"Ron Irus? You're Ron Irus?"
"Yes?"
Promet tried to recall the name Ron, but… well, it didn't leave any impression at all.
"…That weird information broker?" Hadelus frowned deeply, trying to remember anyone who sounded like me.
"Bingo! Congratulations, you got it right."
"…"
"So why are you here?"
"Take a guess~"
"…You here to mess around or what?"
"No, I'm here because I got taken hostage. That's it."
"Then why would they take you hostage? What value do you even have to keep?" Promet glared into the darkness where my voice came from.
"…Oh, because I'm important to them. Simple as that."
"…"
"So what are you planning here? Thinking of helping us?"
"Escape, of course. What else? And there's a reason I haven't escaped yet."
"Which is?"
"I need help, that's all. Help me, yeah?"
A spark flicked to life, and my finger pointed at the two young men lying on the ground as I cheerfully asked:
"So, are you two planning to escape? I don't mind staying, but sharing a toilet with both of you—"
"Alright, alright, enough talking. You got a plan?"
"Aren't you afraid I'll betray you or something?"
"…Blind?"
"Fine, fine, listen to me."
…
BOOM!!
"What the hell was that?!"
A figure dressed head-to-toe in a hooded outfit, with the emblem of The Club printed on his back, shouted as he woke his still-sleepy comrades.
The others, dressed identically, groggily got up while the first man reported a sudden explosion.
"Hurry and send people to check on the hostages—split up!"
"Calm down. Assess the situation first. Tell us what happened!"
"Should we wait for the Headquarters to contact us?"
"Those bastards only know how to hesitate and delay—waste of damn time. Better to act on our own."
"Alright, alright! Just calm down."
They began panicking, arguing all over the place, until a sound came from the window.
Tap tap—tap.
"…What's that?"
A strange eagle pecked repeatedly at the window. As the window cracked open slightly, it dropped something inside.
"Close—close the window!!"
"What the hell is that?!"
"Shit!! The door's locked from the outside!!"
BOOM!
A searing wave of heat engulfed the room. The faces of the strange men were blasted apart, their blood vaporized by the flames before it could even hit the ground.
The airtight room exploded, swallowing everything in fire. The bodies that had been snoring minutes earlier were now ashes—or chunks blown apart entirely.
The door, somehow locked from the outside, suddenly swung open, and a figure in an elegant black cloak stepped in.
"Cough, cough! The smoke's thick—don't rush in."
I warned the two behind me, who were barely able to walk.
"What are you planning to take from here?"Hadelus leaned against the wall and slid down, clearly exhausted. He and Promet could only move thanks to the recovery pills I'd given them.
"That was insane… Was that eagle your pet?"
"You ask too much. Everyone has their secrets."
We had escaped using my wooden eagle—a mystical artifact I had found thanks to the original novel, named The One-Eyed Impostor.
And now this guy wanted to ask how it worked to snatch it for himself or bring it back as credit? Let's not forget: a mystical item rare enough to be called "mystical" is already priceless.
"And also, stop looking at me with those sparkling eyes of yours. You're scaring me."
Hadelus closed his eyes, and the hidden light within them faded into wisps of golden mist.
"Alright then, let's get the hell out of here. I don't want to stay another second."
Promet muttered as he stared down a hallway lined with red carpet but devoid of light—like a cheap horror movie set. Cheap, but frightening enough that a young man like Promet wouldn't dare fall asleep.
"Alright, alright. Let's go. Each of you take a candle, stay calm—we're not even at the exciting part yet."
"…What do you want us to do, fight for you?"
"If we want to escape, that might be necessary."
Clack, clack—
Three silhouettes wandered through the maze-like corridors, location unknown, the halls splattered with blood and scattered organs.
We kept going until we reached a locked door in a large hall, rummaging through the corpses for anything useful.
"…Here."
Promet held a key he'd taken from a dead hooded man. He trudged toward the massive door and slid the key in.
They all waited, expecting a way out behind it—only to be met with a scene that seared itself into their minds.
An old man, his eyes gouged out, lay sprawled on the ground, his hand reaching toward another.
The other hand belonged to a boy about ten years old. They wore elegant, aristocratic clothing—refined and noble. But now, they were dead.
Frowning at the corpses, Promet approached them. He lifted the boy's head and noticed the child's eyes had been burnt away, leaving nothing but charred flesh in ruined sockets.
"…"
Seeing that, Hadelus fell silent. They were no strangers to death—most had known it early in life.But only in continuous attacks like this did they truly feel sorrow for the dead. Not that it lasted long; such is the nature of all things.
"…May the merciful Lord extend His hand to those who have suffered in this world."
Hadelus made a gesture of devotion—something he had never shown before, leaving Promet slightly surprised.
"…It would be nice if God existed. But He probably doesn't…"
Promet replied. Hadelus didn't argue; religion always carried opposing views.
"Honestly, it's good that scum like them died."
I pointed toward the figures lying motionless in the distance—likely from the same faction as the ones I had just killed.
My hand trembled slightly before dropping down as I reached for something.