Academic gathering with Lich colleagues

Lyle chuckled twice, as if in response to her excessive praise. Lyle looked at her mask, as if he could see her beautiful eyes through it.

“Rachel, are you one of these victims too? No offense, but your face… is very beautiful.”

“A beautiful soul is more valuable than a beautiful body. Yes, Mr. Lyle, I am one of the sufferers, just like them a few years ago. The only difference between me and them is that I am blessed by His Majesty Raphael Baid.”

"You mean, a few years ago, you were also healed by Raphael Baidmon?"

“Yes, like Ellie, I have received healing from the Holy Sword Nogburn. But unlike her, it wasn’t in public. I received the ritual right here, in this shadow that gave me birth and nurtured me. Whenever the Holy Light Ritual comes, when the Guardians come to this city, His Holiness Raphael secretly heals some of us.”

Why do you have to do it secretly?

"To maintain the basic balance of Locarrot. Different classes have emerged among the other inhabitants of Locarrot and us. Class antagonism is easy to create, but eliminating it is a hundred times more difficult than establishing it. The current order is fragile, and any injustice that is displayed will affect those who fervently pursue the light. I have been chosen to take care of the children. This restaurant will be an orphanage at other times, and in Locarrot, an orphanage is enough to support a child's growth. Perhaps in a few years, when His Holiness Raphael heals us all, the victims and their masks will disappear into history. I look forward to that day, and until then, I will thank the Holy Light for all the kindness it has bestowed upon us."

The collection of plates was completed quickly with the active cooperation of the victims. Rachel stretched and said, "Thank you very much, Mr. Lyle. Now please rest well. The Holy Light Ritual will last for quite some time, so please enjoy it."

Rachel and a group of women disappeared down the alleyway, pushing carts full of plates and Guardian helmets. They would then finish the cleaning, using a meticulousness that Rachel jokingly described as far beyond that of men to clean every grease stain.

At this moment, the leisure after the meal and the spiritual nourishment allowed both the victims and the protectors to easily find a pebble to rest. Although they were inseparable, their conversations still separated them. Several protectors recounted their stories of fighting in the field, while a few elderly victims told legends and tales left behind by history.

Lyle was initially more interested in the bizarre legends and memories that had become history, but Karen believed he needed the influence of the Holy Light, and Lyle compromised, thinking it wouldn't have much of an impact. Before joining the paladins seated around the old man, Lyle glanced, almost unconsciously, at the crowd surrounding him. At the very edge, a thin figure, wearing a mask, sat crouching, enjoying his solitude amidst the crowd.

It was a disheveled man dressed in a thin, dusty suit, which hinted at his decline. A mask covered the only gap left in the veil covering his head. This kind of attire wasn't unusual here; some people who wanted to help the victims but also wanted to conceal their identities wore such elaborate disguises. The man leaned against the corner of the wall, listening absentmindedly to the low, slow voice emanating from behind the mask.

A small hand grasped his empty palm. He was startled at first, but upon seeing that it was a little girl wearing a mask, his body regained its composure. His voice trembled with suppressed emotion as he looked at the tiny figure holding his hand.

"Is something the matter, child?"

A bird-like chirping sound came from behind the mask. "My name is Ellie, sir."

“Oh, hello, Ellie, I…I saw your performance at the ceremony, you did…wonderful! Congratulations, child.”

Ellie's mask looked at him, and after he thanked her, her gaze did not stop.

“You haven’t told me your name yet, sir.”

“I…I’m called Evan.” Ellie took Raven’s hand and swung it happily.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Evan. You're so thin."

Evan grabbed his arm, trying to dodge from Ellie's grasp, but it was no use.

"Phew~, is there anything else, Ellie?"

“I just saw you all alone, Mr. Evan. I think you need me… need me to hold your hand. Can we be friends, Mr. Evan?”

Evan paused for a second, his tense arms began to relax, and the hand that Ellie was holding was no longer stiff. He reached out and touched the little cutie's soft, yellowish hair.

“We’re friends now, Ellie.”

Ellie jumped up happily and led Evan toward the old man telling the story.

"Grandpa Angolan's stories are very interesting, but his voice is very soft. We should get closer to him."

One long and one short footstep sounded on the floor.

Evan's voice broke the rhythm.

"I'm so sorry, Ellie, for everything I've done."

The abrupt apology made Ellie bend her head slightly. "Although I don't know what bad thing you did, Evan, the Holy Light will forgive you, Evan. Thank you for telling me." Ellie turned and hugged Evan's waist, counting down three times before releasing him. "I forgive you, Evan, we're friends!"

The Angolan elder's voice was very soft, and as Ellie said, they had to get very close to hear his story.

"Locarrot, decades ago, before the Holy Light, was no different from other cities. Oh, there was one difference: Locarrot had something particularly abundant about it, and that was rats. These ugly black creatures were everywhere—in people's closets, on their plates, in their glasses, in their toilets. The residents of Locarrot suffered greatly from them, and it even earned a name: Rat City."

"The lord of Locarrot was suffering from a rat infestation, so he offered a bounty of 100,000 gold coins for anyone who could eradicate the rats. All the residents were excited about the huge reward, and all sorts of rat-control methods came up, but in the end, they all failed."

"At this time, a special person appeared. No one knew his origin or name, only that he wore a gray-white suit. He had a flute, a magic flute. He accepted the lord's bounty and agreed to eradicate the rat infestation within three days."

"In fact, he did it on the very first day. He played the magic flute, and all the wicked rats were drawn to his music. Like soldiers, the rats followed the flute player in droves, stepping over steps, crossing stone bridges, and traversing fields. To the music of the magic flute, one by one, the rats jumped into the Loren River and drowned themselves. That day, the dead rats filled the surface of the Loren River, and their ugly deaths led Locarrot into a frenzy."

"The Pied Piper tidied himself up and politely pushed open the gates of the lord's mansion, demanding the agreed-upon payment. But the lord refused; the greedy lord went back on his word and drove the Pied Piper away. But the Pied Piper was not an ordinary person to be bullied. He was furious at the lord's breach of promise and disgusted by the indifferent residents of Locarrot. He roared that he would make them pay the price."

"That was the third night. When it was time to collect the payment, the sound of the magic flute rang out again in the city of Locarrot. The sound was no longer melodious; it carried the anger of the player, and the eerie music resonated through the dark night. Some who were still awake saw the menacing shadowy figures in the city and spent the night in fear."

"The next day, all the children of Locarrot had vanished. As the frantic adults called out the names of their beloved children, one or two finally stepped forward and said that the shadowy figures that had appeared on their walls the night before were indeed the shadows of those children. The Pied Piper had taken their children, just as he had taken the rats. When everyone was filled with remorse, he disappeared with all the children and never appeared again."

"This is the story of 'The Magic Flute Player'."

The Angolan elder stopped speaking, and the excited children began to discuss.

"The Pied Piper is a villain; he shouldn't have separated the children from their parents."

"But the lord was wrong to begin with; he just used the wrong method."

Ellie didn't join in her companion's argument; instead, she raised her hand and asked the old man a question.

"Grandpa Angolan, do you know the name of the Magic Flute player?"

“I don’t know, Ellie. Nobody knows who he is. Just like in the stories, he suddenly appears. Maybe someone used to know his name, but they’ve grown old.”

"Or perhaps, they've forgotten."

Chapter 246 The Pure One - The Fake

Locarrot boasts a magnificent building, its exterior clad in marble blocks adorned with exquisite reliefs. Golden doors inlaid with onyx lead to a main hall filled with gold and silver. Its opulence could satisfy anyone's vanity, and it should have been a place of envy and admiration for the citizens. Were it not for the radiant glow of the church, the lord's palace, situated in the heart of the holy city, would have been a place of unparalleled splendor and praise.

"The added gold cups and jade tiles are meaningless. Your so-called sublimation only brings this house one step closer to vulgarity. Hmph, fools brainwashed by the Holy Light." Duke Tracy drew the curtains, blocking the light from his mansion. The bad news brought back by the steward had soured his mood considerably; the cooked beef tasted like cardboard in his mouth. Perhaps it was his own mood, or perhaps it was that foolish cook's fault, that he was still adhering to the stupid fasting of the so-called Holy Light Ritual. The Holy Light had made these commoners forget their status; a lowly cook dared to look at him with suspicion. Those royals were idiots too, talking about limiting divine power, yet turning a deaf ear to the Guardians' invasion of his city. Tracy naturally took the steward's warning to heart; a change was unfolding, but he was powerless to stop it. His private army was too weak, and some of them were even brainwashed fools by the Holy Light.

Tracy felt his head swell even more, his bloodshot eyes turning crimson in the darkness. He took a knife and slashed a religious tome, a gift from a former friend, to shreds. The sound of this venting of resentment lingered in the darkness until Duke Tracy's guards arrived at his side.

"My lord, the guards at the city gate have intercepted several suspicious humans of unknown origin. After confirmation by the paladin guardian, it was found that those people possessed an unusual power. To avoid alerting them, we have doubled the restriction period at the checkpoint. They are safe for the time being."

Tracy's eyes darted around, his crimson pupils gleaming in the darkness. "Is that so? Those paladins actually need to consult me? Don't they usually just act first and ask for permission from me in the name of safety if they suspect someone? What, have you changed your ways?" Tracy's words were laced with sarcasm. Then, as if remembering something, a strange light flashed in his eyes, and a smile crept across his lips.

“I understand now. Those paladins thought those abnormal beings were my leverage, the hidden power of some nobles. They didn’t want to damage the dignity of the nobility.” Tracy looked at the guards who kept bowing their heads, their shameful expressions proving his suspicions were correct. “The reason they are so calm is because this power is too weak; the exposed fangs pose no threat.” Tracy’s face turned red; clearly, in the eyes of the guards, he was just a nobleman with little power.

"Your Grace, shall we execute those who are anomalous? For the sake of Locarrot's peace."

Tracy knew perfectly well what the mystics who came to Locarrot during the Holy Light Ceremony sought: they were enemies of the Holy Light. But now, wasn't stirring up the situation exactly what he wanted?

"No, let them into the city; they are my honored guests."

The guard hesitated for a moment, then a habit ingrained in his muscles returned to his dukely manner. "Yes, sir, I will bring the guests to your residence..."

"No, take my distinguished guests where they should be."

"Where should we go?"

“My loyal guard, you should know a few hidden paths, the paths leading to the masked people’s dwelling. Take my guests there.” Whoever they are, they are destined to be destroyers of Locarrot. Tracy, who has ruled Locarrot for many years, certainly knows the fragile class balance here. Now, just one extra piece of the equation is needed to cause conflict in the city, dragging the self-righteous guardians into it. Rumors and public opinion are not weak; it’s time to teach those glamorous fools a lesson. Thanks to the almighty Holy Light, no matter how much turmoil occurs in this city, those lowly people will only see the Holy Light above their heads. Yes, praise belongs to the Holy Light, and so does blame.

“When you leave my manor, you will forget everything here, won’t you? My ‘loyal’ guard.”

"Your will, my Duke."

“No, your etiquette is wrong,” Tracy’s laughter echoed through the dark mansion as the guards were puzzled. “Yes, praise the Holy Light.”

"...Praise be to the Holy Light, Your Grace."

When your vision is tainted by gold, it's probably like what Lyle saw before him. The Guardians were a noble team of paladins, but they were equally adept at boasting and joking. Especially when they got excited, they radiated light, like a sea of ​​light bulbs—a bunch of low-powered Raymonds. Their previous display of holiness seemed like a facade; their trashy banter had certainly amazed Lyle. Several masked sufferers quietly pulled away the children who were intently watching the Guardians. A strange smile crept onto Lyle's face; perhaps he should take one of the little girls with him too.

Karen stood amidst a group of robust paladins, gradually becoming assimilated by them. She recounted her experiences of defeating vampires and crushing evil gods, though her involvement was limited, and her limping narration drew laughter from the surrounding paladins.

"Kallen, the little Karen of the Pompeii family, you're much more interesting than your father. But a boastful victory isn't a victory. How can you prove it's all true? In your adventures, you always faint at crucial moments, and then the monster is dealt with. What kind of story is that? The Sleeping Holy Knight Karen Pompeii (The Sleeping Kogoro Mouri)? That's too fake, little Karen."

Amidst the laughter of the paladins surrounding her, Karen stomped her foot in anger. Just as Lyle was about to unleash her fury on the paladins with the Holy Light Hammer, Karen remained unfazed by her rage. Perhaps aware of the power disparity between herself and the crusaders, Karen pointed a finger directly at Lyle, who was sitting idly to the side, seemingly uninvolved.

“Everything I said is true! Lord Lyle the Pure can vouch for me, for he was also one of our fellow adventurers!”

"Don't drag me into this!" Lyle roared inwardly, but the eyes of the surrounding paladins were already fixed on him. "Thank goodness for the mask of the suffering, which prevents my face from being seen, but I'm a necromancer!"

"The Pure One?" "The legendary Pure One?" The paladins had lost interest in the authenticity of Karen's adventure; their focus had shifted to Lyle. Karen's voice was high-pitched, filled with intense pride. "That's right, Lord Lyle is indeed the legendary Pure One! When I first met Lord Lyle and used the Detect Evil skill on him, I discovered his hidden identity. At the time, he was a sheriff..."

The paladin's gaze shifted back to Kallen. "Um... little Kallen, you used a divine spell to detect evil on someone you just met?"

Is there a problem?

"That's an offensive act. In fact, if you're a Crusader and you use this divine spell on the people around you, they'll feel that you're insulting their piety and they'll fight you."

"But, according to the legend, the first thing to do is to use the detection of evil as a warning."

"That's just a legend, and it only applies when one is undefeated. It's a good way to provoke."

Just as Karen was caught in a deep dilemma, Lyle quietly asked the paladin beside him, "Is scouting evil really a tactic of provocation?"

"Yes, if you want to challenge someone to a duel, I suggest you unleash the Scouting Evil on him, and in the end only one person will be standing."

"How did Karen survive to this age? I mean, she must have encountered other paladins in the church, but her habits still haven't been corrected."

The masked paladin leaned close to Lyle's ear.

"We swear not to harm women and children."

Lyle, understanding the reasoning behind it, looked at Karen and thought, "She really is a brat who needs to be disciplined."

"Lord Lyle, could you show us the mark of your purity? If you are truly a purity, we will introduce you to our leader, His Majesty Raphael Baidmon, which would be a great fortune for all of us Apostles of the Holy Light. So, Lord Lyle, may I grant you permission to scout out evil once?"

All the surrounding paladins turned to look at them. Lyle saw the eager gazes behind his mask, gazes that were impossible to refuse. Lyle certainly remembered that he was a necromancer and couldn't be exposed to too much holy light. But he also remembered that before leaving Andrei, Mr. Raymond had left a blessing on him, and that Mr. Raymond was very reliable in the clash of powers.

"If you, Mr. Raymond, have deceived me and led me onto the chariot of the Holy Light, I will surely take my revenge." Lyle nodded to them with this resolve.

Detect evil.

Twenty-odd beams of light descended upon him almost simultaneously. The impact of the holy energy caused Lyle to only feel a slight tremor, nothing compared to Mr. Raymond's detection of the evil meteorite. His body seemed to have been provoked; Lyle felt a power about to erupt from within him, then it was choked, like a kitten being grabbed by the scruff of its neck and becoming docile again.

Lyle's body emitted a faint glow, merely the afterglow of a glimpse into evil.

The light in the Guardian Paladin's eyes dimmed slightly.

"Is there a mistake?" "It's like a dream to encounter a newly born Pure One at the Holy Light Ceremony. This is reality, how could things be so smooth?"

The paladins expressed their regret one by one, with one of them offering encouragement to Lyle.

“It’s alright, Lord Lyle. Although you are not a Pure One, your body is still very suitable for cultivating the Holy Light. If you are interested, I can… I can introduce you to our Legion Commander.”

Lyle smiled and refused him, looking at Karen with an apologetic expression. Karen witnessed this and stood frozen in place, as if struck by a heavy blow. That was probably the disappointment of losing the five million lottery ticket.

Just then, a child grabbed Lyle's sleeve. A voice came from beneath her mask.

"Big brother, there's a girl over there that Rachel brought along who wants to talk to you."

Rachel? Is there something you need my help with? With this question in mind, Lyle walked into the dark alley.

Karen intended to follow behind, but was stopped by a paladin.