Spark made another shot. Interrupting the magic casting of the Soulcraft Sorcerer. Giving a chance for Professor Ashenowl to deliver rapid shots to suppress the opponent.
Not lingering on one target, Spark switched to another one. The were-crocodile warrior. An explosive bullet pierced his opened mouth.
The cultists were used to overwhelming their opponents with numbers and brute force. They were now facing a coordinated, multi-angled attack. Their formations started to break down.
The were-crocodile, still reeling from Spark's shot, took a devastating series of slashes from Earl Goose. And blasts from Professor Ashenowl... Before collapsing.
The were-scorpion became hesitant. Its tail was damaged by Spark's shot. And injured further by Earl Goose's slashes. It had been useless.
Duke Albatross had finally subdued the charging were-bull. With a brutal pounce, he jumped over the brute warrior. And ripped its throat out with his claws. Leaving the body twitching on the floor.
He then turned his attention to the remaining two. The fire manipulating sorcerer was trying to keep distance and cast magic spells.
But he now found himself caught between Earl Goose's relentless speed. And Duke Albatross's terrifying pounce.
The tide had decisively turned around. But just as Earl Goose prepared to deliver a finishing blow to the sorcerer, and Professor Ashenowl delivered final attacks toward the injured scorpion, a new presence appeared.
It descended upon the battlefield. In suffocating manner. Not with a loud fanfare. Not like the roaring dragon. Or the shrieking cultists.
The newcomer signified its presence with overwhelming energy radiation. An aura so immense. So utterly dominant. That it felt like the very air grew solid.
It wasn't magical energy of the soul. Or physical energy. It was mental power. Technomind. But not purely.
It was the cold, hard power of someone who commanded not just their own abilities. But also the very forces of authority. And destruction.
The figure appeared at the far end of the hall. Floating on air. Moving with impossible speed.
He was tall. Imposing. Clad in the severe, dark blue and silver ceremonial uniform. Of a high-ranking naval officer.
His face was sharp. Weathered. His eyes were like chips of ice that saw everything and judged instantly.
He carried no weapon Spark recognized. Yet, his gloved hands moved with blur-like speed. Not casting spells. Not striking physical blows in the traditional sense. He simply... gestured.
He moved past the struggling flame sorcerer. A casual gesture of his hand. A faint shimmer in the air. And the sorcerer's body was twisted into an impossible, grotesque shape. Before collapsing. Dead before it hit the ground.
No energy blast. No physical strike. Just... termination.
He flew towards the were-scorpion. The cultist reared back in terror. Trying to swipe with its claws. The officer evaded fluidly.
Another almost imperceptible movement came out of his hand. The scorpion froze mid-strike. A look of agony appeared on its grotesque face. Before its body got twisted. Seemingly imploding inwards. Another one that was dead before it hit the ground.
It was terrifyingly efficient. It was cleaner and more absolute than any martial strike or offensive spell Spark had ever witnessed. This wasn't about overpowering. It was about simply exterminating.
The remaining two cultists were gone in the blink of an eye. The immense power of the newcomer had ended the fight in seconds.
The officer turned. His icy gaze sweeping over the survivors.
Duke Albatross was slowly shifting back to his human form. Breathing heavily. Earl Goose was likewise. Reverting. Nursing a broken left arm.
Professor Ashenowl was still vigilant. His handguns were pointing downward. But he kept holding them. And Spark... half-hidden behind the statue. His rifle was still clutched tight.
"Lex!" Professor Ashenowl greeted. A mixture of relief and curiosity flashed on his face.
The officer nodded curtly. His voice was deep, resonant. Carrying the weight of command. "Cousin. Glad to see you held your ground. This scum infestation is worse than anticipated."
Spark stood up from his cover. He recognized the man. Lex Ashenowl. The Navy Admiral. Professor Ashenowl's cousin. One of the top combatants in the kingdom. A secretly Tier-7 powerhouse.
He had long known the level of the man. But he hadn't seen his power. Until just now.
That piece of information was true. An Ascended Level, Tier-7, was in truly a different league. His power felt... absolute. Like a natural law being enforced.
He had just witnessed firsthand the kind of force the Avianest Kingdom kept hidden. And it was now standing here. Looking directly at the scene of the conflict. Where he had just deliberately involved himself.
Spark's social mask didn't slip. He maintained the look of a slightly shaken noble who had bravely returned to help.
Lex Ashenowl's gaze lingered on Spark for a fraction of a second longer than on the others. Spark felt it. A chilling appraisal that seemed to strip away his carefully constructed façade.
Those eyes seemed to see something. Perhaps the uniqueness of his power rifle. Perhaps just the sheer anomaly of a Tier-2 Jackmaster participating effectively in a high-tiered brawl.
For a heart-stopping moment, Spark wondered if the Admiral could sense the residual energy of the treasury vault. Or the faint psychic trace of his recent acquisition. The captured evil princess.
But the moment passed. Admiral Lex Ashenowl simply turned his attention back to his cousin. And the high-ranking nobles. The look on his face was one of grim determination. Not suspicion. Hopefully.
Spark stepped fully out from behind the statue. Letting his expression change to one of weary relief. Mixed with a touch of concern for the others.
He had played his hand. He had appeared. He had helped. Now, he just had to survive the aftermath. Hopefully, his carefully crafted plan to appear a hero had worked.
The 'purge', it seemed, was indeed coming to an end. And he was right in the middle of it. Just where he wanted to be.
...
The next morning...
The sun's early rays painted the luxurious bed chamber in hazy gold. Even after being filtered through heavy velvet curtains.
Spark Nighthawk stretched. The powerful muscles in his huge body didn't seem to be affected by the unadulterated use they had endured through the night.
He blinked his dark-grey eyes open. Scanning the tangled limbs beside him. Four women. Beauties draped across the silk sheets. They were deep asleep. Exhaustion etched into their satisfied faces.
Lilith. Her blonde hair fanned out. She lay sprawled on her stomach. One hand trailing on the floor. Ivy. Tiny and curled into a ball. Nestled near his hip. Melody. Youthful and elegant even in slumber. She lay back with a soft regulated breath. And Serenade, her mother. She was draped halfway across his chest. Her breathing was even and gentle.
Spark looked at them. Not even the combined efforts of four highly capable, highly willing women could truly tax his monstrous vigor and stamina. A small smile touched his lips. Not the amiable façade he showed to others. But something colder and more possessive.
But, the pleasant lethargy of the morning couldn't completely push away the memory of the previous day. The chaos. The screams. The acrid smell of magic and blood. The cultists. The Land Dragon.
The Royal Palace had been a slaughterhouse. But it had ended quickly. Once the genuinely high-level authorities finally acted. The Prime Minister. The Field Marshall. And the Navy Admiral. The King didn't even need to participate in suppressing the chaos.
They were late. Purposefully. After all, the waves of cultists and the summoned Land Dragon were merely their convenient tools for the 'purge'.
Three-fourths. That was the number of victims he estimated. Even before the official announcements. Three-fourths of the nobility in the capital. Purged.
Not just the ones caught in crossfire in the ballroom. But also those caught in the subsequent fighting. Those 'discovered' to have cult ties. Those simply inconvenient to the regime.
A brutal, effective culling. The King's coffers would swell with confiscated wealth. The hierarchy would be reset. Weakened. Compliant survivors would replace the stubborn old ones.
It was exactly what he had suspected. Although, it was perhaps even more thorough than he had anticipated.
He ran a large hand idly over Serenade's naked back. His mind cataloging the fates of the few nobles he'd bothered to interact with. The ones he deemed worthy of their nobility. The 'Academic Nobles'.
Mayor Ginheron. Survived. His wife, however, hadn't. Caught in the initial panic. Spark felt no sympathy for the wife. He didn't really know her. She was just a number in the grim statistics of the King's restructuring.
Prince Leonel. Survived. Fortunately. It would be a shame if the only intelligent royal family member died. He knew that some of the princes died in the chaos. The king was truly ruthless. Letting his descendants die in such manners.
Duke Albatross. All his family survived. They were quite powerful after all. They clearly had the means and power to protect themselves. Or they were not on the King's target list.
Professor Ashenowl. Survived. Obviously. The Professor had been a great mentor figure. And his intelligence was a great asset for the kingdom. The king would never target him.
Viscount Windlark. Lost an arm. All his family died. Utterly ruined. Physically maimed. Socially isolated. His line likely extinguished. A pity.
Despite his eccentricity, he was a brilliant master in alchemy, runecraft, and smithcraft. If he disappeared after this, he would likely return as a vengeful villain.
Professor Onostrich. Died. Another pitiful loss. The knowledgeable old man was an encyclopedia of historical references and mathematical grandmaster.
Spark shifted slightly. Careful not to disturb the sleeping women. He had acquired plenty of things during the chaos. He needed to check them.