The Assassin's Seven Principles of Manipulation

Chapter 385: Chapter 380 — Bet

”W-we were right... they’re all here...”

Zephyrion barely registered the town head’s words, his attention on the scene below. His eyes were wide opened, but not for any reason the town head or Possum would have imagined.

They stood at the entrance of a massive cavern, roughly sixty feet above its floor. A brilliant purple glow emanated from the countless crystals embedded in the ground, walls, and ceiling, though most of the light came from the enormous crystalline pillars stretching from the cavern floor to its ceiling.

Numerous openings dotted the walls, their depths shrouded in darkness, while a river wound through the cavern before spilling over the edge of a precipice, forming a massive waterfall that plunged into a seemingly bottomless abyss.

It was a truly enchanting sight, but the scenery was hardly what had caught Zephyrion’s attention.

Below, a battered, white-haired figure was desperately fending off a pack of Gravemaws. One of his arms had been torn off, and deep gashes covered his body. Yet, despite his ghastly condition, he remained standing protectively before another wounded Aerelith and a pile of Ferran soldier corpses. His pale face was twisted with desperation as he repeatedly unleashed blades of wind to keep the beasts at bay.

Grr!

Unfortunately, his efforts were proving futile. The Gravemaws continued to circle their prey, savage eyes gleaming with hunger.

The creatures resembled a grotesque cross between wolves and armored moles. Standing nearly two meters tall, they possessed lean, elongated bodies supported by six powerful legs, with thick, dark armor covering their hides. Their eyes glowed a feral purple, matching the wicked claws protruding from their paws and the rows of razor-sharp fangs lining their jaws.

Thick saliva dripped from their exposed fangs as they stared hungrily at the barely standing Aerelith and the corpses scattered behind him.

”Ashrael... Ashrael, you bastard, don’t you dare die on me. You hear me? We’re going home. I’ll drag you all the way back to the motherland myself if I have to! You’re not breathing your last in some filthy hole like this. Not before I get you back to our sacred land, not before you stand before the Endless Breath himself!”

The Aerelith hurriedly wiped a tear from his cheek, only to catch sight of a Gravemaw attempting to creep around his flank.

”Get the hell away from us!”

He immediately unleashed a massive blade of wind, forcing the beast to abandon its approach and leap out of the way.

Suddenly, the Gravemaws’ eyes widened in unison, and the air around them began to tremble. The next moment, an overwhelming force came crashing down on the Aerelith, causing him to stagger and grit his teeth.

He desperately tried to conjure more air blades, but they barely took shape before the immense pressure crushed them out of existence. It was Gravemaw signature ability, the ability to manipulate gravity using the metal element.

Then, as though sensing his helplessness, the Gravemaws began slowly closing in, causing the Aerelith’s eyes to widen in horror.

No matter how anyone looked at it, his end was fast approaching.

Possum watched the scene with a calculating gaze, while the town head had gone as white as a sheet, his eyes filled with horror.

Zephyrion, on the other hand, had a gleam in his eyes that hadn’t been there in quite some time.

’Perfect.’

Who would’ve thought he’d stumble upon something this useful?

He recognized both Aereliths. They were the same people who’d entered the tavern the previous day. He had no idea what they were doing here, nor did he particularly care. What mattered was how useful they could be to him.

’This could solve everything.’

’Ehm, protege. Not to rain on your parade or anything, but... what exactly are we celebrating here? That little friend of yours is still perfectly sane, and now you’ve got even more witnesses to worry about. Am I missing something?’

’You are.’

’Hm? And what exactly am I missing?’

’For one, Possum. He’s still going to act irrationally.’

’Huh? Have you looked at his face? The bastard looks like he’s calculating the price of every stone in this cavern. Does that look like someone who isn’t thinking?’

’Thinking and thinking rationally are two different things.’

’I don’t know, protege. I think you’re giving that idiot a little too much credit.’

Zephyrion smiled faintly.

’Then, care to make a bet?’

Demorian fell silent for a moment.

’Haa... who are you, and what have you done with my protege? Since when did you become the gambling type?’

’I take it you’re too scared to wager anything, then.’

Another brief silence followed.

’Scared? Me? Hah! This ancestor has never been scared of anything in his life! Alright, I’ll bite. What are you offering?’

’If you win, I’ll approach any girl you want.’

’R-r-really!?’ Demorian’s voice trembled with excitement. ’Protege... my dear, precious protege... you’re not playing with this old man’s heart right now, are you?’

’I’m not.’

’Okay... okay...’ Demorian seemed to swallow hard, his breathing somehow growing labored. ’I like this. I like this very much. But just to be clear... we’re talking home run, right?’

Zephyrion frowned, feeling a wave of disgust towards his perverted ancestor.

’Sure.’

’DEAL!’ Demorian exclaimed without hesitation. ’Hahaha! Oh, this is wonderful! Now then, what about you? What does my precious protege want?’

’Hmm...’

Zephyrion pretended to ponder for a moment, but in truth, he already knew exactly what he wanted.

Finally, he said,

’When Ferravry wakes up, I want you to let me speak with him first, before you have any interaction with him.’

’Oh, sure, sure. Nothing suspicious about that at all. Perfectly normal request, protege.’

The sarcasm in Demorian’s voice was unmistakable, and Zephyrion knew his request was indeed suspicious. Unfortunately, there was simply no way to approach the matter without raising at least some suspicion.

What he knew for certain, however, was that doing nothing and allowing Ferravry to reveal his secret carried far greater consequences than Demorian suspecting something he couldn’t prove.

’I have my reasons. Do you accept?’