The winged harpies from Heaven were originally the minions of Demedes. However, they now served an old man who controlled Demedes, acting as his eyes and ears.
An elderly figure cloaked in violet robes vividly observed through the harpies’ eyes as chimeras were being torn apart.
Since the moment the knight wielding a high-frequency blade began slaughtering the beastly minions, the old man had been pondering. It seemed absurd that someone who fed on human brains belonged to the same organization as those chimera-like creatures. If Demedes held the title of director, then logically, anyone stronger than him would likely be the chairman. Yet, this knight always seemed to consult with the archer beside him before taking action.
This was unusual for someone with ultimate decision-making authority. The chairman was unlikely.
Even now, this knight volunteered for the dangerous task of dealing with other chimeras while provoking Demedes, the strongest opponent. Meanwhile, the archer simply stood guard after capturing one surviving chimera.
It became clear. While supervisors might take the lead in perilous missions, subordinates wouldn’t merely watch their superiors work.
Thus, this knight was not the highest commander of Hydra Corp.
‘Then does that mean the archer is the chairman, and the knight is a director, equivalent to Demedes?’
The more he thought about it, the less plausible it seemed. How could they hold the same rank?
‘Maybe that fool of a chimera was delusional, believing himself to be a director?’
The elder suppressed his wandering thoughts. What mattered now wasn’t figuring out their ranks.
Even with thirty-one chimeras, he couldn’t obtain the knight’s bl**d. There was no better offering fitting for the ceremony’s conclusion.
‘It can’t be helped. Extracting more followers would jeopardize the ritual.’
He decided to abandon using them as offerings and proceed with what bl**d and flesh remained.
‘They might interfere with the ceremony, so it’s best to wait until they return.’
It was certain that the archer and knight would deduce the existence of the puppet master from Demedes’ corpse. But there were only two of them.
Would they confront dozens of chimeras and beasts right away, or retreat to regroup and return better prepared?
Without knowing where the enemy hid or what forces remained, retreating to reorganize was the rational choice.
‘By the time they return, the ceremony will already be complete.’
Even if they examined the captured chimera’s memories with mind magic, it would be futile since their minds had been cleared beforehand.
No matter how skilled the mage, analyzing the magic controlling the chimeras wouldn’t reveal his identity, because he didn’t use magic to control them – it wasn’t magic at all.
‘How could one analyze something that doesn’t exist?’
At that moment, the elder smiled leisurely.
“Hmm?”
Ortes began striding forward suddenly.
“Wait. Where are you going?”
“To capture the culprit.”
It was an unexpected statement, like revealing the villain’s name in a mystery novel without explaining the reasoning. When exactly had Ortes discovered the culprit’s location?
‘Did he do something to the chimera?’
Neuro looked at the caged chimera. No, Ortes hadn’t sprayed any reagents or cast spells on it.
Besides, not much time had passed since capturing the chimera – at most five minutes.
All Ortes had done during that time was gaze at the chimera briefly.
‘Could he really find a hidden mage with just a glance?’
Though doubts arose momentarily, Neuro decided to accept Ortes’ judgment quietly.
‘What good would refusing to go do now?’
There was a ninety-nine percent chance he’d just be dragged along anyway after hearing something like “Are you suggesting we leave potential threats to the chairman unaddressed? Are you sane?”
The remaining one percent scenario Neuro imagined was even worse: “You’ve outlived your usefulness too, Neuro ex-director.”
If Ortes knew what Neuro was thinking, he’d probably respond with amusement: “Do you think I’m some sort of merciless executioner who kills anyone who offends the chairman?”
But the cold farewell Ortes delivered while sending Demedes to the afterlife had shocked Neuro deeply.
Meanwhile, Ortes was focusing on the mana threads connected to the chimera.
‘Something strange…’
Mana, not magical power…
Typically, mana referred broadly to the raw material needed for extraordinary abilities, encompassing concepts like magical power or internal energy.
However, mana also had another specific meaning – pure unprocessed ability material.
In Ortes’ view, dictionaries in this world were too biased toward mages. “Mages aren’t the only ones who refine mana; mercenaries purify internal energy using mana too.”
In short, directly using unprocessed mana was extremely rare.
‘Maybe divine power handles pure mana itself?’
Ortes recalled the residual consciousness of the ancient priest he encountered at Phobos’ temple. That person possessed a distinctly different kind of power from magical or internal energies.
As Ortes fondled the crystal artifact in his pocket, he shook his head.
“No, divine power was different from mana too. What is this magic-like thing?”
After careful consideration, Ortes made a decision.
“I should beat him first, then think about it later.”
Neuro’s gas mask augmented reality display kept warning him – something was wrong with the air composition.
“Plant mages often spread toxic spores… Is this some kind of area suppression magic?”
Then he realized – didn’t the director of the divine investigation department lack a gas mask?
“Ortes!”
Neuro rushed towards Ortes, checking for poisoning symptoms.
“Hmm? An attack?”
However, Ortes maintained his usual unfading smile, showing no signs of breathing difficulty or congestion.
“There’s some poison in the air…”
Neuro felt somewhat embarrassed.
“This is helpful. It seems we’re on the right track.”
Poison in the air meant they were correct? Neuro carefully interpreted Ortes’ words.
“So! A mage’s base would naturally have traps set up to prevent intrusions. Capturing the chimera was likely to use it like a detection dog, finding the place with the strongest scent.”
In that case, it made sense how Ortes could determine the enemy’s hiding spot by merely looking at the chimera.
Masterfully modifying chimeras implied deep expertise in life-related magic involving wood or earth attributes. Their defense strategy would typically involve poison.
However, beastmen often consumed poisonous herbs as food or gathered toxins for self-defense. The enemy mage likely used such herbs as food for the chimera to improve efficiency.
The injured chimera used its instinct to find prey to locate the enemy’s hideout!
Neuro marveled at this insight.
‘Exactly what did he deduce?’
Ortes wondered if ‘this guy was actually clueless.’
“How…!”
They arrived at the core of the ritual without hesitation, slightly east of the central magic circle where magical power concentrated.
Surveillance tools around the hideout transmitted ground sounds.
“Hmm? There’s a concealed trace under this rock. Looks like a frequently used passage.”
“Indeed. You were quite the hunter, weren’t you?”
“What do you mean by ‘were’?”
“Oops, sorry. Your business suit in the conference room suited you so well that I forgot you were a hunter.”
While monitoring movements through the harpies’ vision, he hadn’t expected them to track down this far.
Their intuition was terrifying.
The elder thought of the worshipers tied up in the sacrificial chamber. Should he use some of the offerings to fight them?
No. Considering their strength against the chimera, even ten offerings wouldn’t be enough to overwhelm them.
“The amount of bl**d won’t suffice if they d*e.”
Muttering darkly, the elder headed to the altar center with his grapevine staff.
There was no choice but to perform the ritual despite incomplete preparations and damaged intentions. He just needed to succeed in opening the gate with a simplified version.
Fortunately, the barrier would delay their entry significantly. Performing the abbreviated ritual would suffice.
“Great Bacchus, twice-born Bacchus. I offer you bl**d, transforming it into immortal wine…”
With sufficient offerings, filling the gaps with his own abilities would…
“What are you doing?”
A sudden voice interrupted.
Reacting instinctively, the elder summoned divine power. The divine authority granted by the god of pleasure and wine manifested. A sticky sweetness mixed with floral fragrance spread throughout the space.
This holy prayer mimicking sacred wine produced a dizzying alcoholic aroma that would knock anyone unconscious upon inhaling.
However, Ortes remained unaffected.
“Purple robes. You must be quite high-ranking in the Bacchus Cult. Isn’t that color usually reserved for bishops?”
The clearly spoken question made the elderly bishop Sikton of the Bacchus Cult tremble.
Only those who believed in gods like themselves would know so much about the cult.
“You sc*m! Dogs of the Ten Towers! Have you tracked us here?”
Because only Blasphemias had slaughtered their comrades in the past.
“Now I understand why you were much stronger than that random chimera. You belong to the Ten Towers…”
*
The resentful muttering directed at me.
Had positioning Neuro upstairs to deliver news to Carisia been the right move in case I couldn’t escape?
That gentleman seemed to have an overly rich imagination. Listening to him might have inflated my actions with bizarre fantasies again.
‘Is this divine power I’m sensing?’
The energy flowing through the magic circle before I interfered was indeed divine power. Though slightly different from what I felt at Phobos’ temple, perhaps due to the difference in deities.
‘What was that technique manipulating mana itself?’
“Calm down, sir.”
I took out Phobos’ crystal artifact from my pocket. Both to create an opening by reassuring the bishop of Bacchus and to extract information.
“I’m not from Blasphemias. If I were a heretic desecrating the sacred, would I be so respectfully preserving the artifact of Phobos Proopsios?”
The crystal in my hand emitted light. Witnessing the crystal’s brilliance, the old bishop opened his mouth.
“The artifact of the god Phobos. So that’s why the illusion barrier didn’t affect you!”
The bishop’s initially surprised expression changed. He appeared even more fierce now than when mistakenly identifying me as a Blasphemias member.
“Then you must be sent by the pope. Sending a priest of Phobos who can see through Bacchus’ illusions means the reason is obvious…”
Confusion arose.
I was certainly surprised by the recent trend of people I met assuming I betrayed their organizations.
However, the biggest source of confusion was something else.
‘Does the pope actually exist?’
Was it not just part of Blasphemias’ setting play?
