Gunther’s plan was simple.
“Strike during the banquet.”
Unfortunately, Gunther himself was tied hand and foot: by order of the head maid he had been assigned to serve the guests. But things were different for the members of the platoon. Since the guests had already arrived, the preparation of the annex had officially been completed. They could move relatively freely, and they became the backbone of the operation. Gunther quickly passed on the instructions.
“The banquet will last several hours. During that time you must search the priests’ rooms. There are bound to be ritual vessels or heretical texts there. As soon as you find them—destroy them on the spot.”
“...W-will that really help stop the ritual? Surely they have other preparations.”
“At the very least it will buy us time. Maybe they’ll even give up on performing the ritual today. Luthien in this era is far more cautious than in our time.”
“That’s true. Besides, this is an illusion anyway. If we survive the crisis, the run might still count. Alright, let’s go.”
It was a dangerous gamble. But no other opportunity was likely to appear. Every priest and most of the mansion’s servants were attending the illusory banquet. There would be no better moment to ransack their rooms. And if this day passed, there was no telling when the mind would once again be devoured by the penalty for “failing the conditions.”
They couldn’t hesitate.
“While you’re acting, I’ll identify the accomplice.”
Since he was serving drinks, he could observe the people in the banquet hall from the closest possible distance.
“I’ll try to find anyone suspiciously close to the priests or behaving strangely. And I’ll keep an eye on Mari as well. No matter how you look at it, she’s the key figure.”
They also prepared a signal in case something went wrong.
“If anything goes wrong, I’ll hang a handkerchief on the window in the corridor leading from the hall to the kitchen. If you see it—retreat immediately.”
The platoon members nodded firmly. Their strength had recovered a little, but it was still just a drop in the ocean. They couldn’t confront priests or paladins head-on. They had to act covertly.
At that moment Tarsha smirked and added:
“Don’t worry. Even if things go bad, we’ve always got a trump card.”
“A trump card? What kind of trump card?”
“Secret.”
Gunther was about to scold her for joking at such a time, but he stopped when he realized the implication of Tarsha’s words. In the illusion space, breaking one’s “role” carried penalties. If Tarsha was planning something dangerous, merely knowing about the plan could expose the entire squad.
Tarsha had calculated that as well. A veteran, through and through.
“...Just don’t overdo it.”
“Hearing that from you is hilarious. Of all people, Mr. ‘Always on the edge.’”
Gunther drew one last short breath and encouraged the others.
“Alright. Let’s finish this and finally take off these damn maid dresses.”
Everyone except Parco—who looked slightly disappointed—nodded energetically.
.
.
.
That was several hours ago.
“Please, your glass is empty.”
Refilling a vassal’s goblet with wine, Gunther tried with all his strength not to glance toward the annex. The banquet had already been going on for more than an hour. It was about time the outcome of the operation was decided.
“What’s happening over there?”
Suppressing both anxiety and anticipation, Gunther tirelessly carried food and drinks around the hall. Naturally, he didn’t forget to observe the guests.
Contrary to expectations, the priests and vassals behaved quite properly, exchanging only formal phrases. No excessive familiarity, no suspicious movements.
...With one exception.
The leader of the priest delegation. Gunther focused his attention on him.
“Look at that.”
Having finished his meal, the man was leisurely strolling around the hall with a glass of wine. On the surface he seemed to be casually conversing with the vassals, but Gunther’s trained eye wasn’t fooled. The man’s route constantly crossed paths with a specific person, and every time his lips moved ever so slightly.
Surprisingly, the person he spoke with was Moretia. The young lady of this house.
Moretia’s expression, meanwhile, was unsettling. Her polite social smile gradually stiffened like stone, while her brows trembled with indignation. Her noble face would distort for a moment before returning to an impassive mask.
“What on earth are they saying to make her react like that?”
A conversation between prey destined to be devoured and a predator. Because of the noise in the hall it was impossible to eavesdrop from afar. Gunther carefully began altering his route, waiting for a moment to approach closer.
And finally—
“Now!”
Moretia’s glass was empty. Gunther seized the opportunity and approached with a tray. One step, then another. At last he reached a distance where he could hear Moretia’s voice.
“Father Albino. I don’t quite understand what you mean...”
She fell silent at once. As if wary of prying ears, she pressed her lips tightly together. It happened precisely when Gunther stepped between them with his tray.
“...Thank you.”
Gunther stood with his head bowed, waiting for Moretia to take the glass. He could only pray that the hand holding the tray wouldn’t tremble more than necessary.
“How did you say his name?”
Albino? That Albino Lacreta?
...Hoping it was merely a namesake would be the height of naivety. Gunther instinctively hunched his shoulders and stepped back. He felt someone’s indifferent gaze slide across the back of his head.
Albino Lacreta. Gunther knew that name far too well. How could he not?
The head of the Luthien diocese governing the Border City, and the second most powerful figure in the Cult of Abundance. ...And also the final boss of Act 1, Chapter 5, the mastermind behind the mayor’s assassination.
At first Gunther hadn’t recognized him. In the main story he had been a completely decrepit monster. The gap between that wrinkled old man covered in age spots, cackling madly, and this stately, handsome figure was simply too great.
“...The handkerchief.”
The moment Gunther left the enemy’s line of sight, he frantically reached into his pocket.
“We have to stop the operation.”
Gunther knew the biography of this named boss with countless unique interactions by heart. This man was one of the few in the Cult of Abundance who had mastered summoning magic to perfection. The number of creatures under his control couldn’t be counted on the fingers of one hand.
“And he’s extremely meticulous.”
...In that case, were the rooms in the annex they believed to be “empty” truly empty?
“First I need to get out and hang the handkerchief.”
Gunther quickly crossed the banquet hall. Cold sweat was already pouring down his back.
If the opponent was Albino, their plan had been doomed from the start. This man was a ritual master who would later earn the title “Price of Offering.” That meant even if the vessels or texts were destroyed, he could still carry out the ritual—albeit in a distorted form. And most importantly, there was another problem. This man...
Clink—!
A sharp, ringing sound of shattering glass cut through the air of the banquet hall. In that instant Gunther understood: he was too late.
.........
Fragments of a shattered goblet lay at Albino’s feet. Blood-red wine slowly spread across the marble floor. As the crimson stain grew, he didn’t move.
“Are you alright?”
A commotion immediately broke out. The head of the Bellamor family and the vassals, seeing Albino’s gentle face transform into something like a wax mask, tried in confusion to guess his mood. But Albino’s gaze didn’t linger on them for even a moment.
His blue-black eyes were fixed on the enormous window of the hall. On the black smoke that had just begun rising above the annex.
Gunther instantly understood what had happened. The platoon’s work. Most likely, after encountering Albino’s summoned creatures, Tarsha realized everything had gone wrong and made a decision. A decisive one—set the entire annex on fire, destroying the vessels, the texts, and all other preparations for the ritual at once.
If the opponent hadn’t been Albino, it would have been a perfect countermeasure.
Albino’s lips slowly parted.
“Blasphemers...”
A low, dragging bass. The pressure of the sound was so intense that the shards on the floor vibrated faintly.
“...Defile the table of Jean Daet.”
Silence fell over the banquet hall, so thick it was difficult even to breathe. The terror preceding understanding; the primitive human silence before an unknown threat.
“...Madman.”
Mad Albino Lacreta. He was a fanatic in the most literal sense. His deeds over the next hundred years would prove that.
If he realized someone was trying to overturn the table of Jean Daet... there was only one action he would take.
Sate the god’s hunger before the feast could be interrupted completely.
Slap—
Albino dropped to his knees directly into the red puddle and the shards of glass. The sound of glass biting into flesh rang out unnaturally loud. That was because the orchestra had suddenly stopped playing.
“O Jean Daet.”
The priest’s snow-white robe greedily absorbed the spilled wine, staining crimson. Scooping up the mixture of wine and blood with his fingers and bringing it to his lips, he whispered in ecstasy:
“I beg you, accept this humble offering.”
In that ghastly scene, someone’s utensil fell to the floor with a metallic clang.
Gunther did what he had to do. Without hesitation he headed for the exit, casting one last glance around the hall. Anyone who knew Albino’s true nature... at this moment their face should look very different from the others.
Overwhelming terror. That was the expression he needed to find.
“...So it’s you.”
After confirming the accomplice’s identity, Gunther broke into a run. Around the same time he felt a familiar icy cold slowly crawling up from the tips of his toes.
...The smell of death.
Gunther realized he was already half-prepared to die, and paradoxically it calmed his mind.
From this moment on, he would do what he always did.
.
.
.
Rrrip—
Gunther tore the hem of the maid dress that hindered his running ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) and thought.
[Alphonse of Red Street whistles]
[The Drug-Addicted Saint grumbles, asking if this is really the time to fool around]
What now? The clues had been gathered, but the overall picture was still unclear. However, the deliberation didn’t last long.
Tiliing—!
[Personal Scenario Updated!]
Albino Lacreta has decided to force the ritual forward in an incomplete state. Thanks to numerous visits and the help of an accomplice, most of the preparation has already been completed. The missing elements are being filled with his personal power. The ritual will begin at any moment. Survive and prevent him from reaching his goal.
Gunther slowly nodded. He knew the future of this illusion. Because of that, the objective became clear. The direction of his run changed sharply.
He still didn’t know the reason. But it was Mari who was supposed to devour the Bellamor family and be reborn as a servant of Luthien. She was Albino’s “target.” She had to be taken outside this mansion that was about to be swallowed by Hunger.
Tap—tap—
Since he had left the hall earlier than anyone else, there should still be time. Gunther ran down the corridor toward the kitchen, shouting at the top of his lungs:
“Mari! Mari, where are you!”
The response came surprisingly quickly.
“G-Guntra... I’m here.”
Mari, her lips smeared with blood, was swaying in the kitchen doorway. Her voice trembled as if on the verge of tears. Gunther noticed bite marks on her forearm. She had been biting herself to keep from attacking others.
“I... I’m so hungry... Why is this happening to me?”
...The ritual hadn’t even properly begun yet, and the resonance had already started. Hundreds of thoughts and calculations tangled inside Gunther’s mind. But seeing the girl’s face filled with despair, he blurted out only one thing.
“It’s alright, Mari. Everything will be alright.”
“R-really? I’ll be okay?”
“Yes, you’ll be fine, so come here...”
The relief on Mari’s face instantly turned into horror.
“G-Guntra!”
Gunther tried to turn around to assess the situation.
But much earlier than that, a heavy, blunt blow struck his head.
Thud—!
Along with the terrible pain, his consciousness rapidly sank into darkness. Through his narrowing field of vision he saw Mari crying.
.
.
.
[Today is the mansion’s final day]
[Hunger and madness have crossed the threshold of the house]
***
Gunther opened his eyes.
