Knock, knock, knock.
The knocking came at the perfect moment, cutting off the conversation. Still, Lillian's words had already made both Felt and Rom tense.
The Royal Selection was something everyone in Lugunica knew about. Every candidate had powerful factions backing them. Offending such forces was not something a slum thief and an aging demi-giant warrior could hope to withstand.
"How could that be…?" Felt recalled Emilia's face. No matter how she thought about it, she couldn't associate that gentle silver-haired girl with someone competing for the throne. Emilia gave off none of the oppressive presence of someone in power.
"We should open the door first," Lillian said calmly.
"Oh—right!" Felt snapped back to her senses. "My client must be here!"
As she spoke, her mind raced. If this guy isn't lying, and that really is a Royal Selection insignia… then the one who hired me must have known. Could my client be backed by another candidate?
With that thought, she opened the door.
A tall woman stood outside, wearing a faint smile.
"Y-you're here…" Felt suddenly felt restrained and cautious. Royal Selection politics were far beyond what she wanted to be involved in. "Please, come in…"
"Mm."
The woman stepped inside.
She was undeniably beautiful—around twenty years old, mature and elegant, with a dignified presence. Her skin was pale as porcelain. A black cloak draped over her shoulders, worn open to reveal tight black garments that perfectly outlined her figure.
As she walked, her long black hair—tied into a braid—swayed lightly behind her. Her smile carried a subtle, bloody undertone as her gaze swept over Lillian and Rom.
"There seem to be quite a few unnecessary people here."
"If you deny the deal, it would be troublesome for us," Felt replied, forcing herself to stay calm. "This is the wisdom of the weak. Please, have a seat."
She poured two cups of milk and placed one in front of the woman.
"Thank you."
The woman nodded gracefully and sat down, then looked at Lillian with interest. "I know the old man over there. But who is this young man?"
"I'm your competitor," Lillian said.
At the same time, he was calmly assessing her combat strength.
The woman before him was Elsa Granhiert—the infamous Bowel Hunter.
Lillian believed he could fight her. Otherwise, he wouldn't have come here at all. From what he knew, Elsa didn't use magic; her strengths were abnormal speed and terrifying assassination techniques. Under those conditions, Lillian didn't think he would lose.
Back when he was still the version of himself from the AOT World, he would have stood no chance. He had relied purely on brute force and speed, with poor technique—against Elsa, he would have been toyed with and butchered.
But the half year he spent in the Sword Art Online world had changed that. Endless high-intensity, high-complexity battles had forged his technique to match his physique. His strength had risen by several tiers, and more importantly—he now understood his own limits.
Because he understood himself, he knew he could at least drive Elsa back, if not fight her to a standstill. That was why he dared to come alone, instead of first seeking out Reinhard.
Of course, Elsa was still dangerous—he knew she could resurrect, which made her especially troublesome. In fact, resurrection was almost commonplace in this world. Subaru, Elsa, Reinhard with the Phoenix Blessing, and Roswaal's twisted form of immortality… it was everywhere.
"A competitor?" Elsa smiled. "Care to explain?"
"It's simple," Felt cut in, glancing at Lillian before turning to Elsa. "He's another buyer. He also wants the Royal Selection insignia."
She deliberately emphasized the words Royal Selection, staring intently at Elsa—only to be disappointed. Elsa showed no reaction at all.
Why?
Did she really not know what the insignia represented? Even if she hadn't, hearing that should've caused some reaction… Was this guy lying to me?
Felt looked at Lillian. He immediately understood her doubt.
Elsa is just a hired killer, he thought. She doesn't care about the Royal Selection. She isn't even from Lugunica—she's from the northern country of Gusteko. Why would a foreign assassin care about your royal politics?
"Well… then this is just a bidding war," Felt said anxiously. "Whoever pays more gets the insignia. I don't care who buys it… I just want it gone."
Ever since learning what the insignia truly meant, she'd been on edge.
"Hurry up and make your offers. I—I still have things to do later."
"Is that so?" Elsa looked at Lillian. "And how much do you intend to offer, young man?"
"You heard her," Lillian replied coolly. "She said it's a Royal Selection insignia. I'm curious—was the one who hired you a candidate? Or… was your real target never the insignia, but its owner?"
"Hey—hey! What are you talking about?!" Felt panicked, not understanding his sudden shift.
Elsa, however, smiled wider.
The atmosphere changed.
Behind them, Rom frowned deeply. Felt raised her voice. "Are you two bidding or not? If not, I'm not selling—"
CRACK—!
The wooden table between Elsa and Lillian split cleanly in half and collapsed with a crash, wood splinters and dust flying everywhere.
Felt gasped and looked down—beneath the shattered table, a dagger and a longsword were already locked together.
"You—?!"
"Felt, get over here!"
Rom yanked her behind him, a massive hammer already in his hands.
He didn't act recklessly. He didn't yet know who the true enemy was—if this was just a fight between the two of them, there was no need for him to intervene.
"Oh my, impressive reaction speed and strength," Elsa purred, licking her crimson lips as her curved dagger pressed against Lillian's sword. "I really want to dig out your intestines and take a look."
"My intestines aren't worth seeing," Lillian replied calmly. "They're much better off staying inside my body."
"That won't do."
In an instant, the two closed in again.
Their movements were so fast that even Felt—who possessed the Divine Protection of Wind—could barely see them. All she could hear were continuous clashes of metal ringing through the room.
"Old Man Rom!" she cried.
"Felt, leave immediately!" Rom said without taking his eyes off the fight.
"Ro—"
"Now!"
His low shout made her eyes redden. She nodded hard and ran for the door.
When she was less than half a meter away, Elsa suddenly disengaged and flashed in front of her, smiling as she thrust her dagger forward.
"No one involved is allowed to leave."
Clang!
Just three centimeters from Felt's throat, a longsword intercepted the blade.
At the same time, Felt felt herself being flung backward.
"Don't run around!"
"Lillian…" she stared at his back.
At that moment, Rom roared and swung his hammer at Elsa. Her attempt on Felt—and Lillian's instant rescue—had made it clear who the enemy was.
"Two men bullying a single woman… don't you think that's a little unfair?" Elsa laughed lightly as she danced away from Rom's blows.
Suddenly, her pupils contracted.
Her speed exploded.
The dagger shot straight toward Rom's eyes.
"Get back!" Lillian shouted.
He knew very well—Rom was no match for Elsa. Though he appreciated the help, Rom's intervention was only making things more dangerous.
At the critical moment, he flashed forward to rescue him, raising his sword and slashing toward the dagger. In that instant, he suddenly saw Elsa smile at him.
Psh!!
Blood sprayed into the air. Lillian and Rom were both sent flying backward. Lillian staggered several steps after landing, lowered his head to glance at his left abdomen, then looked at the dagger now held in Elsa's left hand, gritting his teeth.
"Who said I only carry one blade, little guy?" Elsa raised her left hand, revealing a slightly longer dagger that she had drawn from somewhere unknown. She brought it to her lips, lightly licking the blood on the edge with her tongue, her face filled with intoxication.
"Delicious… Little guy, your blood is very delicious. Such a shame I cut too shallowly…"
"Lillian!!" Felt cried out. Seeing the blood continuously dripping through the gaps between his fingers, her face turned pale and her eyes instantly filled with tears. Old Man Rom, enraged, tried to charge forward again, but Lillian stopped him with his sword.
"Old Man Rom, you're not her opponent," Lillian said calmly. He glanced at the longsword in his hand—the blade was already covered in cracks. After such a short exchange, it was already in this condition. One more clash and it would probably shatter.
As expected… a store-bought sword simply couldn't compare to the weapons of a professional assassin like Elsa.
He tossed the sword to the ground. With a sharp crack, it shattered into several pieces. Seeing this, Elsa couldn't help but laugh.
"What's wrong, little guy? Are you surrendering? Even if you do, I still won't let you go."
"Old Man Rom," Lillian ignored her and turned to the furious old man instead. "Lend me that club of yours."