Regarding the alchemist's death, Mister E didn't feel particularly saddened. After all, they had already fallen out completely—what kind of hypocrite would mourn soone so driven by greed, soone who betrayed friendship for profit?
He only wanted to muddle through the imdiate crisis. Malcolm rlyn? Did their side even have anything to do with that man?
To help him form a clearer impression, Thea took out her phone, intending to show him a photo—but quickly realized: damn it, this guy was blind.
Fortunately, she had plenty of thods at her disposal. Using telepathic transmission, she sent Malcolm's image directly into his mind, while also discreetly probing his true thoughts. If there was resentnt, she would kill him on the spot. If not, she would spare his life.
Having read all of Grand Mage Sargon's mories, Thea now understood the entire sequence of events. It could be said that if she hadn't led her people in, these two would have been finished for sure. From another perspective, she had actually saved this blind old man's life.
"We don't know this person very well. I only know that he clashed with Felix Faust in Northern Europe. After that, I have no further information."
Mister E took a thick piece of parchnt from his bag. His aged fingers slowly traced across it—Thea guessed it was Braille. After a long while, the old man finally spoke with certainty.
Internally, he felt imnse relief. After checking repeatedly, he was sure this matter truly had nothing to do with them. You people stord into our ho, killing and wrecking everything for half a day—now that the truth is clear, can you finally leave? After all, even cultists have dignity…
Thea scratched her head. With the fighting over, none of their group of "information seekers" had died. Six or seven were injured, and one chanical exoskeleton had overheated and shut down. Most of the losses were firearms, ammunition, and equipnt—just a few million dollars to fix everything.
The other side, however, had suffered disastrously. Of the Four Pillars, two were gone—one frightened to death, one hacked apart. The only remaining leader had been captured. The plaza was littered with red-robed corpses. Excluding those who had killed each other earlier and those who died while summoning monsters through evil rituals, a conservative estimate put the death toll at over three hundred. Only a few dozen relatively new believers remained, hiding behind trees and rocks, trembling.
Once upheld by four grand mages and feared throughout the magical world, the Cult of the Cold Fla had been smashed back down to earth. From a major international organization, it had beco a regional group, its scale now comparable to Papa Midnite's bar. The word miserable didn't even begin to describe it.
Should I wipe them out completely? The thought briefly crossed Thea's mind.
Mister E was highly sensitive and imdiately realized this was the critical mont.
"I swear a True Spirit Oath. From this mont onward, we will coexist peacefully and will never pursue today's matter. On the contrary, since you helped us suppress the rebellion, the Cult of the Cold Fla will present a generous gift!"
As he finished speaking, he severed one of his fingers and began chanting a tongue-twisting incantation. Soon, fifteen golden symbols were pressed into his chest.
The blind old man let out a muffled groan—it was clear this oath placed a heavy burden on him.
A veteran tempered by ti, he was decisively ruthless. The oath was bound directly to his heart; if violated, his heart would explode into fragnts.
"Fine. I believe you. As for any 'generous gift,' that won't be necessary."
Thea decided to let them off. The Cult of the Cold Fla had been operating for over thirty years, with believers scattered all over the world. Killing everyone present today wouldn't change that reality. Cutting the grass was easy; uprooting it entirely would be a massive undertaking. She had no intention of hunting down Cold Fla believers across the globe—the young mistress didn't have that kind of ti.
Besides, there was no shortage of people in this world with twisted minds who loved dabbling in cults. What was ant to exist would continue to exist.
Destroy Cold Fla today, and tomorrow so Hot Fla or Frost Fla would appear. These people were impossible to exterminate completely.
Refusing the "generous gift" was just Thea putting on a show. What kind of valuable gift could these poor bastards really offer? Having absorbed Sargon's mories, she knew better than anyone that their finances were barely holding together. They used to rely on the Indian old man and the alchemist to craft small items for money. Now both were dead—was Mister E supposed to open a blind massage parlor to make a living?
If his subordinates were even remotely normal, Thea might have absorbed them wholesale. But brain-damaged cultists? They'd only cause trouble. Better to let them lick their wounds behind closed doors.
Mister E finally relaxed. Although Thea claid she didn't want the "gift," he still ordered his subordinates to bring out a large bag, hoping to send these ferocious people away as soon as possible.
"We ca here recklessly and caused you trouble. We really can't accept these gifts…"
"No trouble at all! You helped us greatly. These are just small tokens of appreciation—please, you must accept them!"
Thea refused firmly; the blind old man insisted just as stubbornly. Back and forth they went. Ignoring the corpses scattered across the ground, the scene was almost harmonious.
"Alright, then I'll accept it with embarrassnt. If the Cult encounters trouble in the future, you can contact us through Papa Midnite."
Seeing how bulging the bag was, Thea hesitated briefly before accepting it and making a promise. The two sides could be considered to have tentatively turned enemies into allies.
"Where is Croydon's Compass?"
Constantine, who had remained silent while watching them reconcile, suddenly spoke up.
Mister E's expression darkened slightly. Thea, however, remained calm. Even without Constantine's reminder, she could guess the blind old man's intentions. Their strength had been severely weakened, and they had offended countless people while collecting magical artifacts worldwide. Taking this opportunity to dump a hot potato onto her in public was clearly his plan.
Thea didn't mind. Contemporary mages posed little threat to her, and her true identity hadn't been exposed. Anyone digging deeper would only find Deathstroke, Poison Ivy, and Papa Midnite—none of whom were easy targets.
"Bring that woman over. I'll examine her."
Thea pointed at the nose-ring woman wrapped in vines and instructed Poison Ivy.
"Mana! So much mana! Old monster, give all your mana!" the woman continued screaming incoherently.
Thea extended her psychic power into the woman's mind and examined her. Extre emotional swings in a short period had damaged her brain; her thoughts were utterly chaotic. She was no longer a threat—she was completely insane.
Reviewing Sargon's mories, Thea found that the Indian old man had actually treated this daughter reasonably well. It was the deep-rooted patriarchal mindset that repeatedly fractured their relationship, ultimately leading to today's tragedy of patricide. For the old man's sake, she decided to spare his mad daughter.
"Where is Felix Faust now? I'll go ask him myself."
Thea waved for Poison Ivy to drag the woman away, casually tossed the bulging bag into her spatial ring, and asked Mister E politely.
Papa Midnite and Mister E both shivered.
You're going to 'ask' again?
With a mindset of if I'm suffering, you won't be comfortable either, the blind old man began drawing maps and checking records, explaining everything he knew in ticulous detail to the young mistress.
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