Beneath the moonlight, Purple Rose Harbor held only the sound of waves lapping the shore. Midnight had long passed. The taverns were shuttered tight. A hungover drunk rubbed his bleary eyes, too wasted to stumble home.

“Ugh… can’t move… need another drink… pine nut wine… huh?”

The world blurred into gray haze before his bloodshot eyes. Moonlight still carved faint outlines through the alcohol fog.

“Ugh… someone flying on rooftops… guess I’ve had enough tonight. Last binge, I saw… cherubs flying? This time it’s a person soaring—with thick smoke chasing him… Ugh, gods. Clear my head…”

He shook his head hard, staggered unsteadily along the dark alley wall, then collapsed roadside and snored instantly.

Wind whipped across Elfa’s face from his breakneck sprint. The cloth beneath his hood was soaked through. But surrender wasn’t an option yet.

*Whoosh!* A blade-splitting sound—danger!

“Sh… Shadow Dance!”

His form blurred. A spear-like projectile pierced empty air where he’d stood, missing flesh but tearing his shoulder armor. A sizzling sound rose from the gash—corrosive venom eating through metal.

“Damn it!”

Cold sweat traced Elfa’s brow. He didn’t know how much longer he could last.

*Today’s my cursed day…*

First, a perfect assassination mission ruined by an unfathomably strong foe, forcing him to waste a precious escape tool. Then, just as he thought he was safe—*this* horror found him.

“That last strike… it could’ve hit. Was it toying with me? Damn!”

Multiple wounds wept corrosive poison across his body, slowing his movements. Repeated Shadow Dances strained his muscles to breaking. Half an hour of sprinting while dodging toxic bone-spikes demanded razor focus.

*Not arrows… bone spears…*

“Little rat, you’re cornered… Why not surrender? Offer your flesh. I’ll savor your fear as I send you to heaven…”

*Tch. Damn monster. Treating me like prey… planning to eat me?*

Del Sira grinned through crimson eyes in the black mist, leisurely plucking a bone spike grown from her elbow. She aimed—not to kill, but at Elfa’s torso.

Just as Elfa suspected: this was Del Sira’s game. Chase the prey. Let despair fester. Then devour them slowly… starting from the feet.

“…Shadow Dance!”

Elfa twisted aside again, his body screaming like shattered glass.

*This won’t work. I’ll die like this… Fine. All or nothing!*

He spun, thrusting rapier and wrist-blade toward Del Sira’s smoky form.

“A death-rattle frenzy? Then… breakfast time. Time to sleep.”

Del Sira plucked another bone spike, easily parrying his blades. Her free hand seized his wrist-blade and *twisted*.

“Agh—!”

Elfa’s wrist snapped backward at a sickening angle. A kick sent him crashing through a livestock shed roof.

“Hah… urgh… dying already? Broke my arm to stop me from suicide… bastard…”

The mist cleared. Del Sira landed gracefully, her predator’s smile promising agony as she approached.

“…Sing for me. My master grants prey a shred of mercy. Choose: shall I eat your feet first… or your arms?”

“Yo, pal. Rough night?”

A voice cut through the dark. Del Sira whirled—no one behind her. *Above!*

On the right rooftop, a man stood silhouetted by moonlight. Silver-white spear in hand, half-armor guarding only his core. Scratches marred the aged metal. Deep blue hair tied haphazardly into a spiky ponytail. A scar slashed from ear to jaw. His grin was pure mischief.

“Tch… Strong one.”

“Aw, thanks! Though I’m no powerhouse—just everyone else is weak. Cute face, but all this ‘eating people’ nonsense? And you, mister-not-dead-yet-looking-like-a-slaughtered-pig… Name’s Cabel. Mercenary. Need a lift to a clinic? You’ll croak without one.”

“Strong one… you look delicious.”

“Mercenary friend… by the honor of the Shadowblade Brotherhood, I, Elfa the Shadowkiller, hire you! All my wealth for safe passage out of here!”

“Heh… fair price. But hey, missy—stop talking about eating. You’ll lose that cute figure. Though… I wouldn’t mind if *you* gained some weight.”

“Annoying pest…”

Del Sira snarled, hurling a bone spike.

“Whoa!” Cabel dodged with theatrical flair, hand pressed to his chest. “Don’t be so fierce! No man’ll marry you like that!”

“Hmph!”

Scales erupted across Del Sira’s skin, starting at her jaw. Her face elongated into a fish-like muzzle bristling with fangs. Limbs thickened. Pale skin darkened to deep blue. Spines jutted from her back like a porcupine’s quills on a bipedal horror.

“Fools who see this form never see dawn… Die, mortal.”

“Ugly. Not cute at all.”

Cabel’s grin vanished. He dropped from the roof, spear-first.

“Gahahaha! Die!” Del Sira charged, rolling as bone spikes shot from her back.

“Not exactly an easy job…”

Cabel spun his spear into a silver shield, deflecting spikes but crashing through a cottage wall. Del Sira lunged after him, pulling serrated bone knives dripping slime from her maw—

*Blinding gold light erupted from the hole.*

“What!? Aaagh—!” Del Sira recoiled, eyes shut tight, knives barely blocking the strike. She tumbled backward, dissolving into black smoke that fled at terrifying speed.

“I won’t forget this! I’ll hunt you down! Damn yoooou—!” Her shriek faded into the night.

Minutes later, Cabel emerged from the rubble. His spear’s holy glow dimmed to silver. His chest armor lay in shattered fragments.

“Ugh… what *was* that thing? Elfa, how’d you piss off a nightmare?” He shook his head, kneeling beside the wounded assassin. From a holey pouch, he pulled emergency herbs. “Here. Swallow.”

“Cough… so bitter!”

“Premium stuff. Only sharing ’cause you paid well.”

“Thanks. Long story—I don’t even know why it attacked me. And… thank you. For saving my life. Your name?”

“Cabel. But folks call me Holy Lancer. Can you walk? Or do I carry you?”

“The herbs work. Take me… south of the city. A village churchyard.”

“Extra charge for detours.”

“Done.”

“Love a client who doesn’t haggle!”

---

An hour later, Pipe returned to the manor. The ball had dissolved after the assassination attempt. Guests fled early. Admiral Eurydice escorted “Count Dracula” to the door, pressing a signed scroll into his hands. Pipe now held dual titles: Count of Wallachia *and* First-Class Viscount of the Holy Varnishel Empire.

“What? Del Sira injured?”

Pipe crushed the armor scraps Lil V had scavenged from the dead guardsmen into iron dust. He’d been examining them moments before.

“Master…”

“Dare harm my precious subordinate… Damn them…”

“Master…” (*Does “precious subordinate”… include me?*)

“Ahem. Forget my outburst. Let’s return.” (*Slipped up there.*)

“Yes, Master. I’ll have Lil V speed the carriage.”

“Mm.”

Twenty minutes later, Pipe, Silver Lock, and Lil V arrived at the manor.

“What… happened?”

Del Sira lay in a bathtub, reverted to her true form—weak, trembling. A glowing wound stretched from her left shoulder to her chest. Her left arm hung by mere scales, nearly severed.

“Forgive me, Master… I shamed you…”

Pipe waved off her attempt to rise. His skeletal face showed no expression, but deathly aura seeped through his sealing ring. Wooden furniture around him began to rot.

“Master… spare Del Sira…”

Hill Del knelt, pleading. Pipe gently lifted her, patting her shoulder.

"Del Sira, rest assured and recover... This was my mistake; I didn't anticipate such powerful opponents here. Next time, be more cautious... You all are the most important to me. Never put yourselves in danger..."

"Master!"

"Master!!"

"Silver Lock, what can you do to help Del Sira?"

"Hmm, Master. This wound was inflicted by extremely pure holy energy... I can use dark healing magic to neutralize it. But it might take a few days..."

"Understood... Immediately send a message to Purames. Have Greenland bring Slasher Juro here. Silver Lock, you tend to Del Sira... Ensure she recovers as soon as possible."

"I understand... Master."

"Shadow Alpha... and that mercenary... I will make them pay. I swear by the name of the Grand Captain of the Reaper's Scythe Pirate Crew..."

"Yes! Master. We will also do our best to help you make the enemies pay!"

The Siren Triplets and Silver Lock knelt on the ground in agreement, marveling at how truly kind their master was. They had always thought him terrifying, yet he was so gentle. It was amazing... Especially the injured Del Sira silently resolved to make the opponent regret it next time.

Is that Holy Lancer a Hero? I need to investigate... Mercenaries... Mercenary organizations seem to be civilian groups. Tomorrow, Admiral Yuris will visit me; I'll seize the chance to ask and gather intelligence... Also, that Dark Blade Brotherhood... Enemies in the shadows must be dealt with early... Too many things; lately, there are just too many. I must handle them one by one...

Thinking about recent events... Pipe felt he had taken on too many tasks and must handle them one by one.