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Chapter 276: Happy End (1)

Sicadel was one of the great cities representing the eastern continent.

With the vast Bettis River running through it, trade flourished endlessly — and together with Luang, the sight of its countless skyscrapers exuded a weight that could only be felt by those who saw it in person.

“Wow… w-wow…”

Veronica, visiting a metropolis for the first time, gaped with wonder.

Fran chuckled at her reaction.

“What’s there to be that amazed about? You’ve been to the imperial capital.”

“It feels completely different! The capital’s full of old palaces and preserved buildings — it’s got historical value, sure — but it doesn’t have modern high-rises stretching forever like this.”

She was explaining enthusiastically, then flushed with embarrassment and quickly turned toward Killian.

She was certain he would be just as wide-eyed as she was.

“What are you staring at?”

“Why aren’t you surprised?”

“Is that really a question? This isn’t my first city. I’ve traveled to many on missions. Compared to Baran, this place feels more refined — calmer.”

“……!”

Realizing that a man from the forest tribes was less of a country bumpkin than she was left Veronica wobbling in mild shock.

Meanwhile, under the silver moonlight, Oscar was gazing up at the rows of towers.

‘Somewhere among all those buildings… the boss of Happy End is hiding.’

The information came from the Blood Tower.

It had already been four years since the Emperor’s order to eradicate Happy End and hunt down its leader.

‘Four years… to finally find their head.’

They could not afford to lose him now.

If they did, he would vanish again — too deep to ever be found.

That was why so many top-tier agents were being dispatched on this mission.

‘For me, it’s a good opportunity.’

The Emperor himself had asked Oscar to uncover the traitor within the Shadow Trackers.

The more members gathered, the higher the chance of exposing the infiltrator.

He cast a sound-blocking spell and spoke.

“We’re heading straight to the Sword Clan’s manor. Officially, it’s for negotiations on airport construction.”

“The Sword Clan? Well, it’d make no sense for the city’s ruler to sit this one out.”

Fran nodded and asked,

“But if the Sword Clan’s taking direct command, do they even need us? They’ve got plenty of high-ranking knights.”

“They need us. Mages can do what knights can’t.”

Of course, the reverse was true as well.

Before opening the portal, Oscar warned them,

“From here on out, be careful with everything you do. The Sword Clan’s knights will look for any excuse to pick a fight.”

“No matter how bad relations between the Mage Towers and the Sword Clan are, would they really go that far on a mission like this?”

“Worse, if anything. Precisely because of this mission.”

For generations, the Mage Towers and the Sword Clan had been like tiger and lion — rivals who respected each other’s strength but were obsessed with proving their own superiority.

Even mage towers that quarreled among themselves would unite if it meant countering the Sword Clan.

“Let’s go.”

Space warped, and the scenery shifted.

They arrived at a vast mansion occupying prime land in Sicadel’s heart — worth millions in gold.

The knights guarding the gate flinched at the sudden appearance of strangers.

“Who goes there!”

“State your identities!”

Before the knights could raise their swords any higher—

—Stand down. They’re guests.

The voice came as though spoken right beside them.

A chilling presence brushed past — someone was watching them.

—You’re that one I saw at the Imperial Supreme Court.

Heavenly Sword Cheon Mujin.

An 8-level knight said to be able to cleave even the sky itself, observing everything in the mansion from afar.

His immense mana and inhuman aura made everyone stiffen — except Oscar, who smiled faintly and turned toward the voice.

“Yes, sir. Have you been well?”

A short silence followed, then—

—The brats of the White Tower are as arrogant as ever. Spare me the fake pleasantries.

The sharp tone faded along with his presence.

Veronica frowned.

“Wait, don’t tell me… you just looked at where the Heavenly Sword was?”

“Yeah. He was walking near the lake in that forest.”

They all turned in that direction but could see nothing — only trees in the distance.

“……You’re both monsters.”

A knight casually surveying his guests while strolling by a lake — and a mage pinpointing his location to exchange greetings.

The group of troublemakers could only click their tongues in disbelief as a carriage rolled up from the mansion.

They rode it to the main building and followed a butler into a spacious drawing room.

“Hm? Were more people expected?”

“Hey, look — that’s Oscar Crucian.”

“White Tower, huh…”

Over twenty people were already gathered in small clusters.

Ignoring the stares, Oscar walked calmly to the refreshment table.

‘Yellow Tower, Blue Tower, and Blood Tower mages…’

The Red and Black Towers were missing — likely busy reorganizing their ranks.

After nibbling on a cookie and sipping champagne for a bit, the door opened again.

A middle-aged man entered with two knights, one of whom Oscar recognized.

‘The Sword Clan’s Young Sword Master.’

The man’s dark circles were still as deep as ever — he’d give Chief Walker a run for his money.

“Is everyone here?”

“Yes, Sword Lord. All identities verified.”

Nodding, the middle-aged man surveyed the mages.

“Welcome. I am Chenko Verstappen, Sword Lord of the Heavenly Sword Clan.”

Knights introduced themselves much like mages did — by affiliation and rank:

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“Knight of X Clan, Level Y, Name.”

But for some, no such introduction was needed.

‘He’s one of those.’

Tower Masters and Sword Lords didn’t need to explain their standing — their very titles spoke for themselves.

After his introduction, the mages began to follow suit—

“Anatol Kincess, 7-level mage of the Blood Tower.”

“Betin Marcos, 6-level mage of the Yellow Tower.”

“I’m from the Blue—”

“Hold.”

Chenko suddenly cut them off.

“There’s no need for me to hear every single name.”

The blatant slight made several mages bristle, but none protested — not here, in the Sword Clan’s home.

Chenko, having established dominance, asked,

“I hear the Blood Tower claims Dust is in this city. Is that confirmed?”

“Our tracking magic is the finest on the continent. You don’t think we summoned all these people without certainty, do you?”

Anatol’s tone was sharper than intended, resentment lacing his words.

Chenko regarded him calmly.

“Then I’ll ask plainly. Do you know Dust’s exact location — or just that he’s somewhere in the city?”

“We discovered he’s been hiding here for over a month now.”

As he spoke, Anatol raised a hand.

A bubbling sphere of blood rose in the air, twisting into a web of crimson threads.

“Hm. Blood Tower’s Blood Chase spell.”

“Indeed. If I will it, these threads will shoot straight to Dust. We’ve already mapped which building, which room, even the length of his stride.”

He dispelled the blood and smirked.

“You should thank His Majesty. If not for his order for cooperation with the Sword Clan, Dust would already be dead by now.”

“We’re always grateful to His Majesty.”

Chenko chuckled lightly, then looked around.

“If his location is that precise, there’s no reason to delay. We strike tonight — at midnight.”

As expected of a knight, his decisiveness was brisk and unhesitating.

“At midnight, the Yellow Tower will cut power to the entire building. The Blue Tower will flood the corridors to block any escape. Then my knights will storm in and eliminate Dust.”

“…So we’re basically your light switches?”

Betin Marcos frowned.

Chenko didn’t deny it.

“Consider where you stand. Rest assured, your contributions won’t go unrecognized.”

In other words — know your place.

The Sword Clan might take the lion’s share of credit, but at least the mages would get scraps.

“Any questions before we adjourn? …Ah, one. Speak.”

He gestured toward Oscar.

“Don’t you think the plan’s too simple?”

“It is simple. Is there a problem?”

He admitted it openly.

“As everyone knows, Dust is a 7-level martial master. Once he’s surrounded, two of our own 7-level knights will enter and finish him. A straightforward plan, leaving no room for escape.”

“And if it’s all a trap?”

“A trap?”

Chenko gave a dry laugh.

“If this were a trap laid by the Black Finger organization, what exactly would they be after?”

“Well…”

No hunter sets a snare without knowing what prey it’s for.

The size and shape of the trap depend on what you’re hunting.

“The Black Fingers aren’t fools. Think — who’s in this city?”

“……”

He was right.

Sicadel was home to the Heavenly Sword himself —

the man at the pinnacle of humanity, on the verge of reaching Level 9.

No enemy in their right mind would stage anything here.

“Anything else to say?”

“…No. That’s all.”

“Good. Then the White Tower will handle blocking all possible escape routes.”

A polite way of saying stay out of the way and twiddle your thumbs.

“This meeting’s adjourned. We’ll reconvene in a few hours.”

When the Sword Lord left, a few mages muttered among themselves.

“He really commands a room, doesn’t he?”

“Hmph. And yet he still hasn’t inherited the title of ‘Heavenly Sword.’ Half-baked.”

“Watch your mouth. Do you forget where we are?”

“…Right. My mistake.”

Once the other mages dispersed, Fran stretched and sighed.

“Looks like it won’t be our turn.”

“That’s for the best. If it is our turn, something’s gone horribly wrong.”

“Agreed. If the Level-7 masters can’t handle it, we’re not changing anything.”

Veronica and Killian nodded, and Oscar agreed.

“You’re right. The best outcome is that we don’t have to do anything at all.”

Even if they didn’t shine here, that was better than a catastrophe.

‘Catastrophe… a trap, huh.’

Oscar pondered briefly.

If their enemies had indeed lured them to Sicadel using Dust — a Level-7 monster — as bait…

then just what kind of prey were they truly after?

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