Chapter 105

"Everyone is wearing a false mask," thought Luzurus as he sat idly, his youthful face adorned with a casual expression. His hair, tied into a neat bun-like style, swayed slightly as he tilted his head. Though inwardly dismissive, his face betrayed nothing of his thoughts.

While Luzurus was not one for deep scheming, growing up in the cutthroat environment of the Kakin royal family had taught him to distinguish between what to say and what to keep to himself, as well as when and how to act appropriately.

Seated lazily on a luxurious sofa, he absently humored the socialites attempting to strike up a conversation. It didn't take long for them to catch on to his lack of interest and tactfully excuse themselves, leaving him in relative peace.

As boredom crept in and he was on the verge of dozing off, a loud, exaggeratedly cheerful voice rang out, piercing his thoughts.

"Well, if it isn't our illustrious Prince Luzurus! What a pleasant surprise!"

Luzurus lifted his eyes, unimpressed, and spotted the speaker. "Oh, it's you," he said flatly, his tone indifferent. "Where's that disgraceful brother of yours? Still chasing after underage girls, I presume? Aren't events like this the perfect playground for his lecherous escapades?"

The man laughed awkwardly, brushing aside the barb. "My wayward brother? You needn't concern yourself with him, Your Highness."

The speaker, a young man in his twenties with slicked-back blonde hair, sharp blue eyes, and an impeccably tailored outfit, exuded a polished, albeit sycophantic demeanor. He approached Luzurus with a practiced air of familiarity, only to be met with an icy lack of acknowledgement.

Backed by the immense power of Kakin's imperial dynasty—an uncontested hegemon on the Ejine continent—Luzurus held little regard for foreign nobility. The golden era brought about by his father's governance had elevated Kakin's influence to unparalleled heights. Minor nobility like this man barely warranted his attention.

Feigning cheer, the man remarked, "You must find this repetitive banquet dreadfully dull, Your Highness. Perhaps I could offer something to liven the mood?"

He reached into his coat and produced a peculiar cigar.

"A cigar?" Luzurus glanced at it briefly, his disinterest evident. "I have plenty, no need for yours."

Undeterred, the man grinned conspiratorially. "Ah, but this is no ordinary cigar, Your Highness."

With a flourish, he lit the cigar, releasing a thin stream of smoke. Taking a deep drag, he exhaled with a look of bliss. "This little wonder not only energizes you but also clears your mind. Quite the treat, wouldn't you agree?"

The scent of the smoke drew Luzurus's attention. He frowned, clearly displeased. "What is that smell? It's not like any cigar I've encountered."

"True, it's... unique," the man admitted with a grin. "But I assure you, once you try it, you'll feel like you're floating on air, a god among mortals!"

"God among mortals?" Luzurus's brow furrowed as realization dawned. "So, that's what this is."

He shot the man a cold glare. "You're actually using that stuff?"

The man chuckled nervously. "Come now, Your Highness, no need to overreact. Many aristocrats indulge in it; it's practically a staple at high-end gatherings. To some, experiencing such pleasure is the hallmark of true nobility."

"Ridiculous," Luzurus scoffed, his disdain palpable. "Just a pitiful excuse to justify addiction. None of us in the Kakin royal family stoop to such nonsense, yet here we stand, rulers of the continent."

He leaned forward slightly, his voice sharp and commanding. "This substance is banned, isn't it? Where did you even get it?"

The man hesitated, but then smirked slyly. "Word has it that the Mossibian royal family has a dedicated supply chain for it. From what I've heard, they've been stockpiling significant quantities. Seems they have plans—perhaps to spark a war or achieve some hidden agenda."

"A war?" Luzurus sneered. "Using filth like this to pry open a nation's gates? How pathetic."

His disdain was unmistakable. Luzurus held contempt for those who resorted to underhanded tactics rather than proving their worth through strength and strategy, as his father had done. It was through decades of effort, not deceit, that Kakin rose to power.

"I'm warning you," Luzurus said, his tone icy. "Use it yourself if you must, but don't let it near anyone around me. Or else..."

He didn't finish the threat. The chilling gleam in his eyes was warning enough.

"Y-Yes, Your Highness," the man stammered, plastering on a forced smile as he inwardly cursed his bad luck.

Retreating, the man seethed with resentment. "Hmph, born into privilege and lording it over others. What's so special about you, anyway? Tch."

His jealousy simmered as he glanced around at the opulent gathering. For many nobles, being born into the Kakin royal family was the ultimate stroke of fortune.

The sheer might and influence of Kakin made even the V5 tread carefully. Such was the grandeur of Luzurus's lineage, a fact that fueled the man's bitter envy.

There were certainly not a few who shared the same thoughts as him.

The banquet, on the surface, appeared to be a glamorous affair, with dazzling lights, raised glasses, and an air of harmonious elegance. Yet, what truly transpired behind the scenes remained unknown to most.

Meanwhile, outside the palace, near the treasure vault of the Mossibian royal family...

Five men of varying builds and heights emerged silently in the darkness of the night.

"Tch, walking here without so much as a fight along the way—what a bore," Uvogin grumbled under the dim lamplight, his expression disgruntled.

"It's thanks to Morin's tools and Shalnark's guidance that we managed to avoid all the patrols and unnecessary trouble," Nobunaga remarked, seemingly unbothered by the uneventful journey.

"Well, now that we're here, it's about time for a proper brawl," Phinks said, clenching his fists tightly and rolling his neck, his joints cracking audibly in preparation.

"I've heard that the forces guarding the vault are the palace's elite," Feitan murmured, his hands in his pockets and his narrowed eyes gleaming with a predatory light. "Let's see if they're any good."

"The quality of the guards reflects the value of the treasures inside," Chrollo said with a calm, knowing smile. "We prioritized stealth earlier to avoid delays, but now that we're here..." He raised his arms slowly, his voice filled with quiet intensity.

"Let's raise some hell, gentlemen."

Boom!

Condensed aura surged around each of them, thick and steamy like boiling mist, radiating their fervent battle intent.

At Chrollo's command, Uvogin charged forward first, leading the assault.

The guards stationed at the treasure vault's entrance immediately reacted to Uvogin's overwhelming presence. Without asking questions, they raised their guns and unleashed a barrage of bullets, deadly intent blazing in their eyes. Whoever dared to storm the royal vault was destined for annihilation—no exceptions.

"Heh," Uvogin chuckled coldly, his pearly white teeth flashing.

With his Nen-enhanced body, he shrugged off the hail of bullets and surged forward like a raging storm. His massive palm, carrying a ferocious force, swept through the guards. In a heartbeat, they were sent flying, blood spraying across the vault's grand doors as shocked expressions froze on their faces.

Not to be outdone, Nobunaga, Feitan, and Phinks joined the fray.

Slash!

Under the pitch-black night, Nobunaga's sword gleamed like a shooting star. With refined precision, his blade, infused with potent aura, cut down the surrounding guards in a flash. Heads rolled cleanly from their shoulders as he moved with the grace of falling autumn leaves.

Swoosh!

Feitan was a ghost in the night, his movements so swift that the guards could only blink in confusion before their heads were severed midair, their bodies crumpling lifelessly to the ground.

Crack, crack!

Phinks, with nothing but his bare hands, moved faster than the guards could react. He twisted necks and delivered devastating chops that pierced through chests, leaving trails of death in his wake.

Ten seconds.

That was all the time it took for the hundred guards stationed at the vault to fall to the Phantom Troupe.

The sudden, brutal assault and the ensuing carnage quickly drew attention. A multitude of lights flickered on in the distance, and floodlights began converging on the group, illuminating their figures amidst the blood-soaked scene.

The commotion had successfully alerted the kingdom.

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