Eastern District.
Maney's residence.
Hours later, as the night drew to a close and the purple hue of the morning sun dyed the sky, twelve robed cultists appeared before Maney, who was still wrapped in his blanket.
In front of them, a figure made out of darkness manifested.
Maney was still sleeping, or at least, he appeared so–until his mouth moved as he lay still on his bed.
"For all of you to appear by my side… something beyond expectations happened?"
"Lord Priest, we were attacked before we could even set off the first outbreak." One of the robed cultists said.
Maney still didn't open his eyes or move from the position he was in. "By whom?"
"The young governor. We found out that he's a mage… a very powerful one. His aura was strong enough to force our retreat. Even So-Lana's charm failed."
Suddenly, the man's eyelids trembled right before revealing a deep purplish pupil that slowly changed into black.
"Hmm?" Maney sat up and looked at the one called So-Lana. "Let me see your tongue."
So-Lana raised her hands to lift the hood of her robe, revealing a pale, symmetrical, and attractive face.
She pushed out her tongue and it stretched and slithered like a snake before reaching Maney's hand.
On it was a totem, a tattoo of a face that only had a mouth.
Maney held her tongue in his hand, using his index finger to probe the totem.
Powerful and possessive whispers that could drive one mad, reached his ears. But they did nothing to him.
After a while, he let go. "The power of the Faceless Order of speech remains on your tongue. Are you certain that it was Marcus Sirdi you came across?" He asked with a frown.
Out of everything that could have happened, everything that he had assumed could go wrong, Marcus being a mage, and attacking them before they even began was not a probability he foresaw.
"Yes, Priest. He was able to save more than thirteen thousand sacrificial tokens. Another two thousand were killed when covering our escape route." So-Lana replied.
Maney paused and rubbed his chin…
A Sirdi that knows magic? This is a different path from his ancestors. Who had taught him magic? If he's a powerful mage, had he been in hiding for over a decade?
Many questions ran through Maney's mind. He was finding it hard to believe this news.
Maney had avoided going after Marcus directly for two reasons. The first being that he was a noble of Ulha, recognized or not. And at the same time, he was a descendant of Daemon Sirdi.
Even though they were a fallen noble lineage now, he was certain that there were still powerful followers of the fallen Duke, in hiding.
Touching a child of their master would attract their attention. That was more trouble than he was willing to face over a young noble he deemed insignificant and weak.
The second reason had to do with the Royal Council. He had been careful to avoid their attention while making his plans.
Only recently did Maney realize that they were somewhat aware of their activities in Agard and they let it be.
Maney shook his head slightly. "I suppose I should start taking this young lord seriously." He muttered.
More importantly, how did he find out about the underground structure, and how much more does he know? No, who exactly is the master that trained him to be strong enough to resist the power of an Order from the Faceless totem?
After a while of questioning himself, Maney finally stopped.
"Have the students find out what the young lord knows, and keep some eyes on him. We can't afford to ignore him any longer."
"As you command!" The twelve robed cultists left his room, leaving the dark figure alone with Maney.
"What should we do about the ones the young lord rescued? They have already been prepared and marked. Though their number is nothing compared to the total, it will still affect the plan." The dark figure said.
A few seconds passed before the corners of Maney's lips lifted slightly.
"Cause and effect. The young lord has made his move, but I unintentionally made a move before his. Let them be. The suffering they will bring will even be stronger than what we would have caused alone." Maney got up from his bed and walked to a curtain.
He pushed the cloth aside, revealing a window that framed the gesture of dawn in the sky for a second.
"Let the young lord have his pleasure now. We will laugh last."
Rays from the sun entered the room. With its appearance, the dark figure faded into nothing.
***
Grazed by the morning sun, the weather remained slightly chilled.
Many people, save from the underground hall, were awake and all lined up below Marcus. He was standing on the roof of a building that overlooked the tavern.
The young viscount was tired, though part of his mana had recovered, there was still the pain from opening and closing his Heart Pulse, and then the fatigue from battle.
Most of all, his silent fury.
Seeing all these people wake up filled him with mixed emotions.
Sympathy, anger… and questionably, guilt.
This guilt didn't come from him not being around to provide a better life for his people, but it came from him being weak.
If I had a bit more mana in me, those who passed away wouldn't have…
"You're worried about those you lost, when you should be grateful for those you saved," Veronica said, snapping him out of his thoughts.
"I am grateful… for them, and you."
Veronica was caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice.
"However, if I was stronger, they wouldn't have died."
Her head tilted to the side slightly. He is only a few years older than me and is already strong enough to deal with Radiant-ranked fighters–yet he thinks he's still weak?
It sounded like a joke to her. For his age, Marcus was powerful enough as a mage.
That spell he was about to cast… it was no ordinary Earth spell. It felt grand.
"Perhaps you're stronger than you know."
Marcus turned and gazed into her eyes. He was trying to figure out what she meant by this statement.
As for Veronica, she only uttered words of encouragement.
They locked eye for a few seconds before Veronica nervously broke it.
"Maybe I am… maybe," Marcus said under his breath.