Leveling Up by Executing Monsters

Chapter 87: Chapter 87: You Actually Don’t Need My Help?

After that bit of gossip, the fox-faced Hunter returned to a normal volume, then pointed in the direction Lloyd had just left and continued.

"Once we’re done with his statement, let that kid go. Don’t let him get involved in the follow-up. If something happens to him, we’ll be in big trouble."

"Hm? Is he special?" the Priest beside him asked curiously.

"He’s more than just a little special. Guess how long it took him to go from a regular college graduate to an Executioner of the Saint’s Favor Court."

The fox-faced Hunter held up one finger as a hint.

"A year?"

"One month."

"Amazing, right? Our boss thought it was incredible, too. And he was furious... You guys have heard about that big shot from the Holy Judgment Court, the one who’s not quite human, right? Just a few days ago, at a meeting of the Sect’s top brass, that big shot used this kid as a talking point to snatch the biggest slice of the talent development budget. That money was supposed to be for us, to build up our own ranks..."

"Uh... should we really be talking about this?"

"Of course not. I’m just thinking aloud. Pay it no mind."

"Such astounding talent... No wonder he’s a bit reckless... Sigh. I hope he takes my advice to heart."

"And no wonder he could ignore the Painful Gaze and destroy the Orbit here so easily. The Holy Judgment Court must be investing heavily in a young man like that, showering him with care."

"Anyway, when I see a young man like that, it just reminds me that the gap between people can be bigger than the one between a man and a dog. Heh. What a damned era."

After their brief chat, the three of them shook their heads and got back to work, beginning a more thorough investigation.

Although the Orbit here was destroyed, the mastermind behind it was still at large. That was the part that would truly require time and effort.

After searching the room thoroughly, the fox-faced Hunter couldn’t help but raise a question.

"Before I came up, I questioned a few of the people who just passed out in here. They all said they had a wonderful dream and didn’t even want to wake up."

His subordinate asked doubtfully,

"Huh? That’s not right, is it? As far as I know, besides targeting a single individual, the Painful Gaze can affect other people nearby, putting them in a coma-like state with a splitting headache. That’s what makes it such a dangerous and vicious ability. How could it possibly cause a pleasant dream?"

Priest Marlos, who was standing to the side, thought for a moment and offered a theory.

"Could there have been more than one culprit at the scene? Or more than one Orbit?"

The fox-faced Hunter, however, shook his head and offered his own opinion.

"I think it’s more likely the power of the Twist system. That fellow code-named ’Phantom Pain’ might have already dabbled in that extremely dangerous system... In any case, everyone be careful, and we’d better hurry..."

"Once he truly masters the power of Twist, he’ll be incredibly dangerous—right up until the moment he suddenly drops dead!"

......

Meanwhile, on Lloyd’s end, after he answered a few simple questions, the Hunter taking his statement gestured that he was free to go.

But Lloyd took the initiative to ask,

"Is there anything I can help with?"

’He really didn’t want to leave...’

For one, this was where his sister would be working, so he naturally wanted to pay close attention and ensure it was safe.

For another, he hadn’t gotten anything out of this trip, aside from the two skill fragments from destroying the Orbit. He didn’t even get a single point of Madness Value.

’So he was keen to follow up on this. Who was this brazen lunatic who dared to mess with my sister’s workplace?’

Unfortunately, the Hunter across from him waved his hand in refusal.

"You should know that this sort of thing is handled by us, the Saint’s Grace Court."

But Lloyd, still not ready to give up, said,

"I know that, of course, but look, like I said, my sister works here. I’m very concerned about her safety, so I at least need to find out who would suddenly want to murder an artisan."

"That’s not something that can be explained in a few words. Perhaps the victim and the culprit had a conflict of interest. Or maybe the victim had something the culprit wanted. It could even be a simple random attack... You know that these criminals are lunatics. They’re capable of anything."

Lloyd found it hard to refute the Hunter’s reasoning, so he changed the subject.

"Then can I ask about something unrelated to this case? It’s about you guys at the Saint’s Grace Court."

"Go ahead."

Lloyd then voiced a question that had been bothering him for some time.

"You must get a lot of anonymous tips, right? How do you usually handle them?"

Though the Hunter wasn’t sure why Lloyd was asking, he still gave the standard answer.

"We read them, but we don’t act on every single one. Some are ignored, and some are handed over to the local police."

"I see. I thought every one was treated seriously."

That answer disappointed Lloyd. It was quite possible that the anonymous letters he’d written fell into the "ignored" or "handed over" categories.

The Hunter explained with a wry smile,

"You probably can’t imagine how many anonymous letters we get every day, and how many of them are completely meaningless."

"For example?"

"For instance, an infertile husband discovers his wife is suddenly pregnant and reports his 90-year-old neighbor. Or a student does poorly on an exam and reports their teacher for teaching Forbidden Knowledge. There are even writers who get writer’s block and report their readers for not sending donations...

If you wanted to hear stories like that, I could go on for three days and nights... Of course, if an anonymous letter is genuinely valuable, we do take it seriously."

Hearing this, Lloyd felt relieved.

’The anonymous letters I sent were written very seriously,’ he thought. ’They included the background, timeline, and location. They weren’t a waste of public resources.’

’Since he said they take valuable anonymous letters seriously, it means they are still a powerful weapon for me to punish evil. The letters I wrote before were meaningful after all.’

’It’s just that the Saint’s Grace Court doesn’t publicize its cases, which ultimately makes it feel a bit less satisfying...’

’I hope all those bastards I reported are brought to justice!’ Lloyd thought.

Since the remaining matters didn’t require his involvement, Lloyd left the small building and crossed the police line.

Then he saw his sister jogging over. She threw her arms around him in a tight hug, her small face tilted up, full of anxiety, as she asked with concern,

"Yi, are you okay?"

"I’m fine, I’m fine. It was nothing... By the way, are your editors okay?"

"Yes, they’re fine, too. They’re in the coffee shop next door discussing the dreams they just had..."

As Evelor spoke, a look of envy appeared on her face.

"Speaking of which, it seems like everyone who fell asleep in the building dreamt of something wonderful?"

"No matter how wonderful, it’s still just an illusion. When you wake up, you still have to face cruel reality..."

Lloyd sighed for some reason, not paying much mind to such a minor detail. As long as no one was hurt or driven mad, it was fine.

He changed the subject again.

"So, Sis, if you’re free this afternoon, why don’t we head home?"

"Oh... I’m sorry, Yi. The deadline for the first issue is coming up fast. I really can’t get away..."

"It’s fine, it’s fine. You get back to work, Sis. I’ll buy some groceries on my way home and have dinner ready when you get back."

"Okay! I love your cooking the most, Yi!"

As Evelor said this, her large, emerald-green eyes darted away, not daring to meet Lloyd’s gaze. She looked a little guilty.

......

About ten minutes after Lloyd left, on a street on the opposite side of the building, an injured man hobbled along on a crutch, glancing up at the building’s third floor from time to time.

He was dressed like an ordinary worker, his right eye covered with a gauze patch stained red with blood. His face was deathly pale, and he swayed as he walked, as if he had just left the hospital after a workplace accident.

A few kindhearted passersby, seeing he had no one to help him, offered their assistance. He politely refused them all, insisting he would get home on his own.

After circling halfway around the building, he slowly turned into a quiet, deserted alley. He reached his free hand into his pocket and pulled out a silver dinner knife.

Exquisite, ornate patterns were engraved on the blade and handle, a stark contrast to his ordinary worker’s appearance.

He gripped the knife and swiped it hard across the back of the hand that held the crutch, opening a cut. He then smeared the blade with the blood that welled up.

The patterns on the dinner knife immediately glowed with a series of strange, dark-red symbols, transforming it into a sinister weapon.

"Our plan has hit a snag. I killed the craftsman as the Divination dictated, but it drew the attention of the hounds. I have to escape the city as quickly as possible, before they notice me..."

"But more than that, it’s what I saw earlier that has truly terrified me—and it cost me an eye..."

"It was an existence I can hardly describe to you. I can’t even conceive of the words to do it justice..."

"In any case, we’ll talk when we meet. Arrange a place for me. Food, wine, and women..."

The one-eyed worker murmured, as if leaving a message for someone.

He then tucked the knife away, walked out of the alley, and boarded a passing tram heading toward the edge of the city.

He changed routes and switched modes of transport several times. After a few hours, he finally arrived outside a luxurious manor on the outskirts of the city.

His mood suddenly relaxed, and he began to hum a cheerful little tune.

"Since I made it here without being followed, it means I’ve successfully escaped from right under the hounds’ noses. Heh heh... Saint’s Hunter? Nothing special..."

Mumbling to himself, he stepped through the manor’s main gate.

Then he suddenly felt a sharp pain wrack his body.

A volley of gunshots rang in his ears as blossoms of blood bloomed across his body.

His vision began to warp and distort.

The luxurious manor he had thought was his refuge gradually transformed into a heavily guarded military camp lined with watchtowers.

And he was surrounded by Crusaders armed with modern rifles.

"How... How the fuck did I end up on the Holy Judgment Court’s turf?"

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