Chapter 31

Chapter 31. The City of Sin, Trist (5)

Karnak and his group continued walking down the street.

During that time, they witnessed two more incidents of pickpocketing and three more cases of robbery.

In less than an hour, they had seen five crimes.

Even so, there wasn’t a situation where Alius needed to step in.

The pickpockets they encountered afterward displayed a seasoned demeanor, unlike the boy from the market.

They skillfully snatched up belongings, immediately dashed off, handed the stolen goods to waiting accomplices, and managed to dodge flying daggers before disappearing into alleys.

The victim of the pickpocketing raged furiously, but the reaction of those around them was different.

“Those guys are pretty good, aren’t they?”

“If you’re going to be a pickpocket, you should be at least that good.”

Just as they had shown no interest in the boy who had fallen earlier, they showed no concern for the person who had just been pickpocketed.

As a result, there was no bloodshed, and no need for a cleric to step in.

The robberies were much the same.

“Hey, buddy, mind lending us some cash?”

It wasn’t even in a back alley—burly thugs openly robbed a passing merchant right in the middle of the street. Naturally, the merchants, enraged, tried to fight back.

But they were hopelessly outnumbered from the start. They were beaten senselessly and had their purses snatched away.

However, it was clear how often the robbers had done this, as they never beat anyone badly enough to cause lasting harm.

They just knocked them down to subdue them, took the money, and quickly left.

“Ugh!”

“You damned bastards!”

“The heavens are truly indifferent!”

The merchants, bruised and robbed, cried out in frustration, but from Alius’ perspective, it wasn’t a situation where he could intervene.

‘If their lives were at stake, maybe, but I can’t reveal my identity for something like this...’

While he was busy worrying about what to do, no one seemed to take special notice of his hesitation.

The other people were just watching as if it were an entertaining spectacle. When the situation ended, they simply went about their business.

Varos clicked his tongue in disbelief.

“Wow, what kind of place is this?”

He had walked through many shady backstreets rife with illegal activities, but this place was different.

“So, this is why they don’t call it the City of Illegal Acts but the City of Lawlessness.”

The difference between having laws that are broken and not having laws to break was more significant than one might think.

Serati spoke up, worried.

“I’m not sure we can safely stay at an inn here.”

The entire city was under the control of the Ranpelt family, and the place was swarming with people who would stab you in the back at the slightest provocation. Even staying at an inn, it was doubtful they could sleep with both eyes closed.

“Won’t we end up getting stabbed in our sleep if we stay just anywhere?”

Alius agreed, replying, “It’s said that many drifters disappear without a trace in this city. That’s why we need to find a place with reliable connections.”

Riltein frowned. “So, does that mean we need to set up defensive barriers in our inn rooms? This is ridiculous... it’s not like we’re camping outdoors.”

Fortunately, that wouldn’t be necessary.

“I have a place in mind, Riltein.”

“What? But didn’t you say the Trist Parish is suspicious...?”

It’s common practice for priests operating outside their home regions to seek out the local church. But the Hatoba Church in this city couldn’t be trusted.

Wasn’t that the very reason they had disguised themselves in the first place?

“Yes, that’s why I found a different local ally.”

“...Can they be trusted?”

Given the city’s atmosphere, having a local ally was essential.

But could this ally be trusted? After all, the Ranpelt family had already seized control of the entire city.

They found the answer as soon as they reached the central street.

“No way, this is...”

Serati muttered in disbelief as she looked at the large mansion standing before them.

“This is the Flad Mansion?”

It was the very same family that had been ruined by the Hatoba Church.

* * *

It was as if they had bristled like a porcupine, ready to strike at any threat.

Thus, Alius’s plan was a nighttime raid.

They would disguise themselves as a different faction, attack the mansion, and in the ensuing chaos, search for evidence of necromancy.

“It’s a simple and brute-force method, but surprisingly, it has a high success rate—as long as we have enough military power.”

To make this work, they needed an accurate understanding of the current forces within the Ranpelt family.

Sildera brought out a map and spread it on the table before beginning her explanation.

“The Ranpelt Mansion currently houses about 100 soldiers. All of them are warriors equivalent to 2nd-grade adventurers, and they have three 2nd-circle mages and five 3rd-circle mages.”

In addition to this, the Ranpelt family’s forces were spread throughout the city, making it clear that they had enough power to control the entire area.

Despite this, Riltein felt reassured.

“This seems manageable.”

When considering the forces at the mansion alone, they didn’t seem overwhelming compared to Karnak’s group’s current level.

Moreover, since they had detailed information on the troop placements and shifts, it seemed feasible to strike and retreat successfully.

Sildera’s expression darkened.

“The problem is the necromancers.”

The Flad family’s intelligence couldn’t determine how powerful the hidden necromancers were or how many there were.

This was something they wouldn’t know until they faced them.

However, Alius appeared confident.

“That won’t be an issue.”

Necromancers were formidable not only because they could gain power easily but also because their methods were so unfamiliar.

No matter how strong someone was, encountering something outside their experience could reveal unexpected weaknesses.

In this respect, Alius’s group had nothing to worry about.

“These people here are all veterans at dealing with necromancers.”

* * *

The enormous basement of the Ranpelt Mansion, located on the western side of Trist City.

Torches were embedded in the walls, casting a dim light over the darkness, while agonized groans echoed throughout the space.

“Ugh...”

“Ahhh...”

Blood-soaked bodies hung from the walls and pillars. Their skin had been flayed, and their entire bodies were covered in wounds, leaving them in a grotesque state.

The scene was so horrific that one might think if hell existed, it would look like this.

Two men stood on one side of the basement, observing the scene. One was a middle-aged man, appearing to be in his forties, and the other a younger man in his thirties.

The younger man cautiously spoke while watching the basement.

“It’s been a month since we last dealt with those sent by the Church. Don’t you think the main temple might take action again soon?”

The older man seemed unconcerned.

“If the Church keeps sending people, it’s a welcome development. It just means more sacrifices for us.”

He turned his gaze to the dozens of men bound in the basement—members of the Hatoba Church’s Shadow Hunters.

They were all exceptionally skilled warriors, experienced in facing other necromancers.

“But the truth is, they’ve never faced a true necromancer.”

They were pitiful wretches, wielding the mighty power of darkness like a spear or sword, without any wisdom or knowledge. They had only ever fought against the lowest of the low, those unworthy of being called necromancers, and yet they believed themselves to be the ultimate enemies of necromancy.

This foolishness had led them here.

The older man raised his right hand. At that moment, darkness began to rise throughout the basement.

“Arghhhh!”

“Aaaaah!”

As the screams echoed, the rising darkness converged toward the older man. Absorbing the darkness, he smiled contentedly.

“Good, it’s transformed into high-quality necromantic energy.”

The younger man asked, concerned, “Isn’t this putting a strain on your body?”

“There’s some strain, of course.”

The older man replied as if it were nothing, clasping his hands together.

“And that’s why...”

As he brought his hands together, they began to emit a radiant light—the holy light of Hatoba, the goddess of the sacred earth.

“...I protect my body with the blessings of the great goddess.”

The older man, Bishop Shutraff, the head of the Trist Parish of the Hatoba Church, grinned wickedly, his hands filled with both light and darkness.

“This time, I hope a high-ranking priest comes to challenge us. The rewards will be even greater.”