Due to the recent incidents, Count Alistair had awakened and begun working very early.
At this moment, he was seated in his office, handling a series of papers and reports.
Then, a rush of hurried footsteps echoed louder and louder, breaking his concentration. Alistair could clearly hear those steps approaching his very room.
The Count frowned, worried that something unpleasant had occurred to cause such commotion so early in the morning.
His office door was knocked upon, but before he could respond, it was immediately opened without permission.
Alistair's brows furrowed even deeper at the rude intrusion of his butler, who should have been well aware of proper etiquette.
Alistair: "What on earth has driven you to barge into my office uninvited?"
Rather than anger or outrage, Alistair felt more concern.
Surely something extremely serious must have happened for the butler to ignore even the most basic rules of courtesy.
Before receiving any answer, Alistair saw a group of strangers, seemingly adventurers, storming in. They quickly bypassed the butler and charged straight toward him.
Sensing danger immediately, Alistair reacted with remarkable speed.
He swiftly drew the sword placed nearby from its sheath and slashed toward the first attacker, a man with black hair.
Alistair himself was a formidable swordsman. His strike carried immense power, as though intending to cleave his foe in two with a single blow.
Yet his opponent was no ordinary man. Wielding two massive blades with ease, as if they were mere knives, the intruder effortlessly blocked Alistair's strike.
With just one clash, Alistair instantly realized the enemy was immensely strong. And the terrifying part was, there wasn't only one of them.
Alistair: "We are under attack!"
He shouted, intending to use the momentum from his previous strike to escape through the balcony behind him, since the entrance had already been blocked by the enemy.
Alistair wanted to know why his butler had brought such foes into his presence, but at this moment, the more urgent matter was to secure his own safety.
The rest could be dealt with later.
Before he could retreat, the Count suddenly felt a wave of fatigue and drowsiness overwhelm him.
His movements grew sluggish and stiff, his body urging him to drop his weapon and lie down to rest.
'Drop my weapon?'
Alistair shuddered at the thought, horrified that such an idea had crossed his mind now.
Realizing something was wrong, he immediately channeled a large amount of spiritual energy to shield his mind, regaining clarity.
Yet the delay had already allowed the enemy to block his escape route.
Not only that, she lunged forward with a vicious thrust of her hand aimed directly at his neck.
The strike was too fast; Alistair knew he could no longer dodge or parry it by ordinary means. Thus, he activated a magical item bestowed by the Church of Light.
The artifact instantly conjured a radiant sphere of light around him, shielding him and successfully intercepting the ambush. But it did more than defend; the barrier repelled the attacker with its force.
Caught off guard by the searing light, the silver-haired woman staggered back in pain. Her attacking hand smoked as though it had been burned.
At the same time, Alistair noticed her face and part of her body twisting, revealing features akin to those of a giant bat. Moments later, her appearance swiftly returned to that of a normal human.
Alistair shivered, his back drenched in sweat.
Sweat drenched his back not only because he had narrowly escaped death thanks to his swift reaction, but also because he realized the enemies were in fact high-ranking Demons disguised as humans.
Knowing his situation was far more perilous than he had first imagined, Alistair poured all his effort into finding a way to escape.
But of course, his foes would not simply stand by and allow it. The moment he was blocked earlier had left him surrounded.
Once again, he activated the magical item, attempting to break through the encirclement and dash toward the balcony.
Standing in his way was still the silver-haired woman.
She twisted her body slightly, launching a lightning-fast kick. Her toes, sharp like a spear, pierced straight toward Alistair's chest, ignoring the damage from the radiant barrier.
Using both the magical item and the sword in his hand, Alistair easily blocked the strike.
Yet the true purpose of the attack was merely to push him back from the balcony, preventing his escape.
The black-haired man then unleashed a storm of attacks with his blades. The weapons, engulfed in strange flames of yellow tinged with green, easily shattered the protective barrier surrounding Alistair.
The Count struggled desperately to fend off the relentless assault with his sword.
Though he had shouted for help earlier, not a single soldier came to his aid. He suspected that the others had already done something.
To make matters worse, the silver-haired woman continued to coordinate her attacks, striking from the side.
Alistair quickly accumulated numerous injuries, though none were yet fatal. Still, he could already foresee his grim fate.
Despair mixed with fury, Alistair roared thunderously, unleashing the strongest strike he could muster against the unarmed silver-haired woman.
He was determined to drag at least one of them down with him.
But Alistair suddenly felt his spiritual energy become chaotic, difficult to control as he wished.
One of his legs was suddenly bound and locked in place by a layer of earth and stone that appeared out of nowhere.
Meanwhile, the sword he was swinging was caught firmly by the silver-haired woman's right leg. That very leg, which had been delivering deadly kicks, had somehow transformed, covered in a thin layer of black fur, with toes replaced by large, sharp claws.
In that very moment, one of the black-haired man's blades pierced straight through Alistair's chest.
Helpless, the Count collapsed, quickly losing his final breaths without being able to do anything.