The bald, burly man’s face instantly turned pale as white paper.
He clutched his vital spot tightly with both hands, curled up in pain like a boiled shrimp, trembling violently as he collapsed to the ground.
Allen moved with lightning speed, bending down and pulling a gleaming dagger from behind the man’s waist.
Without looking, he tossed it to Marianne behind him.
“Continue!”
Swish.
The dagger spun in midair, radiating a cold gleam!
Marianne flicked her wrist sharply, cutting through the air as her slender fingers snapped shut, firmly grasping the buzzing hilt.
Her movement was so smooth it looked as if she had rehearsed it a thousand times.
She stepped forward.
The icy blade tip instantly pressed against the bald man’s throat, while her knee slammed hard into the injured spot he had just been kicked.
“Ugh-ah—!”
The bald man screamed again like a slaughtered pig.
The unbearable pain completely crushed any resistance.
He went limp like a dead fish on the ground.
The once pitiful, slightly bashful maid now bore cold, sharp eyes and tensed like a leopard, exuding a killing aura that sent chills down the spine.
The fragile maid was merely a disguise.
This red-eyed murderer, a former member of the Crimson Spiral Cult, was the one who had single-handedly defeated nobles and their guards to earn recognition for a Fake Crest—
Marianne Durand!
Allen entrusted the bald man to Marianne and swiftly dashed toward the group of obvious loyal mercenaries beside him.
He didn’t even need weapons.
His moves were ruthless and cunning street-fighting tricks—eye gouges, throat locks, groin kicks, leg sweeps!
Before the big men could react, Allen had knocked them down with lightning speed, their agonized groans unable to rise as they lay sprawled on the ground.
Allen searched their bodies, retrieving daggers and tossing them to Marianne, keeping one for himself.
The whole process was fluid and effortless.
In the blink of an eye, Allen had shattered the core of the mercenary group.
Taking a step forward, Allen was but one man, yet carried the momentum of a thousand troops breaking through an icy river.
An invisible pressure radiated outward from him.
The mercenaries, who had been laughing moments ago, suddenly fell silent as if their throats had been choked.
Their mocking expressions froze, replaced by terror.
Allen’s gaze, like tangible ice daggers, slowly swept over each mercenary’s face.
“As the saying goes,” Allen’s voice struck clearly in everyone’s ears, “when friends arrive, good wine is served. When wolves come, the hunt begins.”
“So, tell me, you pack of bloodthirsty wild dogs who survive by killing—what’s your purpose barking wildly at the gates of the Laval family today?”
“You!”
The bald man, clutching his groin, strained to lift his head and snarled through the pain, “What do you mean?”
Marianne mercilessly jabbed him with her knee again, forcing him to kneel in agony.
“What do I mean?”
Allen sneered as he stepped back to grab the man’s collar, staring into his eyes.
“Who hired you?”
The bald man gritted his teeth, eyes fierce.
“I’ll never tell you!”
“Oh? So someone really hired you.”
Allen signaled to Marianne.
“Marianne, do you know any ‘special’ skills? I want him to confess who unleashed this wild dog.”
He deliberately emphasized the word “special.”
Marianne tilted her head, a flash of innocent yet cruel light flickering in her crimson eyes as her clear, melodious voice broke the silence: “Master, what about the Blood Eagle?”
The air froze instantly.
Allen and the bald man exchanged shocked glances.
Seriously?
The Blood Eagle?!
That legendary pirate torture involving breaking the ribs to form wings on the back and hanging lungs—
What the hell did you learn in the cult?!
The bald man was well-informed.
He had personally seen the miserable victims left behind by pirates, made into “Blood Eagles.”
That agonizing, hellish sight left an indelible mark on his mind.
He stared at Marianne’s delicate yet morbid face, a cold shiver shooting to his skull.
This woman was serious!
She really knew that technique!
Such extreme torture— even a tough guy like him dared not try it!
Damn it, how did he end up offending these two lunatics!
Cold sweat drenched his body instantly as he shook uncontrollably from fear.
“Shit! You idiots! What’re you standing there for? Attack! Don’t wait for me! I don’t care if I die, but at least don’t let me die like a damn dog!”
The bald man screamed hoarsely, his voice distorted.
The mercenaries, shaken by Allen’s presence, suddenly snapped out of it.
Fear was immediately replaced by the survival instinct!
They shouted, drawing hidden knives and daggers from their pockets and waists.
The cold blades glinted, a deadly aura suddenly filling the air.
Allen didn’t flinch.
Instead, he laughed out loud, his laughter brimming with the thrill of his plan unfolding: “Good! Very good! According to the Third Article of the Kingdom Public Security Law: anyone armed and gathering suspiciously in the Upper City of the Capital, howling and charging a noble’s manor, is guilty of treason! Anyone who uses force to harm a noble is guilty of three degrees worse and faces house arrest and family extermination!”
He abruptly stopped laughing, his eyes mischievously scanning the mercenaries who brandished their weapons and grew pale, finally resting on the leader’s face as he clapped his hands gleefully.
“Now that you’ve shown your blades, great! My steward has already gone to summon the guards. Guess what the fully armed soldiers will think when they see you attacking a noble with weapons? Hmm? Maybe there’s still time to run now? After all,” he deliberately dragged out the tone with endless sarcasm, “running away is your mercenaries’ best ‘basic skill,’ isn’t it?”
“Damn you! I’ll kill you!”
One mercenary, reddened by Allen’s mockery, rushed forward with a short knife.
His attack was too clumsy.
Allen easily dodged sideways, grabbed the man’s wrist, twisted it, and tripped him, causing the man to fall face-first with a painful scream.
“Yo, yo, yo! Really daring!”
Allen stepped on the fallen man’s back, wearing the villain’s wicked grin.
“You don’t even have a Crest. How dare you touch me, Allen de Laval? If I weren’t merciful, I could’ve killed you all at the start. But well, I think a little courtesy before violence suits me better.”
That said, Allen had no real intention to kill—at least not now.
The Inquisition’s eyes were watching him somewhere.
Before joining The Church, he couldn’t afford to leave a black mark on his record.
A political investigation would be disastrous.
As for his previous killing of cultists—well, those heretics hardly counted as humans.
“Do you have a Crest?”
The bald man asked incredulously, voice trembling.
That wasn’t in the intel!
If he had known Allen bore a Crest, he wouldn’t have dared provoke him!
He had seen knights with Crests personally—one man could break through an entire army!
Allen’s smile grew even brighter as he pretended to be mysterious:
“Guess if I have a Crest or not. No reward for a correct guess, but punishment if you’re wrong.”
“Crest…”
Some newer mercenaries sneered, “Crest means nothing! We’re numerous and strong, not afraid of a brat like him!”
“Yeah! Brothers, charge! You think we can’t beat a kid?”
“Enough, damn it!”
The bald man roared like thunder, silencing his men.
“You idiots want to die? Don’t drag me down with you!”
He stared at Allen with cautious eyes, tinged with a strange respect.
“You really are that Allen de Laval?”
The legendary prodigal son and worthless scion—how could he possess such boldness, cunning, and fierce momentum?
And even a Crest?
The intel was wildly off.
“Wondering why the intel was wrong?”
Allen saw through his thoughts.
“The reason’s simple.”
Allen suddenly had a brilliant plan and decided to pour gasoline on the fire.
“Because you fools were cannon fodder from the start. No guessing needed—I know your real employer is some high-ranking noble, who subcontracted the job layer by layer. You don’t even know who he is.”
“I bet the down payment he gave you was so generous you couldn’t refuse, right?”
The bald man’s pupils contracted sharply!
Allen’s words stabbed precisely at the unease he had always felt inside.
Exactly!
The money was too good!
Noble money was never this easy to earn!
“You’re doomed,” Allen whispered like a demon’s breath.
“Either you stir up trouble and I kill you all, or after the chaos, you’ll all ‘accidentally’ die in the gutters with evidence pointing to the Laval family silencing you…”
“In any case, the Laval family will bear the blame for killing workers demanding wages, sinking into disgrace, even sentenced to family extermination.”
“And your deaths won’t just let your employer rest easy—they’ll save him a huge final payment.”
“How’s that? Feel how stupid you’ve been, played around without even realizing it?”
Cold sweat dripped down the bald man’s temple.
The mercenaries around exchanged uneasy looks, their anger replaced by icy fear.
Allen’s painted scenario was too realistic, perfectly matching the ruthless tactics of those noble lords!
“You idiots!”
Allen shouted fiercely.
“From the moment you stepped into this trap, you’ve been disposable! You don’t even know what kind of whirlpool you’re caught in! Noble infighting is not something you wild dogs get to join! Now get lost!”
“Go back to your homeland! Maybe you’ll live to see your families again! Stay here, and all that awaits you is the guillotine and the gutters!”
Panic spread like a plague.
In the distance, heavy, rapid footsteps and the clang of armor echoed from the street’s end!
The guards’ figures appeared faintly!
The bald man’s face drained of all color, his last hope vanished.
It’s over!
Yet Allen bent down kindly, helped the bald man to his feet, even brushed off the dust, speaking gently as if caring for an old friend: “Still hurts?”
The bald man: “…Huh?”
Completely stunned.
“You idiots, why don’t you help your leader up and run?”
Allen shouted at the dumbfounded mercenaries.
“W-why?”
The bald man’s voice was dry.
“I’ve thought it through and decided to offer you a win-win choice.”
Allen’s smile held a sly edge.
“I’ll do you a favor and let you live.”
“Remember this name—Allen de Laval. It will be the name of the benefactor who makes you rich in the future.”
He scanned the mercenaries.
“I know you’re from the Empire. Nobles love hiring dumb mercenaries like you. But that’s fine—I like you too. Once the mess you’ve caused dies down, have your spies in the Capital find me. I’ll build a long-term partnership with you.”
“I’m more trustworthy than those nobles who devour and spit out bones. You can trust me. Become my house dogs, and I’ll feed you the best food, fattening each of you up.”
“Of course, you can also run back to the Empire, tuck your heads into your belts, and keep living the knife-edge life where death is always near.”
“The choice is yours. Now, get lost immediately! Abandon the route your employer arranged for you, retreat via your backup plan!”
The bald man, supported by his men, looked at Allen deeply.
The scorn was gone, replaced by profound fear and inexplicable respect.
“Lord Allen de Laval…”
His voice was hoarse as he gave his name, a typical Imperial name, “I, Vorna Kruger, and the Dogs of War Mercenary Company accept the contract you’ve offered.”
“Dogs of War?”
Allen was momentarily stunned.
The term “house dogs” was strangely fitting after all.
“You truly are someone extraordinary. Your playboy reputation is clearly a disguise. We like ambitious people like you. Ambition breeds killing, and killing is how we survive.”
Vorna Kruger saluted Allen.
“Thanks again for sparing our lives. Brothers, retreat!”
Without further words, the well-trained mercenaries dispersed like a receding tide, moving swiftly and orderly along pre-planned alleys and hidden paths until they vanished without a trace, leaving only scattered red stains and broken wooden signs behind.
Allen stood in place, returning to his usual slightly lazy demeanor.
“Master, are you really letting them go?”
Marianne walked over quietly.
“Marianne,” Allen looked toward where the mercenaries disappeared, a meaningful smile curling on his lips, “we want to make many friends and few enemies. Remember that—it’s the key to our survival.”
Marianne pondered those words.
She had heard the entire conversation between Allen and the mercenary leader.
The Master actually planned to build a cooperative relationship with foreign mercenaries? That was extremely dangerous!
Nobles privately colluding with mercenaries violated royal decrees! It was tantamount to treason punishable by death!
The Master must be gathering strength for his plan to save humanity.
Sure enough, as if responding to Marianne’s thoughts, the sky suddenly exploded with the wrath of the gods!
Boom—!
A thunderclap ripped through the sky!
The long-awaited Great Rainstorm poured down like a flooded heavenly river!
Heavy raindrops hammered down, soaking Allen and Marianne instantly.
Allen wiped the rain from his face, looking at the equally drenched Marianne, and couldn’t help but laugh: “Marianne, look at you. You look so innocent and pitiful now. You really scared me back there. Great performance!”
“You’re the one, Master Allen,” Marianne lifted her face. Raindrops traced down her delicate chin, and her crimson eyes shone brightly through the curtain of rain.
“You were…especially handsome just now.”
“Really? Haha, hearing you say that, I guess I’m pretty good at playing the villain…”
Allen laughed heartily, as if the deadly crisis just moments ago had been blown far away.
He raised his head, gazing at the lightning streaking across the sky.
How beautiful!
This thunderstorm that seemed ready to crush the entire Capital!
Allen’s heart actually trembled.
Cultists, the Inquisition, mercenaries…
Without his countless reincarnations, any one of these could have killed him.
This string of death flags was only just beginning.
The Dogs of War Mercenary Company—an entirely new force not mentioned in the original work.
Their assault was not part of the original plot.
If time progressed along the Church storyline, Allen would have already been sacrificed to the evil god, and the Laval family would be wiped out.
The mercenary attack wouldn’t have happened.
But Allen survived, completely changing the course of the story.
What happens next?
Allen didn’t know and didn’t care.
When the enemy comes, block it; when the water rises, build a dam.
He was about to die a thousand times over—nothing scared him anymore.
…Except Livia.
That one was the protagonist!
The ultimate nemesis of villains!
The old saying: whatever you fear will come to you.
Based on the world of Starshine Serenade and its malice toward Allen, he guessed Livia would likely appear as the early Boss.
He must find a way to defeat her.
Allen knew his strategy for Livia was shaky.
He might be killed by her on their very first meeting, even before Marianne and Livia reunited.
Ah…my brain is trembling!
Why do I feel so cold all over, like I’ve been drenched by the rain?
Is this what it feels like to be kissed by the Goddess of Death?
Ah, sweet death!
It’s not that you seek me out, but I’m rushing to you—so don’t you dare run away!
Yes, poor Evil Young Master Allen de Laval—he must truly be losing his mind now.
“Marianne, listen to the rain and thunder…”
Allen suddenly spread his arms wide, letting the rain wash over him.
“This is a symphony performed by heaven itself for us! Come on, since I’m in a good mood, I’ll teach you the nobles’ social dance. You’ll need it when you’re trying to win over Livia!”
Faced with this slightly mad Allen, Marianne’s eyes lit up instantly.
She felt deeply honored and placed her icy hand into Allen’s equally cold palm.
“Alright, Master Allen.”
Allen didn’t realize it, but pushed to the brink by endless death cycles, he and Marianne were incredibly compatible.
Based on Marianne’s own storyline, she was definitely one of the craziest yandere types.
Two minds far from ordinary—two mad souls together were truly cause for concern.
Would they turn the Capital upside down?
In the pouring rain, two drenched figures spun and danced like no one else existed in the ravaged courtyard before the Laval family gates.
Allen’s dance steps carried a touch of noble elegance, while Marianne struggled to keep pace.
Rain blurred their vision but couldn’t hide the genuine, radiant smiles on their faces.
“How is it? Feeling good?”
Allen’s voice was almost drowned by the heavy rain.
Marianne shouted as if releasing all her pent-up frustration:
“Yes, Master! I’m very happy!”
When the old steward Jean Leclerc hurried back with a squad of fully armed guards, this was the scene that greeted him: Empty streets, scattered red paint and broken wooden signs everywhere, and two master and servant joyfully dancing the Round Dance in the pouring rain.
The sight was truly wild and eerie.
The guards exchanged glances, their faces asking silently, “Are these two mad?”
Standing in the rain, the steward looked at the pair dancing as if oblivious to everything.
His anxiety and worry slowly faded, replaced by a complex, indescribable emotion.
He remained silent for a moment before sighing softly, his voice lost amid the pattering rain: “As expected of the Master.”