Mage? Magic Engineer!-Chapter 133 - 130: Operation Rat Hunt
The Alchemy Department confirmed that the powder was indeed hallucinogenic and addictive, and bore traces of having been cleansed by an unknown Divine Power.
Connecting this to the attempted attack at the theater, the Magic Guild notified the Order Church and the Security Team. They pieced together their intelligence on Mother Earth—most of which came from Rorschach, who seemed to run into Her followers everywhere. With an Evil God’s cult involved, all three parties took the matter with utmost seriousness, forming a rare joint task force to handle the case.
Of course, this "joint task force" mainly referred to the collaboration between the Guild and the Church:
The Gray Robe Knights were a force of Holy Guardian Knights stationed within the city who rarely showed themselves in public. They clutched heavily decorated scriptures under their wide robes. The swords at their waists had no sheaths and were slathered in Blessed Anointing Oil.
The deep blue Star Robes identified the Magic Guild’s armed mages within the Valois region. They wore Leather Armor etched with Magic Circuits. In addition to their black velvet gloves, each carried Instantaneous Scrolls, a Short Gun, and Alchemy Potions.
Both parties had informed the Security Team to keep their distance and maintain the outer perimeter to avoid tipping off their targets. As a result, the Security Team members could only yawn as they watched these Divine Benefactors and Casters from afar.
The Gray Robe Knights and the armed mages, two groups rarely seen in Valuva, were cooperating for the first time. They were both warily on guard against their target, as well as observing and remaining wary of each other. The leaders of both sides shook hands and planned tonight’s operation together.
During the day, a preliminary reconnaissance mission, with operatives posing as customers in the bar, had yielded a layout of the first floor. Using the excuse of needing the restroom, they had gotten a rough idea of the corridors and rooms. However, the second floor and the cellar below remained unknown. Because there might be an Evil God’s altar, the Gray Robe leader stopped the mages from using Magic to probe further, so as not to alert their target.
Under Magic Detection, no Spiritual Light flickered from the main entrance, the windows, or the small back door to the kitchen. This was normal, however. If a small tavern were completely warded with Magic and Divine Arts on its exterior, wouldn’t that just be telling any Caster that there was a major problem here?
The operation began. A silent Domain unfurled, causing passersby to subconsciously avoid the area.
The advance team—two blue-robes and one gray-robe—became ethereal under the enhancement of their allies. They stowed their special weapons and Magic Tools, passing through the tavern’s greasy stone walls like three humanoid wisps of mist.
They appeared silently in the first-floor corridor and moved stealthily toward the main hall.
Although there was no Magic Aura, they couldn’t rule out physical anti-theft measures set by the owner. The three of them carefully searched the area around the main door and, with their Dark Vision, successfully located an alarm bell connected to the door bolt. A black-velvet-gloved hand gently pinched the clapper of the Copper Bell, Decomposed it, and removed the fragments.
The tripwires and bells on the windows and the back door were also dismantled one by one. The door was opened from the inside, and three more blue-robes and three gray-robes entered.
At the main entrance, two Gray Robe Knights carefully and respectfully held a Holy Artifact. It was covered by a thick, dark red velvet cloth, and the Guild mages couldn’t see what it looked like. Aside from some curiosity, they weren’t particularly concerned—according to the plan, it was simply a tool to suppress the Evil God’s power should it truly appear.
The devout Gray Robe Knights did not bring the Holy Artifact inside the bar. A building carries strong symbolism as a "Domain." If the Holy Artifact were brought in rashly while an altar or an ongoing ritual was present, it could trigger a fierce backlash. Besides, the Holy Artifact itself had no offensive capabilities. The current mission was to subdue the targets before they were alerted.
Two... three... four heartbeats. Three upstairs, one in the basement. The leader’s perception was relayed via hand signals to the others inside the bar. The nine of them split into two teams of three and six, infiltrating the cellar and the second floor, respectively.
...
Old Red was in the cellar. At this moment, the dim basement was his absolute domain; no employee was ever allowed inside. He poured himself a glass of distilled spirits and downed it in one gulp, then pulled a dry biscuit from his pocket.
Red instinctively tapped it on the table, but only crumbs fell out, no maggots. It was a habit inherited from his time at sea, an unconscious action for Old Red. On land, one didn’t have to eat damp, maggot-infested biscuits. The only creatures likely to share his food were the little mice—the good thing about them, compared to maggots, was that mice were smart enough to scurry away when it was the master’s turn to eat, without needing to be "invited" out by a tap.
Old Red loved the earth, and he loved the Mother of the earth.
His meal finished, he saw that his concoction was done roasting. Before grinding it into powder, there was one more step, a crucial one—receiving the Mother’s holy Blessing through the "Mouse King." The scruffy-bearded old man walked barefoot across the cellar floor, an expression of his intimacy with the ground. If one could see it in better light, they would notice his right foot was bizarrely pink and plump, completely different from his left foot and unbefitting his age.
It looked as if it had just grown in.
The cellar, of course, stored wine. He grabbed a small oak barrel—it was fruit wine made last year, still full of sugar. The old man shouldered the barrel and walked to the far end of the room, stopping before an indoor well. He set the barrel aside.
The mouth of the well was sealed tight with a stone slab and bound with an iron chain, one end of which extended down into the well. Old Red undid the chain and began to move the slab. The stone was extremely heavy, but compared to waterlogged hemp ropes, this bit of weight was nothing to Red. Especially now that his aches and pains were healed. ’Praise the earth!’
Sensing the movement at the well’s opening, something at the bottom began to thrash about, making a SPLASHING sound. Its struggles caused the length of chain in the well to CLANG noisily. Old Red muttered, "Settle down, settle down, good doggy." He paused his efforts with the slab, pried open the wine barrel with a small knife, and started pouring its contents inside.
After he had poured out more than half the barrel, the thing inside finally quieted down. The old man spat a thick glob of phlegm into the well. "Greedy bastard." Shoving the slab aside, he attached the chain to a winch and began to hoist it up.
’Someone’s here?’ Old Red’s intuition told him his territory had been invaded. A harpoon was leaning against the well. A mix of rust, fresh blood, and old bloodstains gave it a dark red color. Valuva was clearly an inland city, yet this harpoon, a common sight by the sea, showed signs of frequent use. Now, Old Red turned and gripped the harpoon, staring warily at his surroundings.
Two strange new customers had come to the bar today. They’d gotten drunk and staggered all over the first floor, yelling that they were looking for the restroom. Old Red had been suspicious at the time but hadn’t stopped them, since that sort of behavior was common for drunks. It was a good thing they hadn’t just relieved themselves in the hallway. Now, however, he was filled with regret. He should have thrown them both out of the bar.
But there was nothing here now. Only the small crucible for roasting his ingredients, the heating Fire already extinguished by him. All around were stored wines, especially the fine vintages from Istani, resting in their red-brick cellar holes.
Suddenly, a memory, a scene, and a scream flooded his mind:
"Let me go! Let me go!" In a small room on the second floor, the powder salesman, "Rotten Nose," had just been captured. He had just finished his daily dose of the powder and was about to drift off into a pleasant dream. But suddenly, the door was broken down. The Illusions from the powder left him bewildered and helpless, utterly terrified but unable to act.
The degenerate wanted to resist, but his muscles wouldn’t obey his brain. His entire nervous system was still convulsing in a blissful delirium. His flailing arms might have been strong enough, but they were just punching at the air. 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶
A rope had already wrapped around his body and was beginning to tighten. From Rotten Nose’s perspective, he was being constricted by multicolored venomous snakes, while three evil Snake Exterminators chanted Spells he couldn’t understand.
"You’re demons! Demons who command snakes!"
Then came a blunt strike that knocked Rotten Nose unconscious. It also sent a throbbing pain through the temples of Old Red, who had been momentarily linked with him.
’Mages! Or people from the Church!’ Realizing this wasn’t an ordinary intrusion, Old Red decisively dropped the useless harpoon and prepared to pull out the Potion he had made. In that instant, he sensed something, sidestepped sharply, and two Rays shot out of thin air without warning. But, thanks to his foreknowledge, he dodged them both.
"Damn it!" The three-man team that had come down to the cellar dropped their invisibility. They watched as the target bizarrely dodged their attack and then unhesitatingly leaped into the well.
Then, accompanied by a roar and the violent clanging of chains, a rotting hand clawed its way onto the lip of the well.
It was followed by a second, then two pairs, then three pairs....
"You... forced... my hand!" The filthy roar was a polyphony of voices, and Old Red’s was among them.
