‘Clean-up’.

  It was the word that Marcus perhaps favored the most whenever he conducted his operations nowadays. It was quite the innocent, straightforward, and effective term to curtly describe his strategic goals. It was exactly the type of missions that Marcus liked.

  Partly, the reason why he truly thrived well in hell and reached the end was that he liked straightforward objectives. He liked missions where the only goal was the elimination of his opponents. The Death God and the demon horde provided that perfect target.

  It was starting to turn…slightly difficult nowadays though. Count Talsby and the Death God Cult were an easy target, no doubt. They were satisfying to kill even. It made him feel beyond alive when he saw their blood.

  So long as their filthy blood and innards didn’t touch him and his belongings, just having the opportunity to see the pretty red of those types of garbage filled him with such satisfaction. This time, though, he was facing tough opposition.

  Not in the sense that he was facing someone powerful, but in the sense that things weren’t so straightforward. Marquis Hansa Nelson was garbage. He was arrogant, loud, and boisterous, and his only redeeming quality was his alchemical skills.

  The man produced detergent! Even now, Marcus was still searching for that rare, mythical product. He certainly would greatly appreciate it if there were more people like Hansa out there.

  But his two underlings were different. Baron Frederick Halsey wasn’t some dumbass; he clearly disliked the cult. He even suggested finding Stella and Marcus and allying with the White Watch.

  That was an exceedingly commendable act. He was clearly just some lowly lackey forced into a role that he had to swallow with distaste, and even then, he was trying to find ways to weasel out of the evil agreement they had with the cult.

  Then, there was the other guy on his shit list. His name was Count Peter Kerbeck. He suggested to Marquis Hansa that they should break their agreement and mobilize their troops fully. Like Frederick, he also didn’t like the cult, because they attacked the settlements in his domain.

  It was only really Marquis Hansa Nelson who was adamant about trying to negotiate. Mainly because he was a goddamned coward who wanted to save his skin first and foremost. He was exactly the type of craven fools that Marcus hated a lot.

  Back during the age of the demon horde’s brutal campaigns against all of mankind, there were many people like Hansa who struck deals and agreements with the demons to spare themselves. Some even briefly allied with them. In the end, all they did was weaken mankind, kill themselves, and endanger their people.

  The point was, Hansa was a juicy target in Marcus’ eyes, but his two lackeys weren’t. Unfortunately, they were all on his shit list because they collaborated heavily with the cult. Coerced or not, they weren’t like Elizabeth, who fully opposed deals with the cult in the open.

  Under the wartime rules of the Imperium, they would be defined as militant collaborators of the demon horde. They would therefore be subject to immediate execution, the same with Hansa.

  When I came here, that’s what I told myself as my main goal—the elimination of all militant collaborationists.

  It’ll just be a little clean-up. A straightforward goal, just as I liked.

  But she has a point. I’m not dealing with demons. I’m dealing with humans.

  Tch.

  How would he define who should and should not be eliminated, though? Who must be cleaned, and who should be left behind? It was a question that bothered him because Stella brought it up.

  “Sir Marcus,” Stella placed her black mask as she readied herself. “Are we good to go now?”

  Marcus closed his pocket watch. It was 18:45 hours. The city was now winding down with its activity, while the Marquis and his vassals continued their business of organizing negotiations to make another deal with the devil.

  It was the perfect time for another false flag attack.

  “...Stella, do you like talking?” Marcus asked.

  “Why? Of course I do. While most battles proceed into violence, I think many can be ended by pen and paper.”

  “Right. I see. Change your clothes. Today, you’ll be a member of the White Watch.”

  Stella stared blankly at Marcus briefly before she sputtered.

  “W-what?”

  “And I, Marcus Lieberman, will be a cultist who’ll take out the Marquis’ life.” Marcus then pointed her finger at her. “You, Stella Rosette, on the other hand, will be the heroine from the White Watch who’ll drive me out.”

  “...You’re not making any sense, Sir Marcus.”

  “Of course I do. We have two fools down there who have shiftable loyalties. If you don’t think that we should send them to the goddess for a swift judgement, I want them on our side.”

  “And you want me to do that for you?”

  “You’re the one who can talk,” Marcus smiled a bit. “I’m a soldier, Stella. Not a nobleman, nor a practicing diplomat. I’m not even a merchant. All I can do is to eliminate my targets. I can be the villainous bastard from the cult who eliminates the Marquis.”

  “And once I drive you out…the baron and the count will be receptive to my words.” Stella shook her head. “Sir Marcus, I don’t think you’re incapable of diplomacy at all.”

  Marcus raised his eyebrows as she continued.

  “You’re just extremely mean when you want to do it.”

  “The White Watch…eliminated them all?” Marquis Hansa Nelson asked, bewildered.

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  “Yes, sire. The reports are clear as day.”

  “If I may, this is just proof that we can make them bleed.”

  First Frederick, then Peter, both noblemen, made their points clear to the Marquis. Hansa looked down at the files with clear apprehension.

  Meanwhile, Frederick failed to control himself.

  “I think we should take the White Watch with us,” Frederick declared. “At last, we have the chance to free ourselves from the cult’s yoke.”

  “I’d bet even Duke Locke will be interested in this group,” Peter laughed. “The cult has been a thorn in our side for too long. It’s time to kick them off.”

  “You two,” Hansa’s voice turned cold. “Have you two forgotten something? Archbishop Selena vi Lusbeck is a level 76 [Dark Mage]. The White Watch just eliminated her and an entire contingent of her ministry’s forces.”

  “So?”

  “Do we have any idea about what this group is?” Hansa bashed his hand on the desk. “Nothing! For all we know, they’re in a complete crusade against the cult. We worked with the bastards for years.”

  “That’s why we shall cease it,” Peter said, his tone strained. “We’ll cut them off like the liability they are.”

  Hansa stood up, pointing at the two and then himself.

  “You, you, and me. We are all supporters of the cult. The White Watch declared it, didn’t they? That they like to kill cultists? What if they don’t make any distinctions?”

  “Sire, you must not let paranoia take control of you,” Frederick lightly said. “I’m sure they can be reasoned with—”

  “Frederick! Frederick!” Hansa shook the nobleman with anger. “You must understand, we worked with them. We armed them, gave them slaves, and gave them resources. We can only rely on ourselves, not some vigilante scum!”

  Hansa began pacing around the room, clearly panicking.

  “There’s no other option. We have to observe and create countermeasures against this group.” Hansa’s hands began shaking. “Killing such powerful cultists so easily, we might be dealing with something extremely lethal.”

  “...That’s a possibility, yes.”

  “Selena vi Lusbeck eliminated an entire brigade of the kingdom just three decades ago!” Hansa said. “That’s why we can’t lift much of a finger easily. But, with Duke Locke’s support…”

  “Sire, you’re not thinking clearly,” Peter warned. “Calm down, we’re not too deep in it yet.”

  “You two are both fooling yourself,” Hansa laughed as he faced both Frederick and Peter. “We’ve all been active participants in this. We’re all allies of the cult—”

  “And now, you three are not.”

  The glass window of Hansa’s office room was shattered when a figure with the cult’s signature black cloak entered through it. His voice was deep, further distorted by the mask he wore.

  “Guards!” Hansa immediately reacted. “Cultist attack!”

  Both Peter and Frederick drew out their respective defense sabers, while Hansa threw a ball with a glowing crystal on it straight at the strange figure, but the man suddenly zipped at the blink of an eye, dodging the explosion so completely that his clothes were unharmed.

  “Get out of here!” Frederick shouted. “I’ll hold him off—”

  Frederick didn’t realize it, but Hansa was already long gone. Peter, on the other hand, was quickly knocked down when the figure punched his lights out with his fist.

  The good lord really had no hesitation to run and abandon us here, huh?

  Frederick steeled himself. There was no chance that he would be able to defeat a powerful member of the Death God Cult, not when this deranged loony was powered by both fervor and the need for retribution.

  Annie, Alexa, and Felix. He recited his family’s names one by one: his wife, daughter, and eldest son, respectively. I love you three.

  The monster in front of him simply stood there ominously, arrogantly observing him. Frederick channeled all of his mana and activated the skills he had as a level 30 [Swordsman].

  Then, he charged in. Unfortunately, after a mere thirty seconds of swordplay where the monster clearly held back with his singular rapier, a simple punch straight to his jaw knocked him down as well.

  It was a hopeless fight.

  Stella began steeling herself for the battle ahead. She was watching from the rooftop near the Marquis’s mansion, silently perched as she remained undetected due to the night.

  Down there, the battle had already begun. Marcus tore through the personal guard of the Marquis. He didn’t seem to be using his signature skill [Swift Blade], so it was taking him a bit longer than normal to kill people.

  But kill people, he did. Extremely easily too. Marcus’s style of fighting without [Swift Blade] was something that valued maximum speed and overwhelming attacks that made him look like a tornado tearing through the battlefield.

  While his actual swordplay techniques left much to be desired to Stella’s well-trained eyes, as there was almost zero theory, elegance, and finesse with it, it was something she respected. His technique was clearly born out of improving bit-by-bit while battling demons in the underworld.

  It was rough, yet so practical and efficient. His [Speed] stat only amplified his technique more than tenfold, so that not a single well-trained knight or man-at-arms managed to hold him off. They all ended up as dead corpses on the walls and floors of the Marquis’s mansion.

  Hansa, on the other hand, barely managed to get out of his mansion. Stella watched as Marcus finally caught him, and Hansa began begging for his life, saying that he would never plan to betray the cult again and that he would be giving them everything they needed.

  Marcus lopped Hansa’s head off without even responding once. After all the planning and preparations they made for this day, it was quite the anti-climactic result. Not that Stella expected anything different. She felt like no matter who their enemy was, when Marcus was on the battlefield, it would be ended nearly immediately.

  It was simply the nature of having a powerful soldier who literally only lived a life of following orders to kill all of his enemies. There was very little flashiness and flair when Marcus was in a fight—only violence and elimination.

  After Hansa's death, two noblemen, Sir Frederick and Sir Peter, appeared behind Marcus. Both of them were heavily beaten by his punches, yet they stood ready to fight Marcus off. A small smile appeared on Stella’s face.

  It must have taken so much bravery and noble courage that even after being beaten, they still stood up against the Death God Cult. The two noblemen were unlike Sir Hansa, who definitely deserved to be judged by the goddess.

  I told you, Sir Marcus.

  There are worthy people sometimes that deserve mercy and a second chance.

  It was time to make her entrance. This was where Stella believed she could match Marcus beyond one-to-one—dramatic flair and theatrics.

  She finally used [Fly], and quickly, all eyes locked on her as she elegantly swirled down.

  “You evil cultist!” She landed on the lawn of the Marquis’ mansion before pointing her glowing longsword in Marcus’ direction. “As a member of the White Watch, it is my sworn duty to eliminate you! You’ll die here tonight, fiend!”

  That was when Marcus suddenly pulled out his second rapier. She gulped, remembering his words earlier.

  “This will be our first spar. Try to make it look natural.”

  The fact that he pulled his second sword to face her made her feel equally giddy and nervous. She felt like he fully acknowledged her skill and strength, even when she was a mere ant compared to him.

  I won't disappoint you, Sir Marcus.

  She readied her stance, and then she lunged straight at Marcus.