Chapter 56: Let’s go when we say we’re going
The white-robed men of the Glorious Canon exchanged wary glances.
A thin man stepped forward, voice low.
“Blood Clan… how do you know our name?”
Cynthia descended, black wings folding as she landed between the men and the two women.
Her scarlet sickle, Youlandel, gleamed in her hand.
“I’ve got a score to settle with you.”
“Nothing to discuss, then?” the man pressed, frowning.
He didn’t recognize her, yet she claimed a grudge?
Absurd.
The Glorious Canon’s enemies always ended up dead.
This was just a vampire’s pretext to meddle.
“Anything worth talking about?” Cynthia shot back, curious.
She knew the Glorious Canon’s reputation—magic specialists, unlike the assassination-focused Holy Slaughter Canon.
A past ally had called them “smiling tigers,” negotiating to avoid fights but offering impossible terms, ensuring conflict.
Cynthia loathed both groups, finding the entire Holy Church deranged—Lorena being a rare exception.
Still, she wanted to hear their terms.
“Hmph. A vampire in Barlia’s heartland?” the man sneered.
“Does Kalmoz plan to interfere?”
“Huh?”
Cynthia blinked, baffled.
Me being here means interference? What logic is that?
“Tourism,” she said dryly.
“If anyone’s interfering, it’s you. Who invited you?”
“We’re here by the king’s order to purge cultists,” he replied.
“Cultists? Same old excuse,” Cynthia scoffed, scratching her ear.
“Talk to Alicia if you want. I’m done listening.”
Light blades shot from the woods, but Cynthia dodged effortlessly, flinging blood-red throwing knives in return.
Muffled groans echoed as bodies hit the ground.
“Your sneak attacks are child’s play,” she taunted, lunging with Youlandel.
The thin man retreated, summoning glowing magic circles.
Golems rose, firing white magic cannons at her.
“None defy the Glorious Canon!” he crowed as the blast engulfed her.
“Shut up. Noisy.”
A scarlet slash cleaved the cannon in half.
Cynthia’s red afterimage blurred past, her sickle shredding golems into fragments.
White-robed men fell like paper, torn apart—only the thin man survived, spared deliberately.
Blood soaked his robes, his world a crimson haze.
“Who… are you?!” he gasped, trembling, fumbling to summon more golems.
“Just a passerby,” Cynthia said, slicing off his arm and seizing his hair.
Her smile was ice-cold.
“Now we talk, Glorious Canon scum.”
Cynthia glared at the man’s corpse, then turned to the women.
Gone.
The blue-haired magician and blonde noble had vanished.
From the man, she’d learned they were a court magician plotting treason and a princess planning rebellion.
True or not? Just them?
She doubted it but knew they held clues about the Church and Blood Crown.
Sighing, her wings unfurled, lifting her skyward.
A magician’s speed was no match for hers.
Seconds later, she spotted the blue-haired figure below.
“Why run? So troublesome.”
Rustia panted, clutching the unconscious princess, leaning against a tree.
Running’s not my thing.
Glancing back, she saw no pursuers and exhaled.
“Why’d you stop?”
A voice froze her.
She turned, meeting Cynthia’s mocking smile.
“Y-You…” Rustia stammered, eyes wide.
“Shh. Don’t wake the princess.”
Cynthia’s grin widened.
“Traitorous magician lady~”