"Damn it, how the hell did I end up in this mess?!"
Outside the wall, the halfling wanderer—having just managed to escape—still wasn't satisfied. He crept back up to the top for one more look inside, but the sight of Charles butchering all those Xanathar-spawned monsters made him curse under his breath.
He'd only come here to scope out the monastery, never planning to actually cause trouble. True, that satyr little girl who showed up late had spotted him, but offing her right away to keep her quiet shouldn't have thrown things off track.
What really blew his mind was just how fast those people inside reacted. He'd barely infiltrated the grounds before all hell broke loose—it was like they stayed up all night just waiting for someone like him to make a move!
Were they always this paranoid?
Or was it just dumb luck—were they already on alert for some other enemy?
Or did someone sell me out? A traitor in our network?
Seriously, just my damn luck!
Grinding his teeth, the halfling muttered curses at all his colleagues. But it was hopeless; tonight's mission now counted as a total failure. Muttering all the way, he took one last reluctant glance at the monastery—eyes lingering on the curves of those lovely, vacuum-clad nuns beneath their thick habits—before spinning on his heel and slinking off into the night.
Thank the gods, this was just a recon assignment, and those things with me were just Xanathar's throwaway minions—couldn't care less that they got wiped out!
Time to bail, report back in, and wait for the next job.
With that slacker attitude, the halfling melted into the shadows and was gone.
Inside the monastery, the nuns—rushing to the fight in their "vacuum" sleepwear—cared about nothing except reaching the battlefield in time to back up Charles.
And now that they'd arrived, casting incantations, unleashing divine spells, channeling Holy Power, there was no doubt who would win.
With the fight turning into a curb-stomp battle, Charles stopped focusing on killing demons and spun around, sprinting to where Adele had gone down.
She'd been badly wounded—he just hoped she was still alive.
Flat on her back in a pool of blood, Adele felt her body growing colder and her mind foggier. Everything in her thoughts was heavy and gray, weighed down by despair.
Am I… really going to die?
I guess… Mother was right. Nature magic has its limits. Even a druid can only do so much...
Wounds like this… Cure Wounds doesn't help at all, there's just nothing to stop the life from slipping away…
I don't want to die. There's still so much I want to do, so many things tying me down. Especially my sweet, gentle mother…
Ah… Mom, I just want to jump into your arms, just to be your little girl for once… Why'd I always act so tough, pretending to be some wise "My Lord" when all I wanted was a hug?
If I had one more chance, I'd never put on that act again—never, ever, ever again...
A thousand thoughts swirled through her mind, when suddenly a pair of strong, warm arms gently scooped her up off the ground.
A soft, steady voice reached into her hazy mind, quietly chanting—he was using magic, trying to heal her wounds. Adele could feel waves of warmth flooding into her body, mending torn flesh.
But her consciousness was slipping even further. A crushing fatigue washed over her, making her just want to close her eyes and sleep forever.
Who's… saving me?
No, I'm probably already lost…
Still, whoever you are—I owe you, at least, a final thank you…
And ask you to pass on one last message...
She summoned her will, forcing her blood-drained eyes to crack open. Her vision blurred, her head spinning, but she could just make out Charles holding her mangled body, working desperately to heal her.
So… it was him.
Turns out… he does care about me, after all...
And I've got to admit… he's actually quite handsome...
If I really think about it, maybe he'd be the perfect one to look after Mother in my place…
At that, she suddenly mustered all her fading strength, her blood-soaked hand grabbing Charles' arm.
"Charles, please—" her voice trembled on the edge of nothing—"take care of… my mother…"
"And tell her… um, that I love her. Really, really love her…"
With those words, it was like she'd finally let go of all her regrets. Her eyes slid shut, head lolling as she slipped into unconsciousness.
Charles blinked, glancing at her chest where the magical glow from his spells had nearly closed up the wound—then scratched his head.
Wait, what's with this melodrama?
Didn't I just patch her up with Cure Wounds? She's fine!
Why's she acting like she's dying?
Squeezing her cold little hand, looking at the blood pooled beneath her, Charles began to guess the truth.
This little druid had never been hurt this badly before—she just thought she was about to die?
Man… I'm totally roasting her for this when she wakes up.
He couldn't help but smile, lips curving up at the corner as he replayed it all in his head.
Ha, so she's got a real mother complex…
Well, that definitely makes things more entertaining...
Just then, the fighting inside the monastery drew to a complete close. A few of the life-domain nuns hurried over—seeing how bad Adele's wounds looked, they immediately started channeling divine power, hoping to save her.
But after a little effort, they realized something strange: their healing just wouldn't "take." Confused, they checked her over and quickly discovered that Adele's wounds were already fully saturated with healing energy. Aside from a little post-bloodloss weakness, she was completely fine.
Suddenly, a terrified shout rang out: "Adele!"
Charles turned to see Willo barreling through the crowd, wild with desperation, collapsing over her daughter's body as tears streamed down her face. "Adele, please wake up—don't leave me!"
Seeing her daughter lying there unresponsive, Willo completely broke down. Her room had been on the far side of the building—and Andny, as usual, had forgotten to warn her. By the time she realized what had happened and ran over, the whole fight was finished.
Charles reached over, gently patting her back with a calm voice: "Don't worry, Matriarch. Her wounds are already under control. She'll need a few days' rest, good food, but she'll recover just fine."
He turned to a nearby life-nun: "Help Matriarch Willo and Miss Adele over to the clinic—the conditions are better for her to recuperate there."
Two nuns nodded, gently taking Adele from Willo and guiding them both toward the clinic.
Confirmed that her daughter was truly safe, Willo slowly pulled herself together. She thanked everyone over and over, following the nuns with her gaze never leaving Adele even for a moment.
Charles, meanwhile, opened his system, tallying up the night's gains. The Proto-Demons weren't all that strong—each only granted five or six hundred Purification Points. All told, less than five thousand.
Not a fortune, but for someone currently strapped for resources, it was a welcome haul.
Of course, it still didn't change the bigger picture.
Done checking his rewards, Charles glanced in the direction where the halfling had vanished, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
He recognized that guy—one of Xanathar's Guild higher-ups, known as one of the beholder's most reliable lackeys.
So Xanathar's revenge had come this quickly, huh?
But if almost all of Xanathar's Guild's operations in South Harbor District had already been cleaned up, how did they track things so fast, pin down Charles as the source, and even dare to send an assassin after him right as his reputation was riding high?
He pondered it, unconsciously touching the Illusionist's Bracers on his left arm—then, in a flash, the answer hit him.
Wait… I get it now!
This has got to be Regolas's doing!
That cambion just can't stand to see me around. Since I've been targeting him, he must've finally snapped and bet it all, convincing Xanathar's Guild to send hitmen after me!
Yeah. That explains everything.
Gritting his teeth, Charles's eyes hardened.
Regolas, you bastard.
Sure, I don't know exactly where you're hiding, but that doesn't mean I can't take the fight to you.
Even if I can't take you directly, I can wreck all your executioners, can't I?
That's it—Xanathar's getting taken down next.
After all the times he's messed with me, it's about time to settle the score!
Charles's eyes gleamed. He'd already made up his mind for his next move.
That treasury of Xanathar's was long overdue for a visit.
As the biggest criminal syndicate in Liberl Port, Xanathar's vault was a goldmine: hard evidence for all sorts of noble crimes, records of secret deals made by officials, dirt from years of unsolved cases—the beholder had it all.
And inside were even more sensitive secrets: files related to the former city lord, the current Blackstaff, and even the reigning Open Lord. Every veteran player agreed—grabbing those first was essential, and the sooner the better!
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