Luring the Tiger from the Mountain

The next morning, a pale white daylight pierced the lead-gray clouds, sparingly scattering upon the wreckage of Faro Fortress’s main keep.

The air was filled with a suffocating stench of death—a mixture of the scorched, the bloody, and the raw earthy scent of soil violently turned over—weighing heavily upon the chest of every living creature.

Anis stood upon the ruins, his face devoid of expression as he gazed at what was once the core keep of Faro Fortress below.

He stood alone, his figure appearing exceptionally solitary and still against the dilapidated backdrop.

The hem of his gray cloak was tugged by the wind, revealing the worn and old leather armor beneath.

His already cold face was now like a stone carving, showing no emotion.

Only the sharp gaze within his slightly sunken eye sockets slowly and heavily swept over the hellish scene below.

And around him, a swarm of other people bustled like ants, hurrying to deal with the rubble, excavate for information, and rescue any unlucky souls who might have been buried alive.

The remaining soldiers of Faro Fortress moved slowly and numbly.

Besides them, there were two other groups—the adventurers accompanying Anis, dressed in a motley assortment of gear, each with their own distinct personality.

With their rich experience and formidable stamina, they deftly climbed and dug among the complex and teetering dangerous walls and beams that the soldiers could not reach.

From time to time, a coarse curse or an urgent shout would ring out over the ruins.

“Over here! There’s movement underneath!”

“Damn it, this pillar is about to collapse, get back!”

“Pull the rope tight! There’s someone below!”

Each shout like this would briefly gather a small area of hope, and everyone’s gaze would instantly focus, holding their breath in anticipation.

However, more often than not, what was carefully dragged out was just another cold, stiff corpse with a blurred face.

In addition to them, there was the Rhine Holy Church.

The members of the Rhine Holy Church, wearing uniform pale gold robes and holy symbols of a sun intertwined with thorns on their chests, moved with high efficiency and clear organization, like a precision machine.

They were assisting the soldiers of Faro Fortress in rescuing the injured, clearing the debris, and performing masses for the dead.

After a short while, a figure parted the busy crowd and walked toward Anis on the ruins.

The newcomer wore a pale gold robe similar in style to the ordinary church members, appearing simple and unadorned at first glance.

However, when the sunlight fell upon the fabric, it revealed the subtle, reserved luster unique to silk, so fine it seemed like a layer of solidified moonlight.

The edges of his robe were outlined with gold thread of nearly the same color, tracing intricate and ancient patterns of thorns and halos.

The stitches were so fine they were invisible to the naked eye; only up close, at a certain angle, could one glimpse the ultimate in understated luxury.

His steps were steady, and his seemingly ordinary soft boots trod over sharp rubble and charred wooden beams without making much sound, their surfaces remaining immaculate, clearly made of extraordinary material.

“Lord Hero.”

The newcomer’s voice was not loud, yet it strangely pierced through the surrounding noise, reaching Anis’s ears clearly, carrying a perfectly measured tone of respect and gravity.

“Well? Bishop Lester, have you found any clues?”

Anis turned, his deep-set eyes, like tranquil pools, landing on the man’s face without a ripple.

Lester, the man Anis addressed as Bishop, stopped a few steps behind him.

His well-maintained face wore an expression that was a perfect, well-practiced fusion of compassion and solemnity.

His hands hung naturally at his sides, his knuckles long and clean, his nails trimmed into smooth, glossy rounds that exuded a softness that bespoke a life free from labor.

“It was a demon attack.”

Facing Anis, Bishop Lester responded with what was not quite a smile, inclining his head slightly.

“Our Holy Church personnel conducted the most precise backtracking and comparison of the residual mana fluctuation spectrums at the scene.

The mana signature—its core wavelength, the corrosive nature of the mana residue, and that unique, bone-chilling malice belonging to Evernight… all data points to a single source—the escaped captive Demon Lord, Vivian of Evernight.”

Upon hearing this, Anis’s hand couldn’t help but clench slightly, letting out a faint creak of leather being stretched taut.

“Any survivors?”

Anis’s Adam’s apple bobbed with difficulty as he asked.

“Alas.”

Bishop Lester let out a long sigh at the opportune moment.

“There are no survivors from the scene. The core keep area bore the most direct impact of the Demon Lord’s power…”

He slowly shook his head, his hands clasped before his chest, fingertips touching to form the perfect outline of a holy symbol.

“However, a few women, children, and servants did escape from the castle.

They all claim to have felt a terrifying magical power.

And the lord of the city, Adrian Roque, who was guarding the city, along with the Gospel Holy Knights of our Rhine Holy Church stationed here, met a heroic end facing the attacking Demon Lord.”

With that, Bishop Lester clasped his hands together, his head bowed piously.

“They knew they faced an invincible Demon Lord, yet they still raised the sword and shield of their faith, using their flesh and blood to buy precious time for the innocent to escape.

In the end, along with this glorious fortress, they… turned to holy dust.”

“They were fearless warriors, monuments of faith. Their sacrifice will surely receive the mercy and forgiveness of our Lord.

Their souls will certainly be summoned by the Lord’s grace and ascend to the eternal garden of bliss.”

“…So, this was the Demon Lord’s plan to lure the tiger from the mountain.”

Faced with Bishop Lester’s words, Anis took a deep breath.

He ignored the other’s prayer-like speech and did his best to maintain a calm facade.

“She attacked here, creating chaos and panic, precisely to draw me, or at least some of the frontline forces, back… And right now, the Demon Lord of

Evernight, Vivian, has probably already reached the battlefield’s border—I must return to the front lines as soon as possible.”

“There is no need to rush, Lord Gilded Hero.”

Compared to the expressionless and even somewhat scruffy Anis, Bishop Lester seemed entirely unhurried.

“Perhaps that cunning Demon Lord has not yet gone far? After all, this place has just suffered a heavy blow, and people’s hearts are in turmoil.

Isn’t this the perfect stage to display the brutal nature of the demons and further strike at our morale?”

The corner of his mouth curved into an almost invisible arc.

“Besides, if you’ll forgive my bluntness, Lord Hero, even if you sprouted wings right now, I’m afraid you would find it difficult to catch up to her.”

He took a small step forward, his expensive soft boots avoiding a sharp piece of rubble, his posture so leisurely it was out of place in these ruins.

“From the first day that Demon Lord escaped and no one could catch her, she was already completely out of our control—facts have proven that acting autocratically only leads to severe consequences.

If only Lucia had consented to hand that Demon Lord over to our Holy Church back then, the current situation would not have come to pass.”

“…”

“Moreover, the Demon Clan holds a bone-deep hatred for our Holy Church.

Perhaps the second you leave, that escaped Demon Lord will return and slaughter all of us clergy—after all, demons are, and always will be, insidious and cunning beasts.”

Faced with Bishop Lester’s incessant words, the Gilded Hero, Anis, did not offer much of a response, still maintaining that ice-cold expression.

“That’s enough. I have already scouted the area. There is no trace of the Demon Lord nearby. You are all safe here.”

Anis took a deep breath and then strode away from the ruins.

“The front lines still need me. And I’m sure you have sufficient ability to protect yourself, Lord Bishop, am I right?”

“…”

As Anis departed, Bishop Lester maintained his smile but did not try to detain him further.

Only after Anis had completely disappeared from his sight did another Gospel Holy Knight approach Lester’s side, bowing with utmost respect.

“Your Excellency, what should be done with the witnesses from the scene?”

“Is there any need to ask?

Dispose of them quietly, then toss them into the ruins and make it look like they were buried alive and crushed.”

In response to the knight’s inquiry, Bishop Lester’s amiable smile vanished, replaced by an ice-cold, emotionless expression.

“They saw something they shouldn’t have. They should not continue to live in this world.”

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

The Gospel Holy Knight showed no objection to Bishop Lester’s words, responding crisply before retreating.