Don't confiscate my identity as a human race-Chapter 1318 - 827: Lanci’s Fleeting Opponent_2

These two Cardinal Bishops at this moment appeared more terrifying in his eyes than any other Bishop.

They could not be killed—that was a physiological horror. They could not be comprehended—that was a rational horror that destroyed logic. They did not communicate normally with humans—that was an emotional and empathetic horror severing all connections.

Realizing he could not escape, and that he was the only one left in this square, fear and anger intertwined, forming bloodshot veins in Montiluo's eyes.

Lanci shook his head.

He glanced at Montiluo's expression, pulling out a document issued by the Cerryti Empire from the inner pocket of his gray coat—

[Certificate of No Criminal Records]

[Verified: The person being queried: Landry Washington, nationality/region: Cerryti Empire/Nixasende Province/Karenel Town, ID document name: Empire ID Card. No criminal records found.]

The signature bore the seal of the Empire's Special Operations Department in Brilda, the capital.

Smugly, he showed the Rotten Saint Son Montiluo the certificate, pointing at the contents with his other hand—all was said without needing words.

"Wow, brother, you actually managed to get this thing."

Tolyado remarked in astonishment.

"Nikola stamped it for me."

Lanci tucked the document back into his pocket, once again looking down at the Rotten Saint Son lying on the ground, with an expression that seemed to ask, "So, what do you think?"

"..."

The Rotten Archbishop Montiluo's throat tightened to the point of choking.

Ignore how this Bishop Kuang'ai seems like a decent person.

He speaks politely, while simultaneously killing you!

This was the most mad of all Cardinal Bishops.

Professor Landry… is actually Bishop Kuang'ai?

No one had realized.

No one had noticed that the Cerryti Empire had such a character sneak amidst them.

"Alright, Director Tolyado, take this student away."

Lanci no longer played the Mafia leader but clasped his hands behind his back as he addressed Tolyado.

"Off to the Youth Academy Prison trip."

Tolyado lightly tapped the Rotten Saint Son suppressed by the spatial barrier, and a translucent vortex suddenly appeared in front of Montiluo's immobilized body, twisting and pulling him entirely into it.

On the snow-covered ground of the Mafia port square, only a human-shaped indentation remained, while the Rotten Saint Son completely vanished.

"Is this the mightiest space magic?"

Lanci marveled at its convenience, having never seen Tolyado use such a trick before.

Forcibly detaining Rotten Saint Son into a prison dimension.

"Only usable on enemies who've lost combat power or on allies who consent. Moreover, the mana consumption isn't light—it's more like magic for household storage at this point."

Tolyado spread his hands in explanation.

He was not particularly adept at offensive space magic; it was simply how he was born. Functional magic, however, came easily to him.

Space magic inherently relied on talent for the attribute and was virtually unlearnable.

"You seven of the Great Demon Clan really can't gather a single main damage dealer; all you have are supports and healers."

Lanci quipped.

In the current Southern Continent battlefield, eighth-order hero units lacking healers were somewhat rare, yet the Demon Clan Elders' side could not produce one pure damage dealer like Blasphemous Lord Melogast or Wanwei Baron Oglin.

"Actually, the innate abilities and traits of the Demon Race tend to be reflected somewhat in personality. Perhaps it's precisely because we're less aggressive that we've survived outside the War Party as the Great Demon Clan."

Tolyado shook his head and remarked.

"No wonder Hyperion is so good at running away—her personality and abilities align perfectly."

Lanci propped his chin in thought.

"She'd be sad if she heard that, meow…"

The Cat Boss emerged from Lanci's shadow, snarking at him.

Lanci now had a habit of distributing tasks evenly in daily missions, trying to break Talia's monopoly.

"By the way, what's your plan after taking Montiluo away?"

Tolyado asked Lanci.

This seventh-order Saint Son, if sent to Abigail's house, would surely send her into a furious rage—she'd lob crates at him and kick him out entirely.

"Lock him up in the Mafia's underground palace—it's idle now and can just be repurposed for a prison, meow."

Cat Boss suggested.

Currently, the Silvermoon Reform Association Alliance only had three secret bases available.

Abigail's place, frequently utilized for meetings, was ruled out, leaving only the spatial barrier at either Landry's house or the Brilda Mafia underground facility.

It certainly didn't want a Rotten Saint Son locked up in its basement.

"Sounds good; who's questioning him?"

Lanci reckoned they had a good amount to discuss with Montiluo.

But the Great Love Poet hadn't been cooperative these past couple of days.

No matter how many times they summoned her, she wouldn't show up.

If tasked with interrogating Rotten Saint Son Montiluo, the Great Love Poet would likely outright refuse.

Utilizing her powers would require Talia to merge with the Great Love Poet, but Talia wasn't skilled in interrogation.

"Hand it off to Isatia; her interrogation skills are infamous—she's as cruel as it gets."

Tolyado answered.

"..."

Lanci pondered for a moment.

The memory of first meeting Isatia surfaced—the image of her clutching a thin willow blade in her hand.

Still, he found it hard to imagine that this seemingly innocent little sister figure could torture enemies.

"You're not too bad yourself, meow. Remember the Sanctuary Evil Banquet and Teacher Lan's 'Mummification Class Even a Three-Year-Old Could Understand'?"

Cat Boss, guessing at Lanci's thoughts, floated before him with a speechless expression.

Since returning from the Northern Continent, it had supplemented its knowledge at Ichrite Academy.

It knew exactly what Lanci had done during his previous outings into the Shadow World.

But by the time Cat Boss understood Lanci, it was already too late.

Lanci and Isatia's sibling-like dynamic stemmed not only from how one resembled the old headmaster and the other a little sister, but also from their shared twisted nature—both capable of calmly committing acts far beyond humane boundaries.

A gray-white veil of snow enveloped the entire city of Brilda, as if a massive woolen blanket had absorbed all sound from the Mafia's Hassel Port Building plaza. The white canvas of this cold Moon Goddess festival returned to its prior undisturbed tranquility.

Snowflakes, as fluffy as cotton, settled gently atop the shipping containers, covering their bare metal surfaces with a layer of silver.

"Nikola, come out. We're not enemies."

Tolyado glanced in another direction, shouting toward the zone of containers.

Lanci also turned to look in the direction Tolyado had indicated.

Tolyado, a proper mage by origin, was leagues ahead of Lanci, a summoner, in magical manipulation and perception. Tolyado must have detected Nikola's location long ago.

No sound replied from the rows of containers, with only the delicate snow continuing to fall, maintaining the hazy view of the Hassel Port Building plaza.

Finally, after a long while, Nikola appeared, emerging from a distant corner among the containers dressed in a military coat.

His usually immaculate Imperial Army uniform now bore scorch marks.

For him, realizing this man was a Dimensional Bishop of the Rebirth Church made any attempt at hiding futile.

As long as one was within range of an eighth-order Bishop, any evasion became meaningless—with but a thought, they could lock onto him.

He arrived before the two.

"Dimensional Bishop, why did you save me?"

Red Falcon Nikola, fearless as ever, still maintained the straight-backed posture of an Empire officer, like a chess piece on a board.

Today had been strange beyond imagination.

At the moment he'd thought his fate was sealed and death was certain, salvation came from someone utterly unforeseen.

Barton Hall saving him—this he could fathom, imagining one possibility:

That the Mafia leader Barton remained loyal to Princess Alexia, thereby choosing this moment to aid him, Nikola.

But for a Dimensional Bishop from the Rebirth Church, an inherently chaotic Cardinal Bishop, someone completely unrelated to the Imperial Army—it made no sense.

If there were any prior connection, it would be their lightly adversarial relationship based on the Empire's military history with the Dimensional Branch, a gray market in itself.

Even the earlier communication link between the Bishop and Barton felt absurd.

What kind of world turned a Cardinal Bishop of the Rebirth Church into a righteous ally?