“Gentlemen, ladies, good evening.”
The black-robed Warlock on the stage spoke in a flippant tone, bowing and offering a peculiar, half-hearted salute.
The nobles looked at him nervously, for the confrontation between the black-robed Warlock and Royas had made his strength abundantly clear.
“No need to worry, I won’t harm any of you. However… you must cooperate with us—the Demon Cult.”
El quickly profiled the black-robed Warlock’s character.
Arrogant and conceited, with great confidence in his own power, and clearly very closely tied to the Demon Cult.
“His magic is strange… crude… is he a Warlock?”
Although the Warlock’s magical power was astonishing, El’s expertise allowed him to spot the man’s weaknesses at a glance.
A Mage is a symbol of erudition and wisdom. To gain the ability to cast spells, one must master countless fields of knowledge… mathematics, geometry, elemental theory… Only then can one construct viable spell models.
Undoubtedly, the cost to train a Mage far exceeds any other profession; it is nearly the hallmark of the nobility.
Even though the Sage Anthony had made magic less unattainable than in the past, the status of a Mage remained extraordinary.
Among commoners, Mages were privately referred to as “robed nobles”—meaning that, though they held no formal noble title, they still moved freely among the aristocracy, taking on important roles and enjoying social standing far above that of other professions.
A single Mage’s contributions were immense. The advancement of magical theory spurred the nation’s productivity, and famine had long since vanished from the Leon Empire.
At the same time, Mages made the imperial army exceptionally powerful, something that was proven when repelling the Orc invasions.
Though Warlocks also wielded magic, they were different.
A Warlock’s magical talent is innate, drawn from the power within their own bloodline, with their spells inherited from their ancestors.
Human Warlocks are extremely rare. By comparison, Demi-Humans and Orcs are far more likely to produce them.
Unlike Mages, Warlocks hold little value. First, their strength varies wildly—power drawn from bloodline is unreliable; some Warlocks are even weaker than ordinary people, with a vast gulf between the weakest and strongest.
Second, most of the spells inherited by Warlocks are only destructive in nature, and Warlocks themselves often understand little of their own sorcery, much less passing it on to others.
“There’s a demonic taint to his spells… a style from the Abyss.”
Angel reminded him.
El wasn’t surprised; the man had openly admitted to being with the Demon Cult.
“What do we do next? He may have already noticed your little tricks… Do we make a move?” the demon asked.
“We wait and see.”
El’s hope was that this arrogant fool would stall for more time, giving Ivna a chance to arrive and assist… In the best-case scenario, stall until the Royal Knights appeared.
He pushed the petite Demi-Human girl toward Old Mike and whispered, “If fighting breaks out, take her and get out.”
Is she… a slave?
Old Mike’s expression was complicated. “And you…?”
“We have our own ways. With your abilities, staying here would only be a burden—I don’t want to be distracted trying to protect you. At the very least, escaping should be easy for you, right?”
“I understand.”
At that moment, Darien, as the nobles’ representative, spoke up, “May I ask, what is it you want?”
“You’re here to buy slaves, aren’t you?”
Darien quickly grasped what the cultists were after. “You intend to threaten us?”
“No, no, don’t put it so harshly… I prefer to call it—cooperation. This is just our little secret, your pledge of loyalty. The Demon Cult certainly won’t expose it; that would do none of us any good,” the black-robed Warlock replied.
Twisting the facts.
“Hmph, cooperation? And what can you offer? Cooperation is based on mutual benefit.” Darien sneered.
Still, nearly all the nobles present understood the situation. The initiative was firmly in the cultists’ hands; they were at their mercy.
“Duke Xielifen’s Second Son, Darien, am I right? Our cooperation is simple. The Demon Cult can eliminate your enemies for you. All you need do is offer a little help—nothing significant.”
Climbing the ladder.
“For instance, you’re not the Duke’s primary heir, but we could change the Duke’s mind for you?” he hinted suggestively.
Many of the nobles began to waver; each harbored their own dark ambitions, especially those involved in the slave trade.
Seeing this, the black-robed Warlock fanned the flames further: “The capital is about to undergo a great upheaval. The Demon Cult will raise your influence to new heights.”
“Wait a moment, allow us to discuss,” Darien said.
“Be my guest.”
In truth, it was hardly necessary; the nobles had no real choice. Their secrets were already in the cult’s grasp. They quickly came to an agreement, naturally leaving a few fools out.
Seeing the nobles agree, the black-robed Warlock concluded the topic.
“The details can be discussed later. The Demon Cult will reach out to you.”
It was both a notice and a warning.
“Now then…” He drew out the words.
“Still not coming out? The bugs trying to ruin our plans!”
The black-robed Warlock suddenly shouted, sounding quite unhinged.
“Go!” El whispered.
Old Mike hesitated no more, scooping the girl into his arms and slipping into the shadows, darting for the main doors.
Vita unleashed a slash of azure sword energy, weaving a net that sliced the opera house’s doors to pieces.
“Boom—”
Old Mike moved quickly, dashing out of the opera house before the dust could even rise.
“Trying to escape…” the black-robed Warlock shouted.
Enormous ghostly-blue chains shot toward the exit, aiming to drag Old Mike back.
A violent gust swept through, pressing everyone nearby so hard they could barely breathe. The fierce wind snapped the chains in half and shattered the opera house floor, revealing the ugly foundations beneath.
A white phantom appeared behind El.
“Looking for me, aren’t you?”
El spoke, his face masked and his features well concealed.
Vita stood at his side, looking small and delicate, yet her stance was steady—her presence as sharp as a drawn sword, impossible to ignore.
“You’re not one of us,” he stated firmly. “What is your purpose here?”
All eyes turned on the two, none of them friendly. The matters just discussed absolutely could not be allowed to reach a third party.
Especially the nobles; they were desperate to silence the two mysterious intruders.
The black-robed Warlock fell into silent contemplation.
A mage of this caliber… must be nobility. To have infiltrated our ranks in advance… How did they do it? Has our plan been exposed from the start? Is there a traitor within the organization…
No time to consider all this now… Whatever their aim, they’re certainly not here to die. This just got troublesome, he thought.
The black-robed Warlock didn’t make any rash moves; first he tested the waters, wondering if there was still room to maneuver. Of course, it was only to lull the two into complacency—they both had to die.
“To let justice be done, sin judged, and suffering cease to spread,” El declared.
“Hmph! Boastful words. Everyone, attack! Capture him first!” the black-robed Warlock shouted.
In an instant, everyone in the opera house became El and Vita’s enemy.
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