Chương 59: Ally

Levi wished he could've taken the intruders captive to interrogate them, but it had been too risky. Most of the techniques in his repertoire were specialized for killing, not detaining, and with Ayla in such close proximity, he'd deemed it too dangerous to attempt restraining them lest they somehow escaped. He'd seen one too many situations devolve into a nightmarish clusterfuck due to this exact scenario. As such, he'd made sure to kill them all as fast as possible.

Especially since there was no guarantee that he'd have even been able to get any information out from them. The Last Order, or whatever they called themselves, had been powerful. He wouldn't have even noticed them if it weren't for the negative intent detection field he always cast over himself while he slept.

Fortunately, while any professional assassin worth their salt was capable of concealing their bloodlust, negative intent was far more difficult to mask; bypassing it required one to hypnotize themselves into believing that they were genuinely doing a good deed. But he digressed. The Last Order had been competent enough, frighteningly so, that Levi had a feeling they never would've given up any amount of information, no matter what he did.

And the last thing he wanted was for one of them to trigger some sort of last-ditch suicide technique while he was questioning them. The manor's guards hadn't noticed him killing the three assassins outside. He would've called them inept, but in fairness there had been no particularly flashy spells tossed around during the battle, and he'd dispatched the assassins with extreme haste on top of that.

Since awakening in this new world, this was the first time he'd attacked someone with the full intent to kill; even back when he was fighting Syto or Hawke, he'd been holding himself back to some degree because they needed information. However, against these assassins… Well. They seemed like the type to use innocents as shields or leverage, and Levi would've never forgiven himself if Ayla had gotten hurt. He was lucky that they'd decided to attack him outright.

At any rate, Levi didn't want to answer any awkward questions to the guards on duty, or gods forbid Lord Ironwood, so he'd quickly dragged the dead members of the Last Order back inside his room and laid them out on the floor, one after the other. Then, he crossed his arms as he surveyed them, a contemplative look entering his eyes as he considered what to do with their corpses. Hmm… Come to think of it, he'd always been somewhat curious about the physical compositions of the individuals in this world.

Did the System cause any biological or metaphysical changes? Did these people possess any unique magical channels or structural alterations? He'd been planning on gravedigging at some point in the future to properly conduct a study, but now with the opportunity so conveniently dropped into his lap… Well. Waste not, want not, right? He layered some magic over his hands like a protective glove, activated his True Sight, and got to work.

And that was the scene Qorbin walked in on a few minutes later: four naked bodies laid out on the floor, their chests held wide open by magical threads, with Levi humming a tune to himself as he was elbow-deep in the guts of the fifth body. Levi instantly froze, whipping his head around to stare at Qorbin. The Grand Assassin had, as usual, emerged without any warning from the shadows in the room. Qorbin, for his part, halted in place as he took in the scene.

"This isn't what it looks like," Levi said. Qorbin raised an eyebrow.

"You killed the assassins that our dear pal Montague sent after you and decided to dissect their bodies to determine if there were any physiomagical differences from the people in your old world?" Levi blinked.

"Huh. Okay, this is exactly what it looks like."

"Heh," Qorbin grinned.

"You'd fit right in with the magical researchers in the Restricted Sanctum. Find anything interesting–?" His gaze fell on the body Levi was currently 'examining', and his eyes widened in recognition.

"Wait. Is that Shade?" His voice slightly rose in pitch.

"Montague sent the Last Order after you?!"

"Apparently so," Levi said as he stood up, magically clearing the blood from his hands.

"Why?" Qorbin stared at him.

"They're one of the most dangerous – and expensive – freelance operative groups in all of Koxus. Their clientele generally consist of royal governments and high-ranking nobility for wetwork operations that require the utmost secrecy and plausible deniability. In the underworld, they rank above me in both notoriety and efficacy." A pensive frown crossed his face.

"Levi, this isn't normal. Montague sending even me after you was already unreasonably excessive. Hiring the Last Order themselves…" Slowly, Levi nodded.

"Perhaps he genuinely believes something happened between me and Liliya?" he asked.

"I've encountered cases before where people poison their entire families, and themselves, due to suspected infidelity." After what he'd seen, the sheer depravity of some people tended to no longer surprise him.

"Maybe," Qorbin said.

"That could be a possibility." He paused.

"That is, assuming Montague was even responsible for this at all. Did the Last Order say who sent them?" Levi shook his head.

"I thought not. Any chance this could be the Crucible finally making a move against you?"

"Potentially," Levi said, his brows furrowing.

"Though, this feels too impersonal. After what I did to Phantasm, I don't think he'd outsource revenge to anyone else. He'd prefer to do it himself. Granted, I could've read him wrong, but I'm fairly confident in the psychological profile I'd constructed."

"Fair enough," Qorbin said. He sighed.

"Well, no point in theorizing. Better to just confront Montague directly and get some answers. Oh, and speaking of that…" A dangerous smile spread across his face.

"I have some good news."

"Oh? And what would that be?"

"It appears that of the many virtues Montague lacks, patience is one of them. My sources already report signs of the Royal Sentinels preparing an escort mission. It appears that Montague doesn't want to waste any time in transporting Liliya back to his estate; I imagine he wants the wedding to happen as soon as possible." Levi didn't react for a moment. Then, he smiled.

"I see. That is some rather good news."

"It is, isn't it?" They both fell silent for a moment.

"So. Are we hitting the convoy en route?" Qorbin shook his head.

"Can't. Since it's technically an official Royal Sentinel escort mission, that means that attacking it could be construed as an attack on the Crown itself. It's far better to strike when Montague is back in his estate; then it'd just be categorized as a regular noble dispute." Levi paused.

"I really don't understand noble politics sometimes…"

"You're telling me," Qorbin said.

"Of course, it'll be far more difficult to infiltrate and extract Liliya from the Montague estate than a single guarded convoy…" He grinned.

"But we're us, so we should be able to pull it off." He paused.

"That being said… There's a chance Liliya doesn't even want to be rescued. Are you certain you want to do this?"

"Yeah," Levi said.

"Yeah, I am. Perhaps she'll disagree with me, but… I think this is something I need to do. I'll accept all responsibility." Qorbin nodded.

"I see." He was silent for a moment as his gaze pierced into Levi.

"Ever since your talk with Anastasia, you seem different." His lips curled into a small smile.

"I'm glad," he said.

"The eyes you had when I first met you… They were far too weary for one so young." Levi snorted.

"I'm only a few years younger than you."

"Exactly," Qorbin said.

"At any rate, the Royal Sentinels will likely leave at dawn. If they're traveling by carriage, then it should take them around three days to reach Montague's home city. We'll have until then to prepare."

"Excellent," Levi said. His magic swirled around within him in anticipation. A thought occurred to him.

"Say, I know we agreed to wait until Liliya returned to distribute the loot we obtained from Hawke's cottage, but… I think she'll understand if I borrow some things for now, right?" The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Qorbin raised an eyebrow.

"What exactly did you have in mind?"

"Some of the magical items I saw could prove to be useful. And, more importantly…" Levi gestured down at himself.

"It's about time I picked up some proper clothing, don't you think?" Qorbin blinked. Then, he chuckled.

"Well. Hawke was a mage…" He nodded.

"Sounds good – you can have your pick."

"Thank you." Then Levi hesitated.

"How difficult would you say this will actually be?" Qorbin let out a long breath.

"It'll be quite hard," he admitted.

"The Montague estate makes the Ironwood Manor look like a children's playpen in comparison – though to be fair, manors within Luxanne tend to have far laxer security due to how safe the city already is." He paused, glancing down at the dead assassins.

"Generally speaking, at least…" Levi nodded. That made sense; the Ironwood Manor was just a temporary residential place. Lord Ironwood normally lived in the Ironwood Estate out in the southern territory, which Levi assumed had considerably higher security.

"There'll be multiple Royal Sentinels guarding the place," Qorbin continued.

"Montague is no slouch himself either; I hate the guy, but he's a high-ranking Royal Sentinel for a reason." He sighed.

"To be honest, I'd feel better if we had even one more person with us… but considering the circumstances, I doubt we'd be able to recruit anyone." Levi hummed thoughtfully.

"Maybe not. I might have someone in mind." Bam! Bam! Bam! Professor Alistair Merriweather's chest heaved as he pulverized rocky golem after golem with his massive war axe. His heart pounded heavily against his chest and his muscles screamed from the exertion, but he pushed through the pain and continued whaling upon the unending golems. He was in one of the private training halls on the Institute's 59th floor. Like many other professors, he had a living quarter within the Institute.

It was unusual for him to be awake at this hour – his body wasn't what it once was, and he'd grown to enjoy the early nights – but on this particular night, he couldn't fall asleep. He'd tossed and turned in his bed for several hours before deciding to release some of his frustrations in the training hall. The golems were massive, each thrice as tall as him, magically constructed of steel and stone and animated by the training hall's enchantments.

He'd overridden the safety limitations in the room's settings, dramatically increasing the golems' power and speed. Dozens of them rushed at him, and every time he destroyed one, they were promptly absorbed into the room's floor, regenerated fully, then sent at him again. His MP bar rapidly plummeted as he attacked again and again, but he didn't care. He wasn't bothering to conserve his mana at all. He was too furious. He fell upon the golems with a reckless abandon, anger fueling his every devastating blow.

Merriweather was barely even focused on the fight, his movements running on pure autopilot. His thoughts were focused on something else. He had received notice earlier that day that Liliya had been taken into custody by the Royal Sentinels. That she had been disbarred as an adventurer on the grounds that she'd cheated the Ascension Trials. His blood boiled with rage, and his next strike was so powerful that it nearly disintegrated the golem it hit. Disgusting. Reprehensible. Absolutely sickening.

Merriweather had vouched for Liliya to the Adventurer's Guild like he'd promised, had asserted that she deserved to be an adventurer through and through – and they'd as good as told him to go pound sand. It was crystal clear to anyone with eyes that the decision to disbar her had been a corrupt ruling carried out by a kangaroo court. He had raised hell, of course. And had been hit by a hefty fine and tossed into a holding cell for several days by the Royal Sentinels. What a thoroughly despicable joke.

He didn't even care about what had happened to him. But Liliya… His heart ached for his student. He knew how hard she'd worked throughout the years, had seen in his class her incredible work ethic and determination. Her desire to become an adventurer, to prove herself on the Ascension Trials, to push herself so hard… She'd earned her right to be an adventurer. So for it to be ripped away so unjustly… And after he'd promised her that he'd personally guarantee her graduation, no less… Disgusting. Reprehensible.

Absolutely sickening. All were words to describe himself. When he was first thrown inside the holding cell, the warrior within him had roared with fury. Had demanded him to go save Liliya the second he was released. Had brayed to launch an assault on the Montague estate, to hell with the consequences. And Merriweather had suppressed it all. Had repressed and crushed that part of him, forcing it down deep within himself so that it'd never see the light of day. It was too risky, after all.

Merriweather knew his limits; there was no way he'd succeed. He didn't need to be a professor of Advanced Self-Preservation to know that. Nobody would blame him for doing nothing. And yet… Shame boiled deep within him, and for a second the emotion was so intense it overwhelmed even his anger. He faltered for a moment, and that small lapse cost him; one of the golem's attacks slipped through his guard and streaked toward his face with blinding speed. It was too late for him to dodge or block.

Merriweather braced himself for the impact. It would hurt, but that was okay. He was a warrior, a Vanguard, and beyond that, he deserved the pain. It didn't come. Merriweather's eyes widened as a figure suddenly appeared in front of him, blocking the golem's strike with an open hand. A loud BAM rang out, the force of the strike sending out a shockwave, but the figure didn't even stumble. He stood there, holding back the golem with a single hand as if it weighed lighter than a feather.

The rest of the golems continued surging forward, then suddenly froze in place. For a split second, Merriweather thought that the room's enchantments had malfunctioned – since he disabled the safety limitations, the golems were all overloaded with mana, which might've burned out the magical circuits powering the room. Then, the golems were lifted into the air. Merriweather watched dumbly as tons of metal and rock rose up high, hoisted by some invisible force. The golems struggled helplessly.

A second later, a pulse of magic burst outward from the figure, so strong that even Merriweather with his weak magical detection skill felt it. Dozens of resounding CRACKS echoed out as every golem fractured and shattered into thousands of pieces. Then, they plummeted to the ground. Amidst the backdrop of falling rubble, the figure turned around. He wore a set of flowing mage robes that rippled slightly, and Merriweather could immediately tell that they were worth a fortune.

Though he wasn't a mage, the sheer craftsmanship had even him admiring in awe. The fabric was woven from a mix of adamantine threads and some type of fur that he couldn't identify. That in itself already spoke volumes; adamantine thread was notoriously unstable due to it being, well, a magical metal. That was before attempting to blend it with a magical creature's fur, which would have its own residual magical field. Add to that the arcane enchantments and runic scripts embroidered in the edges of the robes…

It was unbelievable. These robes were undoubtedly one of a kind, an ultra rare high-tier item. The sort of robes that wouldn't look out of place if worn by a Mythmaker-tier mage, or even higher. Merriweather dragged his eyes away from the robes, shifting his gaze upward to see– He blinked. Wait. What?

"Good evening, Professor," Levi Ironwood said.

"Do forgive me for the interruption, but I was starting to feel a little bad for the golems. What did they do to deserve such abuse?" Merriweather was silent for a long moment. Countless questions rushed through his head, each more critical than the last. However, he had his priorities. The questions could wait. Without any warning, Merriweather bowed, so forcefully he nearly toppled over.

"I owe you my deepest apologies, Mr Ironwood," he said.

"I had promised Miss Volkov, your party teammate, that she'd become an adventurer, but…" He couldn't fully keep the shame from filling his voice.

"I failed. I broke my word. I was unable to protect my dear student, and as a result, Miss Volkov…" He choked up, unable to even finish the sentence.

"Lift your head, Professor Merriweather," Levi said, his voice quiet but firm.

"Of all people, you needn't apologize. You did what you could, and I thank you for it." Slowly, Merriweather rose from his bow.

"I could've done more," he said.

"I could've–""Yeah, gonna cut you off right there." Merriweather whirled around to see Mythmaker Ravenbane stepping out from the shadows. The Grand Assassin smirked and waved.

"Yo," he drawled before drawing out his hip flask from his cloak and taking a long swig. He wiped his lips with a satisfied sigh before walking up.

"Trust me, I know how much of a, heh, royal pain in the ass the Royal Sentinels are. If you did anything more, then forget a few days in a holding cell – they might've charged you with treason altogether."

"If there is anyone who should apologize," Levi said, "it is me." He bowed, lower than even Merriweather had.

"I could've stopped the Royal Sentinels – I could've saved Liliya. But I didn't. I had my reasons, of course, but when it comes down to it… I let her sacrifice herself when I could've done everything to stop it. I failed to save your student – and for that, I'm sorry." Then he rose from his bow, and Merriweather felt himself subconsciously straightening at the look on Levi Ironwood's face. Levi's eyes were bright.

Filled with a burning determination so earnest that it made the warrior within Merriweather stir to life.

"I realize I may not have the right," he said.

"But in three days, Qorbin and I will go save Liliya from her fate. I ask of you: will you help us?" Merriweather stared at him for several seconds. Then a large, ferocious smile spread across his face. His mustache quivered in excitement as for the first time in weeks, he felt something akin to hope ignite within him. He didn't know how Levi had stopped the golems, why Qorbin was here, how they planned to stand up to the Royal Sentinels, but… None of it mattered.

Right now, right here, the only thing that mattered was…

"My dear lad, do you even have to ask?" Merriweather said.

"What do I have to do?"