Chapter 67

In one corner of the town of Urfine, there was an area where rented warehouses were gathered, used by traveling merchants and others who had drifted in from other towns.

Since Urfine was occupied by the empire, the merchants no longer came, and the warehouse district had become completely deserted. However, a group of people had gathered in one of these warehouses.

"Can't get into it at all. It's a job that doesn't burn."

Inside the rented warehouse, a man sat on a wooden crate filled with goods and grumbled. A middle-aged man with a scruffy beard had a cigarette in his mouth, and white smoke rose to the ceiling. Seeing the man exhale the purple smoke, his superior raised an eyebrow.

"What are you talking about? It's not that it doesn't burn; it's your job to set it on fire."

"That's not what I mean... Seriously, why do I have to do such a dirty job?"

"Hey, hey, are you, the legendary arsonist, the 'Firebird,' getting cold feet? You've burned down many towns and fields, so what's the problem now?"

"Don't talk about me like I'm a heartless killer. I set fires because it's what I'm best at, that's all."

The middle-aged man called the 'Firebird' argued back while crushing out his cigarette.

The group gathered in this rented warehouse were secret agents sent by King Granard. Their mission in Urfine was to set the town on fire when Leidor Zain led his army to attack.

The 'Firebird,' a magician particularly skilled in arson and burning, was chosen as the key figure in this operation.

The 'Firebird' was originally one of the court magicians and was considered an expert in fire magic, with no one better. However, an accident during a new magic experiment led to the partial destruction of the palace, and he was subsequently expelled from the court. After a series of events, he became a direct agent of the king, specializing in burning enemy strongholds and fields, operating in the shadows of the kingdom.

It was natural for the fire expert, the 'Firebird,' to be assigned to this operation, but the man's face was far from cheerful.

(I don't just burn anything because I like fire... Why do I have to burn a friendly town?)

The 'Firebird,' who had caused various incidents even during his time as a court magician, was not a heartless villain. He had blown up the palace to develop new magic to protect the kingdom, and he burned enemy strongholds to prevent the enemy from invading his homeland. Though somewhat twisted, the 'Firebird' had his own sense of justice and ethics, clearly distinguishing between what should and should not be burned.

(This is clearly something that shouldn't be burned...)

"By the way, 'Firebird.' If you're going to smoke, go outside. What if the oil catches fire?"

The rented warehouse was filled with wooden crates stacked to the ceiling, containing oil and firewood they had procured locally.

"Do you know who you're talking to? I won't make such a mistake."

The 'Firebird' snorted and put a new cigarette in his mouth. Pointing his index finger, a small flame appeared, lighting the tip of the cigarette. The leader of the secret agent team narrowed his eyes at the 'Firebird's' skillful use of non-verbal magic, which seemed almost effortless.

"...You're not taking this seriously. Do you understand that this operation will determine King Granard's future?"

"His Majesty's future..."

"If we keep Prince Leidor alive, he will surely harm the king's future. Preventing that and protecting the kingdom's future from the shadows is our mission. If you're one of us, you should be more aware of this."

"Sure, sure... I'll keep it in mind."

The 'Firebird' laughed and exhaled purple smoke. The leader, frowning at the clownish gesture, gave up on lecturing him, knowing it was futile.

Glancing sideways at his exasperated superior, the 'Firebird' exhaled purple smoke, feeling a sense of frustration.

(At the end of the day, it's just a power struggle among the big shots. The ones caught in the middle are low-ranking guys like me and innocent civilians... Humans are ugly. Maybe the only beautiful thing is fire.)

Currently, under the 'Firebird's' guidance, ignition devices filled with oil and firewood were being placed around the town. The ignition devices, placed by a magician who knew fire intimately, were perfectly calculated to control the direction of the flames and smoke. Once the operation began, half the town would be engulfed in flames, taking many lives. The diabolical setup, which would take the lives of many innocent people and pin the blame on an innocent prince, was his own creation, a fact that weighed heavily on the 'Firebird's' mind.

"...Oh, scary, scary. I'll go outside to smoke, then."

The 'Firebird' stood up from the wooden crate he was using as a chair and turned to leave the warehouse, heading for the door. However, before he could reach the door, it slid open from the outside.

"Sorry to interrupt. Traveling merchants, right?"

"Whoa!"

The 'Firebird' jumped back in surprise as the door suddenly opened. Light from outside streamed in through the gap, illuminating the silhouette of a man in the backlight.

"Hey, you can't just come in. This is a rented warehouse."

The leader of the secret agent team put on a friendly mask and tried to deal with the intruder. Behind him, the other agents discreetly drew their weapons, hiding them from view.

"Look, look, please leave. We're doing an inventory right now."

"Really? I thought you were preparing for some evil scheme... Oh, I see."

"Are you sure you haven't mistaken us for someone else? We're just traveling merchants dealing in clothing."

The leader's excuse was laced with suspicion. As they spoke, their eyes gradually adjusted to the light, and the face of the man in front of them became clear.

"Oh... We're dead."

The 'Firebird' was the first to recognize the man. He threw away his stub of a cigarette, stomped it out, and took out a new one, putting it in his mouth. He savored the smoke as if it were his last, exhaling slowly and deeply.

"No, you're not mistaken. This is the hideout of the fire-loving fake merchant, right?"

The man closed the door behind him, blocking the agents' escape route.

The man, with a black sword hanging from his waist, was none other than Leidor Zain, the target of this plot.

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