675 Evil
In a few swift strides, Rhea positioned herself behind the slaves, raised her right foot, and delivered a powerful kick.
With a resounding bang, the slave pressing down on the mixed-blood lady’s maid was sent flying, landing unceremoniously in the bushes at the garden’s edge.
The other three abruptly turned to face Rhea.
Before they could get a clear look at their assailant, Rhea followed up with a fluid roundhouse kick, knocking another one to the ground.
The remaining two, torn between greed, desire, and fear, took one look at Rhea and turned tail, fleeing to another part of the manor.
Rhea retracted her left foot and fixed a cold stare upon the two servants struggling to their feet. She raised her hunting bow, nocking an arrow with a smooth, practiced motion.
The two servants licked their lips in unison. Unwilling but fearful, they swiftly clambered over the bushes and vanished into the garden.
Only then did Rhea lower her gaze to the mixed-blood lady’s maid, whose face was still streaked with tears and confusion.
“Are you all right?”
The mixed-blood lady’s maid shook her head repeatedly. With trembling hands, she hastily tidied her half-torn dress and retrieved a dagger that had fallen beside her.
Seeing this, Rhea wasted no time.
“Find a secluded corner and hide until dawn.”
With that, Rhea pivoted on her heel and prepared to dash back to where Louis Berry, Camus, and the others stood waiting at the door of the manor’s main building.
As the mixed-blood lady’s maid stood up, her expression darkened, and she raised the dagger clutched in her hand, plunging it towards Rhea’s back.
Catching sight of the impending danger, Camus shouted, “Watch out!”
Though Rhea hadn’t sensed the approaching threat, she instinctively heeded Camus’s warning and reacted.
Surrendering to inertia, she fell forward and rolled to the side, narrowly evading the dagger’s deadly path.
As she rolled, Rhea pivoted to face her attacker, eyes narrowing as she instinctively raised her bow, aiming at the mixed-blood lady’s maid.
The mixed-blood lady’s maid brandished her dagger, shouting in Intisian, her words laced with hatred, “Why can you join the patrol team, while I’m stuck as a mere lady’s maid? Don’t we both hail from the Southern Continent?
“Why? I even have Intisian blood coursing through my veins!”
Before she could complete her tirade, a crimson Fire Raven, its hue bordering on white, swooped in from nowhere, colliding with the steel dagger.
With a resounding clang, the dagger heated up, an explosive force wrenching it from the mixed-blood lady’s maid’s grasp, sending it flying several meters before clattering to the ground.
The mixed-blood lady’s maid faltered, fear supplanting the hatred in her eyes.
Lumian, his black hair and green eyes striking, stood on the steps of the manor’s main house, one hand casually tucked in his pocket. He called out, his voice carrying, “Where is Miss Amandina?”
Uh… A pang of embarrassment struck Camus.
In his haste to rescue Miss Amandina, he had acted with a distinct lack of professionalism!
He had been a guest at Palm Manor, but he had never been invited to visit Amandina’s room upstairs. Consequently, he found himself unsure of which floor and room to search for her later.
If he were to search floor by floor, he would undoubtedly encounter countless obstacles amidst the current chaos.
The mixed-blood lady’s maid’s expression shifted, revealing a blatant desire and anticipation.
“She’s sleeping in her room. Third floor, second room facing the rubber forest.
“Make haste. She’s a vision of beauty, fragrant and pristine. Her figure is exquisite, her skin smooth as silk. She’s a cut above the rest of us. Many a gentleman considers her their dream lover. Go, quickly!”
As she neared the end of her speech, the mixed-blood lady’s maid gritted her teeth, her eyes alight with an illusory desire to witness something transpire.
Lugano’s hair stood on end, a chill running down his spine as he confronted the stark malevolence of human nature.
Clap! Clap! Clap! Lumian shook his head, a smile playing on his lips as he applauded.
Rhea fell silent for a couple of seconds before rising to her feet and departing the area.
After a few steps, she paused, turning to regard the mixed-blood lady’s maid. In a deep, solemn voice, she reiterated, “Find a secluded spot and hide until dawn.”
With those parting words, Rhea turned away from the mixed-blood lady’s maid and sprinted back to the steps at the main house’s entrance.
Lumian averted his gaze and led the way through the open brown door.
As he, Camus, and the others entered, they were greeted by a startling sight in the living room. A middle-aged woman in a disheveled nightgown, her half-exposed body glistening with sweat and her black hair in disarray, sat astride a sturdy native slave. Her movements were intense, and she appeared utterly immersed, alternating between shouting and cursing. The native slave, clearly enjoying the experience, eagerly cooperated.
Near the staircase, a group of five or six servants and slaves, armed with an assortment of shotguns, rifles, and other weapons, intermittently fired bullets up the stairs. Occasional counterattacks emanated from the area leading to the second floor.
Camus stood frozen, his gaze fixed on the middle-aged woman’s flushed face.
“You know her?” Lumian asked, a smile playing on his lips.
It was Rhea who replied, “She’s Sir Petit’s wife, Miss Amandina’s mother, Madam Simona.”
“I never imagined she would be like this…” Camus said, his voice low and somber.
Lumian smiled and applauded once more.
“Can’t she indulge in her dreams?
“For the Dream Festival, this is something we should encourage. No one is being forced. How delightfully harmless.”
Camus found himself momentarily at a loss for words.
Lumian then said to Rhea, “During the Dream Festival, there’s a high likelihood that the person you save will also be a bad person and may even attack you.”
Rhea fell silent for a few seconds before responding in a low voice, “Even if something like that happens again, I’ll still save her.”
Lumian dropped the subject and shifted his attention to Camus.
“Are you prepared to see the other side of Miss Amandina? Perhaps she will…”
Lumian left the sentence unfinished, instead casting a meaningful glance at Madam Simona, who was in the throes of fierce, foul-mouthed ecstasy.
Camus exhaled slowly, his voice resolute.
“I’m here to save her. It doesn’t matter if she’s good or bad, kind, malicious, chaste, or indulgent.
“After helping her find a safe hiding place and making sure she waits until dawn, we’ll head to Twanaku’s house.”
I’m here to save her. It doesn’t matter if she’s good or bad, kind, malicious… Lumian quietly repeated the first half of the sentence, a smile playing on his lips as he regarded the servants and slaves attempting to occupy the staircase. He raised his voice, asking, “Has anyone seen Miss Amandina? Has she come downstairs?”
The servants and slaves turned their attention to Lumian and his companions, swiftly redirecting their firearms.
Lumian calmly extended his right hand, making a grabbing motion.
With this gesture, crimson flames, their hue bordering on white, ignited in the air, forming a curtain that Lumian seemed to snatch from the void.
With a deft grab and push, the fiery curtain abruptly split, transforming into Fire Birds that hurtled towards the shotguns, rifles, and revolvers before they could be properly aimed.
Amidst a series of muffled explosions, the guns dropped from the servants’ and slaves’ hands, clattering to the ground, damaged beyond use.
The servants and slaves themselves suffered only minor burns, their grip on their weapons faltering.
Since advancing to Reaper, Lumian’s mastery over flames had grown. Even without the Lie earring, he could achieve this level of control.
Moreover, he hadn’t unleashed his full power. He hadn’t even summoned the blazing white flames in order to minimize the damage.
“Now, can we have a civilized conversation?” Lumian smiled at the servants and slaves.
Behind him, crimson Fire Ravens, their color nearly white, materialized, poised to strike at a moment’s notice.
An Intisian valet, who seemed to hold some influence among the group, couldn’t conceal his fear as he replied, “Amandina hasn’t come down. Otherwise…”
He couldn’t help but lick his lips.
“And who were you shooting at?” Lumian inquired.
“It’s Petit, that bastard who deserves to rot in hell, and his butler, the one who’s always wielding that damn whip!” A dark-skinned slave picked up the fallen firearm, only to discover that it was broken, just like everyone else’s.
They had planned to retrieve more guns from another room on the first floor, but for now, they didn’t dare make a move.
“Is that so?” Lumian nodded, a look of enlightenment crossing his features. “Carry on, then.”
He turned around, leading the ten to twenty Fire Ravens that had gradually dispersed, and said to Camus and the others,
“Let’s scale the side of the building to reach the third floor.”
Teleportation wasn’t an optimal option at this distance, not after having used it four times already.
Of course, since advancing to Reaper, Lumian could now perform 11 to 12 Spirit World Traversals without relying on the spirituality accumulated through his Ascetic abilities. It was a marked improvement from his previous limitations.
Camus and the others raised no objections. Lugano, however, trembled as he asked, “H-how am I supposed to climb?”
He swung the stump that was all that remained of his right arm.
Lumian glanced at him and said matter-of-factly, “Camus will assist you.”
Me? Camus was momentarily taken aback before assessing his own skills and concluding that it was indeed feasible.
Before long, the four of them had ascended to the third floor, making use of the statues, decorations, metal pipes, and side balcony adorning the outer wall.
As soon as Camus pushed open the door leading to the corridor, he caught sight of a figure.
It was Amandina’s personal maid, an Intisian lady’s maid clad in a white cloth nightgown.
At that moment, the young lady’s maid stood bathed in the dim moonlight, a bloody dagger clutched in her hand, her expression inscrutable.
Drip. Drip. The bright red blood from the dagger fell onto the corridor carpet, each drop a vivid splash of color.
Camus’s heart clenched.
“What have you done?”
The lady’s maid’s face broke into a satisfied, carefree smile.
“I killed it. I’ve been annoyed by it for far too long!”
It? In Intisian, “she” and “it” were two entirely different words. Amidst his surprise, Camus followed the trail of dripping blood, his gaze falling upon Amandina’s beloved pet dog, lying motionless at the door of the adjacent room.
Phew… Camus breathed a sigh of relief before asking in a deep, serious voice, “Where’s Miss Amandina?”
The lady’s maid’s expression turned resentful.
“I’m looking for her too! She left an hour ago!”
An hour ago… Before the Dream Festival began? Camus pressed further, “Where did she go?”
The lady’s maid, still holding the blood-stained dagger, replied with a contorted expression, “She went on a date with my Robert!”
Camus fell silent.
Lumian shook his head. Under the watchful eyes of the lady’s maid, who yearned to kill but felt outnumbered, he swiftly searched the entire third floor with Rhea and the others, but found no trace of Amandina.
“Let’s go.” Lumian turned to Camus, his voice firm.
Camus had no choice but to concede defeat.
The four of them immediately teleported outside Hisoka’s house.
Just as Lumian was about to proceed, he sensed something and looked up at the third floor.
A face appeared through the glass window of a room on the third floor.
The face was graced with a high nose bridge, piercing blue eyes, and thick black hair tied into a simple knot atop her head. Her brows exuded a youthful, vibrant aura.
Amandina!
It was said that Amandina had gone on a date with her fiancé, Robert!
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