One day earlier.
“The plan is like this, everyone. There shouldn’t be any problems, right?”
The voice floating inside the glowing orb confirmed once again.
The woman with fish scales covering the corner of her eye showed a hint of impatience at the repeated confirmation. “So basically, we let those worthless humans kill each other off, and if we come across anyone who can command them, just take them out on the spot. That’s the idea, right?”
“That’s right, but don’t forget your ultimate goal,” the orb said.
“Got it, got it. Before the reinforcements arrive, we’re to make sure that the strongest man in the entire city is spread too thin,” the woman replied.
A voice of approval came from the orb: “Exactly. An army without a commander is nothing but headless flies. He can only choose one: stop you, defend the Lord’s Mansion, or command the army on the front lines resisting the assault.”
“And no matter which one he chooses, you’ll have the opportunity to slip in unnoticed,” the woman finished the sentence the orb hadn’t completed.
“That’s us.”
Clang.
A two-meter-long greatsword clashed against a rapier completely disproportionate to it, the harsh sound of metal vibrating as if it wanted to tear the night and eardrums apart.
The man kneeling on one knee clutched his stomach, staring in disbelief at Angus, who stood firmly before him.
“L-Lord of the City! You… how could you… We… we’re useless…”
“Don’t speak. Facing a High Demon, you’ve already done your best. Fall back. Leave this to me.”
The City Guards and even their commanders only knew how to protect the city.
They had no experience, nor could they possibly have any, fighting High Demons.
After realizing what their potential enemy truly was, Angus couldn’t even find words to reproach them.
The true culprit was the woman in front of him.
Angus swung his greatsword horizontally.
Though his tone was as icy as frost, the fire burning in his bloodshot eyes seemed capable of burning everything before him to ashes.
“How touching. The illustrious Lord of the City personally steps onto the battlefield just to save a lowly defense officer?”
The demon woman holding the rapier sneered endlessly, her light tone as if the soldiers and Wanderers fighting beside her were nothing to her.
“You have no right to speak here, Siren,” Angus said coldly, his greatsword reflecting the moonlight, revealing the woman’s smiling face.
“Demons are just demons!”
“Well then, whatever you say. But since you’ve shown up here, don’t think you can leave.”
The Siren said coldly, lifting not the fish fin-like rapier in her hand, but her chin.
From her slender throat came a sound unlike any living creature’s, even beyond language—a voice that rippled through the night of Solus City like waves.
Ethereal, melodious, lingering—like the low whispers of a giant whale, like the singing of seashells.
Many heard that voice, but all had the same thought.
At that moment, they found themselves deep beneath the sea, hearing the call from the abyss.
Boom.
Angus’s greatsword struck the ground, sending up dust and stones, forcibly interrupting the mournful song.
“Enough! Don’t try to tempt me!”
The Siren’s flowing skirt made her appear like a swimming fish even in the air, gliding gracefully away from the tip of Angus’s sword.
“So you think it’s temptation, huh?”
“What else could it be?”
“Well, who knows?”
The Siren’s voice spread throughout the city, driving the Wanderers hiding in the alleys into a frenzy.
“The Signal’s here! It’s starting! It’s starting!”
The rats who should have remained hidden in the dark suddenly squeaked loudly, and the Ratcatchers wielding long spears would never miss a chance to catch these despicable scoundrels all at once.
The soldier squads, now at scale, launched a coordinated chase to encircle the exposed Wanderers.
Thanks to their knowledge of the city, they had the Wanderers cornered within minutes.
“This is your last warning! You have nowhere left to retreat! Drop your weapons! Surrender immediately!” The squad leader aimed his spear at the Wanderers, forcing them back a few steps.
Behind him stood several soldiers nearly blinded by rage.
Without the leader’s command, they would have already pierced their enemies’ chests with their weapons.
“Heh heh heh.” A Wanderer let out a hoarse, wicked laugh. “You’re the ones who can’t retreat anymore!”
As if to prove the man’s words true, a loud explosion accompanied by intense heat came from behind the squad leader, followed by the rumble of collapsing walls.
“L-Leader! Our retreat is cut off!”
“Impossible!”
The leader spun around sharply toward the sound’s origin.
Rubble and blazing flames blocked their path back.
The fire was slowly devouring the remains of broken barrels scattered among the ruins.
During the day, while escorting brawling Prisoners back to jail, the man carrying a large barrel of wine had passed right in front of the leader, his leering face now overlapping with the Wanderer before him.
“It’s you!” the leader shouted.
Looking at the Wanderer in front of him, the leader remembered that during the escort, this was the man who had carried that large barrel past him.
Although now he knew there was no fine wine inside.
“It’s you!” The leader clenched his teeth, eyes bloodshot with rage.
“Heh heh, come on! Kill us if you can!” The Wanderer laughed more brazenly, provocatively exposing his chest. “You’re not the only ones trapped here anyway!”
Explosions, flames, rubble… these marks of destruction, so out of place with the city’s daytime harmony, scarred Solus City like wounds, tearing the once whole city apart.
In the darkness, several teams of Wanderers seemed intent on announcing their existence to everyone, raising torches as they marched toward the Lord’s Mansion.
Outside the Lord’s Mansion, the guards all looked tense, watching the scattered lights gathering like waves about to crash on the shore, relentlessly advancing.
Though they knew the enemy was a disorganized rabble, witnessing this swarm of disorderly mobs descend like locusts made their hands tremble slightly with nausea.
“Madmen, a bunch of madmen! Just marching right at us so openly?”
“Even if they snuck into the city, this many people should’ve been discovered by now. What’s going on?”
“Stop thinking! They’re coming! Watch out!”
The rioting Wanderers quickened their pace, assaulting the gates of the Lord’s Mansion.
The first man, like a fly hitting a steel plate, was impaled by a soldier’s spear without even making a ripple.
But that was only the first note of the prelude.
What followed was a relentless, reckless, and fearless charge like a torrential rain.
That powerful high-pitched song which woke Rita also rang clearly in Kros’s ears.
The morning streets before the city grew busy, the afternoon’s noisy theater, and the quiet nighttime dwelling—Kros chose every place carefully to keep Rita away from crowds, to create opportunities for the two to be alone.
Besides cultivating feelings with Rita and lowering her guard, Kros had a task from Mel to complete.
Keep Rita distracted.
But after that sound that seemed to pull him down into the depths of the sea, Kros knew something unimaginable was happening somewhere in this city.
Even in this remote backstreet, he could faintly hear the uproar.
Yet he had even less control.
His attempts to keep her back failed, his strong liquor couldn’t intoxicate her, and his blades couldn’t successfully pierce Rita’s chest.
He was out of options.
After all, assassinating a future Paladin was not something he could accomplish.
There was still a chance, one last chance.
Kros remembered the look in Rita’s eyes today—besides gratitude and pity, there was a third emotion he had seen countless times before.
That was desire—the look of someone longing for his body, just like so many customers who had come into his shop.
At this moment, he recalled what that succubus had told him.
The body is a girl’s greatest weapon.