Beneath the Peak of Phantoms, inside the Tanazk Great Mine.
Altair continued to skillfully use his Imitation Arts. On the third and fourth floors, he disguised himself as a Campbell mercenary to eliminate his “colleagues.” On the fifth and sixth floors, he took the form of a priest serving Bishop Aeneas, taking out several relevant attendants.
Now, he had returned to his standard attire—a white robe and hood—as he prepared to enter the seventh floor. His target, naturally, was Bishop Aeneas.
In truth, the scout units of the Rebel Army had been observing Altair’s movements. Marcus truly wanted to recruit Altair into his ranks. It was a genuine pity that such a rare assassin leader could only waste his life working for the Pope.
On this day, after Altair entered the Tanazk Great Mine, Marcus, Elliris, and the others stood by not far from the mine’s entrance.
Altair officially stepped onto the seventh floor. He had accepted Marcus’s goodwill and wore the Holy Light Amulet to appropriately ward off the necrotic aura of the area.
In reality, Bishop Aeneas had been waiting for him for a long time. News of Campbell’s death had already reached his ears.
“You actually dare to betray His Holiness the Pope! No wonder His Holiness never truly looked at you brothers with favor. Perhaps he truly foresaw this day!”
Aeneas was still using the Pope as a shield, attempting to lecture Altair.
“I didn’t hear a word of that. All I know right now is that a dog raised by that bastard Pope is lecturing me while facing his own death.” Altair’s tone was filled with extreme mockery. It was considered a show of respect to the Bishop that he hadn’t directly descended into profanity.
“Madman! Heaven knows how he broke the Pope’s restriction! Dammit! You useless lot, what are you standing there for? Get him! Kill him!!”
Losing his temper, the Bishop didn’t want to waste any more words. He immediately commanded a mixed team of hundreds of mercenaries, priests, and assassins to launch an attack.
Altair didn’t spare a glance for the mercenaries and priests, but these assassins were subordinates who had followed him for over ten years…
If not for the Pope’s restriction, these assassins would never have raised their blades against him.
Altair’s iron-like resolve forced him to don the ruthless mask of an assassin once more. At this moment, he could only engage in a life-and-death struggle against his former subordinates.
“Captain… please, give up your resistance… are you really going to face 100 of us alone?” The one asking with a trembling voice was Kenny, Altair’s formerly most perceptive subordinate.
“Everyone, I’ve said it before. Either follow the creed or betray the old master; either join or die.” Only Tyron’s assassin’s creed remained in Altair’s heart as he spoke.
“No more words. All of you, come at once!”
The **[Mirror Dagger]** at Altair’s fingertips glinted with a cold, eerie light in the darkness. He immediately activated the weapon’s special effect, and phantom mirror surfaces formed around his former subordinates.
Over a dozen assassins failed to defend in time. Some had saliva dripping from the corners of their mouths—a state of instant death by poison. Others collapsed with their eyes wide open—the result of the instant-kill feedback damage received after the **[Mirror Dagger]** attacked the target’s reflection.
This weapon was a Legendary-grade weapon that Altair had obtained through a certain stroke of luck. It directly generated phantom images or reflections of the enemy. The user attacking the phantom image or reflection was equivalent to attacking the enemy target themselves. For the Assassin class, it was practically a bug-tier existence.
The priests in the distance attempted to launch long-range attacks, while the mercenaries closing in for melee tried to exhaust his stamina through waves of attacks.
Altair immediately threw out a large number of poison darts and smoke bombs, causing many of the melee mercenaries to collapse in pain with distorted faces. At the same time, it interfered with the vision of the long-range classes. Following this, a succession of poison darts landed precisely on the vital points of the group of priests.
**[Weakness Insight]**! This was Altair’s exclusive talent and the capital he had relied on throughout his many years as an assassin. It allowed him to quickly discover the fatal weaknesses of the enemies before him and immediately carry out critical strikes, attacking the enemy’s head, chest, abdomen, or spine.
Altair’s sharp offensive, which was like cutting through melons and vegetables, left the team guarding Aeneas at a complete loss.
He pulled a modified hidden gun from his sleeve. This technique of miniaturizing gunpowder technology was something Tyron had once praised incessantly.
Combining the long-range firearm with his own rapid movement, and utilizing the combat control of the grappling hook alongside his hidden blade, Altair annihilated the hundreds of enemies at the cost of only minor injuries.
What was considered infiltration? Killing everyone and going musou—that was infiltration.
Altair’s objective pointed solely at Bishop Aeneas. Extremely flustered, Aeneas finally launched the magic he had been preparing for a long time at Altair.
**[Holy Fire]**, **[Smite]**, and **[Intense Light]**!
The vision-depriving effect of **[Intense Light]**, combined with the area-of-effect light magic attacks of **[Holy Fire]** and **[Smite]**—Aeneas thought this combination of blows should be enough to heavily wound Altair.
However, reality was not so kind. Altair had practiced to the point where he could attack enemies by listening to their positions. Briefly taking away his sight could not interrupt his assassination.
Yet, **[Holy Fire]** and **[Smite]** still landed solidly on his body. Altair completely ignored the pain screaming from his flesh. Having lost nearly 1,000 HP, he finally succeeded in plunging his dagger into Aeneas’s chest.
“It’s over, you old dog who only knows how to wag your tail for that bastard Pope. You should have died long ago! You were the one who killed those 2,000 civilians in Sindar Town!”
In this unjust world, the eagle bound by rules that seeks to fly will eventually execute its own justice. Resistance exists so that conscience is not extinguished, and it is the very reason why justice never dies.
“Don’t worry, I’m going to find your bastard Pope right away. Soon, you’ll all be reunited in hell!!” Altair roared, pronouncing a death sentence upon Aeneas.
“Hahaha… Haha… Betrayer, you aren’t leaving this place.”
With blood gurgling from his chest, Aeneas reached out with a trembling hand and used the ring on his finger to activate the nearby Necromantic Polymerization experiment.
This was a necromantic fusion created by the Pope by injecting a portion of the vengeful souls of the deceased into their physical bodies to turn them into experimental subjects.
Another ring on Aeneas’s finger glowed, directly triggering another type of restriction the Pope had placed on him.
“Hahaha!… Cough, *ack*, I will take you, myself… and all the corpses present… as sacrifices… to the… experiment. Simultaneously, I activate… the **[Banshee’s Wail]** left by the Pope…”
Aeneas indeed had a trump card. The necromancy spell **[Banshee’s Wail]** was about to be unleashed!
“This was… originally reserved for… those Demon Race remnants… but once again, you’ve ruined… His Holiness the Pope’s plans!” the heavily injured Aeneas said haltingly. He remained stubborn and unrepentant, even though he was clearly just another of the Pope’s pawns.
An ear-splitting banshee shriek rang out. Several Rebel Army scouts who were still investigating instantly collapsed with blood flowing from their eyes, ears, noses, and mouths. A few other scouts managed to escape and hurried to report the situation to Marcus.
A massive amount of withering energy was released. Altair’s HP began to drop rapidly at a rate visible to the naked eye. In Altair’s vision, a translucent spiritual entity appeared. She looked like a skeletal woman bleached by moonlight, with heart-palpitating, crimson-red eyes that made both Altair and Aeneas shudder.
**[Altair, Level 55, HP: 3246/7850 (Status Ailment: Continuous shadow damage erosion, 500 HP deducted per minute; CC Status: Movement speed reduced by 80%, HP recovery/healing effects reduced by 75%)]**
In the distance, an unknown Cthulhu-style stitched monster emitting a foul stench was slowly crawling toward them.
Along the way, the monster was devouring the members of the Bishop’s unit who had fallen under Altair’s slaughtering blade.
It seemed this was the end…
‘Tyron, I’ll be able to see you soon.’
He still believed in the value of kindness and justice. Though he had chosen the darkest path of revenge, he felt no regret.
He had protected their last haven—the orphanage in the capital’s slums.
Although this patrol and hunt was a path of no return, the justice in Altair’s heart would never disappear.
Premium Chapter
Login to buy access to this Chapter.