The explosion had ceased. The building no longer trembled, yet many knight attendants and common folk still felt a buzzing in their ears, as though countless flies were swarming inside their skulls, rendering them deaf to everything.
A knight who had accompanied Viscount Layte to the blast site returned and addressed the Night Watch adventurer: "A wall collapsed, several pillars brought down, and a quarter of the wax museum destroyed. Fortunately, that section hadn't been fitted with figures yet, and no one had gone over there. His Lordship and two others are extinguishing the lingering flames as we speak. He sent me to warn you—stay vigilant, lest someone take advantage of the chaos to launch an attack. He estimates it was either a mid-tier alchemical explosive or a fourth-rank magician who bombarded the area with Fireball."
Although the rank of each spell was fixed, its destructive power grew rapidly with the caster's strength. The Fireball of a fourth-rank magician was not even in the same conceptual league as that of a third-rank.
The Night Watch adventurer nodded. "The Lordships, Mr. Brown, and the other knights all responded swiftly and correctly—giving those rat-like, cowardly magicians no opening. I trust my companions have already seized that archer from earlier. I'm also preparing to use a Divine Arts artifact to summon additional Night Watch members, so we're not caught off guard by another ambush on the way back."
Being attacked repeatedly without ever laying hands on the assassins had put the Night Watchman in a foul mood. Moreover, ambushing and assassinating was the sort of work you couldn't simply delegate to bishops and priests.
"That's very wise of you. His Lordship has never been this angry before." The knight turned toward Sorg, intending to relay Viscount Layte's words of reassurance.
"Olivier, you have to get me out of here right now. This place is far too dangerous!" Brown blurted out in a panic that bordered on madness.
The Night Watchman called Olivier understood Brown's state of mind all too well. The succession of attacks was genuinely terrifying, and Brown was no true knight—his willpower fell far short. "Mr. Brown, wait for the Night Watch members I've summoned to arrive, and I'll escort you home."
In his view, if the three attacks hadn't all been thunder with no rain—if even a single assassin had shown themselves—Brown's condition wouldn't have deteriorated so badly. Once an assassin actually appeared, Brown would likely steady himself, because it was the unknown that gnawed at a person's nerves, especially an unknown that inspired dread.
"How long do I have to wait? Why not just go to the nearby Church and find the priests or a bishop?" Brown urged, his fear and anger in equal measure.
Olivier shrugged. "Work like this—those illustrious priests and bishops who bask in the light of the divine? They'd never dirty their hands. Not unless we've already cornered the assassins and they can swoop in to claim the credit."
Brown grew visibly agitated. "Olivier, I don't want to live like this anymore. I don't want to be bait anymore! I want to reach the Holy City—quickly!"
"Mr. Brown, calm yourself. Calm down. The fact that these attacks have no real substance actually proves the Magic Parliament is running out of options. And since they lack the courage to sacrifice a mid-rank magician, you are in absolutely no danger." Olivier offered a couple of reassuring words, then added, "I'll use the Divine Arts artifact right now to summon my companions."
"Olivier, please hurry." Brown paced restlessly, the fear inside him swelling by the second.
_Hurry and leave this place. There's tremendous danger here._
_Leave now—a high-rank magician is going to destroy the wax museum any moment!_
The terror in his heart seemed to fracture into countless urgent voices, tightening his nerves further and further until he felt he would go mad from the pressure. The angel feather pinned to his clothing dwindled, vanishing bit by bit with every step he took.
_Run! Run! Run!_
_Thump! Thump! Thump!_
The voices and his heartbeat merged into one, and Brown felt he could endure no more. He caught sight of Olivier communing with someone through a signal, and a flicker passed through his eyes. Without another word, he turned and bolted for the main gate.
The Regeneration Bloodline granted Brown such speed that before anyone could react, he had already blurred past them and vanished through the doorway.
The crowds outside the wax museum had long since fled in the wake of the explosion, leaving the grounds desolate. Brown ran without looking back, though he had no idea where he was running to.
Inside the wax museum, Olivier—who had been reaching out to other Night Watch members—didn't realize Brown had broken through the gate until he heard the commotion.
"Oh no!" He took off in pursuit.
After sprinting a dozen meters, Brown was suddenly seized by an overwhelming sense of danger that ripped him out of his panic-fueled stupor.
"Damn it!" Brown knew something was wrong, but by then his field of vision was already engulfed in firelight. A fireball the size of a human head struck him squarely in the upper body.
As the fireball hit, Brown's gaze instinctively darted toward its point of origin.
In his crimson, flame-lit pupils, he caught a glimpse of the scene around the corner of the wax museum—a young man in a tall black top hat, adjusting his monocle with his left hand, the flame on his wrist still fading.
_Boom._ The fireball detonated violently. Brown's upper body was blown to shreds, and the searing flames destroyed his cells' regenerative capacity, killing him outright.
……
Olivier had barely reached the gate when he heard the deafening explosion, and an intuitive realization surged through his mind.