Elisa took a deep breath, forcing down the rancor that boiled within her chest. She carefully arranged her expression into what she thought looked gentle and pitiful, her voice trembling with grievance as she said,
"Rhine… why must you be like this? I know I wronged you before, I hurt your heart. But I have already returned the money to you. If you are only acting this way out of anger toward me, then I… I can give you another chance. Perhaps we can begin anew…"
Yet behind her lowered lashes, her thoughts seethed. She wasn't truly offering reconciliation. All she wanted was to stall this useless trash who had somehow stumbled into ridiculous good fortune. Once the mighty powerhouses from the Church arrived, she would make certain they tore him to pieces—limb from limb until not even bones remained!
Rhine, however, reacted as though he had just heard the funniest joke in the world. He rolled his eyes openly, the disdain in his tone ringing out clearly enough for everyone in the grand hall to hear.
"Elisa, put away that nauseating act of yours. A whore who flirts with and fawns over the Church's deacons dares to talk to me about starting over? Do you really think so highly of yourself?"
"You…"
Elisa's face turned an ugly shade, her composure cracking.
Rhine didn't let her recover. His words, sharp as blades, continued without mercy.
"The only reason I want money right now is because today is House Green's so-called 'joyous occasion.' I came purely to offer my congratulations. Nothing more. It has nothing to do with you—not even half a copper coin. Don't flatter yourself."
That declaration was like the loudest slap, resounding again and again across the faces of Elisa and every member of House Green. The humiliation struck like a thunderclap.
Even when kicking a dog, one still looked at its owner. Yet Rhine had just trampled House Green's young lady into the mud before the eyes of all their allies and vassals. He ground their dignity beneath his heel with deliberate cruelty.
One of the minor clan leaders who relied heavily upon House Green could no longer restrain himself. Leaping forward, his voice quivered with anger as he pointed at Rhine.
"Rhine Oberon! How dare you show such disrespect to Lord Green and to Lady Elisa! You—"
"Silence!"
Doyle's furious bellow cut him short.
The clan head's face had gone dark as storm clouds. His chest rose and fell violently, but after a long moment he forced the anger down.
He could not explode. Not yet. To lose patience now would ruin everything. Small sacrifices must be endured for greater plans. If he lost his temper prematurely, the one to die here would be himself.
Wait.
Wait until the Church's true experts arrived. When they did, Doyle would see with his own eyes House Oberon's utter annihilation.
Through gritted teeth, Doyle squeezed out his command.
"Go… go to the treasury. Bring out one hundred thousand gold coins!"
In short order, a servant presented the bulging storage pouch before Rhine.
After counting through the sum, Rhine gave a satisfied nod. The heaviness in his chest lifted, his mood visibly brightening. He plucked a wineglass from a nearby servant's tray, raised it in mock salute toward Doyle, and smiled with infuriating ease.
"That's better. Congratulations, Lord Green. I wish you a future as bright as the rising sun, and a lifespan as long as the southern mountains."
Then his eyes flicked toward Elisa, and he added with the same mocking cheer, "And to you as well, dear Elisa."
To the guests present, this gesture looked like an attempt to smooth things over, perhaps even a concession. They exchanged glances, and then their expressions shifted as one to understanding smirks.
"So that's it… it's still all for Lady Elisa."
"I thought as much. After groveling after her for so many years, how could he truly give up? No one lets go that easily."
"He just wanted to make a show of strength, to flaunt himself before Lady Elisa. Hmph."
"Fool. He doesn't even realize death is knocking at his door. Once the Church's masters arrive, we'll see if he can still laugh."
Snickers and whispers spread through the audience, faces lighting with derision and the hunger to witness scandal.
Even Doyle's taut nerves began to ease slightly. Perhaps, after all, this boy had not cut himself free from his obsession with Elisa. If that weakness existed, then maybe it could be used to his advantage.
Doyle cleared his throat, preparing to say a few conciliatory words to placate Rhine. But—
Clink!
The wineglass in Rhine's hand slipped, crashing onto the marble floor. The crystal shattered into glittering shards with a sound as sharp as knives, making every heart in the hall leap.
The smile on Rhine's face vanished. In its place came a cold, mocking expression.
He turned his gaze onto Doyle, and his words rolled out with deliberate slowness.
"Oh, yes. Lord Doyle. You see, I chased after Elisa for so many years. I poured in endless effort and affection. And today, I am rewarded only with her humiliation, her flaunting of the Church's patronage. My spirit… is wounded deeply. My heart suffers unbearable pain."
He paused, let the silence stretch until all eyes clung to him, then calmly raised three fingers.
"For this emotional injury, I think… a mere fifty thousand gold coins would be fair compensation. Surely that is not excessive?"
The air froze.
Absolute silence descended upon the banquet hall. The only sounds were ragged breaths and the pounding of frantic hearts.
Fifty. Thousand. Gold coins?
That was not mere extortion. That was stripping House Green of its wealth, its lifeblood. Even selling every estate they owned might not raise such a sum.
The man had lost his mind.
"Rhine Oberon!!!"
At last Doyle erupted. The fragile dam of restraint shattered beneath a flood of rage.
Veins bulged across his forehead as his fury ignited. Power—dense, violent, overwhelming—erupted from his body like a tidal wave, sweeping through the hall. The full oppressive might of a City-Buster rank powerhouse filled the space, crushing the air from every chest.
Now Doyle understood. This youth had never come seeking reconciliation. He had come only to provoke. To insult. To treat House Green like clowns for his amusement.
The Church's reinforcements had only just received the message. They would still be en route to Obsidian City, and could not possibly arrive yet.
So Rhine was gambling everything on this window of time, trying to drag House Green down into ruin with him.
Doyle could not allow it. Not another instant.
Here, in this very hall, House Green still had two City-Buster rank experts of their own. Furthermore, allied clans had sent several more of the same level. In total—five City-Buster rank masters stood present.
Even if some shadowy assassin truly lurked, four experts working together could hold it off, perhaps even slay it.
If Doyle could seize Rhine in this moment, everything would end.
"Little bastard! You spurn the hand I offered! Do you think House Green fears the likes of you?"
With a roar, Doyle launched forward like a loosed arrow. Mana flared around him in blinding radiance as his right hand shaped into claws, slashing straight for Rhine's throat. One strike—swift, decisive, fatal.
The other four City-Buster rank guests hesitated only a fraction of a breath before they too exploded with killing intent, rushing in from every side. They meant to cut off every path of escape, to intercept any sudden strike from that rumored assassin.
Elisa's lips curled in glee, delight flashing in her eyes. The other guests shrank back in terror, terrified of being caught in the blast of power.
But Rhine?
Rhine did not move.
He stood rooted to the spot, calm as the eye of a storm. His lips curved upward, a razor-edged smile stretching across his face.
"So. You couldn't hold it in any longer, old turtle?"
Swoosh!
The moment Doyle's talons reached for Rhine's throat—
Shlick!
The unmistakable sound of a blade piercing flesh rang out, sharp and visceral. Everyone in the hall felt their teeth ache at the sound.
Doyle's charge faltered. His entire body jerked to a halt.
The murderous fury on his face froze.
Slowly, as though in a nightmare, he lowered his gaze.
There, jutting from his chest where his heart had been, protruded the gleaming tip of a blade—no steel, but a dagger shaped wholly from solid shadow.
No blood stained its edge. Yet from it poured a suffocating aura of silence, of inevitable death.
Doyle's strength drained from his body like water rushing out with the tide. His limbs weakened, his vision blurred into darkness.
"Im… impossible…"
His voice rasped with disbelief. Even as life fled his veins, comprehension never came. How had the assassin bypassed the perception of four City-Buster ranks? How had death crept so near without a whisper?
The blade of shadow slid soundlessly back into nothingness.
The light in Doyle Green's eyes guttered out. His towering form collapsed heavily onto the floor, sending up a cloud of dust.
A silence more absolute than any before engulfed the hall.
Every face was locked in the rictus of terror.
Rhine spared the corpse only a look of distaste. With a sharp kick, he rolled it aside. Then his eyes—cold, merciless, glinting with cruelty—swept over the four frozen City-Buster ranks, over Elisa trembling like a leaf in winter, over the countless nobles and guests who cowered in dread.
His voice was calm. Yet in every ear it sounded like the whisper of Death itself.
"Kill them all."
Darkness spread. Shadows swallowed the splendor of House Green's luxurious estate. The night filled with blood's spray and the despairing wails of the dying.
Thus ended the feast—in crimson ruin and unspeakable terror.