A dull longsword and a heartbroken villager

"Thank you for your patronage." The coachman beamed.

The white-haired man took off his sunglasses and looked around the city.

Then, smiling, he opened the pocket watch in his hand.

There was a family photo tucked inside the pocket watch, but the watch face was slightly cracked.

The family photo includes two kind-looking middle-aged men, a smiling white-haired boy, and a shy white-haired girl.

Meanwhile, the man was wearing an old silver ring on the index finger of his left hand.

“A pretty nice city, isn’t it?” the man muttered to himself, looking at his pocket watch.

"Snap." The man casually closed his pocket watch.

The pocket watch was worn on a bracelet on the left wrist.

You can tell how afraid the man with the pocket watch was of losing it.

The man then walked towards the tavern.

Their familiarity with the roads of the capital city was as if they were not first-time visitors, but residents who had lived here for countless years.

Not long after, the man arrived at a tavern hidden deep in an alley.

"Ding-a-ling—" The tavern's doorbell rang as the door was pushed open.

"Welcome to the deserted Civet Tavern," a gruff voice rang out.

This is the shout of a bald, middle-aged man who is the owner of the tavern.

Unsurprisingly, the tavern was very quiet.

There were probably only three people drinking something.

"Bald guy, give me a Crimson Queen."

"You bastard, who are you calling bald! Huh?" The boss, who was initially furious, suddenly froze.

"Betty, you're back!" The tavern owner exclaimed in surprise.

“Is there anything wrong with going home?” Betley tapped the table.

"There's nothing wrong with it, it's just that eight years ago... never mind, I won't say anymore." The boss stopped himself.

“Eight years have passed, and you still remember me. Not bad,” Beatrix said with a smile.

"Hey, you were the one who helped me build this tavern when I was young," the owner laughed.

"How could I possibly forget you?"

"You used to be a ranger and a scout, I thought you'd end up in the army," the boss remarked.

“I’m a mage now,” Betley said casually.

"Master, you're telling me you've become a master?!" The boss's expression was priceless.

“I don’t recall you having any talent for magehood.” The shopkeeper pushed the Scarlet Queen that Betty wanted toward him.

“Now we have it.” Betley caught it.

"Show me what you've got?" the boss said.

“No revealing.” Belit took a sip of the mixed drink called Scarlet Queen.

It had a strong aftereffect, but Beattie felt great.

"Then you'll have to pay for this drink."

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t pay you.” Betley didn’t finish the drink at once, but savored it slowly.

"By the way, why did you come to me the first thing after you got back?" The boss looked at Betley with a puzzled expression.

Although Betley's return to his hometown was good news for the boss, it still felt a little strange.

“Just thirsty, a good reason, right?” Belit raised an eyebrow and smiled.

"That's a good reason."

Betley leaned casually against the bar and yawned.

"Unfortunately, wine doesn't quench thirst," the shopkeeper said irritably.

Just then, the doorbell rang again.

"Bray, I want a drink," Levy said, wagging her tail and tilting her head back at Bray.

“No, you can only drink apple juice,” Bray said.

“Hey, what a cute kid,” Beatrix said to Bray, raising his glass.

"She's fifteen years old, so she's not really a child."

"Hahaha, she's not developing very well. You must not have been feeding her properly." Belit laughed heartily.

“Baldy, give that little girl a big glass of apple juice, it’s on me,” Bailett said.

“You haven’t changed at all, Betty,” the boss sighed.

"Thank you." Levy wagged her tail, giving a =V= expression.

"Seeing that expression, it was worth it," Beatrix said with a smile, taking a sip of his drink. Bray had no intention of refusing Beatrix's generosity.

"Thanks." Bray tried to make his deadpan eyes look kinder.

"Your sister is very cute," Beatrix said calmly, seemingly unconcerned about Bray's deadpan expression.

“She’s not my sister,” Bray explained.

"What is that? A relative?" Betty asked curiously.

When asked that question, Bray found it a bit difficult to answer.

Who exactly is Levy?

It might be a pet lion.

"A child who traveled with me."

“That’s good too,” Beattie said.

“It’s a wonder you managed to find this civet cat; there’s hardly anyone here,” Beatrix said.

"Hey, you who only comes here once every few years, watch your mouth!" The boss slammed his hand on the table, feigning anger.

“She just wandered in; she came in because she wanted to see the tavern,” Bray sighed.

Despite her quiet demeanor, Levy is incredibly curious about the unknown.

Although she didn't say anything, Levy's expression said a lot.

What is this? An emoticon? Something about this description doesn't seem right.

"Hey, little girl, here's your apple juice." Beatrice took the apple juice from the shopkeeper and handed it to Levy.

Levy couldn't wait to lick it.

Yes, it took a lick, just like a small animal drinking water.

"Levy, hold it up and sip it," Bray said, stroking Levy's hair.

"Emmmmmm," Levy struggled to understand Bray's words.

Finally, he managed to drink it like a normal person.

“Haha, that’s really cute,” Beatrix said, standing up from his stool.

"I wonder if I'll ever see this lovely little girl again?" Beatrice tried to touch Levy's hair.

Levy was initially thinking of backing away, but considering that the man had given her a glass of apple juice, she let him touch her.

“Such soft hair.” Beatrix seemed to have thought of something good, and a smile appeared on his lips.

"Goodbye."

"Hey, you're leaving so soon?" the boss called out.

"I'll be back in a bit, don't worry, Baldy." Betley yawned, opened the door, and left.

"What a strange fellow." The shopkeeper sighed and put away Betley's glass.

"What a wasteful person! He drank it all so clean." The owner laughed when he saw Betty's clean glass.

That guy, Beatrix, he'd lick the plate clean after he ate.

---

There are always many suspicious people in the alleys.

But to be honest, even an ordinary person walking in an empty alley would give people this feeling.

It's probably determined by the atmosphere.

However, there are indeed four citizens acting suspiciously in the alley now.

"Have you found the angel?"

"No, but we're starting to get somewhere."

"Recently, the Knights Order has gained a trainee knight who has suddenly become stronger."

Is there anything to doubt about that?

"According to the description, the power that the apprentice knight used was very similar to the power of an angel."

"I sensed the presence of angels over there, but it was rather strong."

"I will go and confirm it with my own eyes, and if the information is accurate, I will report it to Her Majesty the Holy Maiden."

"I crave a wonderful reward."

"Stop making that disgusting face."

"Stop pretending, stop being so hypocritical, have you forgotten the doctrine?"

"I knew I was sensing something amiss; it turns out to be the cultists I despise the most," the fifth voice rang out.

Betley sat on a windowsill by the wall, squinting at the four cultists.

“Looks like the church I’ve been hunting down lately is the one.” Betley stroked his chin.

“A follower of the ‘Fallen Lord,’ right?” Betley jumped down and walked towards the four cultists.

The expressions of the four cult members suddenly turned serious.

There was no way around it; my identity was revealed immediately, so how could I not be wary?

Don't be nervous, because—

“You’re all going to die.” Beatrix put on his sunglasses and said casually, but his tone was chilling.

The four cult members didn't say anything unnecessary; instead, they exchanged glances.

"Divine Arts" and "Crushing Evil Power"

This is one of the few offensive spells among the divine arts of the "Fallen Lord".

And coincidentally, these four cult members were skilled in combat.

Because the task is to gather intelligence on the ground, it is necessary to ensure the ability to kill and silence witnesses.

The surrounding colors suddenly darkened, and an immense sense of oppression descended upon Betley.

The terrifying pressure not only physically oppressed Beatley, but also attempted to penetrate his mind.

"Hahaha!" Betley covered his face and laughed.

The scene of Belit being pinned to the ground, as imagined by the four cult members, did not occur.

"No, how could the divine spell we all used together not work?"

“No, of course it’s useful,” Beatley said.

"But at this level, it can't do anything to me."

“Cultists, are you ready to be tortured to death?” Betley stomped his foot, and the pressure instantly dissipated.

"Normana's Trampling"