The night was as dark as ink.
Perhaps it was because of the strong wind, but the lights that once illuminated the entire night sky of the Royal Capital seed dimd tonight.
Most people chose to avoid this night, having dinner at ho early and preparing to rest.
Yet there was still a considerable number of people gathering in bars and theaters, waiting for a night of typhoon impacts.
By eight o'clock, the wind was howling through every street and alley.
South District.
At the edge of the Martinos Clan's territory.
Inside a bar that had been turned into a temporary command center.
Trafford kept looking at the pocket watch in his hand.
He was waiting for the perfect mont.
According to the Royal Capital teorological Departnt, around eight-thirty tonight, the typhoon would reach its strongest winds.
That would be the best ti to strike.
"Don't be so tense, officer. How about having a drink first? If anyone is nervous or afraid, it's those guys across from us who should be."
Travis retained his easygoing deanor, as if everything was under his control, with plenty of help available tonight.
Especially with the Kingdom Defense Bureau, they were destined to be the victors.
Even if those guys across had once overturned Kaster, Kaster was just one person; against today's formidable lineup, he too would fall.
He poured himself a glass of wine, then poured one for Tefula as well, politely handing it over.
Tefula took a deep breath, still sowhat restless, and downed the wine in one gulp.
The rich liquid slightly relaxed his taut nerves.
"Not beer?"
Even in such a mont, he had the mind to care about other details.
In his knowledge, these western bandits loved nothing more than beer, and their bars essentially sold only beer.
Yet tonight, Travis had poured him a glass of rich wine instead.
"Nothing can be done about it; this isn't my turf, after all. Their wine cellar has only wine. But it seems like good stuff, from Wenster, first-class. Want another glass?"
Ordinarily, Travis would never drink wine, as it didn't match the style of western n.
However, on such a night, there was little room for pickiness.
Besides, an occasional glass of wine wasn't a bad enjoynt.
Thus, the two of them continued to drink several more glasses.
Trafford even generously allowed both his and Travis's subordinates to have a glass, to get their bodies ready, calmly waiting for the final battle to comnce.
By contrast, the personnel from the Kingdom Defense Bureau's fifth division weren't as comfortable.
They didn't have a base in the West District, which apart from those upscale museums and universities, was only surrounded by slums.
Coincidentally, this ti, the Sea God Church followers were all squeezing into the slums.
Though they managed to snatch so usable houses, they were drafty everywhere, let alone having anything like wine to drink.
"They're really a bunch of lunatics. With such a strong wind, what on earth are they trying to do?"
The fifth division couldn't help but complain.
Mainly because the Sea God Church followers were indeed a bit relentless with wind and rain.
Others, hearing of the impending strong winds, all found places to hide away.
Yet they followed where the winds blew and gathered together.
"Damn it, after tonight, I'm definitely applying to have all these people arrested. It was supposed to be such a wonderful night, follow them!"
The fifth division had no choice but to follow along.
What they didn't know was that, in the shadows, two pairs of eyes were quietly observing everything.
"So, when do we let them go?"
Johnny Blackbird didn't bother lowering his voice, as any sound would be drowned out by such strong winds.
"Wait a little longer, let the wind blow for a bit more."
Ethan stood beside Johnny Blackbird.
They had already left the Sea God Church, and it wasn't a secretive escape.
They walked out openly.
Because they were chosen by the God, and the God said the winds would blow west, so they ca to the west.
Naturally, they weren't out here alone. Maurice, Heigen, and Yelit had all followed, accompanied by other followers of the Sea God Church.
Clearly, it was half for protection and half for monitoring.
"The wind is blowing that way; shall we go?"
Heigen ca over at this mont, looking at Ethan and the others as he spoke.
In truth, they didn't know why they were following the wind.
Where the wind would ultimately lead.
But since the God had said so, they had no choice but to follow.
Three minutes to half-past eight.
Inside the Sanctuary.
Vasini completed the final round of prayers.
The wind outside grew fiercer, so much so that even the solid-as-stone Sanctuary seed to resound under its force.
A sense of impending storm.
"Is everyone prepared?"
Finishing the prayers, he looked over at Valentino.
Valentino was responsible for overall coordination; Vasini had entrusted many tasks to him.
"Everything is in place; unless they're dead, they won't budge from their positions."
"Good."
Vasini nodded.
Then he drank a cup of Holy Water.
What's called Holy Water was actually water infused with the juices provided by Kaster, greatly enhancing vitality and healing ability.
Originally, Vasini wouldn't drink it, knowing what it was made of.
But tonight, with life and death uncertain, he didn't want to die so easily.
He had to exert every last bit of strength he had.
Finally, the ti ca to half-past eight.
As teorologists predicted, the wind reached its peak at this very mont.
The fierce gusts blew every speck of dust in the city into oblivion.
The roofs of every building seed like they were about to be torn off.
Such exaggerated winds were sothing the people of the Royal Capital hadn't experienced in many years.
Those gathered in bars and theaters, waiting for the strong winds, were all enraptured by the sounds of the storm.
Either raising their glasses in celebration or clapping energetically.
This was a night of marvel.
But for others, it was also a night of bloodshed.
The instant the wind beca violent, those who had long ambushed near the Martinos' territory rushed out imdiately.
In the front were people from the Kingdom Defense Bureau's third division, on the left were people from the western gangs, and on the right were past allies who had stealthily arrived from Little Ibia.
This was an unprecedented luxurious lineup.
Throughout the Martinos Clan's history, they had never faced such opponents.
This was the family's mont of glory and its most dangerous mont.
"Bang—"
It could have been eight thirty-one, or perhaps ten seconds to thirty-one, the first bullet burst forth with the wind.
The war had already begun.
"I only want those three people."
Trafford shouted in the wind, he too had picked up a gun and moved into action.
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