"Damn it! They actually showed up!"
Viscount Olba broke into a cold sweat. He stared at the girls in front of him, and the oppressive atmosphere they radiated made his breathing ragged.
How could something so absurd be happening?
Each of these girls exuded overwhelming magic power—at least ten times greater than that of a normal mage.
The one who had spoken just now was a blonde elf, breathtakingly beautiful, yet the magical aura around her was like an unfathomable abyss.
"[NightGarden]... who are you people? And how do you know so much about the Order?!"
Olba's voice trembled. Sweat rolled down his forehead like rain.
At first, the Diabolos Order hadn't taken the [Dark Night Courtyard] seriously. After all, throughout the past centuries, other factions had discovered the Order by chance and dared to rise against it—only to be annihilated without mercy.
They assumed this new organization would meet the same fate.
They had been wrong.
Very wrong.
The [Dark Night Courtyard] wasn't just strong—they were a true threat.
Every time one of the Order's small strongholds was discovered, it would inevitably be obliterated. Medium-sized bases shared the same fate.
Worse still were the traitors.
There were always defectors within the Order's ranks. Once contacted by the Courtyard, even the most loyal agents would waver. Some abandoned the Order entirely.
"You are not qualified to know, lowly cultist," Alhaitham replied flatly.
His expression was one of boredom. He had only come out for a walk, and now he was stuck dealing with this trash. It wasn't even worth drawing his sword.
He sighed inwardly.
While it was pleasant to be surrounded by a group of stunning girls, this "tourist spot" was a disappointment. Admiring the dungeon's architecture didn't compare to appreciating the beauty around him.
"Huh? Wait a second—you... you're the second prince! What are you doing here?!"
"Oh? So you recognize me?" Alhaitham raised an eyebrow, amused. "You must be a noble then. But since you're aiding the Diabolos Order in abducting citizens of our kingdom... that makes you a traitor."
Olba's eyes widened. He hadn't expected to see royalty here, much less this particular prince.
"Don't tell me... you're the leader of the [Dark Night Courtyard]? That's impossible! And yet... if that's true... even a prince must die here!"
"Oh? You want to kill this prince?" Alhaitham smirked.
Desperate, Olba tried to change tactics. "You women," he sneered, "you don't need to play house with the prince. Why not join our Order? With your strength, I can promise you fame, fortune, power—everything you desire! You could even become a [Knight of the Round Table]!"
The girls didn't respond. They simply looked at him as if he were the world's biggest fool.
Alhaitham sighed in disappointment.
What a clown.
He thought he had something up his sleeve, maybe some surprise attack or hidden card. But this? Trying to bribe his followers?
Laughable.
Betrayal?
Not even a possibility.
The girls beside him were unwavering in their loyalty. They wouldn't abandon him for anything.
"This is boring. Just a clown. I'll head inside and rescue the prisoners. You Alphas can handle the rest."
"Got it, Dark Night," one of the girls replied.
Without sparing Olba a glance, Alhaitham walked past him, treating him like nothing more than an insignificant bug.
Olba gritted his teeth and quickly drew his sword, seething with rage.
He couldn't believe the prince was ignoring him like this—walking by as if he didn't even exist!
He raised his blade, ready to attack.
But...
"Why… why can't I move?!"
He stood frozen in place. Not only was he unable to strike, but he couldn't even block the prince's path. His body moved on its own, instinctively stepping aside.
His memories stirred.
He had met Alhaitham once before, at a royal ball.
The young black-haired prince had dazzled the noblewomen with his elegance and intellect. He was hailed as a magical prodigy even then—one who outshone even Euphelia Mazanta, the celebrated daughter of Duke Mazanta.
But back then, Alhaitham hadn't emitted this... presence.
Now, his aura was something else entirely—commanding, regal, overwhelming.
It surpassed even the King's.
Though the official heir to the throne was the third prince, Algard, his only advantage was being born of the princess and having blonde hair.
In every other aspect, Alhaitham eclipsed him.
And now, this same prince stood revealed as the leader of the Dark Night Courtyard—a force that had become the bane of the Diabolos Order's existence.
Olba quickly understood the situation.
[There's no way I can win. These people are too strong. But I've gained critical information. My only objective now is to escape and report this back to the Order!]
Without hesitation, Olba began channeling all his magical power into his legs, preparing to make a run for it.
A grin crept onto his face.
He was going to be a hero.
He'd uncovered the identity of their greatest enemy. Once he made it back, the rewards would be immense—gold, glory, promotions!
However…
"How foolish," Alhaitham muttered, walking into the dungeon without looking back.
Why had he revealed his identity so boldly?
Because he knew—absolutely knew—that no enemy would live long enough to report it.
"You're not getting away," one girl warned coldly.
"There's no escape," said another.
"Just surrender," a third murmured.
"You think you can run from us?" asked a fourth, eyes glowing.
Olba stopped dead in his tracks, heart pounding in terror.
Before he could even take a step, several blades were already at his throat.
The girls of the [Dark Night Courtyard] were far more terrifying than he had imagined.
"It doesn't make sense… Are you all descendants of heroes?" he muttered in disbelief. "That's impossible! The old methods have long been lost…"
He trailed off, knowing the answer would never come.
One of the girls moved closer, her blade gleaming.
"You should have stayed in hiding."
With a flick of her wrist, the blade slashed through the air—and the last thing Olba saw was the smirk on Alhaitham's face as he disappeared deeper into the shadows of the dungeon.
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