After Dunkirk finished speaking, the faces of Turing and the other two in the room suddenly turned a bit pale.
Yorkshire, with her whole body looking as pale as ever, now seemed even paler. Her insecure hands held onto her shoulders, fidgeting nervously.
"So... are we going to escape?" Yorkshire asked.
Turing didn't say anything, her mind a bit scattered. Merka remained silent, her expression solemn as if contemplating something.
"That magical fluctuation just now."
"Was it the magical fluctuation from your special weapon?"
"It was the magical fluctuation exclusive to judgment and sentencing, wasn't it?"
After a short pause, Merka spoke up.
Upon hearing Merka's words, Dunkirk looked momentarily stunned, then nodded with a furrowed brow.
"Yes, what about it?" Dunkirk inquired as Merka lightly stroked her own cheek and continued questioning Dunkirk.
"But Yorkshire just told me that this kind of special weapon is only given to a select few important individuals within the Agio family."
"Didn't you feel it just now, the magical fluctuation coming from underground along with the strong tremor? It was similar to the weapon you created."
Dunkirk furrowed her brow, contemplating Merka's words.
"I'm not familiar with the magical fluctuations of judgment and sentencing."
"Although this weapon has been in production for some time, it was only recently put into use. I just learned about this weapon myself."
"What about the terrorists?" Merka nodded and asked Dunkirk another question.
"The terrorists in the meeting room have been subdued... but they seemed a bit weak. I'm not sure if they were just pretending, so the danger is not yet eliminated."
"What are you trying to say?" Merka, without waiting for a response, opened the French windows and walked back to the meeting room.
There was a buzz of voices in the room, and people had already left, leaving behind broken tableware and dirty food scattered on the floor, silently recounting the violence that had occurred here not long ago.
"Obviously, they are not targeting Turing."
"This is a diversion."
Merka picked up a fragment of broken wood by the dining table, pondering aloud.
"How do you know?" Dunkirk asked, her face solemn.
"Those who possess that weapon should theoretically be important figures carefully selected by the Agio family."
"What is their connection to the terrorists?" Dunkirk followed Merka into the room, walking behind her, waiting for an explanation to her doubts.
"We have a mole among us."
Dunkirk's pupils shrank for a moment, and her lips trembled slightly unnaturally.
She was scared.
She was afraid that at some point, she had become too skilled at killing her companions—so much so that words like mole and undercover had become overly sensitive to her.
Dunkirk had slaughtered too many loved ones of the setting sun.
As Maria, a long-time infiltrator under the ruling network of the Agio family, Dunkirk had experienced too much disloyalty and betrayal.
The unseen omen of death and the long-lasting shroud of gloomy clouds enveloped her, leading to her having few friends even within the family.
In the warm Agio family, which was as clear as the sky, Dunkirk seemed like a dark cloud in the far corner of that clear sky, a curtain of rain, silently nurturing the unseen soil of the Agio family.
Even to this day, in the dungeon of Lachésis, the image of Dungremy, whose memories had been extracted and who had become almost like a fool, still lingered in Dunkirk's mind.
During the torture of being an undercover agent, Dunkirk herself was deeply tormented.
"You are too presumptuous, Merka!"
"There are no undercover agents in the Agio family!"
"Since the day Dungremy was captured, all the undercover agents within the Agio family have been eliminated!"
The icy beauty seemed to get a bit irritated, slightly raising her voice, trying to assert dominance as an instructor over Merka.
"Well, then it must be the Montecristo family with undercover agents."
"You can figure it out yourself, why there were no magical fluctuations from others in the area where the judgment was sent?"
"Because she's afraid of her undercover identity being exposed, and her own magical power is well known to you all."
"Using judgment at this critical moment, what else could it be if not an undercover agent?"
"Otherwise, the faint terror attack here would be meaningless."
"She wants you to increase the protection on Turing, to divert the troops."
Merka said firmly.
"……"
"…Is there really no other possibility?"
"I simply cannot believe in things like undercover agents..."
Hearing Merka's decisive tone, Dunkirk seemed to resign herself to the situation, but she still held onto a glimmer of hope.
"There is indeed another possibility."
"That is, our people possess judgment or adjudication, and they kill the enemy with a single sword, without even giving the opponent a chance to cast spells."
"But regardless of what it is, that loud noise and magical fluctuations are signals that enemies are approaching."
"As for what exactly is going on, it depends on your answer, Sister Dunkirk."
"What is beneath this castle?"
Merka approached Dunkirk, and his stature of about 1.7 meters gave Dunkirk a sense of mercy reminiscent of Maria, yet ruthlessly cold-blooded.
"…"
Dunkirk was momentarily speechless.
With furrowed brows, connecting Merka's distraction tactic and the direction of the magical fluctuations, she suddenly realized something.
Watching Merka's dull and lifeless eyes, Dunkirk, who had been hesitant for a long time, finally managed to squeeze out two indifferent sentences, like squeezing toothpaste.
"There is nothing there, you don't need to worry about it. Just focus on protecting Turing by his side."
"I'll take care of this matter later."
Little did Dunkirk expect that her two sentences would trigger Merka's sudden outburst, and he immediately approached her closely.
"I told you! Don't lie to me!"
"Didn't Pope Maria inform you?"
"What are you all treating me as now!?"
"Child? Or are you still the same, a male PR used to seduce women?"
"I'm a knight apprentice now, damn it!"
"You..."
Dunkirk was slightly intimidated by Merka's chest-thumping anger, not knowing what to say for a moment.
A pretty boy?
Indeed, until a few months ago, Dunkirk had this impression of Merka.
He had always been seen as someone who couldn't do manual labor, handle heavy work, keep up with training, and merely relied on clever tricks to slack off.
But now he had become such an outstanding man.
What made you change into what you are now?
Is it Turing?
"Merka..."
Turing appeared behind Merka at some point, gently holding Merka's hand that had clenched into a fist out of anger.
Seeing Merka's angry expression, Turing didn't know how to comfort him, so he could only softly call his name, expressing his concern cautiously.
"Alright... I understand."
"Come with me, I can't talk about this directly."
"Turing, you don't need to come, you and Yorkshire will listen to the arrangements made by the Montecristo family."
Dunkirk compromised, deciding to show Merka some secrets known to other knight apprentices.
"No, I'm going. I want to protect Merka."
"Just... forget it, you two go first, I'll be there soon."
Turing said lightly. She looked into the distance at a gorgeously dressed woman on stage, who was admonishing a few bodyguards near an iron motorcycle, seeming to have some plans of her own.
