The tension in the air was palpable.

After a short while, the crowd of mercenaries had split off into two groups: the innocent and the suspicious. But even against the supposed innocent, the ones that had been labelled as suspects wore expressions of disbelief.

Nobody trusted each other.

It wasn’t unreasonable. Necromancers were known to play tricks and could evade pursuit. They knew how to hide themselves deeply and avoid speculation.

In the current situation, if anyone made one wrong move they’d wind up being slaughtered.

Emil and Ira were calmer, but the only ones they trusted were each other. Emil had shortly suspected Ira because she had been the one to invite him here and was the first to mention ghouls, but he dismissed that belief. Her strength came from an unknown source, but its root wasn’t the dark attribute. Necromancers tended to be weaker than their undead, so Ira’s naturally powerful body didn’t fit the profile.

He turned his gaze to the rest of the crowd. After a great discussion, he and Ira had been placed among the innocents, but they were still suspicious to a few members. But he wasn’t worried about that.

His sole goal was to find the necromancer! Now that it had been narrowed down, it was easier for Emil to focus on individuals. He wondered if the necromancer had even joined the mercenaries because everyone’s expressions were very natural and showed vague signs of irritation and anger. Either that, or they were a great actor. Which wouldn’t bode well for them.

Only the necromancer knows what’s going on here. They’ve found out people’s attributes, which could give them the advantage, Emil thought to himself. He didn’t want anyone here to reveal their hand, but at the same time, it was the most straightforward way to do so. After all, if someone declined, that immediately cast all suspicion onto them.

But, he had narrowed it down to two people, both having the dark attribute:

The first was a man that introduced himself as Ryan. He appeared to be nervous inwardly despite his outward tranquility and his anima circuit reflected those emotions as it flowed awkwardly. His fear was so deep that it was affecting his magic. Ira had muttered to Emil that the scent of death was strong emanating from him and Emil could agree that his aura felt sticky. Logically speaking, he was the most suspicious. But Emil found it hard to believe that the necromancer that had calmly allowed all of his ghouls to be murdered and was still in an advanced position would be so fidgety.

Emil thought of a possibility: there were two necromancers and they weren’t necessarily related. Ryan was also a necromancer, which was why he was behaving that way. After all, if he was to be caught, there was no way that he could talk his way out of it. He’d wind up dead for a crime he likely didn’t commit.

Then there was the other. His name was Ilya and he claimed himself to be a musician. Unlike everyone who wore combat gear, Ilya was dressed as if he was going to a formal party. His attractive, androgynous face wore a steady, calm smile as he watched everyone else. He didn’t have the sticky and deathly feeling that necromancers exuded, but that didn’t matter to Emil. In his mind, Ilya was more than likely the necromancer. It was similar to how he felt when he gazed at Ira’s wrapped limbs: there was something that lurked underneath the surface.

Noticing Emil’s gloomy eyes focused on him, Ilya turned to meet his gaze.

Danger.

The quiet whispers began to speak into his ears, a throbbing pain pulsating in his mind that almost brought him down to his knees. His vision blurred from the pain and the voices grew louder and louder, shouting at him to escape. Emil felt the world turn and spin, its center point forming around Ilya. Light was being sucked towards him.

The smile on the man’s face grew, stretching so wide that it literally reached his ears and revealed his empty mouth, a black pit that swallowed the light. His grey eyes had gone completely black and devoid of any signs of life--contained within them was certain death. Emil felt chills run up and down his spine and his blood was freezing. He noticed that Ilya’s face felt less like flesh and more like a beautiful mask hiding a monster. When he blinked, Ilya’s face had returned to normal, but the deep fear was burned into Emil’s mind.

Emil realized in that moment that he and Ira had been wrong: the man outside was not the most powerful. Instead, there was a beast lurking among them, its power enough to shake an empire. He remembered his teacher, the Night Sage, and determined that they were on the same level. No, he couldn’t tell who would be stronger.

Cold sweat dripped down his forehead.

Of course someone that powerful did not care about a measly two hundred ghouls. He could conjure up that amount with a snap of his fingers. No, he could kill everyone here with a snap of his fingers.

Subconsciously, he grabbed Ira’s arm and pulled her backwards. “We have to leave,” he could barely get the words out. His instincts were demanding he run and it felt as if his soul was ready to flee from his body.

She glanced at him, unaware of what was happening. “What? Why?”

“The necromancer is not someone that we can handle,” he whispered urgently. “If you want to stay alive, we’re leaving.”

Ira’s expression changed. “What’s going on? You found them?”

Emil nodded, swallowing thickly. “Ira, we were wrong… we were very wrong.”

“What are you talking about?” She didn’t get why Emil had suddenly changed. He had been acting calmly before, and now she could see the panic reflected within his golden eyes. Combined with the dismal aura he radiated, Ira felt her body growing cold and clammy. It was like she was being weighed down as well.

His grip on her arm tightened and he continued to whisper to her, “Listen, forget the thought about punching him. We just need to get out of here.”

“What about the others?”

“It’ll draw too much attention if we alert everyone… he’s already noticed me.”

“Who?” She cast her gaze out at the crowd.

“Don’t!” Emil yanked at her arm. “Don’t look into his eyes.” He was wary of what mystical powers Ilya had. Emil knew that once someone stepped into the realm of immortals, their strength became unfathomable. From one glance, Emil had felt his entire soul be shaken. The ancient voices in his head had stirred again, meaning that it was a life-threatening situation.

Ira listened to Emil and dropped her gaze. “Okay. What do we do then?”

“Let’s try to leave quietly…”

A sudden shout grabbed both of their attention, “Stay with the rest of the group or we’ll attack!”

“You? Attack me? Yes, that’d be very interesting, but a sad song,” a dreamy, male voice spoke.

Emil saw Ilya pushing his way through the small crowd till he stood in the front. The latter calmly adjusted his suit before smiling at everyone, clapping his gloved hands together.

“I thought I could play around a little more, but it seems I’ve been spotted already. Very well, it seems we’ll have to get started earlier than expected. I believe I should introduce myself first, yes, my name is Ilya Vasilev. Ah, they also call me the Primrose Musician.” Ilya bowed elegantly, crossing on arm against his chest in a gentlemanly manner. “Pleased to meet you all despite the dreary circumstances. He muttered, “Death and gore, very inelegant. But is something that we must all grow used to. Oh, I suppose you won’t have the chance. I am supposed kill you all, yes. I do apologize. They truly are such dreary circumstances.”