That night, at the Nightwalker family’s villa in the capital of Veneto.
“You seem very interested in Marquis Bernard.”
Marquis Bernard of the Black Moon.
He was one of the few 8th Tier mages on the continent and a master of the School of Necromancy. Due to his perceived wickedness, he was the worst dark mage in history, destined to be charged with Grand Heresy by the Imperial Church.
Even now, having reached the 8th Tier, the man boasted a level of power that put him among the best on the continent. However, even that could not compare to the single dark magic he would later develop after breaking through the wall of the 9th Tier.
Just as the age of chivalry would one day end and assassins would become the new spirit of the era, Bernard’s magic followed a similar path.
[Ultra-Tier Wide-Area Annihilation Dark Magic: Abaddon]
It was the worst and most powerful magic in history, capable of deciding the outcome of a war on its own.
Those without a moral compass often speak of morality. In the future, the Holy Empire would weaponize that forbidden dark magic and actively deploy it in actual combat.
How could Bernard, who was currently facing heresy charges and barely keeping his head on his shoulders, survive until then to develop such magic?
“The Empire probably has no intention of hanging Bernard on a cross and burning him in the first place.”
“And?”
“Instead, they’ve accurately assessed the strategic value his dark magic will bring.”
“That is an interesting perspective.”
Laila smiled as if she were enjoying herself.
“Go on.”
“The Holy Romanius Empire, which claims to be the kingdom of God, cannot officially or openly support the magic of such an evil dark mage. Using that magic in war would only draw more scrutiny.”
“In fact, Bernard was the only 8th Tier mage who could not establish a Mage Tower.”
Mages of the 8th Tier or higher could found a school, build a Mage Tower, and call themselves a Master of the Tower.
However, Bernard of the Black Moon was the only one among them who could not establish his own tower simply because he was a dark mage. He was, quite literally, a heretic in the magical world.
“The Empire’s heresy charges are ultimately nothing more than a deception to avoid the eyes of the world,” Sien said.
‘They intend to brand Bernard with the scarlet letter of heresy, lock him away where no one can see him, and squeeze him dry for the rest of his life.’
Around this time, the Republic of Veneto would reject Marquis Bernard’s request for exile. During his flight, the Marquis would be captured by Imperial Security and brought before the Church’s tribunal.
But he would not die. Instead, under a covenant to atone for his sins before God for the rest of his life, he would be imprisoned in the darkest and most secret basement of the Church, becoming their slave forever.
Out of 1,000 people brought to trial on heresy charges, 999 die. In cases where the charge of Grand Heresy is leveled, even death is a luxury.
One is forced to taste the most horrific pain a human can feel until they beg for death. Only when they give up on that and their mind completely collapses is death finally permitted.
In that despair, the hand the Church reaches out would surely feel like God’s mercy.
Sien knew this better than anyone because he was the one who had met his end under those very charges of Grand Heresy.
From the Empire’s perspective, it would be killing two birds with one stone.
They could provide full support for Marquis Bernard’s dark magic without worrying about the world’s scrutiny, and they could squeeze results out of such a talented mage through all sorts of illegal treatment and pressure.
Under the grand cause of bringing the kingdom of God to this land, the Holy Empire and the Imperial Church would not hesitate to commit any foul act.
“So, you’re saying we should accept Bernard’s exile and support him?”
“That’s right.”
“It’s still difficult to understand.”
Laila continued.
“Even if Bernard’s dark magic has the ridiculous potential to decide the outcome of a war, just as you say…”
Beyond the glass window where the moonlight seeped in, a pitch-black darkness had settled. In that darkness, the heavy, massive night sea writhed like a giant beyond the horizon.
“How can you be so certain of that possibility?”
“It’s not me who’s certain.”
Sien answered. Of course, Sien was certain. However, he couldn’t exactly say he had seen it in the future.
“I’m certain of the Empire’s certainty.”
Sien continued his explanation.
“The fact that they are willing to use even the pretext of Grand Heresy is proof of that.”
It was a pretext as powerful as the Oath of the Star and Dagger of the Nightwalker family.
“Then you must know even better.”
After a silence, Laila spoke while sipping her wine.
“Just as we do not care how great a sacrifice we must make to fulfill the Oath of the Star and Dagger, the Empire will be the same.”
It was a value that could never be compromised.
Sien also fell silent.
“…We have to endure it.”
“Even if our family has to bleed?”
“There is no peace that can be obtained without shedding blood.”
Sien answered coldly after a brief silence.
“That’s unexpected. For you to go that far.”
To them, family was everything, and nothing else mattered. Sien was no different. Laila knew this well. No, she understood Sien’s love for his family better than anyone.
Yet Sien was saying this.
Furthermore, Sien’s argument was not without merit.
Laila herself had been thinking the same thing inwardly.
She was simply hesitating because she knew the weight her decision would carry better than anyone else.
The more one has to protect, the harder it is to make a decision.
The Mother of Assassins, Laila Nightwalker, was the leader of the continent’s greatest assassin family and the ruler above the rulers of this country. A single wrong decision or misjudgment on her part could lead the country and the entire family to ruin.
“Since they are putting forward a value they can never compromise on, like our family’s Oath of the Star and Dagger, the people we will fight in the Empire will be beyond your imagination,” Laila said.
“The Apostles will move.”
Apostles.
They were the high-level forces of the Imperial Church capable of summoning high-tier angels among the nine choirs of angels.
“Perhaps even monsters beyond that will move.”
“I am prepared.”
Sien answered.
“So please, let me be the one to bleed.”
When Laila finally heard those words, she no longer hesitated. She simply smiled.
“That is not a bleeding you can handle alone.”
“But…”
“It is a bleeding we must all handle.”
Now was the time to trust the son who loved and believed in her.
“It looks like I’ll have to step in personally.”
“Wait…”
Sien couldn’t help but gasp in surprise at Laila’s next words.
“Issue a mobilization order via Nightfalcon to the siblings I am about to name.”
A mission that required the Mother of Assassins, Laila, to move personally. There was no need to mention how massive the aftershocks would be across the continent.
“Let us bleed together.”
“Mother…”
“Just enough so that none of us die, of course.”
“I understand.”
Despite everything, she was ready to fight for her beloved family.
That was the Mother of Assassins, the one who stood at the pinnacle of the continent’s greatest assassin family, the Nightwalker family.
***
At that time, in the Speyer Cathedral in the Rhineland-Palatinate region of southwestern Holy Empire.
Amidst the solemnly resonating Mass, a woman sat alone at the edge of the chapel wearing a veil, offering a prayer.
Suddenly, a man dressed in tattered robes sat down beside her. He appeared without a sound.
As soon as the man revealed himself, a stench like a sewer stung the nose.
“I heard Marquis Bernard has obtained internal intelligence from the Church.”
The veiled woman spoke.
“The story goes that as soon as he heard it, he returned to his territory, locked the gates, and solidified his defensive posture.”
“My apologies, Holy Mother.”
At her rebuking voice, the man in the robe, known as the Rat Cardinal, bowed his head and spoke.
“I have my rats investigating the circumstances of how the information leaked.”
“By now, that woman’s ‘eyes and ears’ must also know this content.”
The woman spoke in a cold voice.
“I hear he has already sounded out the Republic about seeking asylum.”
“I do not believe the Republic will accept his exile.”
“Do you really think so?”
“He is already accused of Grand Heresy. Neither the Republic nor the Nightwalker family would be ignorant of the weight that carries.”
“Yes, there’s no way they wouldn’t know.”
The woman in the pitch-black veil continued.
“In fact, that is why it might be a problem.”
The woman stood up.
“Move the Apostles.”
“Does that mean…”
“And I will move as well.”
“Wait.”
The Holy Mother of Death spoke, her godson standing by her side to protect her.
“Along with my beloved son.”
At those words, the man, the Rat Cardinal, caught his breath.
“I understand, Holy Mother.”
After whispering his acknowledgement, he bowed quietly and withdrew. The Mass was nearing its end. The singing of the choir echoed from the altar.
“Are you ready, Oscar?”
The remaining woman spoke. The young man who had been keeping watch in silence bowed his head and answered.
“I am always ready, Mother.”
He thought of the face of the boy he could never forget, the one who had changed his life completely that day.
***
A short time later.
“Wow. I see you’ve gained more wrinkles since I last saw you, Sister.”
“Our Mikhail has certainly improved his skill at getting beaten up since I last saw him.”
At the man’s playful voice, Isabelle Nightwalker smiled and responded.
In the square in front of the Nightwalker Duchy’s mansion. Sien laughed amidst the bustle that was rarely seen.
“Welcome. Brother Mikhail, Sister Isabelle.”
“It looks like we’re the first ones here, right?”
“Don Luciano is already here.”
“Oh my, Grandpa Luciano is here already?”
“He is a Highmaster of the family that carries the name of Assassin.”
“Brother Vigo is also scheduled to return as soon as he finishes his mission in the Seven Kingdoms.”
“Master Vigo has grown into such a fine man.”
“Well, he is my son.”
At Mikhail’s words, Isabelle responded as if she were exasperated.
“Have you already forgotten the memory of you whining because you didn’t want to look after the kid?”
“Being a father wasn’t as easy as I thought.”
Mikhail responded playfully, and it was at that moment.
“Welcome, both of you.”
A voice was heard in front of them, appearing without any sign.
“Lady Grand Duke Nightwalker.”
At that voice, Mikhail and Isabelle bowed respectfully and kissed the back of her hand.
“We greet our revered Mother of Assassins.”
Sien, Vigo, Mikhail, and Isabelle. Four Masters.
Adding Don Luciano and the guest who had not yet arrived made two Highmasters.
Finally, there was Laila Nightwalker, the Grandmaster who stood at the peak of their family.
The members of the Nightwalker family, who rarely gathered, were coming together. It wasn’t even for a family event or anything else.
It was solely to perform one mission.
“Is everyone hungry? A meal is prepared.”
“That’s a relief. I was on the verge of starving to death on the way here.”
“No, Sister, you should go on a diet… Whoops.”
Mikhail cut himself off mid-sentence. Sien also gasped in surprise.
Everyone had values they could not compromise on and sore spots that could not be poked.
For the Empire, it was faith; for the Nightwalker family, it was trust; and for Isabelle…
“Well, anyway, I’ll be working my tail off from now on, so I should eat my fill. Right?”
“Yes, of course. You should eat a lot.”
Mikhail hurriedly added as he turned toward the smiling Isabelle. Laila also smiled brightly as she responded.
It was the unremarkable daily life of a family ready to bleed for their loved ones.