A colossal ship, its massive groan tearing through the air and reaching the base of the castle, drew stares of disbelief. Yet, for the one observing, their heightened senses remained fully alert, instantly catching the anomaly in the sound.
The hinges of a window creaked as it opened.
In response to the emperor’s plea for cooperation, the Manor of the God of Night Shadow was now under martial law. Movements in and out were monitored by stationed guards, and a directive had been issued to report even the simple act of opening a window, just to be safe.
Ordinarily, a place like the manor, proud of its independent spirit, would have outright rejected such an affront to its autonomy.
However, they bore their own responsibilities, their own failings. Accepting the other party’s request was the simplest form of penance. Most importantly, the Chief Archbishop judged that if this minor inconvenience could prevent a scandal so grave that it might cost not only the Archbishop’s but possibly even a Senior Monk’s head, it was quite a bargain.
Thus, the manor’s adherence to the martial law declaration should have been stringent.
Which made it highly likely that the noise had come from outside intervention.
In this multi-species city, there were no shortage of beings capable of scaling buildings. A faction of reptilian kinds could cling and crawl like they were suction-cupped to walls. Various insectoid races, such as the spider people, excelled in climbing. Hence, it was not unusual for residents to take shortcuts through windows instead of doors, only to be reprimanded by the guards for their laziness.
He obeyed his thoughts and senses, taking “flight.” With powerful strokes, the wings extending from his back sliced through the air, his innate magic repelling the jealously-named gravity.
Curling his body mid-air in a maneuver only attainable with a humanoid physique, he executed a sharp aerial turn mere inches from the rooftop. To the untrained eye, this might seem like an impressive but trivial acrobatic skill, yet to those accustomed to aerial combat, it was the basic technique that often separated life from death based on slight adjustments in course.
The “Skyhunter,” an agile being with a beak cutting close to the roof tiles, spotted an intruder clinging to the wall. He shouted loudly.
“You there! What are you doing? Stop and remove your coat!”
Judging by the build, the figure was almost certainly of the Human Race, young and male. Humans, to him, were among the easiest creatures to deal with.
For reasons unknown, they held a collective misconception that beings like “raptors,” to which his kind belonged, shared the night-blindness of “domestic poultry.”
Of course, this kind of racial stereotype was prevalent in the multi-species empire. Such as the belief that aquatic races would perish if not submerged for half a day, vampires would dissolve under sunlight, rodent races loved nuts to wear down their teeth, and winged beings suffered from night blindness.
And the Human Race itself wasn’t immune to such misconceptions—often mistaken for their adaptability in nearly all environments. They’d often draw puzzled looks when they complained about the heat or cold.
In any judgment, one might occasionally rely on a sense of obligation and handle things carelessly. And when that happened, it was often at the worst moment—a terrible dice roll or fatal oversight would reveal just how flawed the judgment was.
I think the task itself succeeded. After all, Cecilia successfully entered the Manor through the second-floor window using her invisible steps crafted through the “Grasping Hand” technique. Secretly, I had hoped that, as a vampire, she might sprout wings for a more grand entrance, but that was my inner wish.
And then, as I prepared to follow her, this happened.
“You there! What are you doing? Stop and remove your coat!”
For a moment, I didn’t understand what was being said—not because I hadn’t realized I was spotted, but because the voice, ill-suited for articulate speech, sounded like scraping glass.
Failure in stealth, failure in reaction. Fortunately, I was given this formal warning—if there had been no warning, I might not have been able to initiate a defensive judgment.
Guard units typically do not immediately resort to force, instead offering a warning first before escalating. Guards patrolling urban streets or accompanying royal processions must receive similar training.
Because they have time. If they can easily handle an adversary becoming combat-ready after a warning, taking that extra step is more profitable than unnecessarily brutalizing someone and earning the ire of civilians.
The guard was requesting a demonstration of both identity and non-armament. However, the intruder had already shifted into an attacking posture. It was expected: anyone sneaking into a building under lockdown was bound to be trouble. Having fulfilled their basic duty, the guard now had the green light to unleash their power.
With wings fully outstretched, the guard prepared for an attack. The boots on their feet, resembling sandal-structured boots, revealed their specialized race-specific equipment designed to maximize the power of a kick. If tackled by such force, flesh would be sliced through like a rare steak, and bones might not stand a chance without proper preparation.
A definitive counter strike, a claw reflecting the dying sunlight with a threatening edge that could knock someone unconscious—or worse—should it hit directly.
I instinctively cancelled my handhold for climbing and transitioned into free fall. By keeping one “hand” active until the very end and leaning unnaturally forward, I created an evasive maneuver. My gratitude extends to the serious guard who gave me another chance with the warning and my innate “<Lightning Reflex>” trait that caught the brief opportunity.
The claw whistled past my nose… Terrifying! In the moment of panic, the hand holding my hood almost dispersed into mist!
On the brink of wetting myself, I flipped in mid-air like a cat, landing on my hands. Flexing my joints to dissipate the impact while redirecting my force leftward, I then grounded my shoulder, transitioning into a rolling motion to disperse the remaining shock. Even with all the precautions taken, magic was still far cheaper in terms of cost.
No time for complacency. Leveraging the momentum of the roll, I swiftly rose to my feet and escaped into the alleyway. If caught and interrogated, everything would be ruined. Given the situation, there was a real possibility they might summon a Psychic Mage—it was essential to escape.
“Hey! Stop, you there! Damn it!”
Winged beings may dominate the skies, but Humans excel when it comes to running on the ground. Granted, there are exceptions—winged beings who oddly run faster—but given the alley’s constraints, a winged pursuer could only chase clumsily. Avoiding their initial strike should grant considerable advantage.
“What the… Damned fast ground crawler…”
And then the sound of a whistle—expected. Of course, they have a method to summon additional patrols during emergencies as part of their patrol protocols.
The whistle alerted nearby guards who regained focus, their previously diverted gaze now finally landing on the ground.
“Ow! Who’s that young man…?”
“Out of the way!”
I shouldered a young human guard against the wall, taking the opportunity to borrow his staff. In this relatively peaceful area, the standard patrol configuration often didn’t include spears, though the guards occasionally carried swords.
“Oh! W…what!?”
Trapped between the wall and my momentum, the guard let out a gasp of distress. In my hands, the staff was spun deftly, held under my arm, ready for action.
Now, what to do next…
Hmm, I have no idea.
Having fled out of consideration for Cecilia, I leave her future in her capable hands. My issue is my immediate predicament.
What will happen if I’m caught?
Given the severity of the events, claiming “I was just hungry” won’t cut it. And if Agrippina gets contacted, I might not be able to explain away my actions so easily.
Two figures appeared ahead… A surprise attack seems impossible, as they’ve already been alerted by the whistle. Guess I’ll have to go head-on.
Ordinary guards may receive military training, but for someone at my level, even inexperienced, they’re far from challenging. Not to mention, the capital is simply too peaceful.
“Kya!”
Without raising the staff, I leaned forward, inviting the guard to strike my head. Nothing tempts opponents more than an apparent opening.
I didn’t block—I allowed the hit. By stepping left, I evaded the strike directed where I intended. While still holding the staff under my arm, I swung it upward, using my armpit as a pivot point and transferring force through the staff to deliver a clean hit under the guard’s unguarded jaw. Using the principle of the lever, the forward guard was swiftly incapacitated.
“What?!?”
The bewildered second guard hesitated, showing he lacked the reflexes common in guards from more active regions who would have used their downed comrade to push through.
Additionally, he seemed inept in close-quarter combat. His attempted swing was deflected when the staff hit the alley’s wall. A simple tilt of my neck was enough to evade, and instead of resisting his momentum, I gently guided it, turning his own strength against him.
“Oof…gah!?!”
As he stumbled, his kinetic energy seemed too precious to waste. Aligning my toe with the anticipated position of his jaw, I executed a kick. Crude but effective, ensuring the guard lost consciousness.
…Yeah, he’s alive. Maybe his teeth will feel the brunt when eating harder foods, but they don’t appear broken, so it’s fine.
Alright, how many more rounds do I have to go?
“There was a noise over here!”
“Spread out and encircle! Expand outward!”
“Reinforcements are coming soon! Prioritize identifying locations!”
Alright, let’s intensify the game a bit. Compared to playing hide-and-seek with Margit, this is nothing. Considering my life’s on the line, it’s about the same level of challenge.
As I vaulted over the two fallen guards, my earrings chimed encouragingly…
The sudden intrusion through the window caused Cecilia to land gracelessly, needing several seconds to fully grasp the situation.
The shouts from outside, the chaotic sounds, and the piercing sirens overwhelmed her senses as her large eyes blinked rapidly, trying to process the rigid reality. Before she could fully digest it, the situation progressed without her.
Ah, recognizing that we’ve failed, and Erich has been exposed, she was about to cry out. Or rather, she tried. Drawing a breath, moving her tongue, yet to her surprise, her words didn’t ripple through the air this time.
Glancing around for answers, she noticed faint phosphenes of pale light drifting about. This was the presence “used” by Erich to obstruct detection during his actions.
Despite her father-endowed keen magical sight and her role as a devout servant of the divine, her life of faith had shielded her from the deeper mysteries, leaving her unable to see what could not explicitly be revealed to her.
The two-toned faint phosphorescent lights danced around. And in a voice that seemed both weary and tender, he spoke to her somehow.
She had heard about such beings before, yet Erich simply referred to them as fairies, withholding their names as something solely for her to know.
The phosphorescent flickers danced in urgency, signaling that the fairy lingered nearby despite the dire circumstances, showing concern for her.
She wanted to open the window and shout to him to spare her any harm, realizing even a sheltered lady would understand that being apprehended would complicate matters.
However, leaving her an attendant meant that he hadn’t given up.
And he trusted her.
Believed that she, too, could accomplish her task and escape.
After a brief tremble, Cecilia clenched her fists, brushed the dust off the borrowed robe, and stood tall. Knowing full well her voice was silenced, she beseeched the alternating green and black phosphorescent lights swirling around her.
“Could you lend me your strength?”
The light hesitated, as if surprised by a direct request, resembling a person bewildered by an unexpected event.
Eventually, the hidden fairy agreed through its spiraling motion towards the door.
“Follow me,” it seemed to say.
The monk was slightly distracted by the incessant whistles in the distance, but interpreted them as beacons affirming his continued presence. He cast off any doubts and prepared.
Let’s revisit an old game.
Like hiding in the luggage of a great person in a game of hide-and-seek—surely she, too, must have such memories of mischief and reprimands.
Fairies are not visible to everyone, only those they wish to show themselves to. Thus, a child might wander into the twilight hills while their searching parents might never catch sight of the accompanying fairies. The only way to reveal a hidden fairy is through a superior magic-sight capability.
I deeply apologize for the long wait.
Due to work, a chaotic period—battling the month-end raid boss solo—led me into a streak of fourteen days working late until past ten each night. Hence, I’ve been stuck without progress.
It’s still going to be a bit busy, but it seems to be improving slightly, so I intend to update by next weekend.
