CHAPTER 120: DEPTHS OF THE CITY

The moment they stepped out of the portal, Leon pulled out a sleek black VIP card and an open letter, handing both to Seraphine without a word.

"Take a look at this. You’ll find it interesting."

In her palm lay a card forged from an unfamiliar dark metal, etched with golden letters that read "Bellsfords." She recognized the name instantly—one of the most mysterious and exclusive trading families in the Lower Domain—but this card was unlike anything she had ever encountered.

Accompanying it was a black envelope, its seal already broken.

She withdrew the letter from within and began reading. With each line, her eyes widened, her expression growing tenser.

By the time she reached the end, a quiet realization settled over her—despite all her power, there were still deeper currents in the world she hadn’t yet touched.

Leon noticed the look on her face and spoke calmly.

"When I decided to take a rest during my mission, I arrived at Bellsfords Inn and then..." Leon stopped after his explanation and gave her time to digest.

Seraphine had never known that being a VIP at Bellsfords came with such benefits or about their deep connection to the Middle Domain. She had assumed they offered exclusive services like VIP access only to attract the attention of dukes and kings of the kingdoms, to gain connections.

But it was far more complicated than she had thought, and the thousand platinum coins were definitely not wasted.

"So we’re going to attend the upcoming auction. I’m excited to see what treasures will be there. Leon, how many noble houses did you loot? Do you have enough treasure to buy whatever we like?"

Hearing her question, Leon smirked and answered.

"Umm, I’ve cleared out the treasure of every noble house in this kingdom, leaving out baron rank and below. They weren’t worth my time—too poor. I’d say I’m probably the richest person in the Lower Domain right now."

He paused and continued, noticing the proud look on her face as she heard of his accomplishments, his voice calm.

"Oh, and once we’re back from our date in the capital, I’ll show you everything I’ve collected—hundreds of techniques, skill stones, and other treasures. There’s even an item perfect for you among the countless things I’ve gathered."

Seraphine, hearing him talk about hundreds of techniques as if they were nothing, had a blank look on her face. Just to let others know—she had only ever collected three techniques in her entire life.

One of the reasons might have been the kingdom tightly guarding all the techniques, especially in her case. As someone who could be a threat due to her strength, she was never rewarded with any techniques from them. Still, she needed power to achieve her goals.

She was very excited for their date and equally excited for the time afterward, to see the techniques and items he was talking about.

"Alright, husband, let’s go now."

"Let’s go, my lovely wife," Leon warmly said.

She wrapped her arm around his as they walked out of the room. She was about to lead him outside. In this city, they didn’t really need a carriage since the fancy market was close by. Ideas of spending time alone with him on a date made her stomach tingle.

However, Leon’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Let’s take at least four knights with us. We’ll need them, as before the date, I’m going to take you somewhere else."

Though slightly confused and curious, Seraphine still followed his instructions, bringing Kaela along with three other knights.

Once outside, instead of heading toward the carriage, Leon walked up to one of the horses and mounted it with practiced ease. Before she could ask anything.

Seraphine moved forward with a smile, bypassing her own horse. Without hesitation, she climbed up behind Leon and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, her body pressing flush against his back.

"Let’s go wherever you planned to take me," she said cheerfully, her voice warm in his ear.

It was a good thing I was forced to learn horseback riding because of her.

Leon guided the horse with natural ease as they made their way toward a hidden quarter of the city. Along the way, they drew no small amount of attention—not because of the path they took, but because of who was riding with him.

Seraphine, known throughout the region for both her beauty and power, was currently seated on the same horse as an unknown man, her body practically glued to his back. Whispers trailed behind them, and curious gazes lingered as they passed.

A sudden whistle sliced through the murmur of the street. From the rooftop ahead, a streak of fire burst into view—an arrow wreathed in flame, streaking toward Leon’s skull with lethal intent. Gasps rose from the crowd, but Leon didn’t even blink. The air around him dropped sharply in temperature, and a whisper of cold coiled out from his hand.

In an instant, the arrow stopped mid-flight, suspended inches from his temple. Frost bloomed across its surface in a delicate web, flames dying with a soft hiss. Then, with the faintest flick of his finger, the frozen arrow shattered into a mist of glittering shards that drifted harmlessly to the ground.

Both Leon and Seraphine had sensed the eyes tracking them from the shadows—a constant bugging presence, subtle but ever-present. They were no strangers to being watched. But the sudden attack caught even them off guard. It was bold. Reckless. A line crossed.

Seraphine’s expression shifted instantly, her body tense with fury. Mana surged around her, the very air trembling with the promise of devastation. Her hand rose instinctively, lightning gathering at her fingertips, ready to unleash hell on every rooftop and alley that dared harbor an enemy.

But before her wrath could ignite, Leon’s voice cut through the storm—calm, steady, commanding.

"Let me take care of this."

Leon’s expression sharpened—this had crossed every line. There was nothing left to discuss. The attack, though as harmless to him as a fly, had sealed their fate. He was done tolerating the disgusting shadows and schemes that had been pestering Seraphine for far too long.

He no longer intended to wait for the festival. A message had to be sent—one that made it clear who would be next.

But he wouldn’t reveal too much just yet. He didn’t want the duke’s eldest son catching wind and slipping away before things truly began. Either way, Leon would find him—no matter where he tried to hide.

From his spatial awareness, he detected their retreat—slipping away as if this entire incident were just a test.

But he wasn’t buying it. These rats had made their move; now they had to be prepared to face the consequences.

In one smooth motion, he dismounted. Mana surged through his veins as he activated his mana body enhancement—even if only at the Grandmaster level, it was more than enough. The air around him shifted, rippling faintly from the pressure.

With a clean, fluid leap, he landed on the rooftop of a nearby house. The old shingles groaned beneath his weight, and dust rose around his boots as he straightened. Barely a second had passed since the arrow was loosed, and they were still within the boundary of his spatial awareness.

He spotted them darting across the roofs ahead—Their black cloaks rippled like smoke dragged against the wind., boots scraping over slate with urgent haste. But he wasn’t in a hurry to end it. He wanted them to feel it—to understand the terror of crossing him.

There were five of them, running, garbed in dusk-colored robes. Above his head, a spear of ice materialized in an instant, sharp and glimmering. With a flick, he launched it straight toward the one who had dared to attack him.

------

Shadows flickered as two cloaked figures fled across the rooftops, breath ragged, boots thud thud against cracked tiles. The mission had gone wrong—very wrong. Sent by the duke’s eldest son, they were to strike once, swiftly, and vanish before anyone noticed, regardless of the outcome, and report back.

Which was why now they ran.

The man hissed under his breath, eyes darting. "He was... stronger than expected. That strike—it should’ve dropped him."

The woman beside him opened her mouth to respond, her voice tense—

And then came the sound.

A quiet scream, only hearable to her.

Agrrh!

Squelch—crack.

She turned—too late.

The man was still running, but something was wrong. His eyes were wide, a gurgle rising in his throat. Then she saw it—the jagged spear of ice jutting clean through his torso, steam rising where it clashed with his blood. His steps faltered, knees buckling.

No cry. No final words. Just the dull thump of his body hitting the rooftop, lifeless and hollow.

Her breath caught. The rooftops ahead suddenly felt much colder.