Chapter 231
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Chapter 231: The Conspiracy and Commission in the Theater
The reaction of the Church of Light was something Lolth had anticipated. After all, she had taken their Divine Artifact, and the Lady of Light, along with the Oracles Knight Order, had directly felt the power of Holy Light.
Though she wasn’t entirely sure what they were thinking, one thing was certain—they wouldn’t let her be at peace.
As for the Church of Light’s response, it was inevitable. Whether sooner or later, it was bound to happen. There was no way to avoid it.
However, what truly caught Lolth off guard was the unexpectedly strong reaction from the other two factions.
In the Republic of Seychelles, the “City of Freedom,” Aberdovey, the night had settled in.
The “Brilliant Golden” theater was bustling with young nobles and wealthy merchants, all gathered to enjoy a highly anticipated new musical.
Under the dazzling stage lights, elegantly dressed actors performed, their voices singing praises of “freedom and love.” The audience, comfortably seated in the main hall and private boxes, immersed themselves in the spectacle.
But in the grandest, most luxurious private box on the top floor, the atmosphere was far from relaxed.
Seated on the plush sofas inside were three middle-aged men.
Each exuded a commanding presence, surrounded by guards whose mere aura hinted at extraordinary strength—radiating the power of epic and superlative levels.
A finely crafted low table in front of them held an exquisite platter of delicacies and a selection of premium wine. Yet, none of them had touched it.
To any Seychellois, these three men were instantly recognizable.
They were no ordinary individuals.
They were core members of the Seychelles Supreme Council, the very pinnacle of power within the Republic of Seychelles.
Though the nation prided itself on being a “republic,” few could rival these figures. The only ones who could stand on equal footing with them were the remaining five members of the Supreme Council.
In this system, once four Supreme Council members gathered, even the chairperson of parliament and the highest magistrate had no choice but to heed their decisions.
Behind each council member lay an intricate web of interests—powerful organizations, newly risen noble families, and the remnants of old aristocracies operating from the shadows. Each controlled influential chambers of commerce, securing their grip on the nation’s economy and politics.
Tonight, however, there was no political debate.
They had already reached a consensus.
And now, they waited.
At last, the door of the private room swung open.
Two peculiar-looking figures entered.
One was a young man, appearing to be in his late twenties, possibly nearing thirty.
His dark brown hair was unkempt, and his simple linen robe showed signs of wear. A wooden staff rested in his grip, while a faint, casual smile played on his lips.
Yet, his eyes—gray and deep—were lined with intricate black geometric patterns, giving him an almost mystical appearance.
To an outsider, he might look like a carefree beggar adorned with tattoos.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” he greeted boldly.
Without hesitation, he sat down across from the three most powerful figures in the Republic of Seychelles.
There was no sign of fear or hesitation—none of the deference a commoner should have when addressing such esteemed individuals.
His confidence stemmed from the barely contained magical energy swirling around him.
Had he wished, he could strip every Superoperator in the room of their abilities in an instant.
Beside him sat an older man, his presence equally striking.
Dressed in an outdated yet dignified noble’s attire, he wore a gray vest with double buttons and a carefully placed brooch. A finely crafted noble sword rested at his waist.
He sat upright, his posture rigid and disciplined.
A long scar ran diagonally across his face—from his brow to his cheek—giving his left eye, brow, and lips a fierce, hardened look.
Among the three supreme council members, the man seated in the center—a slightly plump figure—nodded with a measured expression.
“The ‘Truth Society’ has certainly shown its sincerity,” he remarked. “For Vice President Ranster himself to come in person…”
“No, this is my personal sincerity,” Ranster replied, casually reclining with his hands behind his head.
“The proprietor originally planned to send two senior members, but I took an interest in this matter myself.”
His grin widened slightly.
“Especially in the demon race. I’ve never seen a succubus before.”
One of the other council members, who carried a warmer demeanor, turned his gaze to the scarred old nobleman.
“And you, Sir?” he asked. “I heard that you were recommended by the ‘Sword of Hundred Forges.’ Is that correct?”
The old nobleman gave a small nod. His voice, though aged, carried strength.
“That’s right. Those fellows recommended me… I was told I would be heading to the demon race’s territory. Is that true?”
“Yes,” the council member replied with a slight chuckle. “It seems ‘Sword of Hundred Forges’ didn’t explain everything to you in detail.”
He gestured to a guard standing by.
“Bring the documents.”
The guard promptly stepped forward, placing a recording crystal before the scarred old man.
With a slight flicker, the crystal activated, projecting lines of Seychelles script—detailing information on Vera Plain and Hillenbrand Town.
Finally, the most senior councilor spoke.
“Recently, various new noble families, small merchants, and even Superoperators have formed factions—some of which appear to have ties to the demon race.”
“This has become a serious concern.”
“Our intelligence suggests that the source of these connections is Hillenbrand Town, where a suspected succubus named ‘Lolth’ is operating.”
“Though not a particularly powerful entity herself, she holds an unusual position among the demon race.”
“The legion commanders in Vera Plain follow her guidance.”
“Furthermore, she appears to be using captured prisoners as leverage—particularly a faction of Holy Alliance forces comprised mostly of our Seychelles nobles.”
“We have reasons to suspect that within Hillenbrand Town, there may be evidence of noble betrayal.”
“Additionally, the loss of the Lauren Institute has severely damaged our reputation. Our influence within the Holy Alliance has been steadily declining.”
“Even the Church of Light has begun bypassing us, taking independent action. Their latest target appears to be Hillenbrand Town as well.”
“You two will be sent there to gather intelligence. And then…”
The air grew heavy with unspoken intent.
“Any traitors—whether elf or human, Ryman or Seychellois, noble or commoner—must be eradicated.”
“That includes the demon race.”
“Keep all of this confidential. This is the Supreme Council’s will.”
“As for the terms you requested, the Supreme Council will ensure they are met.”
The room fell silent as the scarred old man finished reading the documents.
“I see,” he muttered.
His gaze hardened.
“The demon race… and the traitors.”
He slowly stood, his expression unreadable.
“Even if I despise you corrupt, deceitful ‘new nobles’… these people are indeed the true enemies.”
With that, he turned and strode toward the door, making it clear he had no intention of lingering in the presence of the council any longer.
