The night is deep.
Regarding the intrusion of the Death Eater, Ian was neither surprised nor took action. His thoughts were still entangled with the existence of the "Dusk Hermit Association" and the conspiracy behind the temple.
Precisely because of this.
The actions of the Death Eaters went smoothly.
Due to the closer proximity, Ian could see these creatures more clearly. They were naturally intimidating creatures, exuding an aura of authority without anger.
Its entire body was shrouded in a pitch-black robe, its figure tall and eerie. The most unsettling aspect was—its face had no features, only a smooth mirror-like black void, seemingly devouring all light. It moved silently, without even the sound of footsteps, floating ghost-like above the ground.
Ian held his breath, watching as the faceless figure stopped in front of a house. The door frame of that house was clearly marked with a hexagram protection charm drawn by Kalan.
While his attention was divided.
The Death Eater still faced no obstruction.
It dashed through the wooden window like a grey-white lightning. The sound of shattering was particularly piercing in the silent night, Ian could even hear a child's screams from within the house.
"Where is your amulet?" Ian grabbed Cam by the collar, "Why doesn't it work?"
Cam's face appeared pale in the moonlight.
"But, but that's an officially sanctioned law enforcer!"
He stammered, explaining, "If we interfere with enforcement, wouldn't we become an illegal organization?"
Ian opened his mouth but found himself speechless.
This logic was absurd beyond belief, yet it was damnably reasonable—the Dusk Hermit Association, being an underground organization, indeed dared not openly oppose official forces.
"Your exorcism barrier can't even stop this? What is the point of these runes then?" He looked skeptically at the wizard before him.
Kalan smiled wryly, his eyes full of helplessness: "Precisely because it's 'legal,' our magic cannot counter it! Think about it, if we dared to block even official enforcers, wouldn't we be considered an 'illegal organization'? The entire Dusk Hermit Association would be deemed insurgents! We can only protect ordinary people from Evil Spirits, Undead, or Dark Wizards. But regarding the temple's 'enforcement acts'... we have no authority to intervene."
This was indeed a very reasonable explanation.
Ian was speechless once again.
He never imagined that fighting against an evil organization would have to take such absurd 'legality' into account. He watched helplessly as the faceless one dragged the man from his bed, like carrying a puppet, turning to leave.
The man kept repenting along the way, his voice trembling: "I… I evaded taxes… I cheated the caravan out of money… I… I am willing to repent… Please…"
Yet the faceless one showed no response, as if deaf and mute, merely dragging him silently towards the door. At this moment, more houses were being invaded by groups of approaching Death Eaters.
From the houses being entered, came the dull sound of heavy objects falling, followed by heart-wrenching cries for mercy.
Ian cast the Illusionary Body Spell and stealthily followed inside. The room was pitch dark, only the moonlight trickled weakly through the window lattice. The faceless figure was already standing before a bedroom, where a middle-aged couple lay, deeply asleep. It slowly raised its hand, pointing towards the husband's direction. In an instant, wisps of grey-black mist appeared in the air.
Like the embodiment of sin, it twined around the man.
The man awoke with a start, drenched in sweat, eyes filled with fear and remorse. His mouth moved, yet no sound came forth. The faceless figure spoke not a word, only extended a cold hand, lightly grasping. The grey-black fog was forcefully stripped away, the man emitted a suppressed groan of pain, collapsing as if struck by a heavy blow.
"I repent! I truly repent! I am willing to hand over all those stolen goods—"
The man pleaded for mercy.
Without uttering a sound, Ian's Magic Perception detected a high-frequency vibration, like countless tiny metal fragments rubbing against each other. Near the window, a shadow flickered; a pudgy middle-aged man was also being dragged by invisible forces, his feet scraping long streaks on the stone slab ground.
"That's the swindler from the market!" Cam exclaimed in a whisper, "He always tampered with the scales…"
A third Death Eater dragged out a burly man full of cross scars from the adjoining house; on the man's wrist was the copper ring that marked him as a slave trader; the fourth one escorted a richly dressed elderly woman.
Her expensive linen gown was stained with wine marks.
"Please! Spare me, spare me." The elderly woman cried out, her carefully styled hair disheveled, "I've donated so much gold to the temple—I can donate more."
Such pleadings were rather simple and unpretentious.
She might have had a chance if it were a different group.
However.
The Death Eaters were deaf to these wails. They lined up in arrangement, escorting the prisoners towards the temple, their movements synchronized to a disturbing degree.
Ian noticed that every captive bore faint marks on their foreheads.
Like the slaughter marks branded onto pigs.
That night, Ian witnessed many similar acts of "enforcement." The faceless ones broke into homes one after another, capturing those whose "sins manifested" in their sleep—corrupt officials, murderous merchants, traitorous gamblers. Without exception, they cried and repented upon capture, pleading for mercy and forgiveness. But the faceless ones never responded, merely coldly taking them away, like death gods harvesting souls.
Eventually, the faceless ones converged in the center of the street, each dragging a shivering "sinner" behind them. They did not communicate, only turned uniformly, slowly marching in the direction of the temple.