentatively.
No answer.
Damn, Old Mike cursed to himself, quickly pulling a dagger from beneath his black robe and melting into the shadows.
The dagger had been crafted for him by Dwarf Jager, forged entirely from precious Dwarven Steel and laced with a bit of Mithril.
An inscription of Shadow Magic on the blade had helped Old Mike escape danger more than once.
Destroyed.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Strongson’s corpse—a single, fatal strike. The killer seemed to know the Cultists’ alarm system perfectly, having disabled all their spells as well.
What sort of monster is this? Strongson hadn’t even realized he was dead, his face still twisted in annoyance at his companion.
Old Mike’s hair stood on end as he sprinted away at his life’s fastest speed, trying to put as much distance as possible between himself and the killer.
A master-level assassin? With all his informants, he’d never heard of such a person in the capital…
The next moment, a tremendous force slammed into Old Mike’s chest.
He was sent flying, barely managing to right himself in midair and avoid crashing down.
His whole body tingled with numbness… Why didn’t they kill me?
“You’re… the thief from Wobei District? What’s with this look…”
A clear and melodious female voice rang out.
Old Mike narrowed his eyes, watching the newcomer warily.
Pointed ears, platinum hair, a face as if sculpted by the gods.
An Elf.
Ivena breathed a sigh of relief—thank goodness she’d been cautious. If she’d killed Old Mike on impulse, she wouldn’t know how to face the young master.
She didn’t want to see El saddened by Old Mike’s death, nor did she wish to see his accusing gaze. Just picturing that scene made her heart ache so much she couldn’t breathe.
“May I ask, who are you…” Old Mike ventured.
“El Regis’s Maid,” she replied simply.
Like a drowning man suddenly thrown onto dry land, Old Mike gasped for air, his body relaxing now that the threat of death had passed.
Only then did he process what the Elf had said.
My god… To have someone like this willingly serve as a Maid… Just who is El Regis?
“Is my task done? Should I leave now?” Old Mike asked.
Ivena considered for a moment and said, “Go inside and tell the young master: the reconnaissance barrier has almost been broken, all the sentries have been eliminated, the Royal Knights will be here soon, and it’s time to prepare for retreat. That shouldn’t be hard for you.”
According to the plan, El and the others would keep hiding until the Royal Knights appeared, both to gather evidence and to ensure no one slipped through the net.
But Ivena still cared more about El’s safety. Ever since earlier, she’d had a bad premonition gnawing at her heart.
Just as she would support El unconditionally, once the Maid spoke up, El would do his best to meet Ivena’s requests. Just this once, let her have her way, Ivena thought.
Old Mike agreed.
Even the Royal Knights are involved… Is it that princess? Looks like something big is going down tonight.
“In short, that’s the situation. Young Master El, the Elf wants you to leave as soon as possible,” Old Mike said.
“Now?… All right.”
El nodded. There shouldn’t be any more surprises, and retreating was indeed the best option.
He quietly began chanting a spell.
“Upper Magic: Elusive Phantom.” It cost very little mana, but it demanded extreme casting skill.
By manipulating light elements to create an optical illusion, the caster’s entire figure became transparent. More advanced techniques would use mana to mask one’s presence, achieving true invisibility.
Compared to Ivena’s concealment skills, it was indeed inferior, but good enough for most situations.
By the way, during his first contest with Vita, El had used this spell, causing Vita to mistake a water clone for his real body and resulting in her defeat.
“Let’s go.”
Once he’d made sure “Elusive Phantom” covered everyone, El spoke.
The Nobility and Cultists were still locked in tense standoff, so no one noticed a group of people brazenly walking right through them.
They drew closer and closer to the exit—almost there… Just a little farther…
At that moment, a powerful surge of magic erupted from the stage, and massive chains of ghostly blue light swept outwards with unstoppable force.
Royas raised his greatsword, battle aura surging, and collided with the chains.
Even the shockwave alone shattered the opera house’s glass windows, hurled seats off the audience floor, and forced everyone to struggle just to keep their footing.
Not good! El cursed inwardly.
Though “Elusive Phantom” consumed little mana, its biggest weakness was clear: if struck by a real attack, it was extremely easy to be exposed!
At this moment, El and the others’ disguises had failed, and at least for now, escape was nearly impossible.
Fortunately, they were all wearing the demon cult’s black robes, blending in with the Cultists without a trace of suspicion.
What rotten luck, why did it have to be now…
“I should have flipped a coin before leaving, El,” the demon said.