"Damn it! How dare that little bastard!"
Pompey stormed back to his room, but he couldn't help shuddering the moment he stepped inside.
It wasn't because of the cold. Although the fireplace in the room wasn't lit, the noble fur coat he was wearing didn't just look good — he wouldn't freeze even if it was snowing outside, let alone inside the castle which wasn't cold at all.
What made him shiver uncontrollably was the cold and evil energy that permeated the room.
Only then did he notice that in the depths of the room, a man wearing a black trench coat and a hood that covered most of his face was sitting on his recliner, looking very pleased.
"Who is it!" Pompey growled, gripping his sword without batting an eyelid.
In the next split second, green flames ignited in the fireplace, the flames leaping out of the fireplace and licking the bricks around it.
The pale green light instantly filled the entire room, and there was also a faint smell of sulfur.
The door closed on its own, and locked itself with a click, leaving Pompey even more nervous.
"It's been a while, young master of the Faust family." It was only then that the man slowly rose and bowed slightly at Pompey with a nonchalant gesture. "You seem to have run into some trouble recently."
That familiar hoarse voice made Pompey's face darken. It was the fellow from the Secret Eye Society who had been in contact with him. "It's you? How did you get into the castle! "
"That's not important." The man answered hoarsely, slowly approaching Pompey. "Don't you want a 'little thing' that could solve your current predicament?"
"Little thing …"
Pompey's expression wavered.
Striking while the iron was hot, the man took out a small bottle from his trench coat. It was a glass bottle of mediocre quality, filled with a viscous liquid that resembled honey. "This is it."
At the same time, Pompey noticed that the man was wearing a thick leather glove.
Trench coat, hood, gloves, and a faintly discernible leather shirt and pants — the man had basically covered his entire skin.
"What's that?"
Pompey asked warily.
"Good stuff." The other party did not directly answer Pompey's question. Instead, he slyly changed the topic. "It can grant you power that ordinary people would never be able to obtain in their entire lives. As long as you pour it into your mouth and gulp it down, not even the bishops of ordinary churches would be a match for you."
The hoarse voice seemed to be magical, causing Pompey's hand to involuntarily take the small bottle.
"Yes, that's it. Accept this, and you'll be able to seize everything you have! "The other party hissed in satisfaction.
However, Pompey's weak will was still putting up a final resistance.
"What's the price? What's the price? "
"There is only one price." The man's gaze met Pompey's. "Become one of us."
Pompey felt as if he had fallen into an ice cave.
He had long suspected that the other party was not human, but it was only now that he was completely sure of it — it was a pair of amber pupils without the slightest emotion or warmth, with a reptilian black vertical slit in the middle.
— Demons.
For some reason, Pompey thought of these characters that only appeared in the bedtime stories his father had read to him when he was young.
They were characters that were absolutely evil and possessed great power.
Even the protagonists in the stories were often unable to kill demons. They could only choose to exile them, or follow a method left behind many years ago and seal them again.
"No, I refuse!"
After a long while, as if he had been electrocuted, he wanted to return the bottle of hot potion to the other party.
"There's no need to be afraid. After working together for so long, you should know very well that we will not force you to make such a choice." The other party did not take it, but continued to speak slowly with a bewitching tone, "You can keep the potion for now. Think about it carefully."
With that, his body turned into black dust and dissipated into the air of the room, leaving only a silver mirror on the recliner.
After that, even the flames in the fireplace returned to their normal orange color.
Pompey looked at the potion in his hand, then walked to the fireplace with a complicated expression, as if he was considering whether to throw the potion into the fire and burn it.
At that moment, someone suddenly knocked on his door.
"Who is it!" Pompey subconsciously put the potion back into his pocket and asked loudly.
"Young Master, it's me, the captain of your guards," answered the person outside.
At the same time, Pompey opened the door and saw the smiling captain of the guards. For some reason, he felt a little annoyed. "What happened?"
"We found two criminals who infiltrated the castle."
"Found?" Pompey frowned, sensing that there was a hidden meaning in the other party's words. "You didn't catch them?"
"Yes, we trapped them in a small concert hall. The other guards are trying to catch them, and we should have results soon," the captain of the guards answered honestly.
"A small concert hall, huh."
Pompey swaggered into the room, and the captain of the guards hurriedly followed.
However, before they entered the room, they heard a loud voice shouting something. "Even if the infiltration is discovered, I will never give up the infiltration mission! Watch, Silva, this is how I sneak in! [Heroic Dying]! "
Then, when Pompey and the captain of the guards arrived at the small concert hall, they saw a fat man covered in blood laughing maniacally as he chased after the fleeing guards. Beside him, there was also a skinny man who was crying tears of gratitude for some reason, yelling 'Brother Terrosche!' While finishing off the ones the fat man cut down.
Naturally, they did not know that 'Heroic Dying' was one of the core skills of the early stages of the Swordmaster's [Berserker] route. To put it simply, it was a skill that would continuously burst HP on its own, and the lower the HP, the stronger the buff. Moreover, the longer the skill lasted, the faster the HP burst would become, to the point that even a healer wouldn't be able to keep up the HP bar, and it was a skill that could lead to death if it wasn't controlled properly.
Still, the corner of Pompey's mouth twitched at the sight, and he asked the captain of the guards telepathically, "You're telling me that's infiltration? They almost knocked out all of my personal guards! Why are you just watching? Are you going to betray me?! Hurry up and stop them! Or that fat man is going to take on ten of them! "
The captain of the personal guard who had just been berated hurriedly went to help. He was quite skilled in martial arts and would have been the standard of a chief knight in other lesser noble families, which was why he was not cut down by Terrosche who had activated Berserk. Although he was showered with blood from Terrosche's spit, he still managed to wear him down.
Silva, on the other hand, was naturally unable to do anything alone. Surrounded by the guards, he did his best to kill two of them, before yelling 'That's enough' before he was cut down in a flurry of blades.
Pompey's face was pale with rage at the sight before him.
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