Chapter 112: The Price of Delay

“Go, quickly notify your master.” With those words, Alice Liddell dispatched the Abyssal Messenger from her hand.

Regardless of whether the Mad Hatter could make it in time, she still had an obligation to send the warning.

She held considerable trust in the Mad Hatter. With his peak Fourth-Order strength, subduing a Seventh-Order opponent would be effortless.

However, sufficient time was the prerequisite. The location the Killer had given would take at least three quarters of an hour to reach directly from the city gates. If traveling on horseback, it would be closer to fifteen minutes.

Undoubtedly, Jeanne Decker, who had already departed, would arrive first. Before the Mad Hatter’s arrival, Alice Liddell alone would have to stall for time and intervene in that unfolding future.

Of course, with a stroke of luck, she might even resolve the entire situation herself.

****

Utilizing forged documents, she swiftly exited the city. The guards, seeing the application from the post station, waved her through without a second glance, completely oblivious to the fact that her face was veiled.

After running along the road for about ten minutes outside the city, Alice Liddell’s sixth sense suddenly activated. It wasn’t the chilling dread of a life threat, but rather a profoundly uncomfortable feeling of unease.

She quickly surmised the reason: she would likely encounter the female knight responsible for the rendezvous ahead. The Killer had demanded that Jeanne Decker come alone, threatening to kill the hostage if anyone else approached rashly.

Under such circumstances, Jeanne Decker wouldn’t dare allow the accompanying female knight to approach the destination with her. She would only instruct her to remain at a distance, awaiting reinforcements.

Once enough personnel arrived, they could launch an operation to retrieve the past. The Killer was acting alone, which significantly increased the chances of a successful rescue.

However, this situation was truly troublesome for Alice Liddell. If she rushed over to help Jeanne Decker and was still present when the knights arrived, her dual classes of “Witch” and “Warlock” would make it impossible to conceal herself.

She would become a target for the knights’ purge, and even Jeanne Decker, present at the scene, would be forced to treat her as an enemy.

She had to act swiftly and decisively.

Alice Liddell pondered for a moment, then extinguished her lantern, turned her horse into the wild fields on one side, and bypassed the waiting knight.

After riding a short distance, she judged herself close enough. She dismounted and tied her horse to a tree trunk, but she didn’t directly approach. Getting too close to that open field would surely expose her; she needed to find another route for reconnaissance and infiltration.

The alluring abilities of a “Succubus” were far too incompatible with the mental sacrifice abilities of the “Abyss” pathway—a lesson she had learned acutely last time.

Fortunately, the Mad Hatter had given her another option.

Beneath the moonlight, Alice Liddell pulled out the crimson soul crystal.

****

Meanwhile, Jeanne Decker dismounted before the field.

At this season, the fields had already been harvested once, leaving only untreated corn stubble in the vast expanse.

The Killer stood in the center of the field. Behind him, a uniquely shaped “scarecrow” stood—it was Martha, bound to a wooden cross. Her head hung low, as if she had lost consciousness.

The moment he saw Jeanne Decker, the Killer began to clap forcefully. The hard demonic carapace covering his hands clashed together, producing a crisp, metallic sound.

“Excellent, you are punctual.” The Killer’s voice carried a hint of amusement. “As expected of the Church’s Saintess. I was not mistaken about you.”

Jeanne Decker did not reply, instead casting her gaze towards the bound Martha.

The Killer noticed her stare and quipped, “Don’t worry, she’s still alive and well.”

No sooner had he spoken than he reached out and squeezed Martha’s shoulder, his sharp, barbed claws sinking into her flesh.

Martha’s head snapped up, and she let out a piercing scream.

“Enough!” Jeanne Decker roared.

“I merely wanted to give you a little show. No need to get so angry, is there?” The Killer released his claws, raised his hands, and chuckled. As he laughed, he suddenly began to cough violently, as if choking.

Jeanne Decker reminded herself to stay calm. She had noticed the Killer’s playful gaze as he laughed, realizing this act was deliberately intended to provoke her.

Her immediate goal was not to fight the Killer to the death, but to rescue Martha.

It would be best to stall for as long as possible until reinforcements arrived.

“Does doing such things bring you joy?” Jeanne Decker demanded, glaring at the Killer. “Are not the imperial nobles your targets for revenge? Why do you prey on innocent foreign commoners like them?”

“If it weren’t necessary, I wouldn’t be interested in them. If the Saintess would simply let me kill her here, I could promise to let her live.” The Killer adjusted his breathing and replied.

“I cannot trust you,” Jeanne Decker stated, her gaze unwavering.

“Then what if I say, if you don’t throw away your sword, I’ll kill her immediately?” The Killer suddenly placed his claws at Martha’s neck.

“I told you, I cannot trust you,” Jeanne Decker repeated. “If I abandon resistance, you will still kill her.”

Jeanne Decker would, of course, never agree to such a foolish condition. If she gave up resistance here, she would completely lose her leverage against him, and both her life and Martha’s would be entirely at his mercy.

“Not so foolish after all, it seems. To be honest, I truly could let her go, but alas, you don’t believe me.” The Killer lowered his claws. “No matter, I didn’t intend to kill her. I admire this girl; drawing you out is enough!”

The Killer stepped forward slightly, appearing to prepare for a one-on-one duel with Jeanne Decker, just as he had last time.

Jeanne Decker narrowed her eyes suspiciously. She completely distrusted the Killer’s words. If he truly intended to release the hostage, he could untie Martha now.

Moreover, judging by the barely concealed weakness in his voice and the recurring coughs, his condition was quite poor. The poison the witch had thrown that day seemed to have caused him considerable damage.

Jeanne Decker did not believe he would willingly give up the advantage of a hostage in such a situation.

There had to be a trick.

She couldn’t allow herself to be completely drawn into his rhythm. She still needed to buy as much time as possible until support arrived.

Scrambling for methods to delay him, Jeanne Decker spoke, “Why do you harbor such deep hatred for the Empire?”

The Killer suddenly halted his advance.

Jeanne Decker realized she had struck a chord. The Killer, whose heart was filled with hatred for the imperial people, would surely feel the urge to vent on this topic.

“Perhaps the high and mighty Saintess has never experienced the suffering of the common folk?

While you paraded gloriously in your carriage, did you ever know how many people like me toiled in the slums, struggling for a full meal, only to have their families torn apart by a single word from some noble?” The Killer’s hoarse voice replied.

In that moment, Jeanne Decker felt a pang of emotion. The image of her friend, who had met a tragic end in prison, flashed through her mind.

“I dare not claim to know everything, but I have witnessed it, whether you believe it or not,” Jeanne Decker calmly responded.

“No, you don’t know! You don’t know at all!” The Killer’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “If you knew, you wouldn’t be a figurehead for the Church. You simply don’t realize that the Holy Church of Salvation is the very embodiment of this nation’s wickedness.”

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