Admiral Euryth didn’t come in person. This assassination attempt had forced the man to tread with extreme caution. Yet nobles typically honored their word once given—it was the bedrock of their standing in society.

“Viscount Dracula,” Mary Gale Bandemin gave a slight bow toward the figure on the steps. “I come on behalf of my father to express his gratitude… and to deliver these gifts per his instructions. Please do not refuse them.”

“A trivial matter, yet the Admiral took the trouble…” Dracula’s voice remained smooth. “When you return, kindly convey my sincere thanks to him.”

“I shall. But… might the Viscount invite me in for tea?”

“…Please. My home is humble, and I’ve yet to fully settle here. What tea does Miss Mary prefer? I’ll send a servant to purchase it immediately—”

“Plain water is fine. Heh…”

*This woman is troublesome.* Yet to avenge his subordinates and swiftly uncover the Death Starlight assassins and mercenaries, he needed noble leverage. He couldn’t afford to slight the Admiral’s youngest daughter.

“If Miss Mary doesn’t mind… my apologies for the inadequacy. Please, sit.”

*Is my charm lacking?* Noble sons always fawned over her. Yet this Viscount’s expression hadn’t flickered—not even a trace of attention. *Sigh. You underestimated him, Mary. Isn’t this his virtue? Cold-faced, yet never arrogant enough to dismiss me… Unlike those fawning hypocrites with their fake earnestness, his icy demeanor is true sincerity…*

*He’s exceptional. But couldn’t he show a hint of interest? Or am I truly unattractive? When did I start craving attention like this? Do I… like this cold Viscount? Impossible! It’s just my pride talking!*

“Miss Mary?” Dracula’s voice cut through her thoughts. “I asked if you’re unwell. Your face is flushing… Is it too warm here? Lil V—open the windows.”

“Yes, Master!”

Cool sea breeze flooded the room as Lil V threw the windows wide. Mary’s cheeks burned even redder.

*He’s just stern-faced. But so gentlemanly… so attentive…* Her pulse quickened as she recalled that night—watching from afar as the Viscount heroically saved her father (she hadn’t seen how, which only proved his skill), halting the assassin’s blade. He’d driven back the terrifying killer with sheer presence alone… Later, she’d heard many guards died. Her father called it the work of the dreaded Death Starlight—a guild rumored never to fail.

*He’s perfect. Courageous. Noble-hearted. Of impeccable birth and character. Handsome (that cold exterior? No matter!). Wealthy. Even his subordinates’ eyes gleam with genuine devotion…*

“…Viscount? Why do you stare?”

“I await your answer. You didn’t hear my question?”

“Ah!? Oh… forgive me, I—”

“No matter. I’ll repeat it. Miss Mary, I seek information on registering a risk trade company… and about those assassins. As a local noble of standing, you’d gather details faster than I could from commoners. Will you assist me?”

“Yes! Of course! I mean… yes. (*How unladylike! When did I forget my manners? What’s wrong with me!?*)”

“Then enlighten me.”

“Right! For company registration, visit the harbor docks. Oh! I have my father’s letter of introduction—you can register directly with it. Do you have your own fleet? If not, you can rent ships from dock officials for a fee—I’m unsure of the amount. If you own vessels, only docking taxes apply…”

“I see. Thank you.” Dracula’s gaze sharpened. “Those assassins grow brazen. As the newly appointed noble of this land, I must safeguard its peace. I intend to eradicate this threat.”

“Ah!? No! I mean—”

“Why not?”

“They’re… too dangerous. You don’t know this organization. They’ve existed for centuries… It’s rumored an emperor died by their hand—officially ‘illness,’ but truly assassination.”

“If even emperors aren’t safe, they must be purged. I’ve made my decision. Besides…” A glacial smile touched his lips. “I’ve already drawn their ire. Better to eliminate them before they learn my weaknesses.”

“…!!!”

*Gods… such arrogance. Yet his face never changed—he meant every word. And his subordinates… their eyes glow with belief. Do they truly think he’ll succeed?*

“Very well… But I implore you, Viscount, avoid provoking them recklessly. My father asked me to warn you: stay hidden. Once he identifies the mastermind behind the attack and… deals with them, the Death Starlight will withdraw without payment. Then all will be safe.”

“I do not retract my words. Forgive my stubbornness.”

“Steward Duwa…”

“What of him?” Mary bit her lip, then steeled herself. “He heads my father’s intelligence network. I’ll have him send you their files. Please… be careful.”

“Your concern is appreciated.”

Mary nodded to take her leave. Dracula escorted her out politely, though her steps were heavy with unspoken thoughts. He offered only formal courtesies before parting.

An hour later, a detailed dossier on the Death Starlight arrived via a young man in plain clothes.

*So the Admiral has his own spies. No noble here can be underestimated…* Dracula’s crimson eyes glinted. *Then let hunting the Death Starlight build my renown.*

——

**Death Starlight**

*All members are assassins.*

Known core: Six Master-class, thirteen Elite-class. Lower ranks unknown.

Extensive outer network spanning all trades.

Summoning ritual: Under moonlight, arrange a billy goat’s leg bones into a complex sigil, light candles, and chant dark prayers. Sincere invocation summons members—a practice unchanged for centuries. Method verified; mechanics unknown.

Accepts only assassination contracts. Sets fees by difficulty; no task refused if paid. Kills any target regardless of status.

Combat strength estimates:

- Masters: ~5,000

- Elites: ~3,000

- Possible outliers exceeding Master rank…

**Shadow Dance**: Advanced assassination art. Temporarily phases the body to evade damage.

**Hideout**: Ancient underground ruins.

*Ah. That emperor sought to purge them, attacked their stronghold… only to be assassinated in retaliation. Their reputation soared. The ruins bristle with traps and secret passages—effective against humans…*

——

“Captain! Purames reporting!”

Purames dropped to one knee before the mirror, Pipe Captain’s reflection gleaming within.

“Rise, Purames. You’ve done well—quelling pirates near our base so swiftly. I’m pleased. Name your reward.”

“Your praise is reward enough, Captain… (*Though if I could offer my first time to you… but—*)”

“Speak. Loyal service deserves reward.”

“…Then grant me this: never dismiss me from your side. Use me until I’m worn out. That is Purames’ greatest wish.” He knelt again, trembling.

“…Very well. Truly nothing else? (*A slave’s plea isn’t a reward! I should give jewels…*)”

“No! This is all I desire… Thank you, Captain!”

Relief washed over Pipe Captain as Purames beamed. He supported whatever made his crew happy.

“What task requires your puppet communicator?” Purames asked eagerly.

“…(Instructions relayed). Understood?”

“Understood! I depart immediately!”

“I await your success.”

——

Moonlight bathed the silent village. Wisps of cloud playfully veiled the stars.

“Damn it… can’t sleep again. Second trip tonight. I just pissed minutes ago—nothing left!” A farmer grumbled, shaking himself against a wall corner.

*Creak… creak…*

“Hm?”

*Creak… creak… creak…*

The groaning grew louder, closer. Mist seeped from the darkness.

“What’s that noise—*achoo!* Brr… who’s there?”

Figures emerged from the fog.

Skeletons in tattered sailor uniforms shuffled forward, rusted cutlasses in bony hands.

“YIIK!!! EEYAAAAHHHH!!!”

The farmer collapsed, voiding his bowels where he sat.

The horrors ignored him, marching past like spectral travelers toward the graveyard. Ghosts flitted among the skeletal ranks, weaving through the undead tide.

A chilling shriek pierced the air... yet not a single undead lunged at him.

The man collapsed, foaming at the mouth—scared unconscious.

---

Deep underground, figures huddled around a campfire. Leather armor guarded their vital points, hoods shadowing their faces. Only chins, mouths, and noses caught the firelight.

"Heard the news?"

"Hmm?"

"Shadow Dance was injured."

"Yeah, but that was days ago..."

"Rumor says he ran into something monstrously powerful..."

"A Siren? Or merfolk? I heard too..."

"The ocean’s too vast. Who knows what lurks in its depths... Maybe creatures beyond human strength truly exist."

*Creak… Snap… Creak… Snap…*

An eerie sound broke the silence.

"Huh!?"

"What was that?!"

Weapons flashed—swords in one hand, torches in the other. The darkness echoed with unnatural noises...

"Careful... fog’s rising? How—?"

White mist crept in... Pairs of green lights floated closer from the dark, flickering.

"Those are... Undead! An undead army! S-s-sound the alarm!"

*Clang! Clang! Clang!* Bells echoed through the cavern. The undead horde ignored them, advancing steadily. Blades slashed at the torchbearers... while Siren wails tore through the air.

"Damn it! Aaahhh~~~"

A man swinging his torch stumbled—a skeletal pirate’s blade sank into his shoulder. His arm tore off. Blood sprayed. The scent drove the undead wilder... Within moments, the group vanished beneath the tide.

"Blast! AAAAAHHH!! Ghh… Ahh… Ngh…"

Two skeletal sailors pinned a man to a pillar with blades. More skeletons joined in, stabbing until his body turned to pulp.

"No!!! Stop! AAAAAH!"

A Siren ripped a soul from a living man. He screamed, thrashing, as other wraiths shredded his spirit into nothingness. His empty corpse hit the ground, eyes wide and unseeing.

*Thwack-thwack-thwack!* Hidden wall panels slid open. *Ping! Ping! Ping!* Darts flew like leeches—but bounced harmlessly off undead bones.

The horde pressed on. A stone gate groaned open. A dozen figures in identical leather armor stood ready. Beyond them, the darkness teemed with skeletal pirates and shrieking Sirens, inching forward.

"Fall back! We can’t handle this many! Seal the gate!"

*Crack!* A gunshot echoed. *Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh!* A bullet—like a shooting star—pierced the leader’s skull. Then, like a playful child, it looped midair, drilling through every heart and head behind him.

"Heh... Too easy. Is Hill Rock really that weak? Could *these* fools have wounded him?"

Grant rose from the shadows, catching the "bullet." It wasn’t one—it was a fanged, bullet-shaped puppet. Its speed made the "shots" mere bites.

"Greenland... Never get careless. Pride comes before the fall."

"Yes, Captain! Understood!"

Pipe emerged from the dark, followed by Purames, Faglas, Jin, and the artillery twins Yin and Yang. Behind them trailed the Siren trio: Lil V, Del Sira, and Hill Rock. At Greenland’s words, Hill Rock flushed with shame.

"Listen well: whoever hurts my crew dies. No exceptions."

"Yes, Captain. We remember."

"To trouble you, our master, for lowly servants... I am ashamed."

"Nonsense. This was part of my plan all along... (What plan? I’m just winging it.) You did well. Now I have an excuse to settle scores..."

"Please guide your foolish servants, Master..."

"Hmm... You’ll see soon enough. (I’m just comforting them.) Purames... Learn to think for yourself. Relying on me stunts your growth... (Ugh, that sounded forced.)"

"Understood, Captain! The undead have breached their core. Sirens found every exit. They’re trapped."

"Good. Let’s unmask these rats."

---

Deep in the ruins, a theater-like hall. Crimson and black banners hung on walls, each bearing a silver blade emblem behind a crescent moon and stars. Six stone thrones circled a table. Six dignified elders sat upon them.

All wore identical crimson robes embroidered with gold thread—the mark of Master Assassins.

"Damn it, Habid! Is the path clear?"

"...Trouble. An undead horde blocks it. No priests to banish them."

"It seems we face the greatest crisis in centuries..."

"And we’ve angered something terrifying..."

"Still, we must preserve seeds for Shadowblade’s future. Fortunately... my apprentice isn’t here. He’s healing at our Imperial City branch."

"Then we have no regrets. Who’d have thought such power would assault our stronghold? Very well... Let’s meet this enemy. Who dares erase us?"

"...Hmph. Even in death, dignity matters. As assassins, we knew this day would come... I’d prefer to meet it with honor."

"A luxury for our kind..."

The six Master Assassins rose, robes rustling.

---

"Blast you, Shadow Dance..."

Elite assassins in black leather armor fought skeletal pirates. One hulking figure swung a warhammer with ease; others struggled desperately. Only the strongest survived this long.

This was Shadowblade’s final hall—the Hall of Glory. Stained glass windows lined the walls like a cathedral. A three-step dais led to a stage draped in red and black banners, solemn beneath a massive flag.

"Fall back, servants!"

The skeletons retreated like a tide. Before the exhausted, battered assassins stood their foes: a crimson-coated skeletal pirate captain radiating death; a snarling girl cradling a sniper rifle; a beautiful, snake-eyed first mate in a black coat; a smiling nobleman; golden and silver-haired artillery twins clinging together; and three female warriors behind the captain.

"Welcome... For centuries, you’re the first non-assassin to reach this place... *creature*."

Six hooded figures in red robes appeared on the upper balcony—five men, one woman.

"First meeting. I’m Pipe Captain. Though undead, I sail as a pirate. I’m here for my crew. Blame an assassin named Alpha—he offended me. Hurt my people. That displeases me."

"Hmph. A leader protects his own. But Shadowblade won’t kneel. We’ll fight with dignity to the end."

"Fine. I came for revenge. You’ll die either way—with dignity or shame, savoring agony and despair... Come. Face death with open eyes."

Pipe strode alone toward the balcony, ignoring the elite assassins still standing.

"Die, monster! Shadow Dance!"

An assassin blurred into a shadow, blade aimed at Pipe’s neck. Pipe didn’t glance back. A bony finger flicked the rapier aside. The blade missed. Pipe seized the assassin’s wrist—*Crack… Pop…*—the sickening crunch of shattered bone and tendon made teeth ache. Before the assassin could scream, Pipe hurled him into another attacker. They crashed down, spewing blood and organ fragments.

Every assassin froze. Less than three seconds. Two elites—wounded but lethal—annihilated.

Five masters lunged. Two charged recklessly. Three hurled daggers, then drew flintlocks...

Daggers flew first. Pipe dodged one, snatched the other two midair. Gunshots erupted—six cracks. The chargers were almost upon him.

Pipe’s captured blades could kill the chargers or block bullets—but not both. Dodging meant bullets would fly past him, toward Purames and the others...

"Clever. I’ll grant you a merciful death."

Pipe’s blades became a silver blur. *CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!* A resonant chime echoed as steel met six bullets in rapid succession. The bullets ricocheted back—

"Ghh…!"

"Aah!"

Screams cut short. Five assassins dropped, dead. Each took a bullet through the right eye—skulls shattered. The middle one caught two.

No assassin dared move. Whether they’d seen Pipe’s speed or not, terror rooted them.

"My brothers and sisters... Today is our end. Then... fight! Die with honor and dignity! ALL TOGETHER!"

The master assassin at the center of the balcony gave the order. His hidden blade shot from his sleeve as he charged first. The other master assassins followed silently, drawing weapons and rushing after him. The surviving assassins did the same, blades drawn.

"A futile struggle..."

Pipe dropped his short sword and drew the exquisite flintlock pistol. Its red wooden body, inlaid with metal, looked like art rather than a weapon. The black barrel gleamed with a trace of metallic luster.

"Dance... The moment of madness..."

Sparks flashed at the muzzle. Bang! Bang! Bang! Gunfire erupted. Though a single-shot flintlock, it fired continuously. If slowed, one would see bullets fly out, hit targets, instantly activate teleportation runes on them, fly back into the chamber, and fire again through runes inside.

Thus, one shot and one bullet rained fire like a machine gun.

Rhythmically, Pipe swung the gun expressionlessly, firing nonstop. Amid the gunfire, assassins before him fell, swaying and dancing like performers to the beat.

"How powerful!"

"Captain, he—"

"That's right. Master is performing... a mad symphony..."

"And the instrument is that gun..."

"Del Sira... Look. They're dancing..."

"Master is too kind... avenging me like this... I'm truly useless..."

Finally, all assassins lay on the ground—or rather, minced flesh scattered through the air and settled into dust. Pipe holstered his flintlock. Hmm, this Death Starlight really is useful. Quite a test...

Clap! Clap! Clap! Applause rang out.

Purames led the way. All subordinates, skeletons, and undead began clapping.

Pipe raised his hands in greeting, then struck a pose like an actor taking a bow.

"Purames... Gather some men. Let's head back..."

"Yes! Captain!"

"Oh... Don't forget the valuables. We must be proper pirates..."

"Yes! Understood!"