Chapter 30 : Chapter 30
Chapter 30: Kill Him—Right Now, Immediately!
Valerius Fortress, the High Tower.
Elven Magic Crystal Wood worth a fortune burned quietly in the fireplace, giving off warm firelight and a refreshing, intoxicating fragrance.
But this warmth could not dispel even slightly the cold in the air that seemed almost tangible.
“You… what did you say?”
Lucius Valerius stared fixedly at the scout kneeling on the ground, shaking like a sieve. The crystal wine glass in his hand emitted a groan of unbearable strain, splitting into several spiderweb-like cracks.
Crimson wine mixed with a few drops of blood dripped from between his whitened knuckles, but he seemed completely unaware.
That face usually renowned for its handsomeness and elegance had twisted somewhat grotesquely due to extreme rage and absurdity.
“That bastard… not only didn't die in the wastes, but actually… built a city there?”
His voice squeezed out word by word from between his teeth, filled with disbelief.
This was simply the most fucking ridiculous joke he had ever heard in his life!
A waste who couldn't even condense Battle Energy, leading a group of beggars, had built a city in a graveyard even the gods had forsaken?
This was no longer a slap in the face!
This was pressing his face and his mother's face into the ground and grinding them over and over viciously with shoe soles covered in mud and dog shit!
“Y-yes, young master…”
The scout's head was practically buried in the carpet, his voice trembling.
“The news has been confirmed… the merchants in Grayrock Town are all saying this. They've… they've even given that place a name, calling it the City of Miracles…”
“City of Miracles?”
Lady Elanor, who had remained silent all along, finally spoke.
She still sat elegantly in that velvet chair, not touching the cup of tea that had long gone cold, only lightly tapping the armrest with her nails painted with bright red lacquer.
“Heh…”
She repeated the name softly, the corners of her mouth curving into a cold arc.
Those beautiful eyes full of charm no longer held the playful satisfaction of a cat toying with a mouse from before, but only the cold malevolence of a viper after being thoroughly enraged.
The artwork she had meticulously designed—that piece meant to let Caesar be slowly gnawed away by the wastes in despair and loneliness—had shattered.
That maggot in her eyes, rather than quietly rotting away in the cesspit, had instead crawled out of it and, under everyone's gaze, grown a pair of ridiculous yet eyesore wings.
This made her feel an unprecedented humiliation.
A humiliation that pierced to the marrow of being provoked by an ant!
“Mother!”
Lucius whirled around, his bloodshot eyes burning with uncontrollable fury.
“We can't wait any longer! This bastard must die!”
“Every day he lives, the glory of the Valerius family is sullied for another day!”
He regretfully slammed his fist on the table, making the silver tableware on it clatter.
“I should have directly sent the Fang Squad to twist off his head back then! Instead of listening to you and letting him fend for himself!”
“It's not too late now.”
Lady Elanor finally stopped tapping.
She slowly stood up, walked to Lucius's side, pulled out a pristine white silk handkerchief, and carefully, meticulously wiped away the bloodstains and wine stains on his hand.
Her movements were as gentle as if caring for a treasure, but her voice was as cold as an ice-tempered blade.
“You're right, my dear son.”
“I did underestimate that little mouse's vitality, and overestimated his docility.”
She raised her head, looking at the huge Empire territory map on the wall, her gaze precisely falling on that pitch-black area marked as the Wailing Wastes.
“He's like a poisonous weed growing on a magnificent carpet. If not uprooted in time, it will soon spread and ruin the entire carpet.”
“A city… hmph, the vision is still too small.”
She laughed contemptuously.
“As long as the lead ant dies, the remaining ants will naturally scatter like birds and beasts, becoming dust on the wastes once again.”
“Mother, you mean…”
Lucius's breathing became rapid, his eyes flashing with bloodthirsty light.
“Contact the Shadow Hand.”
Lady Elanor threw away the bloodstained handkerchief, calmly uttering a name sufficient to make all the small and medium nobles of the Eastern Territory turn pale.
“Tell them I have a task.”
“Assassinate a frontier lord named Caesar Valerius.”
“I want his head to appear on my dining table within one week.”
“The Shadow Hand!”
Lucius's heart leapt sharply.
That was no ordinary mercenary band—that was the most infamous and most expensive assassin guild entrenched in the gray zone between the Eastern and Northern Territories!
Tasks they undertook had never had a single failure record.
It was said their leader was a true Earth Knight-level assassination master!
“To use the Shadow Hand for a bastard… Mother, the cost is probably…”
“As long as it can make him completely disappear from this world, any amount of gold is worth it.”
Lady Elanor's voice carried not a trace of emotion.
“Go do it, my son.”
“Use gold coins to wash away for our family this final and most eyesore stain.”
Lucius's face finally revealed a cruel yet satisfied smile.
He seemed to already see the scene of Caesar's head—that head he had once found so revolting—placed on an exquisite silver platter and delivered before him.
“Yes, Mother.”
He bowed, turned, and strode quickly out of the council hall.
He was going to arrange an expensive but absolutely lethal hunt.
……
Three days later, deep night.
In a hidden mountain hollow several dozen miles from the City of Miracles.
Three black shadows appeared soundlessly under the moonlight, like three smears of filth seeping out from hell's shadows.
They wore special leather armor that absorbed light, their faces covered with expressionless bronze masks, like three soul-reaping messengers crawling out from the underworld.
The lead figure pulled from his chest a map drawn by a specialist, which clearly marked every defensive facility of the City of Miracles, patrol routes, and even the location of the latrines drawn in meticulous detail.
Another figure took out a peculiarly shaped crossbow, its body flickering with faint magical light.
“Target, Caesar, Lord's Manor.”
“Guardian, Grand Knight Roland.”
A hoarse voice came from beneath the mask, terse and concise.
“Plan, Demon-Breaking Arrow first strike, certain kill.”
“Even the lion uses full strength hunting the rabbit.”
The lead figure's voice was colder as he put away the map.
“Act according to the original plan.”
“Viper, you poison the water source. Ghost, you set fire to the granary to create chaos.”
“I'll personally take his head.”
“Understood.”
The other two figures responded, then vanished soundlessly into the darkness like ink dissolving in water.
Only the lead assassin remained, codename Reaper.
He raised his head, looking toward that City of Miracles in the distance still revealing scattered points of firelight in the dark night. The eyes beneath the bronze mask flashed with the cold gleam of a hunter locking onto prey.
He drew from his back a pair of short blades curved like crescents, their edges reflecting a grim cold light under the moonlight.
He extended his tongue, licking his cracked lips. His form flickered and completely merged into the boundless night.
City of Miracles?
Tonight would be its death anniversary.
An assassination aimed at the new city's lord had already begun.