That evening, Leon entered the banquet hotel in disguise, accompanied by Victor.

Their mentor kept watch outside, just as he had done on previous missions. At the slightest sign of trouble, he would launch a signal flare, and the entire team—young, old, and frail—would make a lightning-fast exit.

Leon’s safety measures for the two “mole” candidates were simple and direct—the classic “man-to-man marking” tactic.

He kept an eye on Victor, while Rebecca kept watch on Martin.

This setup ensured that no matter which one of them was the mole or what schemes they might attempt, Leon’s team would catch on immediately.

In the past, Martin’s role within the team was that of a support mage, with limited close-combat ability. Rebecca had no trouble keeping him under her watch.

As for Victor, the eternal second-place being shadowed by the eternal champion, he wasn’t going to stir up much trouble anyway.

“Hmm? Where’s Rebecca gone?” Victor asked upon noticing that the girl wasn’t following Leon.

Leon, with his hands tucked into the pockets of his suit—a suit paid for with Rebecca’s salary, which she had mentally added to the long list of grievances against him—calmly replied, “She said she had her own way of getting close to Martin, but bringing me along would attract too much attention.”

Victor frowned slightly. “If she has a way to find Martin, then why didn’t she just handle it herself? Why did the two of us need to come here and risk being discovered?”

Leon’s tone remained composed as he answered, “Victor, I’m not letting any of you out of my sight.”

“…Alright, I’m overthinking this.”

Leon didn’t elaborate further. He stood with Victor in a corner of the banquet hall, silently watching the party grow livelier by the minute.

“It’s been three years since I last saw Martin. I wonder how much he’s changed,” Leon said softly.

After speaking, he slyly glanced at Victor.

The seasoned bar singer moved his eyes almost imperceptibly, but Leon’s sharp gaze caught this fleeting reaction.

“The last time I saw him was also quite a while ago,” Victor replied.

“Seems like you two haven’t kept in touch.”

Victor shook his head with a bitter smile. “After you were gone, the team fell apart. Everyone scattered like stars across the sky. We’re no longer the same kind of people.”

Leon didn’t comment on Victor’s assessment of their former teammates.

At eight o’clock, the banquet began.

Tonight’s leading lady, the birthday girl, descended gracefully from the second floor.

Martin’s stepmother was the woman Martin’s father married after his first wife passed away. In her thirties and still radiating charm, she was a classic beauty.

Tonight, she wore a black evening gown, her hair elegantly styled in an updo. Her entrance immediately drew the attention of family and friends alike.

Her outfit was classic—formal attire with an elegant updo, symbolizing the respect women show for such occasions.

However, if you were to ask Leon, she paled in comparison to… a certain silver dragon.

If Roswitha were a flower, this so-called beauty wouldn’t even qualify as a leaf. From aura to elegance, the difference was worlds apart.

Too bad he couldn’t parade his majestic dragoness before this crowd to teach them a thing or two about real beauty.

Next time. Definitely next time.

“All decked out in luxury from head to toe—Martin’s family must be filthy rich,” Victor remarked with mild amazement.

“Is that so…”

“Yes. The dress is custom-made from a renowned atelier, one of the most famous in the entire Empire. The necklace and rings? Their size alone speaks volumes of their value.”

Victor spoke knowledgeably.

Leon thought about Victor’s penchant for fine details, much like his attachment to that guitar pick of his.

“Especially… that hairpin,” Victor added.

“Hairpin?” Leon asked.

“Yeah.”

Leon shrugged. “How expensive can a hairpin be?”

Victor shook his head. “That’s no ordinary hairpin, Leon. It’s made from the ivory of an S-class Dangerous Beast—the Arctic Mammoth.”

“The Arctic Mammoth… That does sound like a rare beast,” Leon remarked.

“It is. A long time ago, people discovered that Arctic Mammoth ivory had excellent malleability, making it one of the finest materials for luxury goods. Naturally, rarity drives up the price.”

Victor continued his explanation. “But since Arctic Mammoths are S-class Dangerous Beasts, hunting just one requires substantial manpower and resources. As such, ivory accessories are far more expensive than regular luxury items.”

“Oh, I see.” Leon seemed indifferent to the topic.

Victor shot him a glance and went on, “Later, forgers discovered that Arctic Mammoth ivory wasn’t just malleable—it also displayed remarkable compatibility with magical energy. Once enchanted, it could be repurposed as a weapon, with extraordinary penetrative power and lethality.”

After saying this, Victor turned to observe Leon.

This time, Leon’s expression grew more serious. “It can be turned into a weapon after enchantment…”

“Precisely.”

Victor added, “I heard that the hairpin was a gift from Martin to his stepmother.”

Leon turned his head slightly to face Victor. “But as far as I’ve heard, Martin doesn’t get along with his stepmother. Why would he give her such an extravagant gift?”

Victor hesitated briefly, his expression remaining calm. “Perhaps he’s trying to win her favor.”

“Is that so? Well then.”

Meanwhile, on the second floor above the banquet hall, Martin stood alongside Rebecca.

“Victor’s changed so much,” Martin commented.

“Well, not everyone can be a pampered little heir like you, Martin—clothes handed to you, food served at your beck and call!” Rebecca teased, patting him on the shoulder.

Martin gave her a bitter smile. “If I could, I’d trade places with you, Rebecca.”

“Trade? No thanks. I’d be tempted to shoot your sharp-tongued stepmother on the spot.”

Rebecca paused, then asked, “Why is it that after the captain left, you reverted back to what you used to be?”

Martin shrugged, lowering his head. “People need a guiding star, you know? When that star disappears, it’s like a horse losing its way. After the captain ‘left,’ I didn’t even know who to look up to anymore.”

“Little Martin, you’ve gotta grow up someday.”

“Why does it sound so weird coming from you, Rebecca? You’re only a year older than me, aren’t you?”

“A year’s still older! Got a problem with that?”

Martin chuckled softly, unwilling to argue further.

The banquet carried on.

By around 10 p.m., the birthday girl and her guests were all slightly tipsy.

Martin’s father had been busy socializing throughout the evening.

As a member of the royal family, every banquet was an opportunity to expand resources and connections—even his wife’s birthday was no exception.

No one was paying any attention to Martin, who had organized this seemingly ordinary banquet.

Rebecca glanced toward the corner of the first-floor hall.

She saw Leon adjusting his flashy silver tie.

This was the signal for “time to retreat.” Rebecca immediately understood.

What she didn’t understand, however, was why the captain had chosen such an ostentatious color.

She knew Leon liked silver, but he had never incorporated such flamboyance into his attire before.

Then again, considering where the captain had spent the past three years—deep within some Dragon Clan’s lair—it started to make sense.

“Ha, married and secretly vain,” Rebecca muttered, summing it up perfectly.

“What?” Martin asked.

“Nothing. Time to go—the captain’s given the signal.”

“Got it.”

Rebecca led Martin out through the hotel’s rear exit.

Leon and Victor followed close behind.

In the alley behind the hotel, Tiger had already prepared a carriage, waiting for them.

The two groups boarded the carriage one after the other. Leon knocked on the partition in the carriage, signaling Tiger up front. Understanding immediately, Tiger cracked the reins, and the horses galloped into the night.

Inside the swaying carriage, Victor and Martin sat across from each other.

The atmosphere was awkward.

After all, the reason Leon had gathered them was to unmask the mole between the two of them.

Both were well aware of their predicament, but in this situation, pretending to be the “good guy” was the best strategy.

A true wolf never strikes until the moment is right.

The carriage sped down the roads, and after about two hours, they arrived at the slums of the Empire.

The group disembarked.

Tiger leaned against the side of the carriage, lighting a cheap cigarette. “Go on, kid. No one’s going to interfere with your ‘clean-up’ tonight.”

“Thank you, Master.”

Tiger took a long drag on his cigarette, exhaling smoke slowly.

Leon turned and led Rebecca, Martin, and Victor into a dilapidated house.

The entire group was tense.

Whoever the mole was, it was clear Leon intended to settle everything tonight.

In the center of the room was an old dining table.

The four of them took positions around the table, each standing on one side.

Leon faced Rebecca, while Victor faced Martin.

The moment of truth—who was the wolf, and who was the villager—was close at hand.

They exchanged heavy glances, none willing to speak first.

Finally, Leon broke the silence.

“It seems everyone here is well aware of what tonight is about. Alright, let’s not waste time, then.”

Leon reached behind his waist, drawing a handgun. He released the safety, pulled back the hammer, and gripped it firmly in his hand.

Rebecca glanced at the weapon in Leon’s hand, a trace of surprise flickering across her face. However, she quickly masked it, showing no outward reaction.

“Actually, I already know who the mole was—the one who framed me back then.”

At these words, the three others quietly exhaled, none showing any signs of panic.

They understood Leon well enough to know that he never acted without confidence. If he said he knew, then he definitely knew.

(But Rebecca couldn’t help thinking the captain had gone through all this drama just to show off. In her eyes, if he already knew, why not just shoot the mole and be done with it?)

Leon lowered his gaze, fiddling with the gun in his hand as he spoke in a slow, measured tone, “The truth is…”

"What a pity it is that, after three years, our team reunion has to happen in such a manner."

"I never imagined that the one to betray me would turn out to be you."

Leon slowly raised his handgun, the cold barrel pointed directly at the man beside him.

Martin.

Rebecca's eyes widened as the small, dark handgun reflected in her pale green pupils. She swallowed nervously. "Captain... are you sure it's Martin?"

Before Leon could respond, Victor's voice came from nearby.

"Martin, you're surprisingly calm. Don't you want to explain anything?"

Martin was already drenched in cold sweat by now. His apparent "calmness" was merely a result of panicking so much that he didn't know what to say or do.

The moment Leon leveled the gun at him, the part of his brain responsible for "thinking" seemed to snap completely.

In that instant, his senses failed him; he felt nothing but the frantic pounding of his own heart in his chest.

Thump-thump—thump-thump—

After a long pause, Martin finally mustered every ounce of strength to part his lips.

"Captain, I—"

Bang!—

A gunshot shattered the silence, and the bullet hit Martin square in the chest.

The thin young man collapsed to the ground, his face twisted in shock and terror.

"Martin!"

Rebecca screamed as she hurried forward, crouching beside him. "Martin! Martin!!"

Clink—

As the gunshot rang out, Leon immediately placed the cold weapon onto the table.

He leaned heavily against the edge of the table, bent over, panting deeply.

Victor glanced at the handgun resting on the table and then walked over to Leon's side, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"You don't need to blame yourself, Captain... Honestly, I'm just as stunned that Martin turned out to be the mole... But he made the wrong choice, and you shouldn't carry such a heavy burden."

Leon’s lips turned pale as he forced his weakening posture upright. He raised his head to look at Rebecca.

"Dispose of him. There's a swamp not far away; it’ll take ten minutes round trip. Dump him there—no one will ever find out."

Rebecca, after a brief moment of sorrow, seemed to accept the reality. She lifted Martin’s lifeless body and began walking out.

Victor was about to glance up at them, but Leon suddenly put his arm around Victor’s shoulder.

Victor quickly lowered his gaze and helped Leon lean against the table.

The room fell eerily silent, filled only with Leon's laboring breaths and the sound of the corpse dragging across the floor.

"You feeling any better, Leon?"

Leon didn’t respond, instead closing his eyes and holding a hand over his chest, adjusting his breathing in silence.

Victor glanced at Leon’s state and then shifted his gaze to the handgun on the table.

This was the final chance.

The former vice-captain of the Dragon Slayer Army slowly extended his hand, grasping the small and deadly weapon.

Then—he placed the barrel against Leon’s temple.

Leon felt the hardness and coldness of the gun's muzzle and slowly opened his eyes. "So, it’s you..."

"A ten-minute round trip—plenty of time to kill you and leave this place, Casmod."

Victor spoke coldly. "Tomorrow’s headline will read: 'Former Dragon Slayer Army Vice-Captain Executes Empire Traitor Leon Casmod,' but tragically, he failed to recover the minister’s young son from the traitor’s grasp. How’s that story sound to you?"

Leon let out a faint laugh. "You never used to have a sense of humor."

"People change, Casmod. You shouldn’t have come back. Killing Constantine made you think you had the power to challenge the Empire, didn’t it?"

"So, the Empire and the Dragon Clan... really have been colluding all along."

Victor cocked the hammer on the handgun, his finger resting on the trigger.

"Leon, all these years, you’ve always won against me. But today, in this battle, you’ve lost completely. You’ve failed, Leon. The one who’s defeated you is the same loser you’ve beaten time and time again. Doesn’t it make you regret everything?"

"Regret? I swear, Victor, once you pull that trigger, you’ll be the one regretting."

"Hah, as expected from the former dragon-slaying hero—still so stubborn even on the brink of death. Well then… let’s see how you make me regret this!"

The killing intent in Victor’s eyes could no longer be restrained.

He ruthlessly pulled the trigger, ready to revel in the sweet sound of blood spraying.

Click—

A sharp mechanical sound resonated through the room.

But there was no flash—no gunfire.

Victor’s heart sank, and in a panic, he pulled the trigger several more times in quick succession.

Yet the handgun remained inert.

Before Victor could make any sense of what had gone wrong, Leon’s iron fist smashed into his face.

In an instant, Victor felt the world spin as he was sent sprawling, landing flat on his back.

Blood rushed to his nose; the metallic taste filled his senses as he lay there, staring up at the cold, indifferent man before him.

"You... how could you..."

"I told you—I've known who the mole is for a long time. You should’ve confessed the moment I said that. Maybe I would’ve spared you."

But it was a lie—Leon could never have spared him.

He said it only to make the mole regret harder in those last moments of life.

Leon walked toward Victor with slow, deliberate steps and pressed his foot against Victor’s shin.

A sharp pain incapacitated Victor, who glared furiously at Leon, unwilling to accept his defeat.

"When—when did you start suspecting me?!"

"When, you ask? If I had to pinpoint it... I’d say three years ago."

Leon spoke casually, his tone calm.

"After all, aside from me, the only other person who knew the locations of all the strike teams was you."

During the Silver Dragon incident three years ago, Leon was framed, and the positions of all the strike teams were leaked.

And the only ones privy to the teams’ whereabouts were Leon, the army's commander, and Victor, his second-in-command.

"Of course, that alone wasn’t enough to confirm that you were the one who framed me back then."

Leon crouched slowly, meeting Victor’s grizzled face up close.

"So, three years later, I returned to the Empire and began my operation."

"You probably assumed that since I just returned to the Empire, I’d still be unfamiliar with everything here, treating me instinctively as one of the pawns on your chessboard."

"Two days ago, during our first meeting, you guided me to follow your train of thought and make decisions based entirely on your suggestions."

"You subtly brought up Martin giving his stepmother a gift. And during the banquet, you deliberately steered the conversation toward her hairpin."

"You said it was made from mammoth ivory, enchanted to serve as a weapon capable of strong penetration. Hah... doesn’t that sound remarkably close to the weapon used in my betrayal back then?"

"If Rebecca hadn’t told me earlier that Martin actually had a poor relationship with his stepmother, I might not have reached out to Martin during the banquet after leaving your tavern, and your attempt at framing him might’ve succeeded."

"But alas, I am no pawn on the chessboard, Victor—I’m the one holding the pieces."

Victor’s heartbeat quickened, and his breathing grew labored, the shock causing words to spill from his lips incoherently.

"No... impossible... impossible!"

Leon chuckled lightly and continued,

"Nothing’s impossible. Oh, and by the way, your guitar pick was another key clue in exposing your identity as the mole."

"You were right; ivory is quite malleable. It can be crafted into a hairpin—or a guitar pick worn as an accessory around the neck."

"I don’t know whether you thought I was ignorant or what, but really—how could someone who’s poor enough to play on a battered guitar afford a pick made of ivory?"

"The best way to destroy evidence, apart from ‘burning,’ is to transform it entirely into something new."

Leon paused, then added, "But considering what you said earlier about ‘former loser,’ I can deduce you kept the item that nearly killed me as a trophy, am I right?"

Victor’s pupils dilated, and he shouted, "Leon! Don’t think beating me means you’ve won against the entire Empire! The Empire will avenge me!!!"

Leon shook his head.

"Victor, being second-best isn’t your fault. But selling out to the Empire and standing against me—that, Victor, was your biggest mistake."

"If you hadn’t been so eager this time, I might not have uncovered your identity so quickly. And why were you so impatient? It’s because... the Empire pressured you, didn’t it? My guess wasn’t wrong, was it?"

The Empire’s eagerness to eliminate Leon was evident from their decision to send Constantine—a clear indication of their desperation.

Using their impatience to his advantage, Leon manipulated Victor into believing he was playing along, while every step Leon took was part of his plan to fish out a bigger catch.

Years ago, General Casmod fought wars head-on without dabbling in psychological tactics—he’d charge blindly forward, confident no dragon could withstand the power of his blue flames.

Why could he now play mind games with such precision?—

Come on—did you think General Casmod spent these years in captivity for nothing? He’d learned plenty from that she-dragon, after all.

Victor fell silent for a moment, then broke into a deranged chuckle.

"Yes... yes... you’re right, Leon. But what about Martin? You used Martin as bait to catch me, sacrificing him in the process. What do you think his father will do when he finds out his son is dead, just as you coincidentally returned to the Empire? Think he’ll hate you for it?"

Leon scoffed, unimpressed.

"Victor, that’s your last-ditch attempt to make me fail?"

"What..."

"As a former comrade-in-arms, you should’ve known Rebecca has a hobby of assembling guns, shouldn’t you?"

Leon picked up the handgun from earlier and began to toy with it in front of Victor’s face.

"Disassemble the gun, reassemble it, disassemble, reassemble—she could do that quietly all night. And to make it more fun, she usually pairs the process with a single bullet. This bullet, however... is a blank bulle."

"blank bulle..."

"Yes, an empty bullet that can’t kill."

Leon straightened up slowly, and at that moment, Rebecca walked back into the room, supporting the "resurrected" Martin through the door.

Martin clutched his chest, his expression grave. "Captain... even though blank bullets won't kill, they still hurt like hell. I feel like I've broken at least two ribs."

"A real man should endure it. Look at Victor; I hit him so hard his nose got crooked, and he didn’t even cry out in pain," Leon said self-righteously.

Rebecca helped Martin over to the table, then, with a cold expression, walked behind Leon. From her waist, she drew another pistol and handed it to him.

Leon chambered a round, raised the gun, and pointed it directly at Victor's forehead.

"Do you have any more intel on Empire you want to share with me?" he asked.

The specter of death loomed near. The smell of gunpowder from the barrel wafted into Victor's nose, and the last thread of his composure snapped.

"Don’t kill me, Leon... please, don’t kill me! I was wrong, I admit it, I know I was wrong! I shouldn’t have worked for Empire... I’m begging you, please forgive me, Leon!"

It seemed there was no more valuable information to extract from him.

"Victor, it's not that you realize your mistake; it's just that you realize you're about to die."

Bang!—

A single gunshot rang out, and everything fell silent.