The barrage of explosions dragged on for nearly half an hour before finally fading into silence. During that long, excruciating wait, the local Taran residents—already pushed to the absolute edge of panic—were plunged into deep terror once again. They believed the Victorian soldiers had broken the temporary peace and launched another assault against them!
Unaware of the truth, the terrified townsfolk only knew that danger had returned. Driven by sheer desperation, they grabbed whatever makeshift weapons they could lay hands on and poured into the streets, ready to fight to the death.
How much abuse were they expected to endure? First last night's nightmare, and now this? Who could possibly swallow such an outrage without snapping?
In the blink of an eye, violent clashes erupted between the Tarans and the local Victorian garrison. The locals hemmed the garrisoned soldiers directly inside their own residential sectors. If the troops dared to attempt another bombardment, the Tarans were prepared to drag every single Victorian down into the dirt with them.
Had the surrounding neighborhoods not already been cordoned off by garrison troops, the angry crowd would have surged outward to drag even more Victorians into the fray, forcing them to experience the exact same horror firsthand.
The entire Taran quarter descended into complete madness. With no authority left to maintain order, people roamed the streets like enraged beasts. A few opportunistic scoundrels even took advantage of the chaos to ransack nearby shops and storefronts.
The long-suppressed rage had finally broken its banks. The few Victorian soldiers attempting to plead for calm were completely ignored. The only reason the enraged mob hadn't beaten them to death on the spot was lingering hesitation over the legendary knights who had arrived from Londinium.
Among the onlookers stood Janie. She watched the crowd spiraling into madness, utterly lost on what to do. Her strength alone could never restore peace to this fractured city.
"Come back inside! If you stay out there any longer, those people are going to beat you to death!" a Rhodes Island operator called out, grabbing the Victorian soldier's arm with a weary sigh and pulling her into the Rhodes Island safehouse where the rest of the team was taking shelter.
"These people have been pushed way past their limit by terror and oppression," the operator explained, watching the mob surge past the building's windows. "That broadcast audio was just the final straw that snapped their sanity. Trying to reason with them right now is completely useless."
The operator paused, gazing out at the chaotic street before adding softly, "Honestly, I don't blame the Tarans for reacting like this. What the Victorian authorities did here was enough to turn anyone's blood cold."
Janie opened her mouth, but found herself completely at a loss for words. While the local riot had certainly turned ugly, the root cause was entirely of Victoria's own making—the inevitable explosion of years of abuse by the local garrison.
"We can't just let this go on," another operator chimed in, deep worry etching their brow. "If this continues, the Victorian military will use the riot as an excuse to put them down with lethal force. They won't care about Taran grievances or injustice—they'll just label everyone out there as Victorian-hating rebels and open fire!"
The room fell into a heavy silence as the operators sat around the table, sighing in frustration. The easiest way to bury a scandal, after all, was to silence the vast majority of those who knew about it forever. But stuck inside the safehouse, none of them knew how to break the terrifying deadlock.
Meanwhile, Jeanne and Talulah finally stepped out of their lodging. Watching the hysterical crowds tearing through the streets, Talulah felt a level of exasperation that defied words.
"Well?" Jeanne turned to the tall Draco beside her, who had covered her face in sheer exhaustion. "Are you still planning to step in and handle this?"
Things had deteriorated to a point where standard intervention wouldn't work. If anyone present had a chance of bringing these panicked people to a halt, it was the woman standing next to her.
Her noble heritage gave her the leverage needed to command their attention.
"Sigh..." Talulah let out a long, heavy breath, feeling utterly drained. Had she known events would turn out like this, she would have seriously reconsidered setting foot in this place. At the very least, what the eye didn't see, the heart wouldn't grieve over.
"I'll go calm the crowd," Talulah said, glancing at Jeanne. "You should head out and figure out what actually triggered those explosions."
With that, the Draco turned and strode directly toward the chaotic mob.
A moment later, a towering pillar of brilliant flame erupted into the sky behind her. Utilizing her Originium Arts to draw every eye in the quarter to herself, Talulah began working to bring the terrified Tarans back to their senses.
Jeanne, meanwhile, made her way straight toward the local military garrison. According to her divine revelations, the heart of the matter lay right at that location.
Along the main road, Jeanne passed several massive craters that looked like shell impacts, alongside a messy, trampled battlefield. Though surprisingly few bodies littered the ground, the area had clearly seen heavy fighting.
The moment she stepped into the open, surrounding guards snapped their weapons up, aiming directly at the unexpected intruder. A single wrong move would draw a volley of crossbow bolts.
"Halt! Hands in the air and state your business!"
The soldiers clearly took her for an enemy. Jeanne had no intention of raising her hands, simply casting a calm, sweeping glance over the visibly rattled guards.
"Saintess of Laterano," she announced plainly. "I'm here to find out what in the world just happened. The entire town is going mad because of whatever took place on your end!"
Her words didn't immediately ease their guard. Unsure whether her claim was genuine, the soldiers dispatched a runner to find someone who could verify her identity. They did, however, lower their crossbows slightly, signaling that they weren't about to shoot on sight.
"Please wait a moment while we confirm your identity," a guard said stiffly. "A rather... indescribable farce broke out here earlier. We ask for your patience..."
Jeanne knew the man was talking complete nonsense. Whatever had transpired here was far too violent to be brushed off as a mere "farce"—this had been a full-blown combat engagement. But she refrained from calling out his flimsy excuse, understanding that the guard was simply terrified of speaking out of turn.
Before long, a fatigued middle-aged Feline strode into view. Jeanne recognized him instantly—he was one of the Steam Knights she had met earlier.
"My apologies for presenting you with such a scene, Saintess," the middle-aged Feline said politely. "Please, step inside our camp first. We can discuss the details indoors."
He gestured for her to enter the garrison grounds. Seeing their commander's invitation, the surrounding soldiers finally sheathed their weapons and returned to clearing the battlefield.
Jeanne walked into the encampment without a trace of hesitation, completely unbothered by the possibility of a trap. Towering Steam Knights stood silent vigil around the perimeter; evidently, the knights hadn't even piloted their heavy steam armor during the recent clash.
Watching Jeanne stroll in so casually, the middle-aged Feline couldn't help but feel a pang of quiet admiration. Walking into an unfamiliar military camp demanded immense bravery—especially considering they had shared a somewhat... awkward interaction earlier. Had she not considered that they might detain her to use as leverage against Talulah?
"It seems the battle didn't hit your forces very hard," Jeanne remarked smoothly, surveying the surroundings.
"To be frank, had a sudden riot not broken out in our rear, we wouldn't have even realized what they were aiming for," the Feline knight replied, a sharp trace of anger lacing his voice. He glanced toward a distant section of the camp where violet flames were still sputtering—the isolated holding area where the captured Dublinn members had been kept.
"In other words... they escaped?" Jeanne asked, already assembling the pieces of the puzzle.
"We cannot say for certain," the knight claimed, waving a dismissive hand. "Those flames are impossible to extinguish, leaving us unable to verify whether the captives are dead or alive."
Jeanne stared at the knight, her expression turning cold and sharp.
"You let them escape on purpose... and you deliberately allowed the panic in the Taran quarter to boil over into a full riot. Am I wrong?"