C13 Masked Demon

"That's right, I guess I'll just have to donate these clothes to the poor in the slum. Oh, and why don't you cover the cost with your money, Verl? Consider it a charitable contribution," Egerton suggested, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes.

"Kid, if you expect me to play along, you'd better offer me some incentive!"

"How could we possibly ask a lady to pay? I'll handle it," Colette said with an easy smile.

The more Egerton behaved like a huckster, the more reassured he became. It made it easier for Verl to grow increasingly repulsed by him.

The two men bantered back and forth, leaving Verl no chance to interject. By the time she caught up with the situation, Colette had already tossed a few silver coins to the visibly shaken shop assistant. Egerton, on the other hand, simply gestured with his hand and departed without a word of farewell.

Watching his figure recede into the distance, Verl bit her lip, sensing a profound rift forming between them.

"Verl, we should get going. Your uncle is waiting for you back at the mansion."

Colette's lips curled into a subtle smile.

"Mm…" Verl hummed distractedly, then quickly realized something was amiss.

"Brother Colette, weren't you going to throw a celebration banquet for me?"

"Indeed, but it's just a small family gathering at your place. Your uncle and the rest are already there waiting for us!"

Colette reached out to take Verl's hand, but she deftly avoided his grasp.

"We'd better hurry back then, or my father will be upset!"

As Verl deliberately widened the gap between them, Colette's smile solidified on his face.

He began to regret letting that Class 2 adventurer, who had come out of nowhere, off so easily.

In a dim, blood-stained corner on the 100th floor of Skyreach Spire, several Howlerfiend wolves devoured a still-warm headless corpse, oblivious to the shadowy figure creeping closer from around the corner less than five meters away.

This was a massive, swollen figure resembling a giant orb, floating in midair, supported by lifeless legs. It exuded a morbid deathly aura, blending seamlessly with the spire's atmosphere. Without close scrutiny, it would be nearly impossible to distinguish it from the surroundings.

He crept up behind the Howlerfiends until they finally sensed the approaching danger. A bloated figure extended a hand, and in a flash, a thick black fog shrouded the area. It swallowed the Howlerfiends whole, along with the gnawed remains of corpses, vanishing as if they had never been there at all.

Yet, this was not the end. As the black fog cleared, the bloated figure's true form emerged. Where the heretic corpses had lain, bizarre masks with ghastly faces now appeared out of nowhere.

Gathering the masks, we were horrified to discover a mountain of grotesque masks piled behind the figure, creating a nightmarish vista.

In reality, this figure was nothing more than a person with a mask on his back.

"Who's over there?!" A young member of an Adventure Team, hearing a pitiful howl, burst into the scene.

They were well-equipped, some even with Magicka gear, expecting to rescue a beleaguered Adventure Team from magical creatures. Instead, they found only the silent, retreating bulk of the figure and the chilling, patchy masks scattered about.

"It's the Masked Demon!"

The Adventure Team captain collapsed, screaming in terror, a far cry from his usual composure when facing Level D magical creatures.

"The Masked Demon? What's that?" a rookie adventurer inquired, his curiosity piqued.

But no one answered his question.

Turning around, he saw the seasoned veterans already fleeing with the captain in tow, in utter disarray.

"We're not being followed, are we?" After a lengthy escape, the team finally halted, the captain asking with residual fear.

"No, we should be safe. The Masked Demon typically doesn't pursue adventurers," the scout assured.

"Captain, seniors, why did we run so fast?" the newcomer arrived, breathless.

"Would you rather we stayed and waited for death?" snapped a veteran.

"We're lucky the Masked Demon spared us!" another senior exclaimed, relieved.

"That magical creature, was it really that formidable?" The newcomer was beginning to grasp the gravity of their encounter.

"Not only is it formidable, but have you ever encountered a magical creature that can traverse seven Skyreach Spires and still evade defeat by the top eight experts of the duchies? If not, today's your day. Unbelievable, how did we get so lucky to come across the Masked Demon!" The captain rattled off, attempting to quell the fear within him.

It wasn't cowardice on his part; to every adventurer on the Sylvian Continent, the Masked Demon represented a fearsome threat. You never knew when it would appear or when it would strike. At times, it seemed as innocuous as any other creature, passing by without incident. Other times, it would emit piercing screams and roars, much like an Adventure Team under attack. But when reinforcements arrived, they were met with certain death.

To date, the Masked Demon has claimed the lives of at least a thousand adventurers, including many believers of Class 6 and even Class 7. It's no wonder the captain of this Class 2 Adventure Team was petrified.

"So that's the story. We're incredibly fortunate!" The rookie exclaimed, relieved after learning about the Masked Demon.

"Let's call it a day and get out of here. Who knows if the Masked Demon is still lurking on this level? Time to make a swift exit!" The captain declared. There was no dissent among the team members; nobody was willing to gamble with the unknown.

"A heretic? And a Class 3 at that, conducting a sacrificial ritual on the hundredth floor?" Garros expressed his astonishment as he watched Ngoh and the others train.

"Yes, do you think we should inform the lord? Even though they're only Class 3 heretics, these individuals are not to be underestimated as harbingers of disaster," Macleay affirmed with a nod.

"You mentioned we were ambushed by Ralph, didn't you?" Garros asked, not quite answering.

"Yes, what about it? Do you find something odd about that incident?" Macleay asked, momentarily puzzled before catching on.

"It's too early to draw conclusions. Given Ralph's nature, it's not entirely unexpected that he'd go after our new recruits. However, the timing is quite coincidental. If he's in cahoots with the heretics, we're in for some serious trouble," Garros stated gravely.

"Should we send someone to investigate?" Macleay inquired.

"It's not wise. He's the Mist Reaper, a master of stealth and counter-stealth. Even if I went personally, the likelihood of being detected is high. If he notices, it could escalate into a clash between two top Adventure Teams," Garros replied, shaking his head.

Fights among ordinary believers are already forbidden by the duchy, let alone between two prominent Adventure Teams.

"I'll report the heretics' situation to the lord first. As for Ralph, we'll just have to be extra cautious," Garros suggested.

"Speaking of which, that Egerton you recruited is quite promising. It seems he's taken a liking to Verl, and she appears to reciprocate," Macleay mentioned, recalling another important issue.

"What's your take on it?" Garros asked, taken aback.

"Such promising talents are rare. If he grows into a mainstay of our Adventure Team, that would be ideal. However, his religious sect seems rather insignificant—a new sect without much influence. This could make things challenging," Macleay expressed, concerned.

Both he and Garros were aware of Verl's lineage. As a duke's daughter within the duchy, suitable matches would be limited to at least a Class 7 Powerful One, a prince's heir, or even a royal descendant. Even if Egerton and Verl shared mutual affection, their union would be fraught with difficulty.

Macleay had no doubts about Egerton's potential to become a Powerful One, but by then, Verl might already be engaged or even married with children.

"Let's advise him to keep a level head. If it comes to it, we may have to ask Verl to step away," Garros concluded swiftly.

He knew the choice was clear: between a duke's daughter destined to leave and a potential leader who could bring the Adventure Team to new heights, Garros understood his priorities.

As for the possibility of offending the duke, that didn't concern Garros.

"You seem to hold that young man in high regard," Macleay chuckled.

"Sylvian has been too tranquil for too long, and its past splendor and zenith are no more. If we remain complacent, disaster will inevitably strike. Ensuring our strength is paramount to survival, no matter the circumstances," Garros stated firmly.

"You're not suggesting that you see this kid as our Adventure Team's messiah, are you?" Macleay said with a chuckle.

Garros shook his head, choosing not to argue, yet he couldn't help but think to himself, "Every hero's journey begins at this stage."

What Garros failed to anticipate was that Egerton wouldn't just be the hero he had pictured. Egerton was on a level above heroes, transcending even the gods they recognized—a true supreme being, even if he was currently only at Class Two.

At that moment, our Class Two supreme being, Egerton, stood before his apartment door. He had just traded a heretic's head for a hefty sum of 100 silver coins at the Bounty Guild and was about to enter his home in his usual manner.

The past month's trials seemed a world away as he was greeted by an unexpected sight—a flash of white and an exclamation of surprise.

"Why on earth would someone strip down when they're alone at home?" The vivid image lingered in his mind. After pausing for a solid three seconds, Egerton stepped inside and firmly shut the door behind him.