บท 139: Third Vice Captain, Fishel
As I attended this soirée, I felt a twinge of nervousness. Previously, Juliere had mentioned that at least half of the members of the Demon-Slaying Mercenary Corps were beautiful women. After meeting a few, I remained skeptical of this claim, especially considering that the bald instructor, Weir, was hardly an exemplar of attractiveness.
However, at this mercenary gathering, I finally validated Juliere's assertion; the Demon-Slaying Mercenary Corps was indeed teeming with stunning women. There were at least thirty or more captivating ladies, each with distinct styles, complexions, temperaments, and ages, their enchanting glances dazzling the men around them.
Yet, given the mercenary corps' significant reputation on Demon Island, the turnout of only fifty or sixty attendees felt somewhat sparse. I turned to Meishu and asked, "Are there many members of the corps who are not present at Kiri?"
With a slight smile, Meishu greeted a passing blonde beauty before responding, "Although about a third of the members are out on missions and cannot attend, the ones here today are indeed a rare gathering."
I knew few people at this soirée; aside from Instructor Meishu, there was only the red-haired brute, Gu Yali, whom I had met before, and Guan Ling, who accompanied her, looking like a princess in her exquisite evening gown.
Both the instructor and her apprentice seemed displeased with my presence; although they acknowledged me, they showed no inclination to greet me, and I had no desire to pursue such a sour encounter. I followed Meishu around the event as she introduced me to the key personnel of the mercenary corps.
The Demon-Slaying Mercenary Corps employed modern corporate management techniques, consisting of five departments, headed by the captain and three vice captains, along with five ministers and five deputy ministers—this comprised the entirety of the upper echelons. I was astonished to learn that Meishu, who appeared so gentle, was actually the deputy minister of the liaison department, a figure of considerable stature within the organization.
This revelation caused me to regard the softly smiling beauty with newfound respect.
At the soirée, six of the ten ministers were present, while only the third vice captain was in attendance among the leaders. Aside from a short, cheerful middle-aged man from the logistics department, the rest were all women. Among them, the third vice captain, Fishel, stood out remarkably, even amidst such a diverse array of beauties.
Dressed in a lavish gown reminiscent of ancient European royalty, she exuded an air of regal pride. Her unmatched grace was complemented by long, silky hair cascading down to her waist, adorned with a delicate crown woven from myrtle flowers, bestowing upon her an ethereal, fairy-like quality.
The blend of different styles harmonized beautifully, elevating Fishel's beauty and charm to an astonishing level. As Meishu introduced me, Fishel's striking presence made me somewhat uneasy; her majestic allure was accompanied by a frosty demeanor that seemed to distance her from others, leaving me little opportunity to engage in conversation. Not that I particularly desired it.
Before long, several high-ranking members of the mercenary corps were summoned by Fishel and departed the venue.
Once I acclimated to the atmosphere of the soirée, I found it not much different from an ordinary buffet. Now alone, I felt considerably more at ease. I casually grabbed a few snacks, poured myself a drink, and settled into a corner. The soirée was held in the tallest building in Kiri, offering a view that extended beyond the city. If I had a penchant for voyeurism, I could command thousands of spectral butterflies to expand my sight across the entire metropolis.
Though this was my third visit to Kiri, I still did not know the name of the nearby French city; I merely noted that it appeared picturesque, with tree-lined streets and a rich cultural ambiance.
In a month or two, I would likely complete the remaining four training sessions, and I wondered how becoming a fully-fledged mercenary on Demon Island would change my life.
I had joined the training camp to escape Demon Island, only to find myself returning to this realm due to a lack of self-defense capabilities. After completing the final training at the camp, I should no longer fear any adversaries.
Moreover, with Guan Ye and his subordinates having met their demise at the hands of Pan Lier, I had no other enemies to contend with.
Returning to a mundane life, enjoying the substantial wealth acquired from Demon Island, and living in luxury seemed far more delightful than toiling as a high school student.
Lost in thought, I was jolted back to reality by the sound of a fierce battle erupting outside the hall. With skilled members of the Demon-Slaying Mercenary Corps present, I did not expect to have much opportunity to intervene. I leisurely shifted my gaze, intending to observe the commotion, when a thunderous crash reverberated through the air.
Someone had burst through the grand entrance, charging in with imposing vigor. I instinctively raised my hand to deflect the shards of the splintered door that flew toward me, my pupils constricting as a surge of uncontrollable rage ignited within me.
The intruder was not human; it was a snow-white, long-haired werewolf—a form I recognized well, the very embodiment of the notorious killer known as Jack, who had transformed using druidic powers during the calamity.
Having endured so much, I had gained a measure of composure and refrained from immediately confronting this scoundrel, wishing instead to ascertain who was pursuing Jack into the soirée. The individual battling Jack was enveloped in a radiant golden aura, obscuring their features. Yet, it was unsurprising that Jack, a man with many enemies, would attract such attention; however, the fact that this person could hold their own against Jack, who possessed the heart of a druid warrior, and even gain the upper hand, indicated extraordinary strength.
Before I could use my temporal guardian abilities to predict this person's identity, Jack's words unveiled the mystery.
He laughed heartily, exclaiming, "Wolf King! You've become formidable, but to defeat me, you'll need several more years of training!
Ha ha, ha ha...
Hmph, there's no need for that. My current strength is sufficient to send you to prison, and I'll only be purchasing a one-way ticket for you!"
Such a cold jest was unmistakably in the Wolf King's style. Straining my eyes, I could only make out the powerful figure amidst the golden flames, which bore a resemblance to the Wolf King.
Seeing an old comrade stirred a gentle emotion within me; humans are creatures of sentiment. Although I had little faith in my former allies, the bonds forged through battle were slowly rekindling.
The Wolf King, cloaked in golden flames, not only dazzled the eye but also possessed unparalleled destructive power. Jack dared not confront the Wolf King's assault, relying instead on the swift agility of his werewolf form to evade.
The Wolf King's combat style remained consistent with what I had witnessed on Demon Island—brutal and efficient, devoid of unnecessary flair. His punches and kicks flowed with the flames, and he could unleash torrents of golden fire that reached over ten meters, posing a terrifying threat.
Jack moved with a speed thirty percent greater than during the calamity, and while the Wolf King's fiery breath could not touch him, it had already reduced the soirée venue to chaos.
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