Calvin honestly didn’t think his master would approve of him beating up all the cultists. But to his surprise, his master didn’t seem to mind.

  "So, it’s completely fine, right?" He’d heard of atrocities the Darkness Bane cult had committed. Not that the royals or the church were any better, but the Darkness Bane cult was openly evil. Not apathetic or neglectful, but purely malicious.

  Sure, his master would reform them. Calvin was pretty sure it was inevitable. His master could reform anyone. But it was fair that he beat them up a bit, right?

  As repentance for their previous sins. As punishment.

  When had he become the Arbiter of Justice? Well, when he became the disciple of a freaking demigod, alright?

  The Darkness Bane cult had set up shop in a surprisingly ordinary area. It wasn’t in some dark alleyway—well, it was in an alley, and the alley was dark, but it wasn’t a shady alley.

  The alley was clean. There were some shops nearby—cheap stores selling food, a restaurant, and a shop with self-defense items. The base of the Darkness Bane cult was actually a tavern. A normal-looking tavern, one you might expect many regular Rift Sealers to visit, even though they were F-rank, barely scraping by.

  Not a place you’d expect to be the hiding spot of the most fearsome cult in the Nohl Empire.

  Calvin glanced toward the cult lackey suspiciously. He felt a grudge against the man for personally injecting the plague into him. Though he recognized that the man was just a tool, it was still hard to forget.

  "Do you really think this is the place? Are you tricking us?" Calvin asked. "If I were you, I’d be careful. If you're trying to deceive us, your end won’t be pretty. Maybe I should test my moves on you?"

  "No, no!" the cult lackey assured him, his face pale and his voice trembling. He looked first at his master, then at Calvin. "I promise, this is the place. You just have to go inside. If you ask the bartender for a strawberry apple milkshake, he’ll let you into the basement. It’s a big basement, with many rooms. That’s where our stronghold for the capital is. The Pope is probably there too."

  Calvin remained suspicious, but the man seemed sincere enough. Besides, his master would recognize if the man was lying immediately, so he had little reason to doubt him. And it’s not like the man would dare lie to his master or to Calvin himself. Not to brag, but Calvin did exude quite the fearsome aura now that he’d reached S-class.

  He entered the tavern.

  His master had said he would remain invisible during the confrontation—it was, after all, Calvin’s revenge. Unless something went wrong, his master wouldn’t intervene or offer advice. As long as Calvin didn’t kill anyone, it was up to him to handle the situation.

  The bar itself was quite nice—rustic wood floors, chairs, and tables all in shades of brown. The bartender had a surprisingly friendly face—no scars, no towering figure.

  He looked like an older man who’d invested his money wisely to form his own livelihood. Trouble in taverns, especially those frequented by Rift Sealers, was rare. No one would dare start a fight with a fellow Rift Sealer unless they were looking for trouble or completely confident.

  It made sense that an old man had invested in a tavern. As long as he could mix drinks, he could make a decent living. This was the perfect hiding spot. Even with his street smarts from his days as a beggar, Calvin never would have suspected this place to be anything other than it appeared. That was probably why neither the kingdom nor the church had yet found this stronghold.

  And the Darkness Bane cult kept a low profile. Whenever they did attack, they were careful—never targeting a single location at once. The rest of the time, they lay completely low, making sure they only targeted people who wouldn’t attract attention, like Calvin himself. It was an insidious method, but it worked.

  Calvin studied the bartender silently. A few seconds passed, and the bartender—an old man with white hair and red eyes, a kindly smile with wrinkles around his mouth—asked, “What brings you here, young man? Today’s rather plain, with not many customers. Is there something you’re looking for? Did someone recommend a specific drink of mine?”

  “I want a strawberry apple milkshake,” Calvin said without hesitation—he honestly didn’t expect to be granted access genuinely.

  The bartender’s eyes narrowed. "We don’t serve that here, mister."

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  His eyes remained narrowed as he pressed something beneath the wooden bench. Calvin immediately felt multiple presences pop up around him.

  "What gave me away?" Calvin asked.

  "Today is a quiet day for a reason, young man," the bartender said. "All our members are out on missions, and the only customers around are a few groups of Rift Sealers on excursions. For you to come alone is already suspicious. But to ask for that drink... I’m not sure how you thought you could pull off this trick and not be given away."

  Calvin grinned. He did have street smarts, but that didn’t mean he knew how to navigate a death cult. But yeah, he had gotten a lot more hurried and grindy after a session in the dungeon. Normally, he would have scouted the area or at least brought someone along to avoid looking suspicious. But really, was there any need for that now that he was an S-ranker? What could they do to him? What could this cult do if he attacked them? With that confidence, he dove into battle.

  To no surprise, Calvin won rather easily.

  None of the lackeys, whether they were big, red, or green, were able to make much of an impact. Even the barkeeper, after a few punches and broken bones, showed him the way to the basement pretty easily. It was probably because his goal was to buy time, and everyone inside would be on high alert. But Calvin wasn’t here to talk peace. He wasn’t here to explore. He wasn’t here as a spy. He was here to trash everyone. There was literally no reason to hold back or be hesitant.

  He blasted open the wall behind the barkeeper and, below it, saw a flight of stairs leading downwards.

  He dove into the basement, and as soon as he appeared, multiple people lunged at him—some wielding spears, others knives, and a few using magic.

  They surrounded him and immediately attacked. None were a match for him, but there were surprisingly two A-rank fighters.

  Calvin dodged a few attacks, used his own pure mana, and literally swatted them away. There was no way these people could defeat him, especially considering the hellish training he’d gone through. He had no idea what delusions they were under, but then again. They were just performing their duties, weren’t they? Defending their base?

  “Well, well, well. What brings such a guest as you here?” A silky smooth voice broke Calvin’s focus on the basement.

  He turned around. At the edge of the basement, in the shadows—a place where you normally wouldn’t notice—the basement itself was filled with flashy things. Multiple demonic, almost L-shaped statues, numerous blood circles drawn on the floor and walls, and black inscriptions and diagrams of creatures he had never even heard of covered the surfaces.

  The man who spoke emitted no presence. Calvin was shocked. For someone to escape his notice, for someone to successfully hide from him, they had to be at least S-rank. He muttered under his breath, This man’s S-rank?

  “I am indeed strong,” the man said, revealing himself to be the Pope of the Darkness Bane cult. “Don’t you think I have to be at least S-rank? Welcome, guest. I am Delizio. I wonder what brings someone of your caliber to my location. What drew your attention, and how did you find us?”

  “Why would I tell you?” Calvin asked.

  “That’s a fair point,” Delizio replied. “I could just beat the answers out of you.”

  “Awfully overconfident, hmm?” Calvin muttered.

  “I have good reason to be,” and with a wave of his hand, multiple shadow monsters appeared around him. “I am a shadow man, sir. A blessing granted by my studies of the Eldritch. You will be facing my entire army.”

  Calvin clicked his fingers, interrupting the man’s speech. Immediately, a large, right-sized portal appeared behind him.

  Relfow wolves began spilling out, ten, twenty, forty, until the area was packed with them. They playfully licked at Calvin, then immediately became alert as soon as they saw their enemy, a fellow S-ranker.

  Pope Delizio stared at them blankly. He first stared at the wolves, then at Calvin, then back at the wolves. Finally, he raised his hands, and all the shadow monsters disappeared. “Hey, man, we can talk this out, you don’t have to be this intense.”

  Calvin ignored his plea and smashed his fist into Delizio’s face. “This is for infecting me with a goddamn plague infection!”

  Pope Delizio shrieked as he fell to the floor, clutching his jaw. “That’s rude, man. I gave up! I surrendered. I waved the white flag! This is against moral dignity, against what a Rift Sealer should do. You can’t do this to me!”

  Calvin and his pets began kicking and attacking him, suppressing any speech he tried to make. It was only after all of them had their fun, once each of his pets had gotten a turn, that the Darkness Bane Pope was left alone.

  He lay swollen and battered, unrecognizable, and looked up at Calvin with a pathetic smile. “Must you truly do this?”

  “Well, yeah,” Calvin replied. “To someone who leads such a wicked cult? Of course I have to do this.”

  Just then, Calvin was interrupted by the sensation of a knife near his neck.

  Pope Delizio’s gaze turned chilling, and his injuries healed instantly. “Gotcha,” he said in a sing-song voice, slowly standing up. “Did you truly think I would fight fairly, guest? You’re much stronger than me, undoubtedly. But to let me get this close to you? Surely you didn’t think I would be without any cards or items to use against you.”

  Calvin stiffened slightly, feeling the knife slowly dig into his skin.

  “Now then,” Pope Delizio continued, “if you don’t want me to kill you, please tell me… How did you find our location? Why are you, someone so clearly strong, here? I was certain I'd negotiated a peace truce with the king after he attacked us—especially after I'd almost killed his first son.”

  Before he could say anything more, though, he froze in place, staring past Calvin with a look of shock.

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