Rip—
Lillian tore a strip of black cloth and wrapped it tightly around his arm. The other soldiers in the room did the same.
They were all members of Kenny's special anti-personnel unit—elite Military Police. Though they hadn't been a match for the main cast in the original storyline, in reality their combat strength far surpassed that of regular troops by several levels.
"Each of you has your own target," Lillian said. "You won't fail, will you?"
"No!"
"Don't worry," Kenny added. "The ones they're handling are small fry. Catching them will be easy. The real heavyweights are ours." He looked at Lillian. "Two Garrison deputy commanders, one Military Police battalion commander, and the second son of a major noble house. Those guys will definitely have plenty of guards."
"Don't worry about that," Lillian replied calmly. "Anyone who gets in the way—eliminate them. If your life is threatened, kill them on the spot."
He finished wrapping the last strip of cloth. Now dressed entirely in black, with a mask covering his face, Lillian could melt seamlessly into the night. The purpose was, of course, to conceal his identity—though in truth, if things escalated, many people would probably guess it was him anyway.
But guessing and proving were two very different things.
Without concrete evidence, no one would have a legitimate excuse to act. And if they did act anyway, so much the better—it would flush out his opponents, allowing him to deal with them all in one sweep.
That was Lillian's thinking.
It didn't matter if they were deputy commanders, noble heirs, or high-ranking officers. Even if a full commander or supreme general had been involved, he wouldn't spare them.
As he had said before—this revenge was already late.
He wasn't going to wait any longer.
He didn't even know when he might leave this world. If he didn't settle this before that happened, who knew whether he'd ever get the chance? So now—right now—he refused to delay even a single day.
"After you've captured your targets, rendezvous at the designated location," Lillian instructed. "If the situation becomes impossible, you may abort. Your lives come first. Anyone who fails to complete their mission—I'll handle the cleanup."
The soldiers exchanged glances. If someone failed, it likely meant the alarm had already been raised. With guards swarming in, could cleanup even be possible? Still, those thoughts stayed unspoken. None of them dared question Lillian aloud.
"Yes!"
"Move out!"
---
Under the cover of night, dozens of elite soldiers dispersed. Kenny had long since memorized the patrol routes of the capital's Military Police. Following the paths he provided, discovery was unlikely.
Most of the soldiers were sent to capture low-ranking officers and minor nobles. These people had weak defenses and little awareness. The recent success of the coup had left many of them drunk on power, so full of themselves they barely remembered their own names—easy prey for small teams of elites.
As for the targets Lillian and Kenny were handling—deputy commanders, battalion commanders—that was another matter. The difficulty was higher, but for the two of them, it wasn't a real concern.
If anything, the real worry was what kind of upheaval would follow after the arrests.
The Garrison was deeply involved. The Military Police as well. Even the Wall Church. Even without evidence, they might directly move against Lillian. How to respond to that was the true challenge.
But Lillian refused to think about it.
He wouldn't allow himself to.
Because the moment he started weighing pros and cons, he might really end up "putting the greater good first."
And that was something he could never forgive himself for.
---
Half an hour later.
Lillian arrived at his first target's residence—a villa spanning several hundred square meters. It belonged to a Garrison deputy commander named Stanley Cartman. From the outside, the villa was brightly lit, figures moving within. Even from several hundred meters away, the air reeked of excess and indulgence.
"That was fast."
Barely a week after the coup, these so-called victors were already turning into the very people they'd overthrown.
Like a boy who slays a dragon only to become a dragon himself.
Only these people's scales had grown far too quickly.
At the villa's main gate stood ten armed guards. Though equipped with guns, they looked half-asleep—two of them had even slumped against the wall, snoring.
No surprise. If the deputy commander was like this, how disciplined could his men really be?
Lillian observed quietly, then circled around to a blind spot. With a single leap, he vaulted over the two-meter-high wall and landed in the garden below. Following a path, he reached a window and slipped inside with ease.
It appeared to be an unused side room—bare, empty, unfurnished. He approached the door and opened it slightly. Noise flooded in from the far end of the corridor.
Laughter. Shouting. Drinking.
Pulling a portrait from his pocket, Lillian studied it briefly, then moved forward. A small knife appeared in his right hand.
Halfway down the corridor, a door suddenly opened. A servant stepped out and froze when he saw Lillian. Just as the man opened his mouth to scream, Lillian slapped him across the face. The servant's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed unconscious.
Lillian's strength control was precise now. If this had been earlier, that slap wouldn't have knocked him out—it would've sent his head flying.
He continued forward until he reached the end of the corridor and entered the main hall.
Beneath a circular chandelier made of glowing stones sat a long table, laden with food and wine. Eight or nine people were seated around it. Lillian's gaze swept across them—his target sat at the head, a thick hand gripping a bottle as he drank straight from it.
"Who the hell are you?!"
They weren't blind. Lillian's all-black attire made it obvious he wasn't a guest. In an instant, the diners sprang to their feet.
A dozen or so male and female servants standing nearby stared at him in confusion. Twirling the knife casually in his hand, Lillian walked up to his target.
"Stanley Cartman," he said calmly. "You're coming with me."
"You motherf—!"
Two men grabbed wine bottles and swung them at Lillian's head. He sidestepped effortlessly, then moved faster than their eyes could follow—each attacker received a single precise stab.
They clutched their chests and collapsed.
Blood spilled.
In the next heartbeat, screams erupted throughout the hall.
"Ah! He's killing people!!"
"Guards! Guards!"
"Catch him!"
In an instant, the entire hall descended into chaos. Several overzealous servants boldly leapt at Lillian, only to be kicked aside one by one.
"Who the hell are you?!"
Stanley bellowed, snatching a chair and swinging it at Lillian. Credit where it was due—the deputy commander had some reflexes.
Crash!
The chair hit Lillian, and Stanley's face lit up in anticipation. But the next moment, his expression froze in shock—the black-clad figure hadn't moved at all. If it weren't for the splintered chair falling to the floor, Stanley might have thought he hadn't hit him at all. How could this be possible?
"I told you—you're coming with me," Lillian said.
In a single step, he closed the distance. Within a heartbeat, his hands grabbed Stanley's head and slammed it against the table.
Bang!
The resounding crack echoed through the hall. Stanley went limp, unconscious. Blood welled from his forehead, and the remaining onlookers screamed in terror. Those who had been dining had already fled, but soldiers outside rushed in, guns raised.
"Don't move!"
"Put our deputy commander down!"
"Drop the knife!!"
Lillian barely spared them a glance. He looked at the table, then lifted his leg and kicked it forcefully.
Crash!
The table hurtled toward several soldiers. Those who didn't dodge in time were sent flying; the more alert ones stumbled to the side. When they regained their senses, they realized—the black-clad man and their deputy commander had vanished without a trace.
"Quick! Go alert headquarters!"
Similar events erupted across the city that night. Within a few hours, over a dozen people of influence were dragged from bars, brothels, and homes, knocked unconscious, loaded onto carriages, and transported beyond Wall Sina.
The operation went smoothly. Lillian, Kenny, and their soldiers relied on accurate intelligence to seize every target. In less than two hours, all the people on the list were captured and moved out of the inner city.
The impact was immediate. Both the Military Police and Garrison mobilized frantically, scouring the city. They even came looking for Lillian.
Lillian told Kenny to transport the prisoners out of the city while he remained in the Stohess District, handling the endless stream of visiting officials. Most didn't last long—they were angered to the point of leaving after just a few words. Lillian's answer was always the same:
"I know nothing. No comment. If you claim I did this, produce evidence—or I'll arrest you for slander and throw you in the dungeon."
Evidence? Ha! Catching even a single survivor would have been one thing—but Kenny's team was trained to perfection. None were captured. Only three soldiers suffered minor injuries, and they were brought back by their comrades.
For now, the two corps had no leverage over Lillian. Naturally, they immediately went to their superiors. A few enraged nobles demanded explanations. Two priests from the Wall Church were also arrested, adding to the chaos.
If things proceeded as expected, by tomorrow the incident would explode publicly, and high-ranking officers from both corps would confront Lillian.
Until then, Lillian decided to act. In the latter half of the night, he left the walls and arrived at the ruins of Connie's village.
The village, devastated by the Titans, had been abandoned. Only wandering gangs occasionally spent a night there. Lillian had the captured individuals brought to a small square in the village.
Once there, he instructed Kenny to wake them. When the prisoners opened their eyes and saw Lillian illuminated by the pale glow of the luminescent stones, terror immediately gripped them.
Looking at each other, all ten or so of them recognized each other. None were fools—they understood exactly why Lillian had captured them. The meeting from before hadn't been long past, and the consequences were still fresh in their minds.
"Awake, are we?"
Kenny's men formed a circle around them, cutting off any escape. Lillian's gaze swept the group, then flicked to the weapons placed nearby—swords, spears, staves. All cold weapons.
"Pick them up," Lillian said, a hint of a smile on his lips. "I'm not unreasonable. You fight each other with these weapons. The last one standing—I'll spare him. How about it?"