Chapter 721
Chapter 721
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 721
Chapter Title: Party (2)
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1.
To any intelligent lifeform, life is an irreplaceable treasure—but especially so for witches.
For a witch, life isn't merely one person's share. It's the legacy painstakingly accumulated over generations by her ancestors, all in pursuit of the sacred mission to advance magic.
She can easily cast aside loyalties and betray colleagues to preserve it.
And so, Landa spilled everything she knew to Rinne without needing any torture.
The Solidus Trading Company's schedule. Lydia's schedule.
Even without being asked, she eagerly handed over the blueprints of the Almack Club, complete with secret passages and all manner of security spells marked out.
"I-is that enough now?"
Landa clutched her pierced hand, sweat beading coldly on her brow.
Rinne silently scanned the blueprints, and just that was enough to make Landa's mouth go bone-dry.
"……."
It wasn't the pain.
Rinne had already crossed the line.
Violence breaking out in Hexennacht—this was a first.
Now that the rules had been shattered once, they would need to be strictly enforced and an example made. Cliffort himself, along with the entire Solidus Trading Company, would surely step in to punish her.
The problem was that the punishment would come regardless of whether Rinne killed Landa or let her live.
In other words, the cleanest option for Rinne was silence: eliminate the sole witness.
"Let's pretend today never happened. I'll leave Hexennacht quietly."
Landa desperately tried to persuade her.
But Rinne merely regarded the third blueprint with dry, impassive eyes.
"I swear, I won't breathe a word about what you've done. I'll live like that witch never existed from the start."
"No special traps, it seems."
"Of course not! You could slip in without a hitch."
Landa bandaged her pierced hand and nodded vigorously.
"You've done well."
Rinne turned her back.
She'd survived.
A fleeting wave of relief.
At the same instant, a slender diagonal line slashed across Landa's vision—then vanished like an illusion, leaving not even a trail.
The faint afterglow of mana, compressed to its utmost limit, brushed against her skin.
"Huh?"
Landa glanced downward.
The greatsword, which had gleamed murderously moments before, was now neatly sheathed as if nothing had happened.
Something had occurred.
Whatever it was, even Landa's eyes hadn't been able to track it.
"M-my eyes...?"
Her vision felt wrong.
Her eyes weren't trying to look up, yet the whites were rolling upward as if they might fully expose themselves.
Half-obscured by her eyelids, the office tilted slowly sideways.
-Thud!
Landa's body collapsed, the chair caught on her leg clattering noisily across the floor.
Rinne, who had swung her sword to sever Landa's neck, sheathed even her shorter blade with pristine precision. Without a backward glance, she strode out of the mansion.
"……."
She'd gotten lucky.
It looked like she could rescue Si-woo within a very short time.
Tonight, the Almack Club would host a secret auction.
Followed by a brief ballroom gathering.
Lydia was scheduled to attend the ball, then head straight to Hexennacht's grand conference.
No matter the hardliners' feud with the moderates, they shared one common ground: devotion to Hexennacht.
They agreed that baring fangs at each other would only breed mutual destruction.
Thus, the top witches would convene for a conference to discuss future policies.
In two hours' time.
While the conference was underway, the Almack Club would stand unguarded, a castle without its lord.
Of course, even with such timely fortune, extracting Si-woo single-handedly came with no shortage of complications.
Even with detailed maps, she had no idea where he was hidden.
Lydia wasn't foolish enough to leave the place utterly deserted; she'd station minimal personnel at least.
Those were the immediate obstacles that sprang to mind.
Escaping Hexennacht after the rescue would be its own epic ordeal, but she'd worry about that later.
For Rinne right now, nothing mattered more than freeing Si-woo.
"Follow me."
Upon arriving at the Fragrant Moon Tower, Rinne pulled Alice, Yebin, and Red Branch aside.
It wasn't born of pure kindness.
If she stirred up trouble, their residences would be the first places searched—a simple deduction.
Yebin Smirna was an exceptional healer, invaluable for evasion and survival on the run.
Alice Even Highyan was a grand witch herself; unleashing her collar would grant powerful aid.
Finding a friendly witch to shelter them away from prying eyes—and provide a hideout to boot—proved surprisingly straightforward.
"I just gotta keep 'em here? Wow! With this gold, I could lounge for three years without lifting a finger."
Zlata, the free witch who'd taught Rinne cooking, grinned ear-to-ear at the bulging leather sack of gold ingots.
Her apothecary sat in Dignity Town, closest to the escape "door," yet tucked in an obscure alley that drew no attention.
Until yesterday, she and Rinne had no known ties, so she wouldn't even register as a suspect collaborator.
Perfect as a future safehouse, too.
"Exactly. Keep watch so they can't flee until I return. And you must never speak of this to another soul."
Zlata readily agreed to Rinne's stern warning.
"Got it. Of course. I promised to keep it secret."
Such a response was possible only because Rinne hadn't told her the full truth.
Zlata believed Rinne was simply stepping out of the mansion for some passionate tryst with Si-woo.
Like newlyweds dropping the kid off with family to reignite their flame alone.
Having learned recipes to boost his stamina only reinforced the illusion.
By the time Zlata learned otherwise, she'd be an unwilling accomplice, bound to cooperate.
"Have a good time."
Leaving the oblivious Zlata overjoyed by her windfall, Rinne headed straight for the Almack Club.
2.
The Almack Club's exterior was a crude red box laid flat—stark contrast to its opulent, antique interior.
Originally an armory warehouse, it retained an intensely sealed structure.
Infiltration routes were severely limited, secured by rigorous magitech defenses.
Armor-clad automatons patrolled tirelessly around the clock. Subtle pressure-sensing carpets lay hidden. Jewel orbs triggered alarms the moment an inner barrier registered intrusion. Some fixtures even unleashed attack spells upon detecting unlawful entry.
Of course, no security—however formidable—could harm a grand witch of Rinne's caliber.
But the moment an alarm sounded, the swarm of incoming witches was something even she couldn't ignore.
Given its prime spot in bustling Arcana Town, she'd be cornered in an impossible many-against-one fight in seconds.
Thankfully, Landa's intel included precise guard protocols.
Using that, Rinne settled on infiltrating via the roof.
The defenses were tighter there, true—but it was nearest Lydia's workshop, with sensible escape lines post-rescue.
-Ting!
Rinne drew the sword at her waist, neatly slicing the window latch, then descended lightly into the hallway.
Her black-clad figure melted seamlessly into the corridor's shadows.
Even racing across polished marble, she made no sound whatsoever—her movements evoked a spider creeping silently.
Problematic floor tiles? She scaled the walls without a second thought.
Crystals drifting lazily to log intruders' mana signatures shattered like fragile glasswork under her precise strikes, silenced before alarms could blare.
The long, dim hallway mirrored a hotel: one wall of glass windows, the other lined with rooms.
Not knowing which held him, Rinne had no choice but to check them all.
Stealth demanded no large-scale detection spells. Even relying on scent had its limits.
-Ting!
A refined sword stroke through the slim gap between door and frame severed the enchanted lock effortlessly.
Open, check—no anomalies—move on. Repeat.
A vault for high-value auction items. Vacant VIP suites for special guests. Abandoned half-finished interiors.
Yet no sign of Si-woo, no trace of his scent.
Lydia carrying his smell suggested close contact—probable in a bedroom, where man-woman intimacy most often occurred.
Lydia's workshop thus topped the list as his likely prison.
But as expected, security ramped up dramatically around the workshop.
Not even Landa knew its full defenses.
In short: the moment she touched it, this became a frantic time-attack rescue.
"……."
Still, Rinne trusted her instincts.
Searching every empty room might not even be feasible.
Si-woo, master of his craft, wouldn't be used once and discarded in some cell.
She judged him comfortably installed as Lydia's bed-warmer, idling in her chambers.
Rinne veered directly toward the workshop, rounding the corner.
But no prep, however thorough, covered every variable.
"Huh? The Sword Witch?"
She crossed paths with a witch bearing a lantern at the far end of the hall.
It was Lydia's secretary—the same one Rinne's earlier intimidation had sent scurrying to fetch her boss.
The unlit corridor made it clear: the top floor was Lydia's private domain.
Unauthorized entry alone counted as trespass.
The secretary thus felt a chill race up her spine the instant she spotted Rinne.
According to Lydia, this was the witch who'd left to hunt a fugitive male witch. Why was she here?
"Why are you here...?"
"Bare."
"A-are you insane?!"
With the incantation, black mana unfurled around Rinne like spilled ink.
The corridor's lavish, long-gallery splendor warped into an ink-wash painting drowned in water.
Rinne charging along the carpet resembled nothing more than an elongated brush stroke blurring into haze.
This was Rinne's ultimate technique.
A realm of black and white, dry and colorless, that eroded the unique properties of mana itself.
The secretary flung up a desperate barrier, but stripped of its "magnetic magic," it crumpled like cheap plastic.
-Slash!
The brush-like swing of the pristine white blade splattered inky black blood across the wall.