A Disaster-Level Assassin Has Been Freed

Chapter 151: Demons (7)

“…I was surprised.”

In a cave thousands of kilometers away from the Crove Kingdom’s ballroom, remodeled to my liking, I, Greg Pellegrino, the Red Magician, muttered with intrigue.

I had already thought the young man was remarkable.

Though I judged him to be the strongest among those in the ballroom, I momentarily forgot his very existence.

How many assassins I had encountered over the years could perform such perfect stealth?

I couldn’t tell.

What was clear was that such a skill was rare enough to count on one hand.

But that surprise paled in comparison to the realization that followed.

About twenty years ago, I had performed a ritual as a “commission.”

To think I would encounter one of those “seeds” in the outside world.

‘It’s certain. The swordsmanship that black-haired youth displayed at the end… it was like their symbol.’

Yes.

There was no doubt that the young man was one of the thousand seeds.

But what was strange was the timing and place of our encounter.

I had thought it would take much longer for a seed to ripen, so why had this happened in the Crove Kingdom instead of the “village”?

As the Red Magician, I couldn’t fathom it.

Of course, I had no intention of holding onto this curiosity for long.

I quickly wrote a letter and tied it to the leg of my familiar, a crow.

“To the First Hydra.”

Caw-!

Nodding as if it understood, the crow flew out of the cave at breakneck speed.

Watching it for a moment, I muttered softly.

“Perhaps the other seeds have been released into the outside world as well.”

I nodded.

It was highly likely.

Normally, only one seed would survive, but given some variable, the probability that more seeds had been released couldn’t be ignored.

That thought excited me, Greg Pellegrino.

It ensnared me with an irresistible desire.

Rising from my bone chair, I paced the cave before reaching a conclusion.

“If waiting for a reply is too hard… why not collect them behind the master’s back?”

Yes.

That was the answer.

Of course, the master’s wrath was daunting, but my greed surpassed it.

I couldn’t help it.

There was no better subject for research than seeds ripened for nearly twenty years.

Not just as experimental material but also as combatants, they would serve admirably.

At that moment—

Flap- Flap!

A pure white dove, the opposite of my crow familiar, flew into the cave.

A note was tied to its leg.

I furrowed my brow.

A reply in less than five minutes since I sent my message?

That was impossible.

It was surely an unrelated message arriving by coincidence.

But the moment I read the contents of the letter tied to the dove’s leg—

Crunch!

I couldn’t help but fall into rage and bewilderment, unconsciously crushing the dove’s body.

“…Why?”

I couldn’t understand.

How had the “Master of Calamity” seen through my intentions?

The coercive command disguised as a request written below it was utterly incomprehensible.

“Hmm…”

I, Greg Pellegrino, scratched under my eye with my finger.

I scratched, scratched, and scratched again until the fine skin broke, blood flowed, and bone was exposed.

Until the regenerated skin peeled away again, revealing the white skeletal structure of my face.

“Well, I’ll comply.”

In the end, I decided to follow the master’s request.

It wasn’t as if it harmed me.

In fact, I had intended to act that way even without prompting, but knowing it was what they wanted made me oddly reluctant.

Of course, reluctance didn’t mean I could refuse.

As I said, it was a command disguised as a request.

‘At least until I transcend the limits of a Black Magician… I have no choice but to bow.’

Having reached that conclusion, I stopped scratching under my eye.

Then I closed my eyes.

I felt the thousands, tens of thousands of Dummies scattered across the continent.

Some posed as beggars.

Some as wandering travelers.

Some as thieves, farmers, or merchants, living their daily lives.

But their true nature was nothing more than puppets gathering all sorts of information for me across the continent.

I inputted several conditions and commands into all of them.

Now, the Dummies would filter and report only the selected information to me.

If I actively utilized my subordinates as well, finding a few seeds, if not all, would be no trouble at all.

“…Phew. It’s exhausting.”

I, Greg Pellegrino, pressed my throbbing head with my thumb.

I was tired.

The continent’s gossipmongers might see me as a heartless demon, but unfortunately, I hadn’t yet shed my human shell.

I got annoyed at unexpected events, and on bad days, I wanted to slack off on experiments for a day—a weak being.

“But work must be done.”

Muttering to myself for encouragement, I walked steadily into a large room.

It was a laboratory.

A disgusting, grotesque place filled with countless classified corpses.

But to me, it was no different from a novelist’s studio or a professor’s research office.

“Then… shall we begin?”

Swish.

Slash.

Chop, chop-

Thus began another day of research and experiments.

It had been over a hundred years already.

Lately, there had been no significant results, making the process tedious, but I, Greg Pellegrino, continued my best efforts without complaint.

I believed it was the duty of one blessed with talent, pouring my heart and soul into the day’s tasks.

***

The day after the ballroom massacre was cleaned up.

Juberroa Schmitz, a First-Class Demon Inquisitor, couldn’t help but feel regret for not being there.

Of course, if I had faced the Red Magician’s main body, I would have fled without looking back.

But it was just a Dummy, wasn’t it?

I could have defeated that much with my own strength.

For someone like me, who had been troubled by a lack of recent achievements, it would have been a golden opportunity.

“But what can I do? Who could’ve predicted a sudden summons from the homeland?”

“That’s true. What’s going on? It’s not just you—they’ve called all the Special-Class and First-Class Demon Inquisitors, haven’t they?”

“Yes. From what I heard… an oracle has come down.”

Bang!

“What! An oracle! Why are you only saying this now! Argh!”

Juberroa Schmitz stood up in the moving carriage and hit his head on the ceiling.

Grimacing at the delayed pain, I realized that wasn’t the point.

An oracle!

The Lord God, silent for three hundred years, had delivered a message to us humble servants!

“So, what is it? Huh? What’s the content?”

“I don’t know the details… but it doesn’t seem like good news.”

“And it’s probably vague.”

“That too.”

“Ugh, it’s all because the Saintess is lackluster. If a more devout person had been chosen, the message would’ve been clearer…”

“Ahem, be careful. That’s the kind of talk that could get you in trouble.”

“Ahem, ahem.”

I, Juberroa Schmitz, covered my mouth with both hands.

My junior holy knight was right.

That remark wasn’t something easily overlooked, even with my status.

But I couldn’t help feeling frustrated.

I was excited enough to make such a slip.

Oracles came when the world was in chaos, and chaos was the surest cradle for birthing heroes.

Cautious old-timers might frown, but for someone like me with a long road ahead, this was an opportunity.

‘Alright. Let’s seize this chance properly. I can’t stay a First-Class forever. I’ll rise to Special-Class, become the Knight Commander, and who knows? Maybe even reach beyond that.’

“Heh, hehehe…”

“Sigh. There he goes again.”

My junior holy knight shook his head at my sinister chuckle.

But I didn’t care.

I, Juberroa Schmitz, continued to laugh foolishly, dreaming of a rosy future.

Because of that, we failed to focus on the fact that Harang was the one who shone the brightest in the ballroom massacre.

We missed the fact that his feats were impossible given the strength I had assessed.

At least for now.

As we rushed to the homeland in response to the summons, that was the case.

***

A week after the Crove Kingdom disaster.

The Viyan Merchant Guild wrapped up all matters and boarded a carriage back to the Commercial City Marzen.

To be precise, things weren’t concluded perfectly or cleanly.

The situation in the kingdom’s capital was too dire to push forward with business talks.

‘At least we should take pride in strengthening ties with the mafia boss.’

In the long run, this might even be more beneficial.

Recalling the situation a week ago, where we could have gained nothing or even lost our lives, it wasn’t an exaggeration to say the Viyan Merchant Guild was blessed by the goddess of luck.

After all, we emerged unscathed from that chaos.

‘But I’m exhausted…’

I, Sheratiya, muttered inwardly.

It was inevitable.

The Red Magician’s indiscriminate massacre was akin to natural disasters like landslides, tsunamis, or earthquakes.

Just being at the center of it left me deeply shocked.

It wasn’t just the event itself but also the dark aura emanating from his Dummy and subordinates.

I felt I’d need to visit a temple for a blessing as soon as I reached Marzen to regain my energy.

Of course—

“You look fine?”

“I’m actually fine.”

Harang wasn’t affected at all.

He had already been inoculated by encountering a demon-like being once, and the Delkaro Kingdom Aura Cultivation Method protected him.

But despite that, he wasn’t in a good mood either.

The first regret was failing to ask any questions of the being who held the clue he stumbled upon.

The second was his current strength, having to go all out against a mere Dummy.

Thus, as always, a desire to train surged within me, Harang.

At the same time, a craving for sparring rose.

I wanted to test the insights gained from encountering the terrifying Black Magician, the Red Magician, in a combat-like environment.

‘Hagio would be the best choice, right?’

There was no one else to match me.

The Eddy Mercenary Corps consisted of those who hadn’t even reached Graduate level, and while Philip Portville had improved recently, he was still lacking in many ways.

It had to be Hagio.

Without him, there was no one to swing my sword against freely.

With that thought, I planned to head to the Love’s Orphanage as soon as I reached Marzen and stopped by the hideout.

But my plans went awry.

“Boss, you have a visitor.”

“Later. I’m a bit busy now.”

“Well… it’s too important a guest to tell to wait…”

“Who is it?”

Curious despite myself, I, Sheratiya, asked instead, and Eddy, with a look that said not to be shocked, answered.

“It’s Ransel Grantz. The greatest genius of the Nadan Kingdom, the one who reached Graduate in his twenties.”