CHAPTER 63: THE INTERROGATION

Hermes stood in silence, holding an innocent maid from her neck. Her whimpers continued to enter his ears. He was trying his best to stall for time, planning his next course of action. The man before him was too powerful to fight directly. Suddenly, a familiar voice sounded from behind him.

"Sir, Hermes?..."

He turned around. The visage of a young noble lady adorned in luscious brunette hair came into view. Eleanor was holding her sister tightly, staring at him. He was able to immediately notice the confusion in her eyes.

"Uh, long time no see?"

"Sir, Hermes! Why are you doing this?!" She had finally realized the identity of the intruder. She couldn't believe that the man that once saved her life would turn into a criminal, breaking into her home. Despite the surge of anger, she also acknowledged that there must be a reason behind his actions. Choosing to withhold her judgement, Eleanor opted to wait patiently for an explanation.

Noticing her expression, Hermes began rubbing the back of his neck. He didn't want their reunion to be in such a way, but he had no choice. Immediately, he let go of the maid, who swiftly ran to her mistress and hid behind her.

"So? I assume you have an explanation?" Eleanor narrowed her eyes while crossing her arms. She began to tap her foot, counting the seconds.

Seeing this, Hermes sighed. He quickly sat down on the marble floor, which was fitted with newly formed cracks from the fight he had against Jack.

"I have come to you to ask for a favor. There was no one else I could ask."

She tilted her head to the side. "Favor? You could have just waited till morning!"

"It's extremely urgent."

"What is it?"

Hermes looked around, counting the number of servants around them. "I can only tell you privately."

"Enough!" An angry voice interjected into their conversation. Shifting his neck back, Hermes saw Jack walking up to him. He stood directly behind Hermes, casting a large shadow over him. "Young lady, just give the order and I will cut this peasant in half."

Hermes simply looked back up at the man while continuing to sit with his legs crossed, unconcerned by his threats. Eleanor voiced her opinion to him.

"Stand down, Jack. He means no harm."

"But, young la-"

"Jack, I said stand down."

Realizing the futility of his actions, he simply glared at Hermes, who was now grinning from ear to ear, and walked back to one of the marble pillars supporting the mansion. "If I see you trying anything, I will not hold back," he warned. Hermes nodded at him and turned his attention back to Eleanor.

"Now then, will you grant me the opportunity to talk to you in private?"

...

A few streets away from the towering Valencourt residence, a cluster of rogue espionage agents huddled in the shadows of an alley, their apprehension palpable in the tense air. Despite their years of experience and rigorous military training, nothing could have ever prepared them for what they were currently facing.

Cloaked in the attire of assassins, their identities concealed beneath the fabric. Each agent gripped a Stellar Artifact. From razor-sharp kunai knives to elegant longswords, their arsenal bespoke of deadly expertise honed through countless missions.

Above them, the darkness loomed like a sinister veil, a stark departure from the solace it once provided. Instead of bringing tranquility, it now served as a harbinger of uncertainty.

"Captain... Who even is that bastard?!" The man's voice quivered with every breath. Even after losing a total of 4 other squadrons in their platoon, they had still not figured out the identity of their attacker. In fact, they didn't even know if what they were facing was a human being or not.

Sweat poured from the man holding a longsword in a combat stance. "I don't know... Just be vigilant." The group of five stood in formation, protecting each other's backs, a united front against this unseen enemy. Now that they were the sole survivors of their platoon, each of them knew that their only priority was to escape.

Suddenly, a member of their team collapsed to the ground, eliciting an immediate reaction. Glancing at the now dead rogue, they noticed his eyes protruding out. The man died without even being given a chance to wail in agony.

"Shit! Close the gap in the formation!" The leader yelled out to his comrades; he had still not realized the trembling in his own voice.

Suddenly, another man fell. There was no sound of any attack; it just happened. The person in question was not even given a chance to mutter any last words or realize what hit him. Even the leader, who was trying his best to utilize [Sensory-Boost] didn't realize what had happened, despite the man dying right next to him.

Seeing this, their leader began to shift his eyes around at a heightened pace, unsure of where to look. He even tried to stop himself from blinking, but even that proved futile, as only a few moments later, another man from his squad fell to the ground. Before he could even react to his death, the last member in his squadron also fell to his knees.

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He was now the only one alive. Chills ran up and down his spine. He tried his best to calm his nerves, which were now causing him to shiver excessively, but nothing worked.

"YOU COWARD! SHOW YOURSELF! WHY ARE YOU ATTACKING US!"

The man's desperate cries echoed through the alley, but they were met with an eerie silence, a silence that seemed to swallow even the faintest of sounds. It was disconcerting, unnaturally so. Despite it being an hour or so before midnight, the absence of the usual city sounds– the hum of engines, the shuffle of footsteps– left him feeling unnerved, isolated in a vacuum of silence.

'I can't stay like this,' he muttered inwardly. He quickly sprinted towards the alley's exit, yearning for the safety of the candle-lit streets beyond. The flickering glow beckoned like a beacon of hope, a stark contrast to the suffocating darkness that had become his adversary.

It was truly ironic. From the moment of his birth, he had been molded in the shadows, honed into a lethal instrument of death, finding solace and strength in the embrace of darkness. Yet now, the moment that very darkness turned against him, he found himself desiring the light instead.

'Is this how the targets I have assassinated over the years felt?' But even such a realization was useless to think about. His soul was simply clamoring for the glimmers of light just beyond his reach, a chance to escape the abyss that threatened to consume him whole. Everything else can come second...

The incorporeal flames from the candles were now in plain sight. He had neared the threshold of freedom. But just as the sense of relief washed over him, his vision turned bright red. With a jolt, he stumbled, his limbs betraying him as if gripped by an unseen force.

'What...' The man did not even have the chance to finish his final thoughts.

In total, a platoon of 25 elite assassins met their demise without even being given the chance to ponder over their deaths. Above the silent alley, a figure cloaked in darkness gazed down impassively. The fabric of his cloak slithered with the wind, yet no sound emanated from its depths.

His gaze then shifted toward the distant silhouette of the Valencourt mansion. "Mission complete," he murmured to himself, his words lost in the whisper of the breeze. And just as swiftly as he had materialized, the mysterious figure dissolved into the shadows, leaving behind only the echoes of his passing.

Gradually, the ambient noises of the city reclaimed the alleyway, the choir of urban life resuming its symphony amidst the chilling aftermath of death.

...

Hermes strolled into a lavishly adorned room, its elegance captivating his gaze. At its center stood a finely crafted wooden desk adorned with what seemed to be a computer and scattered papers. Eleanor, still clad in her nightgown, gracefully settled into the seat behind the desk, gesturing for Hermes to join her on one of the plush couches. With a contented smile, he obliged her offer.

Suddenly, his [Sensory-Boost] kicked in, alerting him to a peculiar sensation. It was that familiar cosmic force he'd encountered while navigating the city, signaling someone tailing him. Yet, this time it felt distinct, an unsettling texture creeping in. It was as though the person behind it wanted to make their presence known.

"So? What is it that you wanted to talk to me about in private?" Eleanor's voice jolted him from his reverie. Adjusting his glasses, he refocused on the matter at hand, pushing aside the strange sensation for the moment.

"Miss Eleanor, do you know about the 'Witch of Calamity?' The one on the news?"

She furrowed her brows. "I have heard of her, yes. The moment I arrived in the city, the servants informed me of her identity. Though I still do not understand what is going on completely."

Hermes closed his eyes and took a deep breath. With utmost seriousness, he stared directly into Eleanor's eyes.

"That so called, 'Witch'... She is a friend of mine..."

Eleanor's eyes widened at the statement. "Pardon me?!"

Hermes reconfirmed with a nod. "Yes, the person who is being condemned by the church is my friend, Elizabeth Lysange."

"Impossible..." She looked at him in disbelief. Shaking her head, she looked back at him with doubt in her eyes. "Are... Are you sure?"

"Yes, no question about it. I asked an information broker."

She frowned. "I don't understand. How did you even come to know Elizabeth? Pardon my bluntness, but you're just a Gold-rank mercenary... According to my background check on you after my arrival in the city, you were born and raised in Orion Township, a small village on the Marcia Empire's border. You earned your rank by hunting low-level mutants... Your journey to where our caravan was attacked should have been your first venture beyond your hometown..."

Hermes looked at the floor. He had already expected such a question. It honestly baffled him as to why the system behind the trial chose to fabricate such a simple background for him. During his travels to the Valencourt house, he contemplated a myriad of excuses, but none of them were plausible.

There was no conceivable explanation he could offer here. The Lysange family had no ties to Orion Township. Any excuse he conjured would only deepen Eleanor's skepticism.

He met Eleanor's gaze squarely. "I can't tell you. Not yet, anyway."

"What?" Her head flinched back slightly.

"The situation... It's complicated. I'll provide an explanation in due time, but for now... you'll have to trust me." He recognized the weight of his request, knowing it wasn't a simple ask.

Eleanor remained silent, her eyes fixed on him. 'Can I truly trust him?' She decided to reserve judgment until she had more information.

"So... what exactly do you want from me? Let's assume you're Elizabeth's friend. What's your aim in involving the Valencourt family?" Her gaze remained steady, suspicion lingering. 'If he seeks our family's intervention, there's a risk he's being manipulated by another faction to instigate conflict with the church...'

Hermes shrugged in response. "Nothing, really."

Eleanor arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"It's simple. I just want information about why Elizabeth visited the Valencourt house shortly before her arrest."

Her frown deepened. "She visited the family a few days ago?"

"Yes, that's correct. The information broker I spoke with said so."

Eleanor began to rub her forehead while gazing at down at her desk. 'Why would Elizabeth Lysange visit the Valencourt house? Was it to speak to my father? He was the only one present there at the time... I was still traveling with the caravan...' She lifted her gaze to meet Hermes' and nodded decisively.

"Alright, that shouldn't be a problem. My father will return from his short business trip tomorrow morning. Since he was the only one present during Elizabeth's visit, he likely has more insight into the situation than I do."

Hermes smiled gratefully. "Thank you..." The relief in his eyes was unmistakable to Eleanor.

She rose from her desk and headed towards the door, Hermes trailing behind her obediently.

"I'll arrange for some servants to prepare a room for you to stay in. And your clothes..." She wrinkled her nose at his disheveled appearance. "They smell rather... unpleasant. We'll have new attire provided for you as well."

Hearing her scrutiny, Hermes tried to adjust his collar. 'I really should have visited Lance before coming here...' He nodded in her direction, trying his best to hide his embarrassment.

They stepped into the hallway, where Jack Doyle stood, axes at the ready, eyeing Hermes with undisguised hostility. Hermes simply ignored him, standing still as he awaited the arrival of the servants who would guide him to his new accommodations.

Eleanor, who was walking back to her room, suddenly remembered something. She turned around to look at Hermes, who was dodging the sparks emanating from Jack's eyes.

"Oh, and about the damages you caused earlier..." Her tone turned mischievous. "You'll be charged approximately 7,000,000 Sanctum for repairs. Don't even think about escaping the consequences of your actions..."

"..."

End of Chapter