Chapter 36: Assassination

Chapter Thirty-Six
Assassination

Irene tightly shut her mouth and looked at the lean-faced ambassador with the genial smile. Her anger held a trace of fear.

Bakerland extended his right hand. It was covered in a layer of orange-red flame, quietly leaping.

He took two steps forward, assuming the posture of pressing that palm against Irene’s skin.

It made Irene think of descriptions from many novels: cruel interrogators who used red-hot iron to brand a target’s body, bringing an experience of extreme pain.

“No. One cannot be so crude with a beautiful young lady.”

Bakerland suddenly stopped his outstretched palm and chuckled.

With a sharp shake, he transformed that orange-red flame into a crimson whip.

The whip burned the surrounding air. Barbs grew from it section after section.

Pap!

Bakerland swung the whip of flame and struck Irene. Her clothing charred and split open. A deep-black brand appeared on her skin. Her face twisted, and a scream burst from her mouth.

“Who sent you?”

Bakerland asked again, his tone gentle.

Irene’s lips trembled several times before she finally opened them.

“It was…”

Just as Bakerland instinctively listened for the answer, a patch of blood-red suddenly reflected in his eyes.

Not good!

Bakerland abruptly leaned backward and rolled to the ground.

At the place where he had just stood, flames shot up with a whoosh, forming a wall of blazing fire.

Pff, pff, pff!

Blood and flesh scattered like raindrops, splashing against the fire wall and sizzling.

Some of them pierced through that layer of flame and paved a sparse path of blood-red spots across the floor.

At the end of that path stood Bakerland, the Intis ambassador, who had climbed back to his feet.

He saw Irene’s abdomen torn open. From within it stretched two arms wrapped in viscous fluid.

Those two arms abruptly pushed outward. A figure crawled out from inside the beautiful Miss Irene’s belly. It was entirely covered in thick, squirming, blood-red fluid that dripped continuously downward, and it was the size of an ordinary adult man.

It was difficult to imagine that inside Irene—a normal woman whose abdomen had shown no swelling—such a thing had been hidden!

How had that fit?

Bang!

Irene’s body below the head completely exploded, transforming into pure flesh and blood that surged onto the humanoid thing. Together with the constantly dripping liquid, it formed an eerie red robe.

The figure revealed its true appearance: a beautiful, bewitching face almost like a woman’s. Beneath the firelight, the blood-red robe on its body resembled a blooming flower.

“Rose Bishop!”

As a veteran intelligence officer, Bakerland immediately thought of the corresponding Sequence name.

Sequence 6 of the Secrets Suppliant pathway: Rose Bishop.

Every Rose Bishop was an expert in flesh magic.

Beyonders of this Sequence could hide eerily inside another person’s body, using that to avoid all kinds of investigation.

But when they crawled out, the host would lose their life because of it.

“For the Lord!”

Irene’s remaining head cried softly, then closed its eyes forever.

The Rose Bishop extended his right hand and tapped his chest four times in the order of down, up, right, and left.

His eyes, reflecting blood and firelight, then looked toward Bakerland. His right foot suddenly stepped forward, passing through the wall of fire without the slightest burn. Only dark-red liquid kept dripping down from him.

Bakerland retreated again and abruptly raised his voice.

“Come!”

“Help!”

Although his most capable assistant, Rosago, and several intelligence personnel had already been dispatched, there was still no lack of Beyonders inside the embassy. They were military attachés permitted by the Loen Kingdom, the overt protective force of this place.

One Sequence 5, one Sequence 6, three Sequence 7s, and nearly ten Sequence 8s and Sequence 9s combined.

Bakerland’s voice echoed continuously inside the room, yet no matter what, it could not travel outside. The music beyond remained unchanged, and the ball continued without interruption.

This place seemed to have become an independent, isolated world.

“This…”

Bakerland rationally stopped shouting and narrowed his eyes, examining the surroundings.

That Rose Bishop was in no hurry to act. He laughed softly.

“This is your own will, the rule you personally set.

“You told the guards not to disturb you, not to approach, not to let anyone come over.

“Mm… I magnified your will and your rule, and twisted them slightly. If you want to break this separation, you must first defeat yourself.”

Bakerland’s expression changed slightly. From this trait that seemed to obey rules while actually twisting them, constantly drawing upon the power of order for its own use, he thought of another Sequence name.

“Baron of Corruption!” Bakerland growled.

It was Sequence 6 of the Lawyer pathway, also known as the Black Emperor pathway.

Before his voice had even fallen, Bakerland’s expression suddenly turned extremely gloomy, and he blurted out an added sentence:

“Shepherd! You are a Shepherd!

“Who are you in the Aurora Order? Mr. A?

“Why are you assassinating me?”

That Rose Bishop—no, that Shepherd—gave a low laugh.

“You do not need to know who I am.

“Accept the Lord’s grace…”

Before he could finish speaking, his body suddenly stiffened. His joints seemed to rust over. His movements became frame by frame, as though he had turned into a puppet.

Bakerland laughed. The gloom on his face instantly vanished. He drew a white handkerchief from the pocket over the left side of his chest and wiped the corner of his mouth.

“I am very glad you spoke with me for so long and gave me enough time.”

Once the white handkerchief was removed, the left breast pocket revealed a tiny head the size of a thumb. It was a puppet head whose eyes were entirely black.

That Shepherd opened his mouth, wanting to speak, yet only an empty voice that seemed to come from far away was heard:

“You…”

After a pause, his body abruptly swelled. His skin turned dark black, two bent goat horns marked with evil patterns grew from his head, and wings filled with the smell of sulfur beat behind his back.

The Shepherd suddenly neared three meters tall, turning into a demonified creature.

But even like this, it was as though every joint of his body had been firmly tied down by someone. His movements were stiff and slow, and his thoughts had begun blurring.

“You even possess the ability of a Demon? As expected of a Shepherd. Let me send you to see your Lord.”

Bakerland did not waste further words. In his right palm, a spear of flame condensed—its tip a blazing-white spear of fire.

He bent at the waist, swung his arm, and prepared to throw the spear, pinning the Shepherd to the wall and burning him to ashes.

The Sequence 7 corresponding to Conspirer was Pyromaniac. In ancient times, it was called Fire Mage!

Cough! Cough, cough, cough!

Just then, Bakerland began coughing violently, as though his heart and lungs might be coughed out. The spear of flame lost control and dissipated inch by inch. His face flushed red, and his forehead grew feverish.

The mystical item’s effect on his enemy vanished along with it. The Shepherd escaped the sluggish state and returned to normal.

“Why do you think I spoke with you for so long? How does severe pneumonia and an uncontrollable cough feel?”

The demon-like face curled its lips and asked.

Hearing this, Bakerland suddenly remembered the beautiful, bewitching, almost feminine appearance his enemy had displayed at first. Regretfully, he spoke between coughs:

“Cough, cough. Disease!

“You, cough, killed a—cough, cough, cough—a Demoness of Affliction!”

The Shepherd removed the demonification. His body became indistinct, layered and overlapping.

He gave a low laugh.

“No. I merely accepted the gift of the Dark Saint.

“I know Conspirers always have all kinds of methods, so next, I will use my strongest ability. I will not leave you with any unnecessary hope.”

Before him appeared a book, transparent and blurry.

The ancient book flipped rapidly, accompanied by a low chant:

“I came, I saw, I recorded.

“As long as I have recorded it, I can use it once. This is an ability the Dark Saint displayed for me deliberately. Although it can only achieve half the original effect, that is already enough.”

The Shepherd’s voice became ethereal, and his body was wrapped in darkness surging out from the book.

Very quickly, he transformed into a small giant two and a third meters tall, completely covered in black, ice-cold armor. Only at the eyes did two clumps of deep-red light flicker.

This dark knight raised the straight, gloomy greatsword in his hand, stepped forward, and suddenly chopped down.

“No!”

“Why?”

Amid Bakerland’s screams, the layers of fire surging from within his body were split apart. The various bursts of light exploding from him were split apart. His body too was split into two halves.

Pa!

Bakerland fell to the ground. Not the slightest trace of blood flowed from the cut. Even his soul seemed to have been corroded and annihilated by that dark, gloomy, almost nonexistent longsword.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The fireballs surging out of Bakerland’s body lost control and exploded, causing the room to collapse in places and shaking the glass with loud rattles. At that moment, the isolation produced by his own will disappeared with his death.

The Shepherd did not linger, nor did he wait for Beyonder characteristics to separate out. He returned to that indistinct, layered state from before and seized the opportunity before the embassy’s military attachés could arrive, passing through layer after layer of wall and rushing into the darkness outside.

…

15 Minsk Street. Klein’s right hand, already grasping the handle, paused briefly.

He decided that before opening the door, it would still be safer to toss a coin.

Since Ian had already come, and the revelation image seen in his dream divination had already appeared, danger could descend at any time.

Silently reciting “the visitor outside will bring danger,” Klein flicked a quarter-penny copper coin upward and watched it fall into his palm, number side up.

Negative…

Klein murmured soundlessly and reached out to turn the handle.

But he did not lower his guard because of it. He knew there was a mid-Sequence Beyonder of his own pathway on the ambassador’s side, someone who could interfere with his divination.

If it was that person, receiving a wrong answer would be very normal.

What a pity. There is no time and no chance to confirm it above the gray fog…

Using spirit vision, Klein looked through the wooden board for a while. After finding no problem, he opened the door and retreated two steps.

Outside, Sergeant Fassin, dressed in a black-and-white checkered uniform, removed his hat. His expression was grave.

“The people above sent me to tell you: tonight and tomorrow, pay attention to your safety and beware of strangers.”