All these days, Anno had questioned so many slum residents, patiently explaining the stakes—yet not a single one showed gratitude. Instead, they defended the gangs, sneering as they waited for her to fail!
How utterly infuriating!
Anno wasn’t just enraged—she felt deeply wronged. Never before had she felt such malice from "people."
Yes, she’d been kidnapped before, but those were tieflings—evil kin with devil’s blood in their veins. It was easy to blame the devil for everything.
But here, these slum residents... they were ordinary folk!
Anno’s fervor had curdled into fury. She longed to slash at something, to unleash her rage—yet the sprawling, crumbling slums offered no target for her blade.
Beside her, the team members let out quiet sighs. Most were City Guards hailing from Mithral District—not nobles, but respectable middle-class folk raised on virtue. They had never truly understood the depth of malice festering in the hearts of these wretched slum-dwellers—people crushed under the Amazons’ market dominance and the city’s brutal taxes—toward those they saw as privileged.
"Maybe... we should withdraw for now?" one team member finally suggested cautiously. "We could rest, review our clues, and plan our next move. There’s no harm in regrouping."
The others nodded wearily. Anno clenched her jaw. She knew what this meant: a retreat. To abandon the investigation now would be admitting defeat—slinking back from South Harbor District’s slums empty-handed. Proud and stubborn since childhood, how could she accept such humiliation?
Yet she had no argument left to make them stay.
"Captain—we’ve found something!"
Suddenly, a team member sprinted toward her from the distance, skidding to a halt, breathless. "We... discovered an abandoned timber yard. Suspicious figures are gathering there—likely a cultist hideout!"
Anno’s eyes lit up. A surge of determination flooded her veins. She rose from her seat at once, turning toward the exit. "Move out, warriors! We strike now, before they realize we’re onto them!"
The others exchanged uneasy glances. Then, a male warrior spoke up, "But Captain, our orders were investigation only. Shouldn’t we report this first?"
Anno’s brows sharpened like daggers. "Do you doubt my strength?"
Silence fell over the group.
Anno’s eyebrows shot up like drawn blades. "You doubt my strength?"
The group fell into stunned silence.
Indeed, this maiden was young—younger than any of them. Yet she was a true sixth-level paladin.
A noble paladin! Clad in plate armor, shield in hand, protective cloak billowing behind her, blessed with Shield of Faith—she was practically impervious to blades.
The radiant aura surrounding her not only guarded herself but also shielded her comrades from magical harm.
Even if wounded, she could call upon the Light’s healing power to purge toxins and mend injuries. So long as one wasn’t slain outright, no wound was beyond her power to heal!
With a paladin on the battlefield, even these magic-ignorant guards could fight without fear of enemy sorcery, swinging their swords with confidence!
Games might require balance, but reality did not. Paladins were universally acknowledged as the strongest class—bar none.
And Anno was no ordinary paladin—she had sworn the Oath of Vengeance. This meant that alongside protecting her allies, she could deliver devastating retribution to any foe!
"The opportunity won’t last! If we delay and they catch wind of us, they’ll relocate—then we’ll lose our chance!" Anno pressed, frustration creeping into her voice as her comrades hesitated. "Everyone, this is our squad’s first mission! Will you accept failure before we’ve even begun?"
"What is there to fear when I stand with you? Warriors, only courage brings glory! Hesitation is the mark of cowards—and cowards reap only failure and shame!"
The remaining team members exchanged glances, then felt a surge of valor rise in their chests.
That’s right—they had a paladin with them!
"Move out—you lead the way!"
Seeing her comrades’ renewed resolve, Anno turned and gestured for the breathless scout to guide them. She followed close behind, her heart burning with fury, sworn to make these cultists pay dearly!
Early next morning, before dawn.
Charles rose unusually early. After breakfast, with Hattie and others attending to him, he changed into a crisp white business suit.
He carried a briefcase filled with documents, his hair meticulously combed. Though his face still bore traces of youthfulness, his bearing was undeniably commanding.
As she finished helping him dress, Sephera’s eyes shone with adoration. These past days—registering the company, procuring his wardrobe—she had handled everything. Now, seeing the fruits of her labor before her, pride welled up in her chest.
Meanwhile, Hattie’s gaze held concern. "Must Master go alone? Let me accompany you. I can watch for danger and lend you support."
Her suggestion was sound, yet Charles firmly shook his head. "No need."
After a pause, he offered a reassuring smile. "Don’t worry. Liberl Port’s daylight order is well-maintained. Shootouts and killings? Those are nighttime affairs."
"Especially where I’m headed—the wealthiest part of the Central District. Even at night, its order surpasses the safest corners of South Harbor District. So really, no need for concern!"
"Besides, I’m now a third-level spellcaster. In this city, that makes me one in a hundred—among the strong. You needn’t fret over me!"
Despite his assurances, worry lingered in Hattie’s eyes. Finally, with a sigh, he adopted a firmer tone. "Be good."
The nun pouted, looking slightly wronged, but fell silent.
Noting her unhappiness, Charles stepped closer and brushed a light kiss against her lips. "I’m off now. Guard our home well."
Only then did Hattie’s expression brighten. She nodded vigorously. "Mhm!"
Charles then gave Sephera a similar kiss before turning away. Under the witches’ collective gaze, he strode through the monastery’s main gate.
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