Royal Capital.
"Did you hear? A few candidates teamed up and killed the Great Mabeast the White Whale!"
"Who doesn't know? Merchants were celebrating earlier."
"Honestly, it's no wonder they were chosen by the Divine Dragon. Such boldness! Just a few days in, and they killed the White Whale! Back then, even the Sword Saints nearly perished on the battlefield."
"Yes, the 'White Whale Extermination Battle' back then was brutal. So many died; only a few survived. Pitiful indeed…"
"Exactly. No matter which of these candidates becomes king, our country will improve."
"Hehe, can't wait!"
People on the streets discussed the White Whale's defeat. The incident happened a few days ago, and the news had spread.
For merchants constantly traveling, the White Whale had been a terrible nuisance. After the failed campaign led by the previous Sword Saints fourteen years ago, people had almost given up. Even the invincible Sword Saints had died—how could anyone else defeat it?
Of course, the Sword Saints' deaths weren't entirely due to the whale, but ordinary people didn't know that. They just assumed the whale was too strong, inspiring fear. Now, after its defeat, that fear dissipated.
"Too bad… the body wasn't retrieved."
"Right. The rear transport unit was attacked by unknown forces, suffered heavy losses, and the body was stolen."
"Fortunately, the candidates are fine…"
A few people discussed the incident, unaware of someone standing behind them, seemingly listening.
"Hey, you…"
The cloaked figure turned. A wooden mask with spiral patterns covered their face, leaving only two eyes visible. The pitch-black gaze unnerved the group.
They exchanged worried glances and hurriedly walked away.
The masked person had indeed been listening. Observing them leave, he thought: the attack, the White Whale's corpse being taken—likely the work of Greed and Gluttony.
Originally, Lillian thought they would have missed the White Whale entirely if they had been at the mansion. But it seemed they arrived just in time to seize the body from the slower transport units. Luckily, Priscilla and her party had left the front lines first, avoiding direct confrontation—a fortunate outcome.
Lillian returned to his rented room. Upon entering, he noticed signs someone had been there.
Walking to the bed, he saw the wrinkles on the sheets and confirmed someone had lain there. Removing the mask, he sniffed—no scent. That confirmed the person.
His senses were far sharper than normal, allowing him to recognize people not only by sight but by smell. Only Elsa, the assassin, left no trace due to her profession.
He sighed, lifted the pillow, retrieved the pendant hidden underneath, and put it around his neck. Then he looked at the wooden mask in his hand.
He used it to conceal his identity. Many in the royal capital knew of his connection to Priscilla. If recognized, trouble would follow. Now, having mastered basic magic, he no longer needed Priscilla's mages.
Though his survival should be known to her, caution was warranted. If news leaked to Regulus—even with a one-in-ten-thousand chance—he might want to kill Lillian again. The risk was high.
For that reason, he needed to remain incognito. He had returned only to retrieve necessary items, uncertain if he would return again.
Exiting the bedroom, he entered the study. He noticed the books on the desk had been disturbed. Picking up the top book, he flipped through it, revealing an envelope hidden inside.
His pupils constricted. Inside were two sheets of parchment filled with meticulous writing. They contained information on the Witch Cult—not only about Sloth, but also other Archbishops. Although sparse, the data was crucial.
The handwriting on the paper was poor, making it somewhat difficult for Lillian, who had only recently learned the written language of this world. Growing up in such an environment, being able to read and write at all was rare, and writing so much must have been exhausting for the sender.
After roughly skimming through it, he carefully placed the letter back in its envelope and tucked it into the inner pocket of his cloak. He tidied the books on the desk and left.
He hadn't really planned where to go, but Elsa's letter contained enough information that he could use it to take action.
At the door, he put on his mask and stepped outside. His pace paused briefly before he continued, walking casually until he reached a secluded spot outside the royal city. There, he stopped.
"Come out."
The person who had been following him since he left the house slowly emerged from behind.
"And my sister?"
"…"
Lillian turned to face a girl with blue braids, appearing around ten years old, glaring at him from a few meters away. She held a small wolf cub in her arms, its fierce gaze contradicting its innocent appearance.
"Meili."
Right—the girl before him was the same beast tamer from the village. Lillian had disrupted her plan. She called Elsa "sister" and belonged to the same organization.
"Sister came to see you a few days ago, but hasn't returned since," Meili asked. "Where is she?"
"…."
Lillian was momentarily at a loss for words. He removed his mask. Merry had seen him before and knew who he was, so hiding his face was pointless.
After a long pause, he spoke the answer he felt she needed most.
"She's dead. Because of me."
"You?!"
Anger surged in Meili's eyes. "I knew my sister shouldn't have come near you! You…!"
The wolf cub, sensing her fury, leapt from her arms. Its small body quickly grew into a massive silver wolf, baring glinting fangs, lunging to tear Lillian apart.
"—Gah—!"
The bite landed, but not on his body.
Between his body and the fangs was an invisible, soft shield. The wolf's sharp teeth could not penetrate it.