"Great Faceless One, your countenance holds both sorrow and joy; you are merciful yet cruel. You can manifest as a thousand sinners or as the whip of punishment. You are the supreme light within the prison, presiding over both penalty and redemption..."

  The strange fanatics surrounding the camp suddenly fell to their knees, shouting at the top of their lungs. At first, it was a chaotic din, but within two sentences, it unified into a rhythmic, thunderous chant.

  Some of the younger mercenaries froze in shock, while the seasoned veterans grit their teeth, seizing the moment to systematically execute the enemies Tars had already incapacitated.

  Tars, naturally, was not one to stand idly by like a character in a wandering knight's romance novel while his enemies postured. He quickened his pace, weaving through the chanting crowd, and sent two Firebolts toward those further away who were out of his immediate reach.

  If there were still enemies lurking in the shadows, they must have been seething with hatred for him by now.

  In the distance, the agile assassin who had been dodging and weaving suddenly stumbled. Squeak, the clever bug, had lunged from the earth and clamped its jaws onto the man's ankle. Obeying Tars's orders, the familiar didn't reveal its full strength, but that small distraction was enough; Aiskin followed up with a massive swing of her greatsword, cleaving the nimble figure in two.

  Yet, even as the last chanting fanatic collapsed, no new powerful enemy appeared.

  This caught Tars by surprise.

  Did I scare them off? he wondered.

  Tars walked slowly back into the camp. Everywhere he went, eyes followed him. Men scrambled to clear a path, and several mercenaries bowed to him from a distance. The same was true when he reached Rodrigo. The noble youth, having just survived a brush with death, looked at him with glowing eyes, his excitement nearly overflowing.

  "Is that the end of it?" Tars asked.

  His words acted as a bucket of cold water on Rodrigo's fervor. Beside him, the red-haired Kanaya slowly shook her head.

  Tars felt a sense of anticlimax stuck in his throat. If he hadn't been here today, that single agile assassin would likely have struggled to get past Kanaya anyway. Had the shadow-dwellers truly been frightened away by his displays of power?

  This raised a new question: should they continue to wait here for the legendary ruin to manifest? As for the so-called "Atoners," the assassin, and why they wanted Rodrigo dead—Tars couldn't care less.

  The mercenary captains approached to report their losses. They glanced at Kanaya, then looked at Tars with profound awe, offering formal salutes. Then came the accusations, voiced with suppressed fury. Perhaps out of wariness of Rodrigo's noble status or fear of the two casters, the three captains didn't cross the line, but they made their dissatisfaction clear. They felt the young master had deceived them, and tonight's casualties were far outside the scope of a standard ruin exploration contract.

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  Tars stepped aside to watch in silence, waiting for the young master's decision. These captains weren't just demanding compensation—if it were only money, the noble wouldn't have hesitated. Their words betrayed a clear intent to desert the mission.

  From their conversation, Tars learned that the "Atoners" were a mysterious cult that had only recently appeared in the domain where Starry City was located. The desperate souls living in the Abyss were bold enough to fight back, but those in the numbered Cavern Districts would likely have fallen to their knees in terror. While the Atoners believed the Abyss was a prison, they also fanatically worshipped a figure called the "Faceless One," hailing him as their savior god.

  The negotiation dragged on for a long time.

  Just as Tars was about to fall asleep leaning against Big Dumb Hum, a resolution was finally reached. The employment contract would continue, but the objective had changed: they were abandoning the ruin exploration and immediately escorting the young master back to the safety of the lit, numbered Cavern Districts.

  Tars wasn't surprised. He simply made a mental note of this location; it might come in handy later, or he could tell Karyu about it if they met again.

  The remaining force of over a hundred men began the return journey. They lacked the urgency they'd had when heading toward the goal, but to Tars's surprise, the atmosphere wasn't somber. Many mercenaries joked and laughed along the way, their moods brightened after learning the employer had increased their hazard pay. The biggest change was the reverent silence that fell over the men whenever they passed his bug-carriage.

  An anticlimactic assassination, followed by an anticlimactic adventure.

  Sitting in his woven compartment, Tars reflected on his first stint as a mercenary. He looked down, pulling his clothes aside to touch the faint, spiraling marks on his body. Having grown used to them, he thought the patterns looked quite elegant, as if some metamorphosis were taking place. After the recent battle, the marks seemed to have darkened slightly. He recalled the description of Fetid Skin, which mentioned that prolonged use could lead to a permanent lingering stench. That hadn't happened to him yet; perhaps the effect had mutated within his body.

  He thought back on the spells he had mastered. Since Mental Ferocity displayed a different effect once solidified, did certain wizards conduct experiments on this? For instance, gathering newly promoted apprentices and giving them incentives to sacrifice their future by solidifying various Zero-Ring spells just to document the changes. However, collecting all Zero-Ring spells would be nearly impossible. As Karyu's diary put it, someone in some corner of the world probably invents a new Zero-Ring spell in the time it takes to eat a meal.

  After the initial excitement of the return trip, a shadow briefly hung over the group, but spirits rose again as the end of the journey neared. Some camping supplies were abandoned to pick up the pace, though the wounded kept their speed at a normal level.

  When it was time to rest again, the caravan ground to a halt. Tars scanned the surroundings, realizing this might be their final camp before reaching safety. Just as he entered his tent, Kanaya slipped in behind him.

  "They might have succeeded..." she whispered. "I've been paying attention the whole way. It feels like there are more and more people in this caravan..."

  Tars met her gaze, seeing the gravity in her eyes. He gradually grasped her meaning.

  He smiled. "You mean the mercenaries haven't noticed extra people among them? And you're so sure I'm not a problem?"

  To his surprise, she shook her head.

  "Young Master Rodrigo asked me to deliver a message," the woman said, her eyes locked onto his. "He wishes to invite you to Starry City as his guest."