The Faceless One had quietly crossed the canal before the sun had completely set, flanking around the back of the mercenary camp.
Her real name was not Faceless One, but Afra – a name given to her by Bishop Heather in the Holy City of Hermes, meaning dust. She liked this name very much, because dust was simple and unadorned, and once it fell to the ground, it was impossible to distinguish one from another, just like herself.
Only in front of Heather would Afra return to her original appearance.
As a member of the Tribunal, she had assisted the bishop in dealing with many Fallen, including witches who had defected from the church and believers who had been corrupted by the secular world. Being dispatched to the royal capital was to complete a crucial mission: to transform a devout Judge into the King of Graycastle. As for capturing Fallen witches, it was just a side activity in her spare time. She loved to imitate the witches who had been punished and tortured, and then experience it all from beginning to end. Sharing the pain of the Fallen allowed her to more deeply feel the meaning of everything she did, and it was also an atonement for her possessing the power of the devil.
The opponent's camp was cleverly set up, located in the elevated fields by the shore, making it difficult to observe their movements from below, and the flying witches in the sky prevented her from getting too close. Afra had to lurk in a farm warehouse, waiting until dark to take action.
As night enveloped the earth, she unexpectedly discovered that the situation had changed.
The mercenaries had withdrawn from the pier area and retreated to the camp, while those dreamwater fools were sparsely holding torches and gathering by the riverbank. This formation was practically telling the enemy that someone was about to attack the camp. Even without flying witches, as long as the mercenary group wasn't full of blind people, they could easily see that something was wrong.
Damn it, she thought to herself, if the enemy judged that the rat people were numerous and had no chance of winning, they would definitely retreat eastward. Although marching at night was very taboo, they obviously couldn't care so much when fleeing for their lives, and it would be every man for himself. But the encirclement was still nowhere to be seen – the dreamwater had just occupied the pier and were still slowly crossing the river on those few rafts. By the time they surrounded them, the enemy would probably have scattered. It was impossible to get the rats to pursue the enemy at night. Where would she find those damned witches then?
Afra hurriedly headed towards the camp, hoping to infiltrate the ranks before they retreated.
However, when she arrived near the mercenary gathering place, the scene before her was completely unexpected.
There were still people patrolling around the camp, the bonfire was burning brightly, and figures were moving back and forth, seemingly in order and not in a chaotic mess.
They didn't choose to retreat?
After observing carefully for a while, Afra confirmed her judgment, and a burst of joy surged in her heart. Although she didn't know what considerations led them to stay put instead of fleeing as soon as possible, the outcome was already decided. She took out a bishou from her waist, observed the movements of the sentries, and moved towards the weakest point.
In addition to giving her a reason to live, Heather had also taught her combat and assassination techniques. The opponent was not a seasoned elite mercenary, which could be seen from the arrangement of the sentry posts. While a mercenary was looking elsewhere, she took advantage of the blind spot, crouched down and quickly pounced behind him, covering his mouth with one hand and stabbing the bishou into his neck with the other.
After silently killing the mercenary, Afra pressed down on the opponent with one hand and placed the other on her chest, using her transformation ability. This was a process that could be long or short: when replacing the king, in order to ensure a long-lasting effect, she had almost exhausted all the magic in her body, and the transformation lasted nearly half an hour. But now, there was no need to put in so much effort. In the blink of an eye, she transformed herself into the appearance of the mercenary. Although the effect would only last for half a day, it was enough for assassination.
Before the patrol team circled back, she quickly stripped off the opponent's clothes, put them on herself, and dragged the body into the wheat field. However, when facing the mercenary's weapon, she felt a little confused. It was an iron gun barrel with a wooden handle, but instead of a spearhead, there was a dark little hole at the end.
What kind of weapon is this?
She thought for a long time but couldn't come up with an answer. Seeing that the patrol team was about to pass by, Afra had no choice but to carry it on her back as she remembered, pretending to be on duty seriously.
Just like countless previous assassination operations, the patrol team brushed past her without noticing anything unusual.
Afra wasn't in a hurry to return to the camp to find the witches. After all, the replacement technique could only simulate the appearance but not the thoughts. If she ran into an acquaintance, it would be easy to give herself away. Once these people were in a state of chaos, there would be countless opportunities for her to choose from.
When the moon hung high in the night sky, the dreamwater fools finally crossed the canal and approached. At the same time, the whistle sounded behind her, and the patrolling and guarding mercenaries began to retreat to the camp – her chance had come.
Following the crowd into the camp, Afra was surprised to find that there were far more than a hundred people. They formed a long circle, surrounding the entire hilltop, either crouching or standing, holding the strange weapon with the hole end facing the enemy.
She didn't have time to take a closer look. Taking advantage of the fact that no one was paying attention, she bent down and slipped into the nearest tent.
Soon after, shouts of killing rang out outside, followed by a burst of more intense explosions. Afra was startled. The sounds were so dense that they hardly stopped at all.
What on earth is happening? She suppressed the urge to peek out and waited patiently.
As time passed, the camp became busy. There were footsteps and commands everywhere, probably adjusting the defense based on the number of enemy attackers. What made Afra anxious was why they hadn't attacked the hilltop for so long!?
After a while, the sounds of clanging gradually subsided, and she could no longer hear the rat people's fighting. This made Afra's heart sink. Could it be that the dreamwater scum had already been defeated? Even if the number of mercenaries doubled, there were only two or three hundred people, and more than a thousand rats surrounding from all sides couldn't even step onto the hilltop?
The opportunity seemed to be slipping away from her.
Afra decisively darted out of the tent and moved towards the center of the camp. When the battle was over and they were counting the personnel, it would be difficult for her to hide from everyone's eyes. This was not a well-prepared infiltration. She was not familiar with the personnel and passwords of the mercenary group, so she had to act quickly.
Going around two tents, Afra slowly poked her head out, looking towards the center of the camp. She saw four women sitting around the bonfire, probably the witches mentioned in the intelligence. Although the numbers didn't match, the damned intelligence had never been accurate from the start. Besides, killing two and killing four wasn't much different. Any suspected Fallen should be interrogated. When there was no time to interrogate, they should all be killed, even if it was wrong, it was a necessary sacrifice.
She looked around, planned her retreat route, stood up from behind the tent, and walked towards the bonfire as if nothing had happened.
Just as she stepped into the open space in the middle, Afra felt a cold, hard object pressing against the back of her head.
"Don't move," a woman's voice said, "Who exactly are you?"