As soon as Junior convinced the only person who could truly influence his actions, Grey silently draped a black cloak over his shoulders and disappeared into the crowd, slipping out through the window.
At that moment, nothing was holding him back.
It was worth mentioning that he hadn't revealed all his reasons for taking such decisive action.
Ever since Senior had awakened, he had taken care of most of the problems they faced. He made the key decisions, took responsibility, and came up with most of the ideas that helped them get out of difficult situations.
Junior himself had begun to feel like nothing more than a background character, some insignificant side character who wasn't even worth mentioning.
Yes, at the moment, he was stronger and could make a much greater contribution to every battle. He knew more about the world he had been born into and constantly shared his knowledge of magic and rituals that Senior didn't understand. He also hadn't forgotten that it was the inheritance left behind by the villagers, along with their supply of coins and healing potions, that had helped them survive their darkest days.
But Grey wasn't satisfied with such a minor contribution.
After living in the same body as the transmigrator for so long, Grey had come to realize that the only things holding him back were his lack of strength and unfamiliarity with his surroundings. He was absolutely certain that someone with such a mind would never be helpless without his assistance.
Sooner or later, Senior would fully adapt to this world and become capable of carrying out his plans on his own. Given enough time, a man like that was bound to achieve greatness. Grey genuinely admired his companion and had complete faith in his abilities, having witnessed them firsthand.
But what about him?
Could he honestly say that he had made a significant contribution to their shared cause? Or would his presence amount to nothing more than an insignificant addition? Perhaps his very identity as a "spawn of darkness" would become an obstacle standing in their way.
These doubts irritated Junior to no end, like a bone stuck in his throat that kept him from taking a full breath.
With each passing day, his anger grew, but not toward Senior. He was angry at himself for being so useless.
He desperately wanted to change, to do much more. He wasn't nearly as calm and level-headed as he wanted others to believe.
That was why Junior had unilaterally decided to attack the cultists' main base. If they failed, it could end in tragedy. But if they succeeded, they would clear the way for their new organization.
Ever since Grey returned from the forest a week ago, he had been unable to calm down, constantly worrying about the safety of his subordinates.
To ease his turbulent emotions, he inspected the main base of the Merciful Flame's Cult in Thorn's Cloaca every day. It was located in the northern part of the city, just a few blocks away from the Embraces of Venus.
He had learned about this hideout while interrogating the prisoners they had captured.
The rank-and-file cultists were not people with unwavering faith or strong ideals. They had no desire to sacrifice their lives for their deity or leader, and, of course, they couldn't keep their mouths shut when subjected to torture.
Apply just a little pressure, and they would start singing louder than the most famous bards.
Most members of the cult could hardly even be considered true believers. This was hardly surprising, since their patron god belonged to none of the orthodox churches, which meant he was simply weak.
The only reason the Ashen Shepherd had managed to gather so many followers was the enormous benefits offered by the cult.
Grey had to admit that Lord Merciful Flame put a great deal of effort into attracting new believers.
Not only did everyone who joined the cult have a chance to begin cultivating, something considered just as valuable in this world as owning an apartment in the world Senior had come from, but the God of Merciful Flame was also generous with his help in advancing his followers, provided they were sufficiently devout and obedient.
Many of those Grey had managed to capture were simply seeking personal gain rather than being genuinely devoted to the cult.
Thus, finding their headquarters had been ridiculously easy. And once he knew where the enemy was hiding, keeping an eye on their operations became even simpler.
All he had to do was sit down by the roadside somewhere nearby and watch the flow of people. Who would pay any attention to a teenager who looked like a beggar?
After just a week of observation, Grey had managed to uncover the true identities of most of the followers who visited the cult's base. He knew their approximate numbers, occupations, and even their strength.
If the cultists ever discovered the mansion, a small act of sabotage at their main headquarters would buy him precious time to evacuate his subordinates.
That had been his original plan. However, after hearing about Achilles's complete success, Junior decided to switch from passive measures to active ones.
Since they had already prepared for an attack, it would be a shame to let such an opportunity slip away. Although the operation promised to be extremely risky, Junior believed he could carry it out right now without suffering any losses.
He had reached this decision after a long period of careful deliberation.
Grey understood that the longer the cultists remained at large, the more his organization's growth would be hindered. How could he even think about improving it when his subordinates had been forced to hide in the basement for a whole week and didn't even dare to train?
At this rate, he would never find his mother and sister.
Time passed, yet no news of them ever came. No matter how many people he questioned or how many sources he gathered around him, he couldn't find even a rumor about Catherine, Grace, or Cassia. That was why Junior was determined to accelerate his organization's development.
If the Merciful Flame's Cult hadn't been his enemy, he would have taken control of every beggar in the city long ago and spread whatever rumors he needed himself.
The longer he waited, the more irritable and impulsive he became.
To Junior, the cult was no longer just an enemy. It had become a genuine obstacle preventing him from reuniting with his family.
It was hardly surprising that he felt as though he were about to snap.
So, instead of dreaming about girls like any normal teenager, Grey had wet dreams about eliminating the followers of the Merciful Flame's Cult one after another.
And right now, he had been presented with an opportunity he simply couldn't afford to miss.
Grey quietly approached a brick building in the northern district of the city, where the nobility resided.
The house was unremarkable: just two stories, a tall roof, and roof tiles darkened by time. However, one detail stood out against the otherwise dull surroundings. A torch above the roof ridge. Its flame never went out. Neither by day nor by night. Even under torrential rain, it continued to burn like a beacon.
This was where the hidden temple of the Merciful Flame's Cult was located.
Here, the Ashen Shepherd delivered his sermons and recruited new believers. Behind closed doors, in the shadows, his most devoted followers discussed matters that were never meant to be spoken of aloud.
Grey crouched in an inconspicuous corner between two neighboring buildings and watched the entrance.
He knew that the sermon usually ended around this time, after which the Ashen Shepherd would return to his residence. He waited patiently for the only person in the cult rumored to have reached the Saint Stage to leave the temple.
He was also the only person Grey wouldn't dare fight one-on-one.
The clouds gathered overhead, the sky grew steadily darker, and night gradually claimed the world.
Nearly an hour passed before Grey saw a short, unremarkable man in a double-breasted suit leave the temple. It was the Ashen Shepherd.
Grey held his breath. He didn't dare breathe too loudly or even look directly at the man.
He had heard plenty of stories about experienced fighters at the Saint Stage being able to sense a hostile gaze directed at them.
Although the Ashen Shepherd wasn't the strongest fighter in his league, Grey didn't want to take any chances.
He only exhaled once his enemy disappeared around the corner, but even then, he didn't move.
He waited another half hour to make absolutely sure the Ashen Shepherd had gone far enough away.
When there were almost no passersby left on the street and the night had grown so dark that he could barely see his own feet, Grey reached into his Abyssal Pocket.
He pulled out a revolver and several homemade grenades, fastening them to his belt beside his dagger.
It was these devices from a more advanced civilization that gave him the confidence to attempt such a dangerous venture.
The gunpowder had been made long ago. The bullet molds, the revolver's frame, and the grenade casings had caused far more trouble. Both personalities had put in superhuman effort so that he could hold a prototype in his hands right now.
Senior's explanations alone had been enough for Grey to understand just how destructive these weapons could be. He hadn't dared to place an order with the Mages' Guild, even though doing so could have saved him a great deal of time.
Nobody, absolutely nobody, except himself, was allowed to know how to manufacture or use these weapons. They were his greatest trump card, no less important than the Artemis Arrow, and Grey took them very seriously.
How could he not?
He was a cripple without any strength. Who knew when he would get a chance to heal?
The little revolver would become his guarantee of safety. A safeguard for survival in a world where strength was considered the foundation of everything.
Grey was so cautious that even Cheryl and Lily had no idea what he was working on. He had even forced Senior to swear that the only person who would ever see these weapons in action would be a dead man.
He swung out the cylinder and carefully inserted the bullets one by one.
He worked cautiously, afraid of triggering an accidental discharge. After all, the technology behind the bullets was still far too crude.
Without modern equipment, he had been forced to completely redesign the principle behind firing the weapon.
A tiny ignition rune was engraved into the base of each bullet. It remained in a dormant state but could be activated by a sudden movement.
It was important to understand that Grey couldn't use modern technology to manufacture these weapons, nor did he possess mana that would allow him to use advanced blacksmithing techniques. Therefore, he had to take the best of both worlds and simplify the technology as much as possible.
For example, when manufacturing the bullets, he used biological mana carriers to draw the necessary runes.
Fire cheetah blood had a natural affinity for the fire element and could serve as a medium for ignition runes. However, in its pure form, it was far too unstable. Runes drawn with it could activate even without any external stimulus.
To solve this problem, Grey added the saliva of a spotted ice lizard, a creature with an opposing nature.
When mixed in the proper proportions, the resulting substance didn't extinguish the fire essence. Instead, it locked it in place, stabilizing the rune and establishing a precise activation threshold that would be triggered when the firing pin struck.
Last night, while everyone else was asleep, Senior and Junior had ventured deep into Thorn's Tabernacles to thoroughly test the revolver.
The power, destructive force, and ease of use of the new weapon had impressed the inexperienced Grey so much that he wanted to try it in actual combat right away. Finally, he had been given such an opportunity.
Grey stepped out from around the corner and headed straight for the main entrance. His movements looked a little stiff, like those of a robot with rusty gears.
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