Sentinel Operation: A Motley Crew’s First Encounter

The night market, illuminated by dim lanterns, buzzed with a cacophony of voices, a melting pot of humanity. A petite, adorable loli, with fair skin and long, straight hair, her legs bare, strode confidently down the center of the road, naturally drawing countless gazes.

Iordera could feel the eyes of those around her fixed upon her—or rather, upon her legs.

This time, Hecate was not with her, which was perhaps for the best; if anyone dared to offend her as they had before, she would have the perfect opportunity to test her new skills.

Yet, no one stepped forward this time, and whenever Iordera glanced around, people would quickly avert their eyes.

Far from being offensive, their demeanor was almost deferential.

Upon reaching the bar, the middleman, adorned with a hefty gold chain, stepped out to greet her, a wine glass in hand.

“Hello there, little beauty, are you here alone this time?”

Iordera recognized him; Hecate had mentioned him during their previous visit as the East District’s fixer for perilous assignments, nicknamed ‘Cat Head’.

Not ‘Kitty Cat,’ just ‘Cat Head’ with a heavy gold chain.

Though they had never formally interacted, Cat Head acted with an air of familiarity.

“You two were here before, and word quickly spread about a charming little beauty with lovely long legs,” Cat Head paused, “and a beautiful young lady in a top hat.”

Iordera narrowed her eyes.

‘His tone had shifted when describing her versus Hecate, notably pausing before mentioning the latter.’

“Word spread that quickly?” Iordera feigned nonchalance. “We merely sat for a moment during our last visit.”

Cat Head set down his glass, chuckling. “Skinny Monkey’s hand was crippled, his severed limb floating in the air for an entire night without falling. With such power, I presume that Aether Mage, Miss Hecate, must be at least Level 50, wouldn’t you agree?”

‘So that was it. No wonder they were so courteous this time; they were showing respect to a powerful individual.’

Iordera knew that a Level 50 expert was a rare sight indeed. In a medium-sized city like Juneburg, such an individual would be an absolute overlord, akin to Lord Martin’s Silverlight Swordsman.

‘Was this all part of Hecate’s calculations, then?’

‘To bring her to the night market for a stroll, to preemptively deal with ruffians, and subtly display a fraction of her power.’

‘Truly, just a fraction…’

“She’s not here; I’ve come on my own to find something to do,” Iordera stated calmly. “Do you have any suitable commissions?”

‘Stay calm. I’m someone who’s instantly defeated a Level 60 Alchemical Golem, so I can afford to be a little arrogant.’

“Of course, and quite a few, too.” Cat Head reached for a stack of cardboard slips.

“Let me be clear upfront,” Iordera quickly added, “I don’t engage in murder or arson.”

“Understood, little beauty, you maintain a righteous conduct,” Cat Head chuckled oddly. “However, that significantly limits the available commissions.”

He rummaged through the slips, eventually finding a suitable one and handing it over.

Iordera took it and saw only a single line of text.

“Codename: Sentinel Operation?”

“This is an urgent commission from the authorities,” Cat Head explained in detail. “They suspect a criminal, wanted for multiple offenses, plans to secretly flee Saroyan late tonight. Your task is to intercept him midway with others, report his location to the soldiers, and the commission will be complete once they take custody of the culprit.”

Iordera pondered, holding the small card. “Why issue a commission for people here to intercept him? Wouldn’t it be simpler for the soldiers to act directly?”

‘And save money, too.’

“The city’s Enforcement Squad operates openly, with their own structure and commanders; their every move is conspicuous,” Cat Head took a sip from his glass. “If they were to attempt an interception, word would reach the target’s ears just steps outside their quarters.”

Iordera pursed her lips, thinking, ‘The core issue is simply that the night market has grown too influential.’

With the night market’s immense growth, talented individuals increasingly choose to take commissions here, attracted by the flexible hours and generous pay.

Secondly, the night market facilitates all manner of illicit dealings, naturally including the trade of intelligence. Information regarding the Enforcement Squad is highly sought after here.

“So, what do you say, will you take it?” Cat Head asked, swirling his drink. “It’s fine if you don’t; I’ll keep an eye out for more ‘righteous’ commissions in the future.”

Iordera considered for a moment, then clutched the card in her palm. “I’ll take this commission.”

‘Hecate’s display of Level 50 power garnered such respect, indicating that the tasks here were merely of that caliber.’

‘Manageable.’

Cat Head pocketed the small card, pushed his glass aside, and stood. “Follow me.”

Behind the tavern lay a long, shadowy path. Cat Head led the way, speaking as they walked:

“The target is Dogget, of the Canine-headed race, who once briefly served at Saroyan’s consulate as a diplomat for beastkin races, settling in Saroyan after his tenure.”

Iordera raised a delicate brow. “A former diplomat?”

“Indeed. The authorities recently suspected him of bribery during his time in office, and possibly engaging in acts detrimental to city security after his resignation, thus seeking his arrest. The sole requirement is that he be taken alive.”

Cat Head led her to a house, unlocked the door with a key, and said, “Go on in and meet your teammates.”

Inside, a dimly lit lamp cast faint shadows over three or four figures gathered around a round table, each preparing their weapons.

‘As it was an urgent commission, with little time to select personnel, the team members were clearly not the most ideal choices; they were simply pulled in as laborers because they happened to be available.’

This was clearly not a well-balanced team composition: A burly, bare-chested bald man with wolf-tooth gauntlets on his hands. An axeman wielding a small axe, a large saber strapped to his back, and two small mustaches adorning his face. And a figure shrouded in a black robe, their face obscured by a hood, whose profession was indiscernible, but who clutched a mid-length sword.

In short, it was a team of three melee fighters, and with Iordera, that made four. This lineup, far from being suitable for traversing another world, wouldn’t even survive the laning phase in a game from her previous life.

Gazing at the weapons in their hands, Iordera mused—excluding her Dragon Roar with its lengthy cooldown, the longest-range attack in this entire group might just be her own ‘Elegant Strike’.

“Well, well, isn’t this the rumored new little beauty, the one with the lovely legs?”

The bald man in gauntlets greeted her. “Your name’s been quite popular in the night market lately; everyone’s talking about you.”

Iordera gave a slight nod, indicating Cat Head had already informed her, and there was no need to repeat it.

The mustachioed axeman also looked over, though his expression held a hint of disdain. “You’re *the* one from the rumors? Pretty faces are useless; don’t be a mere vase that holds us back.”

The black-robed figure, however, recoiled slightly, seemingly disinclined to participate in the team’s discussion.

Iordera curved her lips into a faint, mirthless smile.

‘So this is team morale, is it? How utterly delightful.’