The warehouse was thick with the scent of blood, the firelight flickering in and out, casting the shadows of the four figures wavering on the walls.
Helos gripped her pouch tightly, the clinking of potions trembling in rhythm with her breath.
No one spoke; the silence pressed heavily on their chests.
Kyle leaned against a shattered wooden crate, muttering under his breath:
“So quiet… not even a rat has come by.”
Julius only gripped his sword tighter at those words, standing before Helos like a wall.
They waited in silence for a moment, until hurried footsteps echoed from the distant passage.
The footsteps were erratic, mixed with ragged breathing.
The firelight swayed, swept by a sudden draft, and their shadows stretched longer and longer.
“Huff—huff—”
A fat silhouette stumbled into view at the far end of the passage.
His trailing clothes were thick with dust, his chest heaving violently, the oil on his face shining under the flames.
Helos narrowed her eyes behind her mask:
“My, my~ seems like we’ve got ourselves some business tonight.”
The newcomer’s expression was panicked, fat drops of sweat sliding down from his brow and tracing his cheeks.
He had been in his manor, savoring the evening banquet, but when he glimpsed the sudden appearance of a large force of Church Knights and City Guard outside his window, he instantly realized something was wrong.
Those menacing fellows didn’t look like they were here for a friendly visit at all.
He didn’t even have time to issue a single command before turning to flee into the manor’s secret tunnels.
Even the other Abyss Cultists hidden in the estate hadn’t managed to react before he made his escape ahead of them.
He thought he could use the secret passages he knew so well to slip away, but he hadn’t expected to find people already waiting in the warehouse.
“What—who are you?!”
Baron Black came to a halt, his eyes wide with shock.
The firelight flickered before him, and Julius stood coldly at the center of the passage, his sword glinting icily in the fire.
Kyle clapped his hands together, a lazy grin on his face:
“Yo, Baron, what are you doing out exercising in the dead of night? Not like those nobles in the Upper City who know how to enjoy themselves, huh?”
Selina didn’t speak, only quietly moving to block off the baron’s escape route like a hunter closing the trap.
Baron Black panted heavily, trying to retreat, but Helos had already raised her hand in silence.
The air grew suddenly oppressive, squeezing tight around him; his body froze in place.
And in the instant Helos’s wrist fell, Julius stepped forward in a flash.
With a sweep of his sword, he flicked aside the short dagger the baron had been trying to draw from his belt.
Just as Baron Black was about to activate the magic inscribed on his ring, he realized he couldn’t draw on his Mana at all.
Kyle seized the opportunity, flipping his wrist, and slipped a hempen rope around the baron’s arms, quickly binding them behind his back.
“Mmph—let me go! Do you even know what you’re doing?!”
Baron Black struggled, his plump body wobbling, but against the combined strength of the group, he couldn’t fight back at all.
The rope tightened, squeezing him so much his cries broke off in gasps.
Helos watched him coldly through her mask:
Stop struggling. You’re not getting away.
Sweat dripped from the baron’s brow, tracing lines down his cheeks.
His gaze darted around the warehouse, clearly still searching for an opportunity, but Julius’s icy stare made his heart go cold.
When the baron caught sight of Sewer Centipede Scar lying dead on the ground, his face instantly turned ghostly pale.
“Looks like we can clock out for the night.”
Kyle tied a knot and patted the baron on the shoulder, a mocking grin on his face. “Those other Abyss Cultists probably aren’t as tough as the one lying there, right?”
The tense air in the warehouse eased a little, but Helos still didn’t relax.
Her fingers were clenched tight beneath her cloak, her heart still pounding.
To be honest, it was a bit thrilling.
Guess I pulled my own weight this time, huh?
Not long after Julius tossed the trussed-up Baron Black aside, the noise from the passage outside grew closer.
The heavy clatter of armor and a chorus of footsteps echoed from the other end of the tunnel.
The firelight danced again as several tall figures filed in one after another.
At their head was a girl in a dark formal gown.
Her golden hair glowed gently in the firelight, her expression weary but her eyes still shining with determination.
Surrounded by her guards, she entered the warehouse from the far end of the tunnel.
“Miss Eleanor.”
Julius called her name quietly.
Helos’s gaze also fell on her own elder sister, and she retreated inconspicuously to the back.
Eleanor’s shoulders relaxed visibly when she saw Baron Black trussed up tight.
A glimmer of relief flashed in those deep blue eyes.
“At least he didn’t get away.”
She spoke softly, her voice colored by a faint sense of release.
Her gaze swept slowly across the warehouse, finally stopping on Helos.
A cloak, a mask, a somber presence.
Helos maintained her disguise, completely unlike her usual self.
But Eleanor’s eyes seemed to linger a moment longer, as if seeing straight through the disguise.
The air grew quiet once more.
Kyle scratched the back of his head, about to break the silence, but Selina’s gaze stopped him.
Julius simply stood quietly before Helos, saying nothing more.
Eleanor exhaled softly, averted her gaze, and gave her guards an order:
“Take him away.”
Several guards stepped forward and dragged Baron Black up.
He struggled desperately, muttering incoherently, but all his sounds were drowned beneath the clang of armor and chains.
“Thank you, all of you.”
When the warehouse was finally silent again, Eleanor nodded lightly, expressing her gratitude to Julius and the others.
But before the youths could reply, her gaze returned once again to Helos.
The young lady’s brows furrowed slightly, her eyes full of doubt as she carefully scrutinized the disguise.
Unwilling to give up, she took a step forward, her footsteps echoing under the firelight.
But when that familiar dizzy feeling welled up in the back of her mind, her breath suddenly caught.
Eleanor spoke softly, her tone tinged with disbelief:
“Why are you here?”
Helos didn’t answer, only turned away in silence.
Seeing her like this, Eleanor’s expression faltered, then she slowly stepped back, sighing softly.
When she looked up again, her gaze fell on Julius.
The cold intent in those eyes was enough to make the boy feel as though he would be torn apart on the spot.
A chill ran down Julius’s spine; he shuddered involuntarily.
This is bad.
Fortunately, Eleanor’s fierce gaze didn’t linger on him for long, instead drifting slowly back to Helos.
At that moment, the eldest daughter of the ducal house and the Future Saint revealed an uncharacteristic trace of pleading in her expression.
Lit by the fire, she spoke quietly:
“I know you haven’t forgiven me yet…Little sister.”
“But could you—could you trust your big sister? Just give me one more chance?”