The other thugs, who had collapsed earlier, began to rise one by one. Grotesque groans escaped their lips as they started moving their limbs again—but their movements were awkward and unnatural. It wasn't their own strength lifting them up, but something closer to a shadow dragging them by the scruff of the neck and forcing them upright.

Milia's expression turned tense as she glared at the men cloaked in dark energy. There was no sign of this before...

It wasn't like she'd been careless. She had focused, observed them closely, and confirmed that there was no trace of necromancy involved. Which could only mean that whatever spell was affecting them now had successfully deceived the senses of a seasoned priest.

Can cultists really hide dark energy this thoroughly? she wondered.

The thugs lunged again, screaming. They charged like madmen while exposing every opening in their bodies, like berserkers from ancient legends.

"Hmph!" With a short breath, Lapicel twisted her body and reached out. She pushed the back of the charging dark thug's hand.

Just like before, she was attempting to use a technique to throw him off balance. But this time, it didn't work. He stumbled momentarily, then snapped his head around, baring his filthy teeth as he lunged again.

Earlier, they'd been moving with human strength. Thus, shifting their balance was enough to take them down. But now? They were no longer operating under muscle and sinew.

Do I need to draw my sword? Lapicel hesitated for a moment, then shook her head.

Their eyes were unfocused and dull. Anyone could see they were under someone's control. Which meant the real cultists were hiding somewhere else. These were just puppets.

Then I can't kill them.

Running amok as local thugs wasn't nearly enough to warrant execution. She bent her knees lightly, and with a burst of energy, launched herself forward.

She tapped the lead thug with barely a nudge, so gentle it was more of a brush than a strike. The thug didn't even flinch. He didn't seem to realize he'd been hit as he continued to thrash his arms at her.

Then Lapicel struck again. It was another soft, almost affectionate tap. And just like that, the hulking man collapsed in place, as if bewitched.

From behind, Milia blinked wide-eyed. "Lapicel? What did you just do?"

***

The thugs charged in from all sides. There was no elaborate technique and no careful formation. It was just a mess of arms reaching out to seize the gray-haired girl before them.

Lapicel wove between them with eerie grace. She slid under one man's arm and tapped him. Nothing. The man kept swinging, oblivious.

Another quick touch while dodging the next hand, and every single one of them met the same fate. Their eyes rolled back as they foamed at the mouth and dropped in place like sacks of grain.

Not a single one fell after the first touch, but every one of them collapsed after the second. It was strange, given the strikes weren't even remotely forceful.

What followed the touches was a neurological override triggered by a subtle infusion of aura. It was one of the secret arts passed down by the martial king of Cyphras, developed over a lifetime to subdue those enthralled by necromancy.

To the young Lapicel, it was simply an effective way to bring someone down without hurting them. And just like that, the shadow-thugs were swiftly lulled back into unconsciousness. From a distance, the scene looked nothing short of horrifying.

"What the hell?"

"Is her hand poisoned or something?"

"Why do they fall just from being touched?"

A group of men in black robes lay prone, watching the scene unfold from across the alleyway, on the rooftop of a building. Their eyes were glued to Lapicel, Milia, and the baits, the thugs. They were the Black God's Cultists who had recently established a foothold in the territory of Grental.

Their leader, Harbert, the successor to Count Hudel, sneered. "What are you all so shocked about?"

The calm demeanor of their boss startled even his own men.

"You mean, you know what that is?"

Well, it wasn't as if Harbert actually understood what he was seeing. "Of course not."

Aura users were monsters who had transcended human limits. How could someone like him, a mere mortal, possibly comprehend such a being? He had heard that the girl was at least blue-tier. Even if she wasn't currently using aura, that didn't change her fundamental level. There was no need to be surprised.

In any case, Harbert had never expected those street thugs to take down Lapicel or Milia. They were just bait meant to stall for time.

"Those who are ready," he called over his shoulder. "Wield his blade."

From the line of black-robed men, five drew their long swords and launched forward with hardened expressions. Their robes flared as their shadows raced down the alley.

Sensing their approach, Lapicel frowned slightly

She fell into a defensive stance to better assess the situation. At that moment, the approaching men quickly surrounded the two girls from both sides. Dark energy began to gather and shimmer over the blades of their swords.

Milia muttered under her breath. "Dark aura?"

Whether they were dark knights or black servants, they were clearly warriors who had fused necromantic energy with aura.

Those are hard to make. And they've got five of them?

Facing foes like that barehanded would be dangerous.

Lapicel reached for the sword at her waist and drew it.

"Be careful, Lapicel," Milia warned before calmly beginning to cast a divine spell.

A faint glow momentarily enveloped Lapicel's body. It was a spell to restore stamina and help ward off malevolent energy.

One of the cultists holding his sword at the ready muttered, "So she was an inquisitor."

They had already suspected it. Word had reached them that Karnak's group was traveling with an inquisitor. But there was no need to be afraid.

"No matter how powerful a blue-tier aura user she may be, she can't take all of us!"

Blue-tier? Lapicel blinked at the words.

"Oh, right." And then she gave a wry smile. "That makes me feel like I've been deceiving people."

The gray-haired girl gave her sword a gentle swing, and a radiant surge burst forth from the blade. The cultists' faces turned ghostly pale.

"Wh-what?"

"That light...?!"

Brilliant purple light shimmered softly through the darkened alley.

***

Harbert stood dumbfounded, his mouth agape. He simply couldn't believe what he was seeing. Purple-tier? At her age?

Typically, those who mastered aura didn't reach the purple-tier before forty. Even for geniuses, the mid-thirties was considered impressive. Sure, there had been a few legendary martial kings who achieved it in their late twenties, but still, a teenager achieving this feat was unheard of.

How could that be possible? Was she using necromancy or some other trick? Because if that wasn't the case, it didn't make sense for her to possess that level of power. Meanwhile, the girl bathed in elegant purple light was moving through the alley, her eyes gleaming.

Her enemies were wicked cultists. Even if she didn't intend to kill them, they still had to pay for their sins. But for a cultist, breaking a few limbs wasn't enough of a punishment. The power of darkness would heal such wounds quickly.

So she cut them instead. The purple aura blade sliced through their dark aura and tore into flesh. In an instant, one cultist's left leg was severed cleanly at the thigh.

A scream ripped through the air. He gave a horrific scream, as if his innards were spilling out, but Lapicel didn't so much as blink. Someone who deserved to be in pain was in pain. That was befitting the world's order, wasn't it? The problem was that even after all this, cultists rarely reflected on their actions.

"Y-you bitch, my leg!"

The cultist, now one-legged, kicked off the ground with his remaining foot and slashed with dark aura. Just as vile as any necromancer should be. So she cut again. This time, the right leg.

"Aaaaargh!"

As the anguished screams of their comrades filled the air, the other cultists who had been watching from afar turned to Harbert.

"W-what should we do?"

"We can't just leave them to die like this..."

Harbert clenched his fists. Damn it...

He had never underestimated the enemy. He had brought every last ounce of power he could muster, just in case. He hadn't even hesitated to target the youngest members of the group, employing cheap, underhanded tactics. And still, this was the result.

There's no helping it.

There was only one thing left to do: To offer the one and only thing of value that they, worthless as they were, could give.

"Believers..." Harbert spoke in a low, solemn voice. "For the sake of the blessed world to come... give me your lives."

The cultists didn't seem surprised. They had clearly expected this.

"Do not grieve."

"We shall meet again."

"For Tesranach!"

With radiant smiles, three necromancers pulled daggers from their robes and slit their own throats without hesitation. A fountain of blood burst skyward, dyeing the night crimson.

***

Karnak's group, meanwhile, was leisurely picking their teeth.

"Ah, that hit the spot."

"Great meal."

The food had been delicious and the wine delightful. It was truly a perfectly satisfying evening.

"Now this is what it means to live well."

Karnak was grinning smugly when it happened.

He, Varos, Serati, and Leven all turned their heads in the same direction.

Huh?

Then, as if on cue, they all bolted out of the restaurant at once.

"Wha?!"

"What's with them?"

"Are they skipping out on the bill?!"

The other patrons stared in confusion, and the owner came rushing out in a panic. "Hey! You lot! You've got to pay before you..."

But the moment he stepped outside, the innkeeper forgot all about collecting payment. Overhead, the full moon hanging in the night sky had turned a deep, ominous red. Above it, a massive black current erupted like a waterfall and began to spread outward in every direction, falling back to the earth as a torrential black rain. The rain spiraled and swirled, engulfing the entire town in darkness.

"A-aaahhh!"

"What the hell is this?!"

Terrified villagers began screaming and fleeing in all directions.

Varos reached for the sword at his waist, his voice sharp and urgent. "What is this, young master? Were there actually cultists here?"

Karnak scowled as he answered. "Looks like it."

"How is that possible? Don't tell me you didn't even check this place on the way?!" Varos shouted.

In truth, Karnak had checked. Identifying traces of darkness was such an ingrained habit for him, it was harder not to do it.

Serati frowned, still puzzled. "Then why didn't you notice anything? I thought no necromancy could slip past your eyes!"

Karnak muttered defensively, as if making an excuse. "I did check. I just couldn't tell."

The Grental domain had long been plagued by Count Hudel and his cultist followers. Naturally, traces of their dark influence still lingered throughout the castle and surrounding town.

"I just assumed it was leftover residue," said Karnak.

It was hard to blame Karnak entirely. In recent years, even inquisitors of the Church of the Seven Goddesses had been having trouble detecting necromantic energy. After all, the entire continent had been blanketed, again and again, by the Shadow of Doom for years now.

It was impossible to tell whether a wet patch was caused by the previous day's rain or one from a week ago if it rained every day and the ground was always damp. In any case, with death energy this overwhelming, even Karnak's group couldn't afford to take it lightly.

He was especially concerned for Lapicel and Milia, who were currently operating separately from the rest.

"Either way, let's go!"

"Yep!"

All four of them kicked off the ground at once, rushing toward the source of the rising darkness.