“So, care to tell me how curse practice turned into a raid?"

I ask Laffer, as I glance at the other members present. And when I say others, it's just my bird and Wills.

"Yeah, what the heck man, can't you just leave me alone with my beer?" Wills stutters out, taking a sip of what I presume to be some kind of alcoholic beverage.

"I wonder if I should ditch?" He murmurs.

I have the exact same thoughts. Though personally, I'm still stuck on how Laffer's personal agenda suddenly became a mission for the cult to accomplish.

"That's because one of our problems are all of our problems, and I’ll say it again, we're not a cult," Laffer puts forth whilst observing the situation inside the Mirjam compound. "Plus, you were the one who suggested this,"

We were currently situated on a rooftop two streets away from their pharmaceutical complex. The place was very legal and was licensed by the relevant authorities, but according to Laffer, they were, from his testimony, ‘producing drugs,’ which doesn’t sound wrong considering it’s a pharmaceutical compound. But from what I, personally could see, these were all legal therapeutics.

Laffer’s brilliant plan was to ruin this establishment, destroy their drugs, and thereby ruin their business. Which seemed like a plan built upon the grave naivety of five year olds, but the main objective was just to make the Mirjam house bleed, and let some crouching cougars finish them off. And not in the stabby way as I thought, but the business way of finishing them off.

The gates seemed to be open with a steady stream of people coming through. They were having a soirée for their investors and patrons. Whatever that meant. But nonetheless, the place was packed today, making this a prime chance to sneak in and cause some havoc. Yet there's still a feeling gnawing at my mind. Surely such a wealthy family would have some capable guards, right?

…

Standing tall, he inspected the people flowing through the gates.

As a Steel Will ranked exadventurer, Gale took pride in his past glory and expeditions. Though that was behind him, settling down, he found himself under the employ of the Mirjam family. The pay was exemplary and the job was safe, something that only veterans like him would appreciate.

It should be noted that adventurers are individuals who explored uncharted lands and delved into dangerous ruins. They are not hired hands. They were thrillseekers and profiteers looking for fame by searching into the unknown, though it is inevitable that adventurers dabble in such mercenary professions.

In his time, Gale had located numerous Unique and even Epic artifacts. However, although an artifact may be only of a Unique rank, it was much more potent and valuable if it were compared to any modern construct of the same grade. It truly showed how competent and capable Gale was to achieve such a thing, as such artifacts were usually only found within ancient ruins guarded by primeval constructs and ladled with countless traps and monsters nestling within.

Gale's combat capability was simply nothing to scoff at.

Standing guard outside the reception hall of his lord's pharmaceutics complex, he let his mind adrift. This evening, the Mirjam family was hosting a soirée for influential peoples, talented mages and accomplished artisans in the area. They were building up their investors and supporters, likely for another power struggle with the Reed family no doubt. Despite knowing about their underground strife, he chose to not flag this. As long as he was paid, all was good and the world could keep turning

The night was young, so who knew trouble would brew so quickly?

Waltzing up to the gates, a young gentleman in a black mantle, a white crow on his shoulder to contrast his colour scheme. By all accounts, this man looked awfully suspicious, but with the type of event going on, there were many eccentric personalities streaming in. As long as he presented an invitation there was no need to butt any further.

Walking by Gale, and being asked to show an invitation, the man presented a crinkled letter marred with a scarlet blotch, which had an odd metallic odour that a veteran like Gale could detect even from a room over. However, it was an invitation letter, and that was all that mattered.

"Thomas Devarn?" Gale eyes the man for a moment before giving the green light, "Alright, head in,"

As said before, there was no need to pry any further. Gale was doing his job and as long as he was paid, all was good.

Soon enough, all the guests had arrived and closing the gates he entered the soirée venue standing guard and making sure that none of the guests got too rowdy before the event started. The Mirjam family hyped this event very much from presenting high class food items disseminated on refectory tables across the venue to even hiring a first class songstress capable of mellowing down even the foulest of moods. As well as giving tasters of their signature therapeutics and panaceas in addition to a tour of this compound.

The occasion was set to be a lively one as their would be investors conversed with each other telling tales of their rise to fame or their ventures in the realm of economics. The venue was not large, as there were probably no more than sixty individuals invited, but each of them was of great calibre in their respective fields, most of the combatants here were Silver ranked elites.

However, despite the many eccentricities here, there was one person who still stuck out like a sore thumb. Standing near a dark corner whilst picking at the appetisers from a nearby refectory table, he on occasion also fed his white crow. It was Thomas. For such an innocuous name, he was quite the suspicious individual.

What a peculiar fellow, Gale mused.

Before long, the reception had come to an end as the soirée officially started, with the head of the Mirjam house, Alex Mirjam making a speech to the people gathered.

"Greetings and I hope all of you have had a wonderful evening so far, I'm Alex Mirjam, head of the Mirjam house as you may know,"

Watching the fellow in the corner, his eyes gleamed at the introduction of Alex Mirjam.

Alex stepped forward on an elevated platform as he gave an introduction speech. It was a rather flowery and long winded speech decorated to the point of being a work of art in and of itself.

"Through trial and through hardship, the Mirjam house has always prevailed and now, you too will be part of our great legacy. I hope for an unbending and fruitful cooperation between yourselves and the Mirjam house moving forward," He concludes raising a glass.

The guests all reciprocate, raising their glasses for a toast before downing them. A tradition set deeply into the roots of the Kingdom. In this respect, that suspicious fellow was acting quite normal and much less awkward than some other figures in the room.

"Eh, he's just a weirdo," Gale dismissed his previous thoughts on this man. After all, all the people invited here had an idiosyncrasy here or there.

However, taking his eyes off this fellow was a grave mistake. Whilst everyone was preoccupied with the act of downing their glasses a sharp whistle rang through the air.

*Plink!*

An iron bolt raced toward Alex Mirjam, but it was too late. No one could react in time.

An assassin?!

Well, yes. Or more accurately, a would be assassin. The bolt missed by a couple inches, and the culprit was as clear as day. Without even trying to conceal himself, he was in a shooting posture overlooking where Alex Mirjam was. Could he be under the employ of the Reed family? He has to be. No way he isn't. But that accuracy… Only a third rate sharpshooter would miss a straight shot like that, so maybe, he's from a third party? That’s equally likely.

Despite these thoughts swirling within his head, Gale's body moved swiftly forward, aiming to either apprehend or execute the assassin. It depended on whether the fiend would go down with a fight or not.

However, fate wouldn't have it so easy for Gale, busting through a nearby window, several robed figures breached through. Too preoccupied with the assassination to care for their surroundings, one unlucky swordsman finally noticed them, only to be choked and drained of their vitality, frightening the others from getting close.

Using his quick deduction, Gale immediately deduced their identity. Dark arts cultists or heretics. Using immoral practices and forbidden arts, they move with seemingly no goal in mind, apart from causing pandemonium wherever they go. The recent incident in Joost was a great example of their fickle actions.

Brandishing a Unique artifact shotel, he ignored the garbage ass assassin for now. There were bigger fish to fry. Waving his blade at them he halted their advance. However, swinging and slashing was not the full extent of its abilities. Channelling his essence into the blade, it lit up with a pink light as it unleashed a devastating spiritual attack, battering the minds of the cultists. Though compared to the steel wills of these cultists, the attack was nothing more than a scratch, however, this wasn't the whole gimmick of this Unique artifact.

As the cultists oriented themselves to attack, they were suddenly struck by a second, more forceful attack on their psyche. The shotel was capable of creating unexpected attacks and using this opening, Gale swooped in, cutting a deep wound into one of the cultists, but instead of the expected reaction one would have at having one's stomach slit, the cultist grinned.

Using the moment Gale had his blade jammed in him, he grappled his arm, locking Gale and quickly siphoning his vitality.

"YOu BaSTarD!"

Resisting against the pervasive weakness that spread throughout his body, Gale flailed madly. He wouldn't be dying today!

With his experience as an adventurer, he had the resolution to make drastic decisions.

Activating a talisman, Gale set it upon his right arm, decisively blowing it off. Well, he didn't mean to do that, it was just bad luck that he picked the wrong talisman.

Nonetheless, he was able to force the cultist to back off, albeit at the expense of his arm.

"Tss! It's gonna cost a pretty penny to heal this one," He sucked in a cold breath

Training his eyes back on said cultist, he silently cursed, the wound he inflicted was already stitching itself together.

"You idiot! There's no time to muck around, so hurry your ass!" The cultist was scolded for his unnecessary actions. Time was not on their side, so if they dallied it would only give the people here time to orient themselves and organise a counterforce.

Dark arts cultists were known primarily for their arts which targeted one's vitality and inadvertently one's power rank. However, for a mission such as this, it was better simply to crush their opponent's life essence, though this cultist was playful and went on to slowly drain Gale's life essence. Which was simply a waste of time in a situation such as this.

And this action would quickly come to bite his ass.

*Shing!*

"Die, scum!" A heavy sharpsword hollered, the curved blade slicing the cultist's arm, further pushing him back. The cultist had managed to lean back in time to only leave a shallow wound. At least he bought some time.

Quickly scanning the situation, the sharpsword promptly moves to Gale's side.

"You know who they are?"

"Hell no!" He groans, "These star struck bastards could be anybody, but I got a hunch they may be those godsdamned cultists,"

Picking up his shotel, he rallies the other mercenaries and freelancers to his side, they form a barrier against the encroaching cultists as a healer tends to his wounds.

*Flash!*

With a blinding light, a friar imbued his blade with light essence before beginning his silent crusade. Dashing forward the friar led the vanguard against these heinous fiends.

A scuffle immediately broke out, but the cultists held their ground and slaughtered everyone gathered. Cuts would heal in the blink of an eye, and essence would be crippled. Blood splattered and bodies fell, marring the red carpet an even darker hue. Amidst the battle, a brief respite gave way as the mercenaries and freelancers counted their fallen. Thirteen dead and there were still the two cultists in front of them, Gale counted.

Wait. That number didn't seem right.

"I could have sworn there was one more…" But scouring the bloodied carpet, there were none of their corpses.

In that case, where were they? However, this was a narrative he had witnessed many a time.

"They must have another objective! These guys are decoys!"

"Not quite, I'm afraid," The cultist gave an eerie grin, before fleeing the scene.

Adrenaline still coursing through their veins, they did not let down their vigilance. Though, as the seconds tick, there was no movement to be had, the mages couldn't detect anything either. What was happening?

"Was-Was that it?" A timid alchemist asked no one in particular.

That was not it.

*BOOM!*