The old coachman Guji watched with a helpless expression as the two performed their poorly executed act. His young mistress was certainly stronger than he was, and the policeman behind her didn't seem ordinary either. It appeared he couldn't keep them from leaving. Best to report to the master quickly before they stirred up more trouble.
"What's next?" The two of them walked onto the main street, with Emma looking excited, hardly the picture of someone about to face off against dozens of armed men.
Elyon ignored her question and hailed a private carriage instead, ushering Emma inside before taking the reins himself.
The coachman, puzzled, was handed a pound in cash. "We're temporarily requisitioning your carriage. You can reclaim it tomorrow at the police station by the harbor," Elyon said as he stuffed the bill into the coachman's pocket and, with an eagle's grip, lifted and dropped him by the side of the road.
"Hold tight," Elyon commanded, cracking the whip and sending the horses galloping down the road. Passersby scrambled to the sides to avoid the careening carriage, which sent several fruit stands tumbling, scattering apples and curses in its wake.
"Thrilling! I never expected you, of all people, to be this wild," Emma's voice drifted from the back of the carriage.
Elyon was already regretting his actions, wondering why he was playing the hero. But remembering Barbara's hopeful face, he couldn't bear to let her down and started planning how to sneak Cor out.
As twilight deepened, he instructed, "Pull your hood down; don't let anyone see your face." He did the same, grateful for the organization's dress code that made them less conspicuous without hoods.
Pastoral Manor was modest, indicating the owner's limited wealth. The vineyards around the perimeter were probably for personal winemaking, and there was a small forest nearby.
At the heart of the estate was a three-story building enclosed by a low wall. Elyon drove the carriage through the courtyard, the guards at the entrance none the wiser due to the dim light and his organization's garb.
After parking the carriage in the stable and ensuring no one else was around, Elyon called Emma over.
"Do you have any plans?" Emma asked, her excitement palpable.
"I do, but I need you to cooperate. Lean in close, I'll whisper it."
Emma, a bit puzzled by the secrecy when they were alone, leaned in, only to be met with a chop to the back of her neck from Elyon's hand. As she slumped unconscious, Elyon carefully moved her into the carriage and covered her face with the hood.
"Sorry, but I can't let you risk your life for someone you barely know."
A door in the back led directly to the main hall, where Elyon could hear the din of celebration and clinking glasses. It seemed they were dining. He crept in quietly, keeping his head low and his face hidden by the hood.
Unfortunately, a drunken man noticed Elyon sneaking in through the back and called out, "Finished with the girl that fast? Just in time for dinner. Come have a drink, buddy."
Elyon lowered his voice, mimicking the men from the organization he had encountered earlier that day, and clutching his stomach, he groaned.
"Not eating, got a terrible stomachache. Need to rest."
"Ah, remember to gather in the front yard at eight for the arrival of the god."
God? Elyon was taken aback but didn't dare continue the conversation, merely nodding and heading upstairs to scope out the situation before making his next move.
As expected, the rooftop housed two riflemen acting as snipers, with a slender telescope attached to the side of their weapon. They were sharing a smoke, and Elyon approached them casually.
"Got a cig, brother? Came up here and found I'm out."
The riflemen were initially suspicious, but one handed over a cigarette without much thought, while the other continued to smoke.
With a swift punch, Elyon knocked the cigarette-holding man's jaw, sending him flying back half a yard before collapsing unconscious. Before the other could react, a cold barrel pressed against his forehead.
"New pistol, it can kill you," Elyon's icy voice followed, and the sniper didn't dare make a move.
"Where did you take the boy you kidnapped today, and where's Monge?"
"Basement. Monge's in his resting room on the second floor."
"Good. What's this ceremony at eight?"
"Don't know. Monge's conducting it himself."
"Turn around."
"Don't kill me, I told you everything," the sniper pleaded, trembling. Elyon didn't bother with further talk and knocked him out with a punch to the temple. He then bound and gagged both using their jackets.
Activating his magical sight, Elyon was now familiar with his ability after repeated use. Beyond the two guards at the main gate, two more were in the security room, appearing as gray-white shapes through the walls like an X-ray, indicating they were ordinary people without superhuman abilities. Most of the rest were concentrated inside the building.
Inside, three crimson silhouettes were clustered on the second floor, indicating that superhumans had their own rooms and the privilege of residing upstairs. The basement held three guards; Elyon wasn't sure about the soundproofing, or else he might have to fight his way out.
Elyon carefully made his way to the first floor, grabbing two bottles of wine from the kitchen before opening the door to the basement, where a damp, putrid smell wafted out.
The basement was divided into two rooms. In the outer room, two men were playing cards. When Elyon entered, he offered, "Fancy a drink, brothers?"
The guards were startled but eagerly accepted, "Sure, throats are as dry as a bone." They only realized something was amiss as he approached.
"Who are you? Never seen you before."
"Me? Actually, I am—" Before Elyon could finish, he smashed the beer bottles over their heads.
With two crisp sounds, the guards collapsed.
"What's going on?" A burly man wielding a steel pipe emerged. Elyon didn't have time to draw his gun and leaped forward, landing a punch on the man's weapon-bearing hand. The pipe fell to the ground, and the guard realized they were under attack. He swung his left hand at Elyon, who blocked it with his right.
The guard's punch lacked the expected force, and Elyon easily caught it.
"I'm a cop. Where have you kept the kid you snatched from the harbor?"
The guard struggled more fiercely, trying to flee upstairs, but Elyon's powerful kick sent him rolling across the floor. He picked up the dropped steel pipe, only to find Elyon pointing a gun at him.
"You better behave. My aim isn't the best, and I wouldn't want to accidentally shoot you in the head."
The guard obediently set the pipe down, realizing he couldn't overpower this seemingly frail but madly acting man.
The inner door opened, revealing a black-skinned boy, barely alive, covered in whip marks. No one else was there.
"A black boy? Where's the child from the harbor?"
"He's the personal sacrifice requested by Master Monge. This one's just a spare bought from the North Continent colonies. I don't know where the other is."
Elyon knew a simple way to make him talk, "My patience is limited, and I didn't plan on leaving here alive today. You know what a desperate man can do."
The guard broke into a cold sweat, "I don't know where he's been taken, but I'm sure he'll be in the front yard for the ritual before eight."
"Where's the armory?"
"On the first floor, at the back."
Elyon checked the time; half an hour left. He instructed the guard to carry the two unconscious men inside, then knocked out the last guard and bound all three securely.
As Elyon prepared to leave, his leg was tugged. A small hand clung desperately to his trouser leg. Elyon lifted the battered black boy and placed him in an outer room.
"Stay here; I'll come for you after I've dealt with the others." Elyon wasn't a saint; dragging a burdensome child would only decrease their chances of survival.
The boy seemed to understand and let go, his eyes filled with a glimmer of hope.
Elyon closed the basement door behind him. The small banquet upstairs had ended, and the hall was now empty.
Elyon searched for the back warehouse, bumping into someone else in a cloak. The man reeked of alcohol.
"What are you doing here? The ritual's about to start."
"I'm running low on bullets and need to resupply."
"Why do you need bullets at the main base? This is the wine cellar. Are you here to steal some wine, too?"
"Ah, you caught me. Are you here for a secret drink as well?"
"Shh, if you don't tell, no one will know. I'm off. Remember to hurry." The drunkard staggered away.
Elyon found a separate small room, thankfully unlocked thanks to the drunkard. Inside, he turned on a gas lamp, revealing barrels of wine and a strong aroma of alcohol.
On the left were large oak barrels likely filled with wine, while on the right, glass bottles contained clear spirits. Elyon opened the bottles on the right, pouring their contents onto the floor. He then shattered the gas lamp's cover, using the lamp's pale blue flame to ignite the curtains.