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Chapter 277: Happy End (2)

Even the most dazzling city loses its overflowing energy and grows quiet at night.

Taking advantage of that stillness, a group of figures raced swiftly across rooftops.

Shhhhhh.

“Even the heavens seem to aid us.”

The Blue Tower mage exclaimed in delight as he looked up at the sky that seemed to have holes torn in it.

The falling rain would muffle their presence and strengthen the spells of the Blue and Yellow Towers.

“This is the building.”

Bubble bubble.

Guided by his blood magic, Anatol Kincess came to a stop on a rooftop.

The mages scanned the building.

“Dust is supposed to be in a place like this? What even is this building?”

“For the head of a drug cartel, it’s surprisingly shabby.”

To their flippant remarks, one of the knights accompanying them replied,

“It used to be a theater. These days there are bigger and cleaner ones, so people stopped coming… I didn’t expect it to turn into a criminal hideout.”

“I see. No wonder the inside felt so spacious.”

Continuing his relentless pursuit of their target’s position, Anatol murmured,

Moments later, the boiling blood drew something in midair.

“This is the floor plan of the seven-story building and the target’s current location.”

On the seven maps, hundreds of pairs of footprints flickered nonstop.

“Whoa, the positions are appearing in real time? There are more people than I expected.”

“Most of them are just bugs anyway.”

“Indeed. With five level-7 masters gathered here, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“What we should worry about is this footprint.”

Anatol pointed to a motionless mark by a fifth-floor window.

“That’s Dust.”

“Hmph. Blood Tower’s tracking magic really is convenient when you see it firsthand.”

The mages nodded in awe; there could be no spell more terrifying than this if one were being hunted by the Blood Tower.

Checking the time, Anatol addressed the swordsmen of the Heavenly Sword Clan.

“Ten minutes until midnight. Prepare to breach.”

“Didn’t need to be told twice.”

“The fifth-floor window—got it.”

The knights nodded and took their positions.

“Oh, and White Tower—watch the rear entrance.”

“……”

They glanced down.

The rear door connected to a filthy alleyway.

“Oscar, the smell here is like wiping stinky feet with a stinky rag.”

“……”

Indeed, the alley reeked faintly.

Thankfully, the rain masked most of it.

The four stationed there checked the time.

“Two minutes to go.”

“We’re not even doing anything, but I’m nervous for no reason.”

The troublemakers gulped in unison.

And the moment the hands of the watch struck twelve—

“It begins.”

Click! The lights went out, plunging the building into darkness.

* * *

“Huh? What the hell?”

“Power outage?”

Inside the abandoned theater that served as Happy End’s headquarters, the gangsters who had been playing cards looked around, bewildered.

“Damn it, I was on a good streak too.”

“Maybe the rain’s screwing with the power?”

“Hey, anyone got a flashlight? Or at least a candle?”

“Candle? What century are you living in? I got a lighter.”

Click!

The small flame couldn’t light the whole room, but it illuminated their surroundings.

One thug moved to open the door.

“Huh?”

Rattle, rattle.

The handle turned—but the door wouldn’t budge.

“What are you doing?”

“It won’t open.”

“Locked?”

“The knob turns fine, but…”

“Move aside, idiot. Can’t open one damn door?”

He pushed his companion away and grabbed the knob himself, but no matter how he strained, the door wouldn’t move.

“…What the hell?”

The handle turned, yet it felt like something massive blocked it.

Just then, he felt dampness seeping into his shoes.

“What the—!?”

“Damn, the roof leaking from the rain?”

“How hard would it have to rain for this much water to come in?”

While they panicked, crash!

A window shattered, and dark silhouettes entered through it.

“Who the hell are you!?”

“Who cares—kill ’em!”

The gang members drew their weapons, but—

Shhk!

No lowlife drug runner could match the elite knights of the Heavenly Sword Clan.

Screams erupted as blood sprayed, and a level-7 knight calmly stepped past the carnage his subordinates created.

“Hm. Kendrick.”

“Yes, Sir Mateus?”

“What floor are we on?”

“The fourth.”

“Good.”

Nodding, the level-7 knight Mateus looked up.

“Then that makes the fifth floor… about there.”

He drew his sword—and in an instant, slashed the ceiling into hundreds of fragments.

Crash!

The ceiling collapsed like a toy, and Mateus stepped onto the debris to climb up.

“There we are. Fifth-floor window—then you must be Dust.”

“……”

A broad-shouldered man stood by the window, back turned, drinking wine straight from the bottle.

Mateus found the sight amusing and laughed.

“Ha! You’ve got the attitude down, but drinking from the bottle kills the look.”

“You’re from the Heavenly Sword Clan?”

The man asked, still staring out at the rain.

Mateus nodded.

“Yes. Dust of the Empire, you are hereby executed for illegal drug manufacture and distribution.”

“The Heavenly Sword himself didn’t come?”

“……”

Mateus’s brow twitched.

To every knight of the order, the Heavenly Sword was a living legend—a god.

“Dream on. Scum like you aren’t worthy to witness his blade.”

“Scum, huh. Can’t say you’re wrong.”

Rumble!

A lightning flash illuminated Dust’s faint smile reflected in the window.

‘He’s smiling?’

Did he really think Mateus had come alone?

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Uneasy, Mateus shouted,

“Now!”

At that signal—

Crash!

The window shattered, and along with rain and shards of glass, a blade flew in.

Slash!

In one clean stroke, it severed Dust’s neck.

The knight who delivered the blow sheathed his sword.

“A level-7 fighter, but without proper discipline—disappointing.”

“Flawless strike, sir.”

“Ha, you’re young yet, and already my equal—don’t flatter me.”

As they relaxed and chatted—

“So this is the sword of the Heavenly Sword Clan. Impressive.”

“…!”

“…!”

They turned sharply.

Dust, whose head had been cut off, still stood before the shattered window, wine bottle in hand.

Drip, drip.

He poured the remaining wine onto his severed neck.

“I never understood the taste of wine. Even this one’s an expensive bottle.”

Then he stooped, picked up his own head from the floor, and set it back on his neck.

Mateus’s eyes trembled.

“You… are you a demon?”

“I thought you were slow, but you catch on quick here.”

Dust twisted his reattached head in a full rotation.

The unnatural sight made Mateus mutter,

“Senior… we can’t let our guard down.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

Such regeneration—instant and perfect—was impossible even for normal demons.

That meant… he had likely drunk the blood of a high-rank demon.

“Maybe human blood tastes better than wine.”

“Not getting mine, freak.”

Even if he’d become a demon, there were two level-7 knights here—both elite veterans.

Drip, drip.

‘Huh?’

Mateus tried to speak—but no sound came.

Naturally.

Unlike demons, humans can’t talk without a head.

“Hm, yes.”

Dust licked his lips, savoring the taste as he murmured,

“This is better than wine. And cheaper.”

Screams erupted from all over the building.

Shhhhhh.

They soon drowned beneath the rain, but Dust didn’t care.

Tonight, the entire city would drown in screams.

* * *

“Hm?”

Blood Tower mage Anatol Kincess frowned.

On the map before him, the knights’ footprints were vanishing one by one.

The Yellow Tower mage watching beside him asked,

“What does it mean when the footprints disappear?”

“Hm. Three possibilities. One—the spell itself malfunctioned. But I checked; it’s working perfectly.”

“Then it must be one of the other two.”

“……”

Either way, both remaining options were grim.

“If someone stronger than me noticed the tracking spell and hid their mana, the prints would vanish. But the knights who entered aren’t above my level.”

That left only one explanation.

Anatol didn’t need to say it aloud—everyone understood.

“You mean the knights are being killed? The Heavenly Sword Clan knights!?”

“Jumping to conclusions is—”

Anatol stopped mid-sentence, eyes narrowing.

Across the city, massive plumes of smoke were rising.

‘Smoke? Fire?’

No—on closer look, it wasn’t normal smoke.

And with this much rain, no ordinary fire could burn that high.

“What’s that smoke?”

“Strange colors—pink, green, yellow…”

Multicolored fumes billowed across the city.

Then, from a deserted street, someone screamed.

“H-help me! Somebody, please—!”

Everyone turned toward the voice.

A woman running through the street tripped on the curb and fell.

A man chasing her drooled as he lunged.

Crack!

The Yellow Tower mage hurled a bolt of lightning, piercing the man through.

“That… looks like the symptoms His Majesty described. The drug addicts from Saint Hill—the illegal narcotic that destroys reason and turns people into beasts.”

“Then that smoke everywhere is…?”

“Indeed.”

The Yellow Tower mage nodded grimly.

“Looks like… we’re completely screwed.”

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