“I didn’t know you could ride a horse this well,” Marcus commented. “Quite surprising. I was half expecting that I’d have to use [Blink Step] on the regular with you.”

  “Of course I can. I took horseback riding lessons! And I can sustain [Fly] decently if needed.”

  “That’s good to hear then.” Marcus smiled beneath his mask. Maybe he was indeed a bit too harsh in his assessment of her. “We’re going to split as planned soon.”

  “Roger that.”

  Marcus and Stella were now both on horses they bought earlier at Esterton. Normally, they used [Fly] and [Blink Step] to travel. This time around though, they didn’t. It was so they wouldn’t have to reveal their main mobility skills in open combat just yet.

  Marcus and Stella also changed into their new white ‘anti-cultist’ uniform, which consisted of white clothes, a white cloak, and a white mask that obscured their faces. It was a godsend that they finished those quests earlier, which gave them a lot of coin. Including the loot from the Death God Cult, Marcus essentially had enough money to arm and equip himself and his partner comfortably.

  He already envisioned a simple mode of operation while attacking both the cult and their supporters. To maximize effectiveness and reduce the enemy’s ability to track the two, Marcus thought that they should pose both as members of the Death God Cult and as a new militant vigilante group.

  The first mode, where they would use the cult’s uniform, insignia, and identifiers, would be useful whenever Marcus and Stella attacked nobles, officials, and other groups affiliated or allied with the cult. Just like what they did in Almarche, conducting false flag attacks would greatly disrupt the cult’s reputation.

  The more they destroyed their reputation by brutally executing the allies of the cult while posing as the cult, the more the cult would find themselves cornered by factions around them. After all, even if they were strong, the fact that the cult had to create connections and allies meant that, just like any other militant group, it needed external support. Without it, they would wither on the vine.

  As for direct search and destroy operations against the cult, however, Marcus and Stella would be doing it as a new militant group. It had to be something easily identifiable, for propaganda purposes, both to make the locals support them and to make the members of the Death God Cult fear them.

  Morale and mind games. Warfare wasn’t just fought by clashing steel against steel.

  It would also help if everyone’s attention were on this new group instead of their actual identities. Regardless of the situation, having the reputation of being a bunch of loose militants, whether noble or evil, was not great when you’re trying to live life.

  Now, he wasn’t exactly good at names, so he allowed Stella to create their name, as she seemed quite invested in joining him in combating the Death God Cult. To be brief, the name she came up with was the ‘White Watch’.

  He remembered snorting when she came up with it.

  “W-well, you and I are the only ones fully keeping an eye on the cult while countering them. And we wear white uniforms while doing it, so, yeah. We’re the ‘White Watch’!”

  “...It sounds lovely. I think.”

  What an uncreative name. But, he supposed he couldn’t exactly complain. He himself had no idea what to call them.

  In any case, they now had a formal name, organization, equipment, and a standard operating protocol. He felt like he had just created a two-man army. Hopefully, it would be a worthy successor to the Holy Astrean Army that ventured into the underworld.

  In any case, this is going to be our first operation as that group.

  Better do it well.

  He already gave Stella his detailed instructions. He couldn’t exactly be at two places at once, and after he used [Mass Surveillance] to recon the enemy, he found out that they were going into the town of Esterton in a dispersed manner.

  While the main group was marching toward the town’s entrance gate to face off with its guardsmen and militia, the rest were staying at the rear to observe and block anyone from entering or exiting Esterton.

  It was clear that the cult was planning to do something drastic. They must be seeking to make an example of the citizens of Esterton.

  For what? Retribution.

  It seemed that they had already discovered the complete destruction of the Ministry of Fervent Service, and they were now out for blood.

  The two soon began to separate from each other, with Stella rushing to the outskirts of Esterton while Marcus rode straight into the area where the main force was situated.

  Using [Unseen Veil], even with his more revealing clothes, he was immediately masked in the night, allowing him to move undetected. He also used [Unseen Veil] to mask the face of his horse, and Stella must be using a similar spell with light magic on hers.

  With every measure he took, including changing his [Deception] so that he’d present himself as a level 40 [Swordsman], he felt confident that this would be a clean operation.

  His horse now walked to a trot.

  Time to make our debut.

  Two red flare arrows flew high in the sky from the center of Esterton, both of them visible from miles away.

  It was a common distress signal in the region due to the increasing bandit, monster, and cult activity that the kingdom largely ignored. Towns and cities thus formed informal alliances, where they would send their soldiers and guards to any settlement under attack. It was the only way to stave off instability.

  But Lieutenant Wilson McKinley didn’t expect the worst when he and a company of a hundred men responded to Esterton’s calls, only to find themselves in an ambush.

  “Move back! Retreat! They have mages—!”

  One of his sergeants bled out from his throat after being struck by a purplish pulse of light while issuing a retreat order. The rest of their frontmost units also practically melted, forcing the rest into a shattered rout.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “What the hell! They’re not bandits!”

  “They’re cultists! It’s over!”

  “Ahh! My legs! My legs! Please, don’t leave me behind!”

  “All of you! Back to formation!” Wilson shouted at his soldiers as he rushed forward on horseback. “Don’t you dare falter! We’re going to counterattack at once!”

  Right after shouting those orders, his men began to form a coherent battle line, shields forming up to defend themselves from the enemy’s spells, while crossbowmen at the rear began firing back.

  Wilson then used his telescope to get a better look at the dark treeline ahead of them.

  Bastards. They’re staying back to whittle us down with their range advantage. If I don’t eliminate these guys quickly, the civilians fleeing Esterton won’t have a route to move through.

  They’ll be slaughtered!

  Pulling out his longsword, he bellowed another order at his men after they reformed their formations.

  “Advance!” Wilson shouted. “Don’t break formation! Keep calm and trust in your abilities!”

  Immediately, the company charged forward, shouting battle cries as they did. The enemy’s fire took down a few more of his soldiers, but soon, their lines crashed into the cultist skirmishers. Wilson himself even charged forward, using his sword to cut down two cultists who wore their signature black robes.

  “They’re just a blocking force,” Wilson grinned. “I knew it—”

  Suddenly though, out of the darkness, three robed cultists zoomed through their lines, all of them double-wielding sabers that glowed red.

  Panic suddenly returned in his soldiers’ ranks, as the monsters rapidly tore through their lines, their swords seemingly capable of cutting through plate armor. Desperate to retake control, Wilson charged at one of the figures, but before he could cut them down, his horse was sliced to the side instead, causing him to fall on the ground.

  Wilson, of course, picked himself up quickly. But looking around, the cultists now counterattacked in full force. Dozens of his men fell to spells and other attacks. Meanwhile, the two powerful cultists murdered dozens of soldiers on their own.

  He himself had to fight one of them, the same one who killed his horse. But Wilson found himself unable to keep track of the cultist’s movement. They were fast, and within seconds, he found himself sliced on the knee, and then his shoulder was stabbed.

  “Damn it!” He spewed blood out as the cultist kicked him, causing him to fly straight into a tree. Pain flared throughout his entire body, and he could only helplessly look up as the cultist readied their saber to stab him. “...No, no, no—”

  SLASH!

  One second, the cultist in front of him was preparing to stab him. The next second, their body was split horizontally, unnaturally pink blood spurting everywhere.

  Standing behind the dead cultist was a figure in white robes. With the moon high above the figure, it was as if he were looking at a painting in his lord’s castle.

  …Like an angel who smites the demons of hell.

  His mind reeled at the sheer display of strength in front of him. This person just sliced someone in half cleanly, as if the cultist was nothing but a piece of paper. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a chance to say anything before he fell unconscious from his injuries.

  All he heard was a gentle, feminine voice.

  [Greater Heal].

  “You fools must accept the gospel! Those who do not bow to the One True God will be branded as heathens who have no place in His kingdom! So lay down your arms, surrender the individuals who attacked our lair, and devote yourself to the God of Death! The choice is up to you—to feel His never-ending love or to feel His wrath!”

  A hundred soldiers and a few knights seemed to be in front of the southern wall of Esterton when Marcus arrived near it.

  Meanwhile, the cultists brought in a few dozen of their men. That wasn’t where the danger lay, though. It seemed that their main force consisted of strange, spider-like monsters created with stitched human body parts.

  The creatures seemed to be created with Death Magic, most likely necromancy or worse. They were ugly, disgusting, and utterly twisted. Just the way they moved and twitched was so unnatural and vile that any man seeing it would puke.

  Marcus obviously didn’t puke. Still, he gave a low ‘tch’ after having a good look at them.

  Of course, they’re the type of scum who create monsters rivalling that of the Death God’s demons.

  It pisses me off.

  There were hundreds of the damned things, and they were inching forward into the formation of the town’s defenders.

  Many of them had already retreated to their walls after their commander failed to parley with the leader of this cultist unit. The spider monsters that appeared afterward only caused him to hasten their retreat.

  “Heathens! You dare refuse my terms, which are made with love?!” The leader of the cultists bellowed, his tone turning icy. “You will regret this! Those walls of yours mean nothing! For your crime of not accepting His warmth, you shall be—”

  “Hey, piggy,” Marcus’ voice boomed in the battlefield as his horse trotted with a calm cadence after he reduced the effects of [Unseen Veil], allowing both formations to see him. “You must be one of those ugly fucks from the Ministry of Fervent Service, no? Why are you screeching and squealing out here so loudly?”

  Marcus’s tone turned murderous as his horse stopped.

  “It’s bedtime. You brats ought to go back to sleep.”

  “Hey! Someone just walked in front of the loonies!”

  “He’s taunting them? Is he crazy?!”

  “Who the fuck is that? I told you all to retreat! No one should play hero today!”

  “Must be some dumbass who thinks he can take on the cult on his own. I don’t think he’s one of ours! Just keep running!”

  “Y-you,” the leader of the cultist group pointed at him, his fingers trembling. “Are you the killer of the Minister of Fervent Service?”

  Marcus remained silent. Until he noticed something on the cultist’s black pants.

  “Tch, don’t piss your pants in public. It reeks.”

  “W-what? Answer my question, heathen scum!”

  Marcus smiled beneath his mask as he faced the cultists alone. For a minute, silence reigned as the two groups stared at each other. He could feel the tension coming from the cultists, all of them staring at him as if he were some monster who crawled out of hell.

  They must have seen his ‘masterpiece’ then.

  Well…to be fair, I did crawl out of hell.

  He pulled out his pocket watch. Checking on his timer, he sighed.

  Did something happen again?

  Did she fumble executing my instructions again?

  Is she hesitating about anything?

  He told Stella to finish her job in four minutes, and then they would eliminate these bastards from both the front and the rear—leaving no survivors.

  03:45 seconds and counting.

  It seemed that the plan he gave to her didn’t work out perfectly again. But, well, he expected this. At the end of the day, he’ll exterminate all of them anyway.

  “Y-you’re ignoring me as if I’m nothing. I see, we finally found you then!” The cultist shouted, his tone still noticeably frightened. “Brothers, in the name of love, let us satisfy our Lady by—”

  “Oh, there she is.” Marcus finally saw Stella, exiting the distant treeline with her horse galloping straight to his position. His satisfied laughter unceremoniously interrupted the cultist leader’s speech. “03:58 seconds, just in time.”

  “Charge! Kill him!”

  Marcus jumped off his horse in response, pulling out both of his rapiers as the cultist army bum-rushed him.