The Golden Seven and the Mercenary Guild’s Uninvited Guest

Jadette’s Room—

Jadette finally finished her work after several hours. She hadn’t brought her full alchemy set, which meant a simple analysis that should have taken minutes had dragged on for far too long.

Yet, every ounce of effort was worth it. By comparing the male saliva extracted from Aimira Milala’s handkerchief with an old personal garment Jadette had brought, she had confirmed her suspicions.

This handkerchief.

It had wiped.

Corvus Archia Lupercal’s mouth.

Moreover, judging by the shape of the congealed liquid and the residue, it might have happened quite recently.

This revelation sent a dizzying shock through Jadette. The sheer volume of information was overwhelming! Did this mean—could it be—that Aimira had actually met Corvus? And even wiped his mouth? In other words, they had dined together? And this woman had pretended to know nothing in front of her?!

Jadette was incensed!

‘You’ll taste the might of my alchemy!’

…Except, that wasn’t actually the case.

Perhaps due to the extreme shock, she had, paradoxically, grown calm. She even felt like giving Aimira a thumbs-up.

‘Aimira, you sly fox!’

“Has she left yet? Perhaps not? According to protocol, she would surely stop by the Mercenary Guild to bid farewell before departing. If I act swiftly, I might still intercept her.”

Jadette, at this moment, was remarkably composed.

The blend of two conflicting emotions—the dismay of ‘some woman from who-knows-where getting a head start’ and the joy of ‘being able to pry Corvus’s precise whereabouts from her’—was a perfect fusion.

Now, it was time to proceed systematically.

First, she would capture Aimira. Then, she would use a fat-burning agent to incinerate the adipose tissue from her chest.

“No time to lose, quickly—”

She whistled, and a small drone immediately whirred its propellers before settling onto her shoulder.

Just at that moment,

A tremendous, rumbling roar echoed!

Sandra City, The Lord’s Manor, Highest Floor.

As the residence of the First Apostle’s beloved daughter, it was naturally equipped with the most stringent defenses. The Lord’s personal guard worked in three shifts, strictly forbidding any unauthorized personnel from approaching.

To counter all potential dangers—such as infiltration, assassination, magical sniping, or widespread poisoning—the Lord had personally devised a multitude of contingency plans.

…However, these plans did not account for “what to do if Young Lady Jadette’s residence is struck by a meteor.”

A flaming meteor, more than twenty meters in diameter, suddenly materialized two hundred meters in the sky. Upon its appearance, it accelerated its descent.

The moment it struck, the upper half of the Lord’s Manor was engulfed in flames. The sounds of collapsing structures, explosions, and wailing cries rose in a cacophony, while piercing alarms ripped through the night sky.

The Lord, having just stepped out of the first floor, witnessed the scene and froze in sheer disbelief. Only a woman, seated cross-legged on a high corner wall of the Manor, clapped her hands in delight.

“Yattaaaazeeeeeeeee! Our headquarters are blown up! Hahahahahaha! A masterpiece, truly a masterpiece! Ah, after all, this is just a regular office building. It’s usually defended against abyssal beasts, not human-demon wars, so it’s only natural for it to turn into a complete mess~”

An Meng laughed heartily, clenching her hand in the void. Firelight rippled across her formidable muscle definition, and a fiery red crystal immediately materialized in her grasp, as if compressed from pure flame.

“Blow it all to hell! Yahooooooo!!”

The flame crystal hurtled towards the building, its towering flames illuminating the night sky. However, the well-trained guards had already locked onto the attacker.

A massive magic-guided sniper cannon roared as it struck her, and then the defense system’s lightning magic array enveloped her. Lightning bolts, thick as ancient tree trunks, repeatedly slammed into her.

Her skin instantly blackened, and her unruly hair transformed into an explosive afro.

…But that was the extent of it.

“Are you trying to give this old lady a massage?!”

She leaped into the air, propelled by explosive flames beneath her feet, and shattered the reloading magic-guided cannon with a single punch.

A group of soldiers in powered armor charged at her, only to be blasted away by her fiery breath before they could even get close. A line of Arcanists attempting a sneak attack were also bombarded by her flame crystals.

She rampaged through them like a wolf among sheep, slaughtering indiscriminately.

‘But killing is so exhausting—’

‘So much effort, and I’m practically dying of sleepiness—’

‘Time for a nap first—’

“—Ah, damn it, no!!!”

An Meng slapped herself fiercely. Her blurry vision instantly cleared, and the air was thick with an unusually sweet scent. That was close, she almost fell asleep!

“At least show me some respect, intruder. Just a small whiff of this potion would put a mammoth to sleep for a month.”

“…………Oh?”

An Meng turned her head to look upward. Jadette Dochido was gazing down at her from above, mechanical arms extending from beneath a drone, connecting to the interfaces on Jadette’s bodysuit and suspending her twenty meters in the air.

In her left hand, she held an uncorked test tube, from which pale purple smoke drifted, putting everyone else to sleep.

“However, I prefer this one more… observe.”

She poured the liquid from the test tube into a conical flask in her right hand, mixing two different colored reagents. Capping it and giving it a shake, she then hurled it towards An Meng.

CRACK!

A fierce gale, laden with chilling frost, enveloped most of the Lord’s Manor. The temperature plummeted, extinguishing the rampant flames one by one, and a thick layer of white frost covered the ground.

“Ya-hoo—I’ve long heard of your esteemed name, Young Lady Jadette Dochido.”

An Meng raised her body temperature, melting the ice crystals on her skin, and flashed a ferocious grin at Jadette.

“………!”

Jadette’s gaze, however, was drawn to the tattoo on the muscular woman’s shoulder.

The number “7”.

Its color was a dazzling golden-yellow.

“A golden 7…”

“Hehe, it seems you recognize our way of marking things?”

An Meng grinned, boasting proudly—

“Reporting for duty, ‘Blazing Crystal Dragon’ An Meng Rakaan, direct general under the Seventh Venerable Lord!! Hooooooowl!!!!”

Her declaration ended in a deafening roar. Her body rapidly expanded, her head swelling to the size of a car, and her limbs transforming into scaled, razor-sharp claws.

A pair of flame-wreathed wings unfurled from her back, and a long tail effortlessly smashed through the surrounding wall.

After the dazzling firelight dissipated, the woman was gone, replaced by a colossal flaming dragon over forty meters long, radiating heat that seemed capable of igniting the very air!

“………A Dragonkin, and a prominent one at that.”

Jadette, who had initially been somewhat overconfident, now grew serious.

To her knowledge, among the demon race, numbers represented the object of one’s servitude, while colors were akin to the human race’s “comprehensive talent quality rating.” Scarlet, Glimmering Gold, Dark Violet, Azure Blue, Pale White, and Transparent corresponded to S, A, B, C, D, and E, respectively. Apostles were not included in this rating system.

Between Scarlet and Glimmering Gold, or S and A, there was no significant difference in power. The disparity primarily lay in “special status.”

So then—

Jadette removed her glove, revealing the mark on the back of her hand.

On the left was the number 1, on the right the number 9, and in the middle, the letter S.

“I am Jadette Dochido, ‘Sage of a Thousand Ingenuities,’ vassal of the First Apostle, and wife of the Ninth Apostle. It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss An Meng—Come, Pandora.”

With that, she crooked a finger towards the main building of the Lord’s Manor. The huge, cumbersome metal crate she had brought flew towards her at astonishing speed, disassembling and reassembling in mid-air into an oversized M167A2 Vulcan cannon.

However, instead of bullets, its ammunition belt was loaded with test tubes filled with various concoctions.

“Let’s finish this quickly, you stinking beast.”

“Hahahaha! Alright! Come on! Hit me in the chest! In the chest!!!!”

A thunderous, continuous roar erupted!

South Side of the City, Mercenary Guild.

“Leaving already? So soon?”

“Yes, I am very grateful for your care during my stay. I… must return.”

Aimira Milala had come to the Mercenary Guild to bid farewell. She had been staying there for the first few days of her arrival and needed to collect her luggage before leaving.

“Are you Miss Aimira Milala~~?”

“Hm?”

As she descended the stairs, a bald man intercepted her.

He had no hair, no eyebrows, and appeared to be in his early thirties. His features were like a rough stone carving, making him an inexplicably unsettling individual.

“I have something to discuss with you. Might you spare a moment?”

“This…”

She had been accosted by a stranger.

Aimira paused, startled, then seemed to recall something and pulled out her phone.

“Ah, pardon me, my phone just vibrated…”

She swiftly unlocked her phone, glancing at her astrology app.

A harbinger of extreme ill fortune.

“…I am terribly sorry, but I have an urgent matter to attend to, and someone is waiting for me. I cannot accompany you.”

Offering a slightly troubled smile, she quickly departed.

“Don’t be in such a hurry, now?”

The bald man’s voice echoed from behind her.

Then,

Thud!

A mercenary, who had just brushed past the bald man, suddenly collapsed to their knees, clutching their chest in apparent agony.

Thud! Thud! Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!

Beginning with this, people throughout the entire hall started collapsing one after another. Some clutched their chests, others gasped for air like drowning individuals, while some simply fell unconscious.

Aimira, realizing the gravity of the situation, first rushed towards the hall’s entrance—only to be tripped halfway there, falling powerlessly to the ground and gasping in agony like the others.

“Hah… Hah… Gulp… Can’t breathe… Lack… of… oxygen…………?”

“I forgot to introduce myself. I am Paris, Paris Pucci. You might have heard of me.”

“Paris… Pucci…?”

Aimira thought back, then immediately recognized the name.

The terrorist organization, Dawn’s Light, had crumbled into disarray after its notorious leader, Julius Gaido, was killed by the Ninth Apostle. Its former members scattered like startled birds, and the organization’s second-in-command, Paris Pucci, Julius Gaido’s brother, had remained at large.

Like his brother, Paris was a terrorist featured on multiple national wanted lists. His specialty was—

Snick!

Paris rolled up his sleeve and cut his skin with a small knife. The overflowing blood formed a tiny magic array in the air. Judging by the array’s patterns, it appeared to be a wind-attributed elemental magic.

Yes… Aimira remembered now.

According to reports, he was an Arcanist, a traditional elemental mage specializing in wind magic. While it might not sound extraordinary, his control over gases was unparalleled; he could precisely separate the components of air.

In other words, he could effortlessly create an oxygen-free or pure-oxygen space, large enough to cover a small city, making him a master of mass slaughter.

“Ugh…”

Aimira closed her eyes, collapsing weakly into the oxygen-deprived space like everyone else.

“Good… that takes care of it. Although I’m eager to interrogate you immediately, before that—aha, they’ve arrived!”

Hearing the explosions and the dragon’s roar from above, Paris revealed a sinister smile.