— One day before the assault.
The outskirts of the Upper City. The Bellamor mansion stood alone on the grounds of an enormous private estate, far from the city center packed with modern buildings. Its architectural style and decorations seemed long out of fashion. Yet this very anachronistic grandeur inspired both envy and admiration among the influential figures of the Upper City.
The Bellamor family had originally been a noble house with a title from another kingdom; rumors said they had fled here in the past during a coup. In other words, it was a family with traditions and history of genuine noble blood — something rare in Border City. For that reason the balls they occasionally hosted were so popular that everyone dreamed of attending them.
...Although in reality they were places of feasting disguised as banquets.
In the deepest, most secret part of that dangerous mansion, two women faced each other across iron bars.
“Hello. So you’re the famous nineteenth shadow of Pendrox I’ve heard so much about?”
Clank.
Dimona slowly raised her head. Her dim eyes captured the woman standing before her.
Kate Bellamor. She looked dazzlingly radiant, completely out of place in this lifeless space. Silver ornaments, the fragrance drifting from her flowing silk garments. She stood in stark contrast to the cold, heavy shackles binding Dimona. Kate lifted the elf’s chin with a single finger and tilted her head slightly.
“You don’t look like much. Why is the Archbishop making such a fuss? And the diocesan head too.”
“Archbishop.” The moment that word left Kate’s lips, Dimona’s expression twisted ever so slightly. Noticing that ancient hatred, Kate burst out laughing as if she had seen something amusing.
“Ha-ha, how ridiculous.”
The cheerful expression froze instantly.
“You filthy pointy-eared creature... How dare you... You lived like a forest rat in damp filth, and by whose mercy do you think you even look human right now?”
Kate Bellamor. Dimona looked at her again in the dim light of the dungeon. On the surface she looked like a young woman in her early twenties, but Dimona instantly sensed the stench of centuries of rot emanating from her. As an elite Runner whose training Pendrox had invested everything into, and with access to countless classified records, she knew. She knew exactly how this woman’s “youth” was maintained.
Endless cannibalism and black magic.
A monster who gave birth to children herself to avoid suspicion about her eternal youth, then devoured one of them and assumed the child’s identity to continue living. Dimona moved her lips weakly.
“Kate... I think that was the name of your great-granddaughter?”
“...Hm.”
“Do you still remember your real name?”
A faint crack appeared in Kate’s eyes. The Dimona she despised had suddenly struck her most vulnerable point. Looking straight into her eyes, Dimona calmly continued:
“If it’s hard to remember, I’ll say it for you.”
“You.”
“Moretia, how does it feel to rot so beautifully?”
Smack.
Kate’s eyes twisted with rage and a sharp slap followed.
“You’re only acting so arrogant because you don’t know — the Runners who will crack open your skull have already left Pendrox.”
Then she grabbed Dimona’s hair roughly. Pure hatred dripped from her eyes as they stared at the elf’s pale skin and perfectly symmetrical face.
“You’d better hope that your grotesquely swollen brain obediently accepts modification. Otherwise you’ll be replaced by ‘this.’”
Rustle.
As soon as she finished speaking, “something” stirred and crawled out from inside Kate’s clothes.
“......”
Dimona slowly closed her eyes. In the cold, thick darkness she was grateful that instead of the horrifying thing she had just seen, a single face appeared in her mind.
On the way to the Bellamor mansion, Gunther thought. Since his transmigration he had experienced many events, but this would be the most dangerous.
[King of Ninety-Nine Defeats expresses respect for your knightly spirit]
[Alphonse of Red Street pats your shoulder, believing that saving a beauty is always the right path]
[Drug-Addicted Saint quietly offers a prayer, wishing you luck in battle]
[Ruler of the Oceans falls into deep thought upon seeing your devotion to your companions]
[Flying Ahead of the Wind flutters its wings nervously with tension and fear]
In the original game the Bellamor mansion was a dungeon that only opened after Act Two. To enter it, you had to reach 60 Charm, attend a ball in the Upper City, and after interacting with Kate Bellamor receive an invitation. She personally invited the player after deciding they were “good prey.”
That was how the standard Bellamor mansion route began. In fact, Gunther could choose that path even now. He had connections that would allow him to infiltrate the ball, and his Charm had long since exceeded 60. But—
“No time.”
This was reality, not a game. There was no telling when the next ball involving Kate Bellamor would take place. And most importantly, Luthien would never leave Dimona alone after she rebelled against them. She was an important resource, so they wouldn’t kill her, but they would certainly subjugate her with brainwashing or something far worse.
“There’s a high chance they’ll twist her using the power of that unknown god, just like they did with Seraz’s subordinates.”
A new god. As soon as his thoughts reached that point, Gunther’s expression hardened even more. He knew the Seven Evil Gods and their servants well. But he did not know “all” gods. The gods presented in the ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) game were limited, while in the myths and legends accumulated by Luthien throughout real history there existed countless monsters he knew nothing about. Therefore, the method to counter this new god was currently unknown.
So Gunther could only choose one thing.
Blitzkrieg.
Before the new god interfered. Before Dimona turned into a puppet.
Mobilize every resource and strike the Bellamor mansion head-on.
[Tiling!]
Gunther glanced at the updated scenario window.
[Personal scenario “Silver Responsibility” initiated!]
You are an uninvited guest. The opportunity to enter the banquet hall elegantly has disappeared. Now you must break through the main gate, risking your life. No one knows what traps and threats await ahead. Please survive and infiltrate the mansion.
That was right. Now he had to break through the front gate from the outside and overcome each stage of the mansion filled with traps and mechanisms. Fortunately, Seraz had given this operation the status of an “official mission,” allowing him to receive full support from the members of his platoon...
“It will be dangerous.”
After Gunther’s words, silence fell for a moment.
“Of course it will be dangerous. I swear, this is our first time participating in such a crazy operation too.”
Tarsha laughed cheerfully. As always, there wasn’t a trace of fear on her face. Only a shining sense of justice and the desire to help someone in trouble. Seraz had given her several lightning-element items. After making an offering just before the operation, Tarsha’s condition was perfect.
Crackle.
Blue sparks curled through her bright yellow hair. Levain also added a few words.
“Well... the higher the risk, the greater the reward. I don’t think you’d throw us into hell without any compensation.”
Levain was covered in new equipment he hadn’t had before. After disappearing the moment the assault was approved, he had returned fully armed some time later. His extraordinary thorough preparation inspired confidence, especially since in this location the role of his thief class would be absolute.
“Don’t... kh-ha... worry. No matter what wounds you receive, I... ha-ah! I’ll heal all of you.”
Parco, wearing the Crown of Thorns, was writhing in pain but still laughing.
“Let’s teach Luthien a painful lesson, kh-ugh! So they know — don’t you dare touch the Fourth Platoon and its friends, urgh!”
...It was a strange sight, but an encouraging one.
“Oh, I just can’t.”
Blanc was the last. She anxiously polished the mirror-like surface of the Seren Gless shield until it shone, then sighed heavily.
“...If things get scary, hide behind my back. I... I’ll somehow protect you all!”
“U-Understood.”
“T-T-Tarsha!!!”
[Flying Ahead of the Wind looks anxiously at its new contractor]
Blanc had temporarily formed a contract with Flying Ahead of the Wind. This deity paired well with a dodge-type tank, and since Gunther had supervised the process, the contract had been concluded fairly. However, Flying Ahead of the Wind seemed genuinely worried that its long-awaited new contractor might get hurt.
“......”
As Gunther looked at the faces of the platoon members, Tarsha suddenly smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“You know, on the first day of your assignment you said you’d command us, and I thought, ‘Great, another idiot sent here,’ but you really did become our official commander.”
The official appointment order had arrived from above today.
“Gunther.”
One by one the platoon members placed their hands on his shoulders. Silently, without words. The last was Levain. He took a short breath and squeezed Gunther’s shoulder firmly. In that gesture there was both the responsibility of the one who had passed on command and the expectations of a comrade.
“This is your first operation as the official commander. Say something. Everyone’s waiting for your words.”
The answer was already in Gunther’s heart.
“No matter what happens, I’ll make sure everyone returns alive.”
A short sentence. Yet the resolve within it was unlikely to be fully understood by anyone. The platoon members probably heard only the “responsibility of a commander.” Worthy words. A leader’s manifesto that could be trusted. But for Gunther it wasn’t merely a promise. It was a personal vow — even at the cost of several lives, he would save both Dimona and every one of these comrades.
Parco laughed boldly and straightened his back.
“Very reassuring. Alright then, let’s go.”
Rumble.
Beyond the vibrating windshield the Bellamor mansion appeared. Its silhouette submerged in deep darkness looked like something from an old Western horror film. Gothic spires and black ivy vines. Curtains tightly drawn over every window. And silence swallowing everything around it.
There was not a single person in front of the mansion, let alone troops guarding it from intrusion. Only the wide-open main gate, as if inviting Night Raven inside. Everyone’s gaze fixed on the iron gates standing open like a black maw.
“Hold on tight.”
Even before that ominous scene, Parco cheerfully pulled the gear lever. There was not a trace of hesitation or fear in his movements. The same was true for everyone else in the car.
Roar.
The engine thundered. Flaming headlights tore through the darkness. The moment the vibration of the chassis reached its limit...
They shot forward like a bullet. Like lightning. And rushed toward the mansion in the night.
.
.
.
[Tiling!]
[Scenario updated!]
— Attend the banquet prepared by Kate Bellamor!
