“You stay here.” Arthur coldly spat those words as he stood up and walked to the corridor.
“I cannot do that, sir. My duty tonight is to assist you as much as I can.”
Feylord immediately voiced his objection and followed the parasite like a loyal dog.
Although troubled by the pesky noble, Arthur didn’t argue back and simply headed to the staircase. He was going after Jonathan in order to confirm the identity of that orange-haired girl.
It didn’t take long for him to arrive on the second floor, which was significantly less crowded. There were only pairs of students walking around, the majority of them couples looking for a suitable place to enjoy quality and romantic time together.
“Are you looking for someone, sir?”
“Not particularly.” Perfunctorily responded Arthur as he passed by a small balcony in which Jonathan and the girl were standing close to each other and looking at the night sky.
‘Indeed, it was her.’
Now that he had ascertained of his suspicions, Arthur was about to loiter around for a little bit longer only for the lights to suddenly go dark.
Terrified and surprised cries echoed from downstairs as several black-clothed figures appeared.
It wasn’t just on the first floor, there were also suspicious-looking people that jumped from outside one of the windows close to Arthur.
There were two of them, both equipped with magical artifacts and demon-like black masks that covered the entirety of their faces.
‘Unholy Blasphemers?’
Each secret organization had a unique ‘logo’, and the Unholy Blasphemers was no different. Theirs was that of a double-horned oni with a vertical slit on its forehead.
Unlike the parasite, who stood there pondering in silence, Feylord panicked as warily backed away.
Unfortunately, the moment the cultists saw the two of them, they quickly spring into action. One charged at Arthur while the other aimed for Feylord.
‘Their Mana is strange.’
With [Magic Sense], Arthur could feel their peculiar and unstable Mana which flowed uncontrollably within their bodies.
As the assailant reached him, he leaned his body back then performed a slow round-kick.
The cultist used his longsword to slash the incoming leg before letting out a burst of corrosive energy at the parasite.
Instead of protecting himself, Arthur let himself be swept and glanced at Feylord.
The blond-haired noble used his Pyromancy to protect himself but his flames were cut down and he was blown to the back until he crashed to the wall.
The cultist who attacked him quickly put his hand on the victim’s chest and mumbled something, which made the frightened and wounded Feylord to howl in pain before passing out.
Arthur, who lied on the ground, seemingly injured and unconscious, was surprised to see the two cultists take Feylord then jump out of the window.
‘They were targeting him? Could it be that the Unholy Blasphemers are launching an attack on Verno and his people? Julian isn’t here so why would they do this?’
An ominous green mist burst from the parasite, enveloping him before floating upwards and slipping outside. Arthur glided in the air and located the assailants running away.
He saw at least a dozen of black-clothed cultists jumping from everywhere and dispersing rapidly. Explosions rang from the first floor and more fights continued.
The guests of the party were not just students, there were merchants and nobles, many of which had bodyguards and escorts.
It was a reckless and possibly stupid idea, even for the Unholy Blasphemers, to launch an attack in a populated place. It might have been unexpected, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t outright suicidal.
The green mist cascaded to the ground and zigzagged between the trees as it flew toward the cultists, which sprinting as fast they could.
Thanks to the darkness of the night, Arthur was able to chase after them without getting detected. However, that was mostly due to their limited faculties.
They weren’t particularly strong, at least not compared to the parasite. At most, they were at the level of regular soldiers in terms of physical prowess.
Arthur noticed some other cultists running in different directions, but he kept his eyes on those who attacked him and went after them as they ran through the alleyways of Ilexset for twenty to thirty minutes.
At some point, they reached an empty backstreet and pushed back a large broken carrier before taking a ladder that took them below ground.
A couple of minutes later, Arthur appeared near the ladder and looked around, hesitating for a bit.
Instead of chasing after them, he patiently waited, hoping that more cultists would choose this route.
Eventually, another cultist appeared, one who was severely injured and bleeding profusely.
Upon spotting the black-skinned man with long braids standing near the ladder, the cultist was momentarily shocked.
From her body figure and the long brown hair, Arthur knew it was a woman. However, he showed no mercy as icicles shot at her.
Her wounds and the initial surprise rendered her unable to evade or block as the icy projectiles pierced her chest.
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“This is better.”
Arthur smiled and switched bodies. He had brought his magical bag with him, so he stored Khalil’s body before taking the ladder.
When possessing a new body, the host’s minor injuries would heal. In the case of this new vessel, it wasn’t difficult to hide the holes caused by the icicles thanks to the cultist's black outfit.
Just as Arthur arrived downstairs, two more people came and directly jumped down. One of them was tall and muscular and had an unconscious student on his shoulder.
‘Frey?’
It was the First Year Student, Frey, who was a spy from the Sun Alchemists. Arthur’s confusion deepened, but he maintained composure as he faced his two ‘allies’.
“Your pair died?”
The muscular man faced the parasite and asked with a cold tone, to which the latter silently nodded.
“Sacrifices are necessary. Let’s head to the meeting spot.”
Neither of the two were hostile as they took the lead while Arthur quietly followed them.
The three went deeper into what seemed to be the city’s sewers. The place reeked of an ungodly stench.
After five minutes, they arrived at a large underground intersection, in which there were 16 cultists. In addition, there were several students tied and gagged. Those still unconscious were lying on the ground while those who woke up were forced to kneel.
Arthur saw Jonathan and his lover, Stella, Feylord, and even Verno. There were a couple more students, all of which were under the spy from the Brutal Prince Order.
“All targets were secured. Good job.”
The muscular man conversed with a handful of other masked cultists, who seemed to be of equal rank to him. Meanwhile, the rest were either standing guard or tending to their wounds.
Arthur stood alone as he deliberated over what to do. Things didn’t become clear yet, but he had a guess on what was happening.
This was too elaborate and costly to just get Julian. From Arthur’s perspective, the Unholy Blasphemers targeted those belonging to opposing factions, seemingly wanting to eliminate them in our swoop.
‘The secret organizations neither respect each other nor cooperate. Still, they seldom clash against each other. Why would they target everyone? Could they also be after the Alchemy Scripture? Even then, there would have been better ways than this.’
Soon enough, all the captured students woke up. Jonathan, kneeling on the ground, tried to calm down his weeping lover who was absolutely frightened by what was happening.
Meanwhile, the talkative and loud Verno was infuriated and undeterred by his unfavorable situation.
“You sons of bitches will regret this! Do you know who I am?!”
He was ignored by all of them, which fueled his rage as he huffed and puffed with a reddened face. He had been troublesome tonight, but due to his complacency, he ended up getting drugged by the served drunks, therefore facilitating his capture.
“Just wait! You blasphemous dogs, you’ve really done it this time!”
Verno looked around, trying to locate their leader.
“Now now, there’s no need to be so agitated.”
A slim and short cultist walked to the kneeling and bound students and spoke with a serene voice.
Arthur scrutinized the man, but he couldn’t sense anything of importance, though that was largely due to an efficiency appraising skill. In this world, one’s appearance didn’t define one’s strength, so simply judging one’s outlook was nothing but folly.
More often than not, it was the gentle, and weak-looking ones that were frighteningly strong.
“I don’t think I need to tell you why you’ve been brought here. Each and every one of you belongs to a secret organization.”
The cultist pointed at Verno and his subordinates, “Brutal Prince Order.”
Then he looked at Frey, Stella, and Jonathan, “Sun Alchemists.”
“W-what?”
Jonathan’s secret lover, called Jan, was even more surprised as her pupils constricted. She leaned away from the man she had trusted and sobbed in fear and desperation.
“E-excuse me…”
Feylord opened his mouth and spoke with a stuttering and weak voice.
“I haven’t done anything…”
“Huh? Aren’t you with Verno? I don’t want to talk to you so shut up.”
“...”
Feylord’s face turned pale as he lowered his head and gritted his teeth. He was inwardly cursing himself for helping Verno and trying to gain his trust. Had he known that his actions would lead to this, he wouldn’t have involved himself.
“You are Jonathan, right?”
Jonathan was glaring at the masked cultist, his eyes flashed with a glint of murderous intent.
“You’ve all been marked by the Blasphemy Curse. Admittedly, it will disperse in time, but for now, you are powerless. I advise you to cooperate, okay?”
The response was a long silence as even Verno was forced to swallow his anger and stop any form of resistance, physical or verbal.
“We’ve got intel that says you have a way of stealing the Alchemy Scripture.”
Spoke the cultist as he looked at Jonathan.
“I don’t need any confirmation. I just want to know how you were going to do it.”
“...”
Seeing the youth keep his counsel, the cultist let out a sigh and raised his hand; Someone approached Jan, pulled her head and took out a dagger.
“This is your lovely girlfriend. I don’t need to tell you what I’m going to do, right?”
“Aah! Ah!”
Jan cried and shouted as she tried to escape but that only made the cultist viciously slap her face.
Blood leaked out of her nose, but she kept sobbing and biting her lips as her eyes were pleadingly asking Jonathan for help.
With a dagger inches away from her eye, the ‘leader’ of the cultists continued,
“What was your plan? Last chance.”
Jonathan gritted his teeth as he was stuck in an internal struggle. On one hand, he was loyal to the Sun Alchemists and didn’t want to reveal the plan, and on the other he didn’t want Jan, whom he truly loved, to be hurt because of him.
“No? Okay.”
Just as the dagger was about to stab Jan’s left eye, Jonathan moved his body and shouted,
“Stop!!!”
Fortunately, the dagger was pulled back and Jan was let go, her body falling to the side.
Frey and Stella glanced at their comrade, but they didn’t stop him or do anything. They were spies too, but they weren’t as experienced as their leader, nor did they want to die tonight even if it meant betraying their organisation. Human instinct prioritised survival over anything, and in situations like these, logic was dominated by emotions and the need to avoid pain or, at worst, a brutal death.
“I’m listening, Jonathan.”
After a brief silence, the youth begrudgingly explained,
“I was going to plant bombs on the South and East sides of campus, summon a golem and use it to breakthrough the vault.”
“And? Even a golem wouldn’t help you in escaping.”
“I was going to use a Minor Translocation Formation to send the Alchemy Scripture to my colleagues.”
“That’s not enough. You will be caught and I’m certain you wouldn’t want that.”
“A secret informant was going to help me.”
“Who?”
“...”
“Who is it? Speak!”
The man was irritated by Jonathan’s silence, so he snatched the dagger and acted as if he was going to stab Jan.
“I-It’s Parmenas.”
Right after that, there was a deafening and eerie silence, followed by a playful and sweet laugh that rang from Jonathan’s side.
With constricted pupils, he saw Jan stand up and throw the ropes that were supposed to bind her limbs to the side.
“Thank you, my dear Johnny.”