The secret guards and the auctioneer tried to resist, but the Order of the Eternal Blades were not easy opponents. Their movements were sharp and disciplined. They struck together, covered one another, and gave no room for counterattack.
If that was not enough, hidden among the guests were members of the Black Thorns, disguised as ordinary patrons. The moment chaos began, they moved from the shadows and struck from behind. In only a short time, the resistance inside the tent was crushed.
At the end, surrounded by Advanced rank guards, Herion walked forward calmly. His steps were steady. His eyes moved slowly across the room, especially toward the women who had been serving drinks earlier.
He gave a gentle smile, but in their eyes it looked like a devil's smirk. Fear replaced their earlier playfulness.
Herion walked toward the auctioneer and squatted in front of him.
"You were shouting about some backer," Herion said, rubbing his chin. "Why don't you tell me about them?"
