Both of Sergius’ hands were shattered as if crushed by an invisible force, and a horrendous scream burst from his mouth.
It wasn’t just his hands. His arms, shoulders, and legs were mangled as if crushed by a press.
A chilling scream echoed throughout Yutia’s mansion. But Yutia, watching this gruesome scene, simply spoke with a calm expression, as if passing judgment on Sergius, whose body was now completely broken.
“Screaming like that won’t bring anyone to save you.”
“S-Save me… please!”
Sergius, his face full of terror, cried out to Yutia, who was watching him in the red world. Already suffering from unbearable pain, bodily fluids leaked from his eyes, nose, and mouth. His dignity as a cardinal was long forgotten; all he could do was scream, desperate to escape the agony.
“What are you talking about?” Yutia, seemingly puzzled, locked eyes with Sergius, who was writhing on the ground, and opened her mouth again.
“Obviously, you’re not going to die, right?”
As she spoke, a white light began to emanate from Yutia’s hand. The powerful divine energy quickly started to heal Sergius’ body, but—
“No! No, stop!!”
Sergius screamed even louder as he watched his body begin to heal. Then, the moment his body was fully restored—
Sergius, filled with terror, looked up at Yutia, his whole body trembling. He was a pitiful sight, far removed from the dignity of a cardinal of Rosario.
The fear from the repeated excruciating pain had already eaten away at what little remained of his dignity and faith. Even though he had suffered this torment countless times, he still couldn’t comprehend the situation. The holy knights who never came, no matter how much he screamed. The pressure that kept him from moving his body as he wished. The way his body twisted like paper with a mere gesture from her.
None of it made any sense. It was as if everything was incomprehensible.
“Save me… please… save me…”
He simply begged for mercy. Even though he didn’t fully understand why he was being subjected to such horrors, he pleaded for forgiveness, as if asking for absolution from a god.
Contrary to Sergius’ desperate hope, his body began to slowly compress once more. His ears ringing with his own mad screams, he heard Yutia’s voice.
“I keep telling you, you’re not going to die. You still have something to do.”
Her voice was sweet to anyone’s ears.
“You’ll have to atone for the crime of trying to harm Him.”
Her voice sent chills down his spine.
Sergius’ screams echoed once again.
It had been about a month since Alon returned to the Count’s estate. He had spent the time recovering from the weariness of his long desert journey, while also investigating the source of the “Abyssal Entity” that wasn’t supposed to have appeared yet, along with signs of foreign threats he had heard from “It.” Now, Alon was preparing to leave the estate once again.
There were two reasons for his departure. One was to attend the magic conference, to which he had been invited by Liyan Aguileras, the daughter of the Red Tower’s lord. The other was to make an appearance at a social gathering before the conference.
Social gathering.
In truth, it was more accurate to call it a noble’s social event rather than a grandiose term like “gathering.” The nobles were just getting together to strengthen their friendships.
The only slightly unique aspect was that unlike typical noble gatherings, this one allowed participation from renowned non-nobles.
‘I really don’t want to go.’
Alon smacked his lips as he thought about it. But even so, the reason he felt compelled to attend the gathering before the magic conference was that, as the head of Kalpha, he needed to maintain some degree of decorum.
Whether he liked it or not, he was already the leader of Kalpha.
Of course, that didn’t mean he was forcing himself to do things he truly didn’t want to do.
Up until the middle of the process, he was full of thoughts about having to do things against his will, but that changed completely because of a single letter that came to Alon.
Alon looked at the magical letter that brightened his mood just by looking at it. It wasn’t enchanted or anything; it was simply a letter stating that Alon had become the legitimate leader of a faction, along with details about the regular payments he would now receive.
The amount of money mentioned in the letter, which a faction leader could legally receive, was far beyond his imagination. It was enough for him to finally understand why the leaders of the two factions he couldn’t comprehend before had held onto their positions so stubbornly for years without stepping down.
‘At this rate, I could go through all kinds of hell every day and still hang on.’
Alon wondered how the faction’s structure worked to generate so much money. But setting aside that curiosity, he felt satisfied once again, imagining the money that would come in the future. Just as he tucked the letter into his coat, feeling content with this financial relief—
“Count, isn’t that the letter you received two weeks ago?”
“And you’re still carrying it around?”
“It puts me at ease.”
At this unexpected answer, Evan looked at him with a strange expression.
“Sometimes, it’s hard to tell if you’re being serious or not, Count.”
“Well, I’m neither particularly serious nor not serious.”
At that, Evan shrugged and changed the topic.
“Now that I think about it, I heard some interesting stories while we were staying in the village yesterday.”
“Interesting stories?”
“Well, it’s still just a rumor, and I haven’t confirmed it with the information guild, so it’s not certain yet, but it seems Deus has defeated Reinhardt.”
“Reinhardt? You mean the ‘One Sword’ of Caliban?”
“…Deus defeated the One Sword?”
At Alon’s question, Evan nodded.
“As I said, I haven’t confirmed it with the information guild, so it’s not 100% certain… but considering how widespread the rumor is, I think it’s likely true.”
Alon thought of Deus, with whom he had lost contact naturally after their northern expedition together half a year ago.
‘Isn’t Reinhardt too difficult to beat?’
Of course, Alon knew that Deus was strong. He was one of the Master Knights, just like Reinhardt, and Alon had witnessed Deus’ strength firsthand.
However, Alon, who had learned just how powerful Reinhardt was through the game ‘Psychedelia’, couldn’t help but feel a bit confused. As far as he knew, Reinhardt possessed a strength on a completely different level from other Master Knights.
But then again, he didn’t think the rumors were necessarily wrong.
‘If he’s become strong enough to defeat Reinhardt in just half a year… just how talented is he?’
As Alon marveled at Deus’ talent, Evan continued with more news.
“There’s something else too.”
“Is it about Seolrang? Or Yutia?”
“Well… it seems like Yutia might be involved, but it’s actually a different story.”
Curious, Alon listened closely, and after hearing everything, he asked again in disbelief.
“The Duke of Limgrave was taken to the Holy Nation?”
“Yes, and this isn’t a rumor—it seems he really was taken.”
“I heard he received a ‘conversion letter.’”
“A conversion letter…?”
“You know, the letter the Holy Nation sends when there’s suspicion of collaboration with heretics. That’s what he received.”
“So he was taken to the Holy Nation?”
“Yes, although it was said that he went willingly, it’s essentially the same as being dragged there. From what I heard, it happened about two weeks ago, so you probably won’t see the Duke of Limgrave at the gathering.”
Alon nodded, seeming to think that wasn’t entirely a bad thing.
In truth, he had been somewhat reluctant to meet with either Duke Limgrave or Marquis Filboid just yet. Every time he saw them, they looked at him as if they were ready to devour him.
Of course, no matter how much animosity they directed at him, it didn’t actually cause Alon any harm. But even so, it was still uncomfortable to be in the same space as someone who was openly hostile toward him.
“It might be more comfortable this way.”
Murmuring to himself, he soon spotted the distant lands of the Verityun estate, where the gathering was being held. A short while later, they arrived at the estate of Marquis Verityun, where the gathering was taking place, and headed straight for the ballroom.
“We’ve arrived, Count.”
At Evan’s words, Alon naturally stepped out of the carriage.
‘There are a lot of people.’
As soon as he got out, he couldn’t help but notice the large crowd gathered before him.
There had been many people at the Grand Church event as well, but this gathering had even more.
‘There certainly are a lot of non-nobles here. Over there are mercenaries, here are merchants, and over there… mages and even priests.’
Alon observed as he walked, noting the presence of many attendees who didn’t look like nobles. Soon enough, they reached their destination.
As if they had been waiting, Alon encountered Duke Artia in a black dress and Count Zenonia.
“You’ve arrived.”
“Have you been well?”
Alon responded briefly to the casual greetings from the two shadowy figures. Even though he was already aware that he had boarded the same ship as them, there was still an inexplicable feeling of intimidation when standing in front of them.
It was likely due to the subtle misunderstandings between them that made him naturally wary. From Alon’s perspective, he couldn’t afford to let them discover that there was indeed some misunderstanding.
So, after exchanging simple pleasantries, Alon busied himself by picking up snacks from around the ballroom and making small talk with them.
Unfortunately, Alon made eye contact with the one man he least wanted to face: Marquis Filboid.
Up until just a moment ago, Duke Artia and Count Zenonia had been engaged in conversation, but as soon as they saw Marquis Filboid, their lips shut tight. The moment the marquis began walking toward them, their expressions stiffened.
Although Artia and Zenonia were undoubtedly strong in the underworld, in the political arena, they were still beneath Marquis Filboid. Having survived countless political battles, he had the ability to inflict damage both internally and externally with nothing more than his words, and that made them tense.
At the same time, several of the nobles attending the gathering noticed that Marquis Filboid was approaching Count Palatio.
“I… I lost…! So please, spare me….!”
The marquis muttered dejectedly, and not only the nobles who had been watching him, but also Duke Artia and Count Zenonia, were shocked by what they heard.
It was no wonder—every noble present was well aware of how much influence Marquis Filboid wielded in the political world. They also knew that since the marquis had begun his rise to power, he had never once bowed his head to anyone.
So, when every noble who witnessed the scene turned in astonishment toward Alon, who had seemingly made the marquis declare defeat—
‘…? Me…? What… did I do…?’
Alon, who had been absentmindedly responding to the other two ladies’ conversation while snacking on financiers, could only look utterly confused.

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