"And among them… attempting to poison my brother Ratak! That's the most—the most—unforgivable!!"
Yilda Vanas's voice, brimming with fury, reverberated through the room.
Even Milanda, who had always stood silently by her master's side, flinched at this unprecedented outburst of rage, her shoulders shrinking inward.
"There's more than enough evidence, Baron Pelta. You dared to harm my family—Vanas!—for your petty, worthless ambitions and desires! That, I cannot forgive!"
"Aaaargh!"
Yilda Vanas's dagger plunged into Baron Pelta's shoulder.
Blood surged from the wound, staining his shoulder in a warm, spreading flood.
"I'll make you pay, Baron Pelta. I'll erase everything tied to your family from this continent—from history itself—as if it never even existed!"
"Huff… Please, forgive me… No more… Not any further…"
Baron Pelta clutched his bleeding shoulder and bowed his head, his voice trembling. Whether it was the searing pain in his shoulder or the terror of facing Yilda Vanas's golden eyes blazing with wrath, he couldn't muster the clarity to tell.
Keeping her gaze locked on Baron Pelta, Yilda Vanas strode toward Milanda. She extended her free hand—the one not gripping the dagger—and took the longsword Milanda offered. With a swift swing, she slashed across Baron Pelta's back.
A red line streaked across his back, blood flowing freely as his pained groan filled the air.
"Yilda… I'll do it. Please, don't stain your hands with more blood…"
Milanda stepped forward, placing herself in Yilda Vanas's path in an attempt to stop her.
"Hah… You're still so kind, Milanda."
For a fleeting moment, Yilda Vanas's expression softened. The sharpness that had rivaled the blade in her hand melted into a faint smile and a glimmer in her eyes.
"Hnnng… Hnnng… Please, spare my life… Just my life…"
Baron Pelta, convinced that begging was his only salvation, sobbed and pleaded through his tears.
"But I'll keep that kindness in mind. For now, I'll do as I please. Unlike with Clent or the others… this time, it'll be by my hand!"
"Gah… Urk!"
The sound of ragged breathing mingled with blood choked the air.
The tip of the longsword in Yilda Vanas's grip pierced through Baron Pelta's back as he knelt, crumpled on the floor, striking the cold stone with a sharp clang.
"I'm not afraid to stain my hands with blood. It's necessary—to give those who believe in me, who follow me, a reason to trust and devote themselves to me."
Her expression turned cold once more as Yilda Vanas gazed down at Baron Pelta. He lay face-down in a pool of his own blood, as if pleading forgiveness for his sins. She handed the two weapons she'd wielded to Milanda.
"Do not be weak. You are a victor. If anyone tries to harm you, take their head… A solemn dictum, don't you think?"
Yilda Vanas murmured in a low, fading voice, wiping the blood from her arm.
Inside the dimly lit warehouse, hundreds of brown sacks stood stacked, and boxes of varying sizes dotted the spacious interior, all shrouded in an eerie silence.
Perhaps due to the warehouse's well-crafted construction and meticulous upkeep, there were none of the usual sounds—rats squeaking or skittering across the floor—that one might expect in such a place.
The building resembled the warehouse of a large trading company. Inside were sacks filled with food, barrels of liquor, raw minerals, glassware wrapped in straw and boxed up, and even massive iron crates with contents unknown.
In a corner where bales of straw were neatly piled into square stacks, two figures could be seen.
They gazed at a curious magical device—a contraption that not only illuminated their surroundings but also radiated warmth, like a small sun encased in metal. Their voices broke the stillness of the warehouse.
"There was a pleasant scent about them, wasn't there? I bet the face behind the mask is beautiful too. Though that mask covering the eyes with black gems was a bit intimidating…"
Tiger Beetle recalled the brief moment of handing over the bound and blindfolded Baron Pelta to Yilda Vanas and Milanda.
"Hmm? Was there? I was too focused on the door of the room they were in to notice any scent."
"I see. Now that I think about it, a thick iron door in a warehouse like this—maybe it's a vault? But then… there were no guards…"
Tiger Beetle rose from the square bale of straw where they'd been sitting and glanced toward the thick stone wall and iron door where Yilda Vanas, Milanda, and the unconscious Baron Pelta had vanished.
"It's probably a vault. Whatever the client's up to isn't our business, but… such a massive warehouse and a thick iron door…"
Dragon Fly scratched their head with the hilt of their sword and remarked.
"The key to that door was unique too. Not your typical brass—it had a silvery sheen with a Night Star embedded in it."
"You noticed a lot in that short time."
"Did I? Maybe because it was such an unusual key."
Tiger Beetle sat back down and adjusted the mana stone lamp, sliding it back and forth to find a spot where the warmth felt just right and the light wasn't too harsh.
"Still, thanks to the client, we can finally have a quiet night."
Dragon Fly leaned back against the straw bale, gazing up at the warehouse's high ceiling, faintly visible in the glow of the mana stone lamp.
"Right! It's been ages since we could sleep somewhere this quiet. No amount of gold could buy a place more peaceful than this. Though the bed quality… leaves a bit to be desired."
"You can't have it all. If the price for this silence is sleeping on a straw bed, I'd take it any day."
"Agreed. City inns, adventurer guilds, even fancy lodgings—they're all just too noisy. Ahh~ I could sleep here for days. But most people want soft beds, warm fireplaces, and fluffy pillows. Are our tastes weird?"
"Probably. I'd say our line of work has made our ears too sensitive."
Dragon Fly spoke to Tiger Beetle, who was stretching out and lying back on the straw.
"Like how our tongues got too sensitive to hot food from sniffing out poisons? Especially you, Dragon Fly—you can't handle spicy stuff at all."
Tiger Beetle pointed at their own tongue, sticking it out slightly.
"Yeah, in my case, it's a bit extreme…"
"By the way, doesn't this mana stone lamp tempt you? It gives off such a cozy glow. With this, we could sleep warmly even in a forest or a drafty old room."
Tiger Beetle fiddled with the loop of the mana stone lamp—similar to a lantern but a touch larger—and twisted the knob that adjusted the light's intensity.
"Could you lug it around? It looks heavy and complicated."
"Maybe? Hmm~ If it were smaller… or lighter…"
Tiger Beetle pursed their lips in thought, lifting the lamp's loop to gauge its weight.
"Ah! Dragon Fly, it's too early to sleep. Want to see something fun for a little entertainment?"
"Entertainment? What's that?"
Dragon Fly, piqued by the word 'entertainment' sat up from the straw bale and asked.
"Well… I'll need some props first… Ah, here we go."
Tiger Beetle twisted around, scanning the area, and picked up a large leather water pouch nearby.
"Hope this works… I've practiced a lot."
Tiger Beetle whispered, uncapping the pouch, then closed their eyes, extended a palm toward the warehouse ceiling, and focused.
"Lia. Lilisia. Werpe… Nitha."
As Tiger Beetle exhaled slowly, chanting in a language Dragon Fly couldn't decipher, a blue magic circle shimmered into existence above their open palm.
"Wi-o. Rundi. Serna. Lia. Lilisia. Werpe. Nitha!"
With the next incantation, water droplets of varying sizes rose from the open pouch, drifting toward the magic circle above Tiger Beetle's hand.
"Oh… When did you learn magic like that?"
Dragon Fly marveled at the mystical scene unfolding before them—the water shaping into a sword above the magic circle.
"Hehe, what do you think? I learned it from Golden Lotus ages ago, but I only recently got the magic circle to work."
Tiger Beetle, gripping the sharp water sword, flashed a satisfied smile and held it out for Dragon Fly to see.
"Golden Lotus… that elf grandma?"
"Grandma? She looked younger than both of us. More like a little girl."
"You can't judge an elf by their looks. Golden Lotus is over 80, despite appearances."
"Whoa… She's that old? An 80-year-old acting all cute and charming…"
Tiger Beetle's eyes widened in disbelief at Golden Lotus's age.
"Still, it's pretty useful magic. A sword made of water…"
"Right? Golden Lotus could whip up even prettier swords—two at once, in a flash. I've got a ways to go to match that."
"But can that magic work with any liquid?"
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"Like… wine, or fruit juice. Could it work with something other than water?"
Dragon Fly asked hesitantly, as if aware the question might throw Tiger Beetle off.
"Uh… Well… I haven't tried, but since the chant 'Wi-o Rundi' means 'transparent water' or 'clear water' in Elvish, I doubt it. Still, we don't have any booze here… Maybe next time, I'll test it with wine or juice."
"Just a random curiosity. No need to experiment."
"Now I'm curious too, thanks to you. Haha."
Tiger Beetle's bright laughter rang out, meeting Dragon Fly's gaze, echoing through the warehouse—until it stopped short.
"Shh. Someone's here."
Dragon Fly pressed a finger to their lips. Tiger Beetle's smile vanished, replaced by a cold, alert expression. They swiftly adjusted the mana stone lamp, closing the aperture and plunging the warehouse into pitch-black darkness.