When the plot-skips players into the game world

"They're here."

Sitting in Mr. Boka's living room and drinking tea, George Barton suddenly spoke up, "Do you feel it?"

"...Yes, I sense it; someone is casting a curse on my house."

Boka's face turned ugly, but he simultaneously felt relieved—thankfully, he had been decisive enough.

His demeanor was exceedingly respectful, even to the point of humility: "Your Excellency, the Guardian, what should I do now?

"Should I go out to draw their attention, or just stay here?"

"Whatever."

The Guardian answered indifferently, with a brief response.

Although Boka was a witness, he was not exactly a good person either. However, interrogating him was a matter for later; for now, they had to deal with these scum first.

He said to his gryphon, "You protect David and Mr. Boka."

"Do you not need my help?"

Philip, lying in the living room, said in a deep voice.

Angelica and David were beside him, flanking David on his left and right. Even if there were gunmen outside, they could block his sniping.

"If I needed your help, I would say so,"

George said shortly, "But I shouldn't need it now."

He really didn't think much of these people.

Through the "Eye of Avalon," he had already seen their arrangement—Lohar was the only one who could be considered a strong person.

Although there was a middle-aged woman who also had some capability... Perhaps as a Transcendent of the Path of Adaptation, she keenly sensed George's surveillance, and she took off before the carriage even stopped.

As for Boka's mentioned "Aleister," he did not come at all.

—But that didn't matter.

Even if they couldn't capture Aleister, catching Lohar would still be good.

As long as they protected Boka, the tainted witness, they could slowly unravel an entire web of corruption.

"Just be careful,"

Explore more adventures at empire

Philip casually reminded, then turned back to look at Boka with sharp eyes, warning, "I'll be watching you, so don't try anything."

"I won't, I won't..."

Boka said with a bitter smile.

How could he dare to try anything?

He wasn't stupid...

Meanwhile, George slowly drew the Elven curved blades strapped to both sides of his body.

They were a pair of blades as delicate as willow leaves, one black and one white on the hilt, the slender, thin blades over a meter in length, glistening with a dazzling silver light.

This was a mysterious craft from the Primordial Empire, previously given to the Holy Nation as a gift. These were rare, and the Holy Nation's elven craftsmen had replicated them using Elven craftsmanship.

The ones in George's hands were replicas, so they had a bit more of an Elven style—silver as the main color theme, the scabbards carved with tender flowers and young leaves, and the hilts heavily inlaid with gems along with Elvish inscriptions on the blades.

The blade in his hand had been blessed by the previous Pope himself, with a dual protection from Candle Master and Eternal Self. It was given as a gift by the Holy Nation when Avalon had just been founded and had been passed down as a symbol of power for generations of Guardians since then.

This was a true national treasure.

It was so light and sharp yet had a structure far sturdier than it appeared.

As George slowly infused his wind attribute mana into them, the blades gradually became invisible.

In their place were the faintly discernable arcs of white and black light.

The curved blades could transform wind attribute mana into light and dark attribute mana—the light attribute mana was extremely effective against demons, while the dark attribute mana was highly lethal to the human body.

He narrowed his eyes slightly.

With the help of the "Eye of Avalon," he clearly saw all those surrounding 113 Green Vine Avenue and marked them one by one.

When he regained his vision, even though walls still separated them, the outlines of those people were already displayed before his eyes.

George kicked open the front door—immediately, the wails of a baby filled the air.

—That was a Cursed Infant!

Infallibly accurate, a malicious sorcery capable of tearing apart the heart and freezing the organs!

No sooner had the cry sounded than at least ten guns fired a hail of bullets—these weren't the usual pistols or semi-automatic rifles common in Avalon, but fully automatic rifles smuggled from the Star Antimony Kingdom!

The gunmanship of these Demon Scholars was clearly subpar. Many stray bullets hit the walls, raising clouds of dust.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

Yet George completely ignored the bullets powerful enough to penetrate walls.

Without a glance, a ferocious hurricane burst from his body, deflecting all the bullets. The howling storm made it impossible for anyone to stand firm, and all could do was cover their eyes from the flying sand and stones.

A flash of light streaked through the storm, slicing the Cursed Infant in two.

The howling storm rose from the ground, and within it, like a white lightning bolt, he leaped through the crowd. Clusters of blood burst forth almost simultaneously, then were whisked away by the storm. The Demon Scholars couldn't even see who their opponent was before a bolt of lightning struck them, and they lost consciousness.

All the Demon Scholars were beheaded in a blink. They were not tortured, many not even realizing they were already dead.

The demons were not spared either—the ones that would have been automatically dispersed in a short while were all pierced by arcs of light, immediately exploding into black smoke and dust.

The lightning moved chaotically through the crowd, with spells unable to track it, for neither eyes nor psychic power could lock onto the opponent.

Only when facing a slightly stronger demon did George briefly materialize.

Then, in an instant, he would strike at least three blows, tearing the opponent to shreds before turning back into a flash of electricity, crackling as he leaped through the storm.

When the storm subsided, and George materialized once again, Lohar was the only one still alive.

George slowly raised the invisible blades in his hands, crossing them in front of him before flicking them away.

Two streaks of blood appeared before him, forming a cross—one black, one red.

The reappearing blades were as bright as new, and the Guardian's expression remained unchanging, his breathing not even quickening. It was as if he had not just killed more than thirty Demon Scholars of at least the third energy level and their demons in a few breaths, but rather had taken a casual bite of food.

Seeing this, Tommy's back was soaked with sweat.

Of course, he recognized the Guardian. But he had never imagined that the person who came to protect Boka would be him!

—If Boka knew the Guardian, why would he act so cowardly all the time?!

Tommy wanted to run—but he knew he couldn't escape.

If the Guardian was here, then his Gryphon was surely nearby. He might have a chance to outrun the Guardian, but he definitely couldn't outpace the Gryphon.

A Pureblood Gryphon is the favorite of the winds, capable of merging with the storm. It can surpass the speed of sound without tearing through the atmosphere—such divine speed is unattainable for the flesh and blood of humans.

So when he saw the Guardian approaching slowly, all Tommy could do was to plead for mercy, "Your Excellency the Guardian, I think there must be some misunderstanding…"

"Oh?"

The Guardian merely continued to walk slowly forward, speaking calmly, "Are you referring to the misunderstanding of illegally smuggling firearms, or the misunderstanding of kidnapping the heir of a Founding Family? Or perhaps the misunderstanding of murdering a sitting judge in the street, or using an infant cursed to death as a material for casting spells?

"Or perhaps… the misunderstanding of attacking the top administrator of the Supervisory Bureau, the Guardian?"

No sooner had his voice faded than his figure vanished.

Tommy was scared out of his wits—he instinctively stepped back, and his contracted Maze Demon emerged from the void, roaring with a soul-shaking fury.

It was a towering demon over three meters tall, with a bull's head and hooves, and a humanoid body. Its entire body was covered in pitch-black fur, the muscles bulging. In its pupils burned two tufts of blue fire, and in its hand, it wielded a dark gold battle axe as tall as itself.

The Maze Demon was a genuine Upper-Level Demon, one of the reasons Tommy had been admitted to the Noble Red Society.

With the Maze Demon's roar, walls as sturdy as a prison rose layer by layer.

Curses were carved in blood on these walls; the interior space was much larger than it appeared from the outside. The walls were extremely tough, very hard to break. The Maze Demon, however, could traverse them at will. The maze only had one correct exit; all other exits led to dead ends—exiting through a dead end would take one to the Dream Realm, where any mortal would die instantly.

That was Tommy's last resort.

He was teleported outside the maze, watching the towering stone walls with nervousness.

But after about ten minutes, the walls collapsed with a thunderous crash, disappearing like an illusion.

The Guardian was a little disheveled but emerged unscathed at his original spot.

He took a few breaths, his piercing gaze on Tommy, "Not bad, Lohar..."

"—Don't speak, I surrender."

Without hesitation, Tommy prostrated himself on the ground, immobile face down.