Quevedo who had anticipated this response retorted, "While Mr. Roselle did invent another type of oil lamp, his manuscripts also included blueprints for this design. These lamps were made based on those."
Erich was taken aback by Quevedo's confident tone... It was clear he had researched this thoroughly, "I see. So Roselle really is your icon, huh?"
Quevedo puffed out his chest proudly, "More like my 'idol', though the term is a bit nonsensical, it was coined by Mr. Roselle himself."
Erich being clearly uninterested in Roselle's legacy said, "Since we've finished our business, let's part ways. It's getting late."
Karl and Florent nodded in agreement, while Quevedo struck an exaggerated theatrical pose, "Farewell, farewell, a thousand times farewell! 'Romeo and Juliet' is truly a breathtaking play... Mr. Roselle is a true literary genius..."
Watching Quevedo descend into full-blown fanboy mode, Florent was utterly speechless. After exchanging nods with Karl and Erich, he gave a half-hearted wave to Quevedo and set off on foot...
...
As he walked away from the brightly lit street, Florent glanced back at Karl waiting for his carriage, Erich hailing a cab, and Quevedo still lost in his Roselle-induced euphoria.
A smile tugged at his lips, 'What an eventful day...'
Though Trier was the most advanced city of its time, oil lamps hadn't yet reached every corner. Only the busiest streets were illuminated well enough to push back the night, while Florent's neighborhood had only a few scattered lamps, leaving much in shadow.
Soon, Florent was swallowed by darkness, the only light coming from the crimson moon overhead.
As he walked, he inexplicably turned down a deserted pitch-black alley, then stopped.
Rolling his neck, he called out to the empty air, "You've been tailing me long enough. Come out. I even gave you the perfect opportunity."
The alley remained silent, as if mocking his paranoia.
Florent let out a derisive snort, but before he could speak, a flash of reflected moonlight streaked toward him.
He dropped into a slide but couldn't fully dodge.
*Clang!*
Crouched on the ground, Florent clutched his chest and his face twisted in pain, "Y-you... you dishonorable bastard! Ambushing an eighteen-year-old like this!"
Despite his words, he forced himself upright, glaring at the black-clad figure now visible before him.
The assassin chuckled darkly, "I didn't expect you to hide something hard under your clothes, you little rat. Broke my damn dagger. Pity..."
Florent let his left arm hang limp while his right still rubbed his chest, "Pity what?" The moment he spoke, he lunged.
Mid-retort, the assassin barely had time to react but didn't bother dodging.
Instead, he raised his bare hands in a combat stance, "Pity you lost the chance for a quick death. 'Ergouzi', move!"
Florent had been about to activate his ability (to summon the hidden dagger from his chest and strike) but at the shout, he instead raised the blade defensively.
A tremendous force slammed into it, tearing it from his grip despite his desperate hold. Blood seeped from his torn palm as the dagger spun away into the night.
Before he could recover, a sword flashed with a shrill whistle. Florent barely twisted aside, but the near-miss left his entire body screaming in pain. Even the air he gasped tasted metallic with blood.
The assault wasn't over. The sword stabbed deep into the ground, and the attacker followed up with a devastating punch that sent Florent flying four or five meters.
The blow triggered a flashback... 'Lu Zhishen beating the hell out of Zhen Guanxi from The Water Margin...'
Though indescribable, the pain made him feel as if every organ had been pulverized into a kaleidoscope of colors.
Doubled over, Florent convulsed on the ground, drool leaking uncontrollably from his mouth, eyes rolling back.
It took him a long moment to regain his senses, though nausea still churned in his gut.
Gritting his teeth, he tried and failed to rise, 'First time in two lifetimes I've been beaten this badly. Just wait... once I'm stronger, I'll slaughter every last one of you...'
When his vision finally cleared, he saw his attackers standing a meter away.
Now, he could make them out clearly: one dressed entirely in black, holding the now-broken dagger, and the other clad in gleaming half-plate armor that reflected the red moonlight, a massive sword in hand.
The assassin smirked, "No escape, kid. I'm just a Sequence 9 'Assassin', but my buddy here? He's a Sequence 8 'Pugilist', You're not going anywhere."
Though Florent knew his situation was dire, hearing this still sent a spike of despair through him.
Still, he forced out, "Why are you after me? I've done nothing to you."
The 'Assassin' twirled his dagger with a scoff, "Oh, you 'know'... Don't play dumb now. Your little table's reactions at the gathering were suspicious enough, but this act confirms it. Even if we're wrong, so what? You picked a fine spot to die."
Florent wanted to slap himself, 'Why did I have to show off? Other people get to be cool in dark alleys, but I just get the shit beaten out of me...'
The silent 'Pugilist' stepped forward, "Enough chatter. Let's chop off his limbs first. A Beyonder is slippery prey, better not take chances."
The 'Assassin' pretended to hesitate, "This brat can't escape. Do we have to get that messy?" But seeing Florent's expression shift, his tone turned mocking, "Ah well... Extra insurance never hurts. Not when the bounty is this juicy."
With that, the 'Pugilist'sʼ greatsword cleaved through the air, its whistle shattering the alley's silence...
~~~
The sword severs Florent's limbs. Helpless, he is dragged before the Demoness Sect, is subjected to soul-scouring, and dies in agony... The End...