Bill looked down, examining the wooden board closely.
The charcoal writing was crooked, yet every stroke had been written with great care.
“Handsome, invincible, and super kind.”
His mouth twitched.
He then let out a cold laugh, his fingers tightening.
The wooden board shattered in his palm, turning into fine splinters that trickled down through the gaps between his fingers.
He looked in the direction the arrow pointed.
At a distant corner, another wooden board was faintly visible under the moonlight.
The same crooked handwriting.
The same arrow.
Bill walked over.
The sign said:
“Yes, this way, keep going~”
The tilde at the end was drawn exceptionally round, like a playful touch added deliberately.
Bill stared at that tilde.
His cold laugh deepened.
A naked, almost childish attempt at luring the prey into a trap.
A High Rank mage was provoking him in such a way.
Disdain.
Pure, unadulterated disdain.
A scout floated to his side, the ghostly fire dancing within its hollow eye sockets.
“This is a trap.”
Its voice was parched, like the rustling of dry leaves.
“Do not do as he wishes.”
Bill did not look at it.
He gazed toward the north where the arrow pointed, his lips curling into a cold arc.
“A very childish trap.”
He paused.
“A trap that might even kill him.”
He turned his head to look at the scout.
“Even if it is a trap!”
“Can he kill me?”
He smiled.
“Can he kill your corpse knights?”
“He doesn’t even know that the enemy he faces possesses the blessing of immortality!”
The scout fell silent.
The ghostly fire within its eye sockets shrank slightly as if it were contemplating.
Bill retracted his gaze and looked deep into the north, his eyes full of mockery.
“He will pay the price for his disdain.”
His voice grew quiet, carrying a trace of something near anticipation.
“I can already hardly wait...”
“To see his face when he watches me resurrect.”
He paused, his smile deepening.
“To see the regret on his face when he discovers that his poor schemes...”
“Only ended up drawing fire upon himself.”
He chuckled softly.
“I will drain his blood thoroughly.”
“I will make him regret...”
“Crossing me.”
As soon as he finished speaking.
Bill's figure suddenly dispersed.
There was no blood, and there were no afterimages.
He simply transformed into a cloud of crimson mist that swept toward the north, following the direction of the arrow.
The scout remained where it stood.
It looked down at the wood splinters scattered on the ground.
It was silent for a long time.
So long that the night wind blew away several of the larger fragments.
It squatted down.
Its withered fingers picked up a fragment whose edge was still relatively intact.
By the light of the ghostly fire, it examined the remaining handwriting upon it.
A strange thought arose.
When Bill had arrived here.
The opponent’s soul fluctuations were still at the Northern Fountain Square.
That location was at least 10 kilometers away from here.
Had the opponent prepared these signs in advance?
Then...
How did he know for certain.
That Bill would pass through this street from this specific position?
The scout squeezed the fragment.
A trace of unnameable unease actually emanated from the stiff arc of its knuckles.
It did not move for a long time.
Suddenly.
Another perception came from afar.
Modo's consciousness was abruptly pulled from the scout's body.
Like a receding tide, it instantly crossed the ruins.
It descended into a corpse assassin lurking atop a tower in the East District.
In his perceptual field.
Two figures were standing under the moonlight at the edge of the fountain square.
Black hair.
A gray robe.
Beside him was a woman with short pale-gold hair.
Modo's mind suddenly tensed.
He immediately mobilized his consciousness.
He contacted the three corpse knights dispersed across the East District.
—Surround them.
Three silent figures swept out from the shadows of the ruins.
They closed in on the fountain square from different directions.
Alleys.
Rooftops.
Behind broken walls.
In the shadows of a dilapidated stable.
The encirclement tightened rapidly.
Fifty meters.
Thirty meters.
Ten meters.
The three knights stepped onto the edge of the square simultaneously.
Under the moonlight.
Not a single soul was there.
There was only the parched fountain basin, containing half a pool of black water reflecting the shattered moon.
And rubble scattered everywhere, along with air-dried withered leaves.
Modo fell silent.
His consciousness, like an invisible net, swept through every inch of space.
There was no mana residue.
There were no fluctuations from concealment magic.
There weren't even any footprints.
It was as if those two figures just now...
Were merely illusions within his perception.
He was about to withdraw his consciousness.
When another perception came from the East District.
A trigger was touched.
Modo's heart shivered.
His consciousness transferred in an instant.
In the West District, among the ruins of a collapsed marketplace.
A corpse knight hid behind half a broken wall, its shriveled body blending into the shadows.
In its vision.
At the street corner.
The black-haired, gray-robed figure was slowly walking through the moonlight.
Their steps were composed.
Beside him was the woman with short pale-gold hair.
Modo no longer hesitated.
He simultaneously controlled all the corpse knights in the West District he could mobilize.
Apart from Knight John, who was guarding Hugh.
The remaining three knights were all mobilized.
They moved to intercept at the street corner from three directions.
A minute later.
The three corpse knights converged at the street corner.
The moonlight was like water.
Not a single soul was there.
There were only broken shelves lying on the ground, with a few withered leaves swirling past the knights' feet.
Modo stood within the temple.
The hollow eyes of his true body narrowed slightly.
He sensed once more.
South.
North.
East.
West.
Every time his consciousness shifted, he could “see” those two figures.
Every time he mobilized the knights for a confrontation...
By the time they arrived, only empty ruins remained.
The opponent was moving.
Moreover, the path of their movements.
Modo suddenly realized.
Those positions where they “appeared.”
Were slowly shifting.
From the East District.
To the West District.
To the South District.
Every point was precisely avoiding the corpse knights he sent out.
It was as if he were luring these immortal monsters...
Toward a certain direction.
Modo's heart suddenly tightened.
He stopped dividing his forces.
He gathered all the knights, except for the Legendary corpse knight guarding Hugh, toward the same point.
Eleven knights rushed out from different street blocks.
They charged silently under the moonlight.
Passing through collapsed long streets.
Crossing broken vine bridges.
Stepping across the ash-covered squares.
Finally.
They stopped before the largest building in the North District.
The Opera House.
The once most glorious building of Mirror-Shadow City.
Six white jade pillars supported the porch, their shafts covered in dark green vines whose leaves swayed gently in the night wind.
The dome was in ruins, and moonlight poured down from the cracks, spreading a silver-white staircase before the porch.
The steps were piled with fallen leaves and ash; withered leaves from years past were crushed, mixing with the dust.
The copper doors, which had once been carved with the names of epic operas, were now partially detached, leaning against the door frame.
Upon the lintel, the carvings of laurel and lyre were still barely discernible.
The eleven knights stood silently below the stairs.
Ghostly fires danced in their eye sockets, reflecting this dead hall.
Footsteps came from behind.
Bill walked through the ranks of knights to the very front.
He looked up at this magnificent ruin.
Then he turned his head and looked at the eleven knights arrayed around him.
“...Why are your knights all here?”
He raised an eyebrow, his tone carrying a hint of surprise.
Modo’s consciousness was attached to one of the death scouts.
The hollow eye sockets gazed at the Opera House.
“My knights followed the positions he exposed and gathered together.”
“He wants to...”
He paused.
“...Wipe us all out in one go.”
Bill was stunned for a moment.
Then, he laughed.
That laughter echoed across the deathly silent square, carrying an undisguised sneer.
“Wipe us out in one go?”
He tilted his head and repeated it.
Then.
“With just one High Rank mage?!”
His smile grew wider.
He looked toward the dark doors of the Opera House.
The moonlight shone on his pale profile, casting that smile in a particularly flamboyant light.
“Interesting.”
“Truly interesting.”
He took a step forward.
His boot heel landed on the stone steps.
A crisp echo rippled through the porch.
“I’d like to see...”
“How he plans to wipe me out in one go.”
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