“I won’t die to you, White Watch member!”

  The man in the black plate armor readied his greatsword. Marcus judged the stance of his opponent, noting how he was easily moving the enormous weapon with ease. Certainly, he was someone formidable, though, unlike the Archbishops of the Death God Cult that Marcus encountered, this one didn’t seem like those crazy bastards before him.

  He seems to recognize my strength too.

  The fear that was emanating from the man was so thick and concentrated that Marcus thought that, for whatever bluster this person was doing by raising his sword against him, this guy was probably close to pissing his pants. It was probably fair though, as archbishops were meant to be a big deal, and with Miss Cockroach—ahem—Archbishop Selena having met him twice, dying, and reporting to them, they must have a very particular view of him within the Death God Cult’s circles.

  In any case, Marcus advanced steadily, letting his swords glide through the ground. He poured mana over them, causing them to become more reflective, sharper, and durable. As a result, they sliced through the ground with menacing sounds, enough that this guy in full armor was retreating ever so slightly.

  “Hey, buddy,” Marcus laughed a bit. “You’re planning to hold me off before running away, aren’t you?”

  “H-how?! How did you know?”

  “Sorry. It’s just, your thinking reminds me of myself. Back when I was weaker, that’s how I’d do things. I mean, if you can’t defeat an enemy during an important recon mission, getting the hell out is going to be your priority.”

  “Tch. You can tell that much even when you only see my eyes.”

  “Body language can tell a lot about what’s inside a person’s mind.”

  Then, Marcus raised one of his rapiers and pointed it at the armored cultist.

  “Look, I’m not going to let you go away. Nor will I let you get any closer to my partner’s important projects. I don’t want pigs bothering her business. So you’re going to die here. Unless…”

  Marcus let his words hang in the air for a while. “Unless you lay down your arms and surrender.”

  “Tch. As if I’ll do that.”

  “Come on, unlike the buggers before you, you seem to have a functioning brain. You’re not all eaten up by whatever crappy scriptures your cultist friends preach about, no? Then surrender and talk. I may not be that merciful, but my partner is.”

  Marcus waved his sword lightly. “If you give me something valuable, especially about Miss Cockroach…ahem, I meant Archbishop Selena, I can let you talk and grovel to her. What. Seems like a fine deal? There, I’m talking.”

  The man flinched. Marcus’s tone turned cold. “Your turn, buddy.”

  “Tsk. Damn it.” The armored man looked around for a bit, as if debating his options. “Actually, nah. Goodbye, asshole.”

  Overjoyed, the armored man activated something, and he just…poofed out of existence? Marcus sighed tiredly. He knew the man’s plan, of course, but Marcus wanted to intimidate him and force him to surrender. Unlike some low-level bugger, this guy looked somewhat important, not enough to be an archbishop, of course, but at least he was someone he could extract intel from.

  And intel was at a premium right now. Hunting down Archbishop Selena was extremely hard, and without insider intel, Marcus was going to go through a very laborious process of turning every rock in the continent until he figured out something. He didn’t want to do that; quite frankly, he wanted his cleanup job done already so that he could spend more time with Stella and his new friends.

  Marcus clicked his tongue as he tracked the essence of death magic using [Mass Surveillance] while placing the rapier on his right hand back to its sheath. The bastard really thought he got away, enough that he was comfortably moving in a straight line. To be fair, if he wanted to get away, that was the best option; it would mean that he would make the most distance between him and Marcus, especially since, unlike Marcus, the armored cultist didn’t have to go through the labyrinthine mess that was Meriel District.

  “Siris, I know you’re there,” Marcus said, and immediately, the floating kitsune appeared beside him out of thin air after a small flash of light.

  “So you’ve detected me that easily? Hmph…this ability of yours, it is most annoying.”

  “That guy’s shtick clearly has a timer on it, but I don’t like wasting my time,” Marcus said to the great spirit. “Since you’re poking your nose and following me anyway, how about you make yourself useful? Got any spell to quickly grab him back to this world?”

  “...I suppose I can try using dispel.”

  “Sounds good. Let’s go then.”

  “Eeep! What are you—”

  With a cute squeak, Marcus grabbed Siris roughly with one hand before crouching and lunging up into the sky, straight into the rooftops. While the daylight made it hard for him to fully hide himself, using [Unseen Veil] alongside [Blink Step] made it possible for him to quickly skip through the slums undetected.

  Scanning the horizon ahead, he kept his eyes locked on the direction of death magic, spamming more [Blink Steps] to get closer rapidly, before releasing Siris from his grip when he was above the running cultist.

  “Do it now!” Marcus ordered.

  The spirit gasped, free from his hands. “I’m going to tell Stella about this, you jerk! [Greater Dispel]!”

  A shockwave-like burst of mana came out of the great spirit, disrupting magic around her. The cultist below, who was unaware of what was happening, suddenly materialized in the middle of another deserted lane, right when Marcus was diving down behind him.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “W-what?!” The cultist looked at his now physical hands, confused, before a tight grip nearly crushed his neck, forcing him to the ground. “Aaaaah! D-damn it! Damn it!”

  “Now, now, that’s not how you treat someone giving you good surrender terms.” Marcus tightened his grip further, cracking the man’s armor, causing him to gasp for his breath. Then, Marcus stood up, keeping his feet on the cultist’s neck, before kicking off his sword. “Right. There. Perfection. Think you can agree to my terms now.”

  “Alright, alright!” The armored cultist gasped. “I’m talking. Please have mercy!”

  “Now that’s what I like to see,” Marcus said. “Remember, your chances of meeting the good princess are based on how useful you are to me.”

  With a gulp, Marcus let the man’s neck free before restraining his hands. It was time for a little interrogation.

  They were now inside an abandoned warehouse, where Marcus and Siris could talk in private with the downed cultist, who he found out was named Martin Kieft. Marcus crouched close to the cultist, who was sitting on a dusty corner in the walls.

  “Start talking,” Marcus barked.

  “I’m from the Ministry of Proportional Response…” Martin tiredly croaked. His hands were tied, and he was now out of his armor, which was placed haphazardly on the side. “I’ve been sent here after Archbishop Selena vi Lusbeck, the Minister of Wholesome Love, reported that you, Sir M, killed both Archbishops Hector Langley and Salvador Magath.”

  “And for what reason were you sent here?”

  “I was ordered to figure out your strengths, weaknesses, and motives.”

  “That’s it?” Marcus frowned. “You haven’t been ordered to attack us or attack my partner’s businesses?”

  “No? Why would I be? You, you’re the one we are most interested in,” the cultist let out a tsk. “Besides, I’m alone here. It would be pointless for me to attack alone, even with my powerful armor.”

  “Heh. Seems like whoever’s running the Ministry of Proportional Response has a good head on their shoulder. Who are they then?”

  “I…” Martin looked down. “My entire career—”

  “Dumbass, you can be a laborer or a mercenary later. Just speak.”

  “Tch. Fine. As long as our agreement stands. Our leader is Archbishop Maurice Ney.”

  “Maurice Ney? Where is his lair located?”

  “Damn it…” The cultist gritted his teeth. “Our headquarters is in the Kingdom of Louria, in the southwest region specifically. It’s near the city of Veneto, south of it. There’s a forest nearby, and we have a base tucked deep in it.”

  “I see. We have a lead then.”

  Marcus smiled. “Now, you’ll tell me more. Everything. Everything I need to shit on the circus you call a ‘cult.’”

  Martin gulped audibly as Marcus began asking questions about everything that he wanted. By the time he was done, he had learned a great deal of information about the Death God Cult, including its seven ministries, the leaders of each ministry, and their respective tasks. Unfortunately, Martin didn’t know much more.

  It appeared the Death God Cult operated in a somewhat decentralized manner. Each ministry did whatever the hell they wanted, and they only cooperated sometimes. The only true commonality with them was their pursuit to revive the Death God, for whatever insane reasons. In this case, the Ministry of Proportional Response aimed to revive, subjugate, and weaponize the Death God.

  It was insane, even to other cultists, who generally held the Death God in enough reverence that they apparently kept their true goals a secret from the other ministries. Though, Marcus thought, that based on this information, the other ministries were also probably hiding their true motives, and they were only cooperating because they were using commandments or ‘scriptures’ given by the envoys of death and because they all wanted to revive the Death God.

  In any case, when Marcus was done, he was both satisfied and deeply unsatisfied. Most annoying was that while this man knew who Selena was and her general combat abilities, he didn’t know that she could even revive herself from death—and he was genuinely shocked when Marcus asked him about it—and Martin also didn’t know where the lair of that cockroach was.

  It was annoying. So annoying, because now, he had a deal with this bastard.

  “Do you think he’s lying?” Marcus asked the great spirit behind him, who was floating and observing the two the entire time.

  “No.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because he’s afraid.”

  Marcus turned to look down at Martin. “What’s the matter with you?”

  “There’s a kitsune, a great spirit, right behind you,” Martin snarled at Marcus. “What kind of a moron tries to lie in their presence? Bet if I say the wrong word, she’ll tell you, and off goes my head.”

  “Heh. You can detect lies, Siris?”

  The great spirit just smiled but gave no answer.

  “Hey…can’t you answer me? On second thought, are you talking with Stella right now?”

  “Not really, no. I’ve told her that I’m checking on you, but there’s no need to disrupt her business with Lady Louise.”

  “...Uhuh. Then answer my first question.”

  And the great spirit just smiled again, with no words coming out of her mouth. Marcus groaned, slightly annoyed by the great spirit. Not only was she always whispering nonsense advice to Stella about how to treat him—like the one about riding wyverns, and the lap pillow was probably this creature’s devious idea too—but she was always poking her nose in Marcus’s business while being so enigmatic about it.

  “Come on. Spit it out,” Marcus demanded.

  “I do not speak to a man who squeezes such a divine creature like me. No, sir.”

  “But you just spoke to me earlier.”

  And Siris just smiled and kept her lips closed. Marcus ran his hand through his hair, annoyed, before turning back to Martin. The cultist stared at Marcus expectantly, though there was a hint of defeated despair in his eyes, as if he was bracing for the worst. Marcus couldn’t exactly blame him.

  He was in some kind of powerful armor after all, with special abilities granted by death magic, and he seemed like he was well-trained at least, enough that he evaded detection for quite a while now. It was quite annoying, actually, that Marcus didn’t even detect him early on, as he was quite sure that he was using [Mass Surveillance] earlier.

  Perhaps, it had something to do with the fact that his armor was powered by magic crystals. Maybe Marcus only detected its death magic when the powering crystals were nearly depleted? He wasn’t sure. What he was sure about was that this guy was supposed to be someone powerful within the ranks of the Death God Cult.

  And Marcus broke him just by grabbing his neck from behind. If that happened to Marcus, even he would be humiliated enough to accept defeat.

  “...Am I going to live or not?” Martin asked.

  “Let’s see…” Marcus placed a hand on his chin. “Hmm…I don’t know, man. I’m leaning toward cutting loose ends.”

  The man’s face darkened with despair, and he looked down nervously.

  “But Siris is watching over me, which means Stella will know,” Marcus shrugged. “I guess your fate will really be up to the [Saint]. Quite ironic, isn’t it?”

  “Whatever, just get me to her. If I’ll be killed, then I accept my fate.”

  Martin gritted his teeth. “I failed in my mission, after all.”

  Marcus sighed. Then, he picked up the cultist using [Levitation], and, alongside Siris, the two returned to Meriel’s Haven, with Marcus using [Blink Step] and [Unseen Veil] to get there quickly without detection.