Chapter 2174 Wrong Intel

The Rabbit Hole.

The tavern functioned as usual. The atmosphere was jolly, with laughter and conversations filling the establishment.

However, it was less crowded than usual, thanks to the festivities taking place throughout Davos for the Centennial Gala.

Although only a select few had been invited to Sapphire Tower, the rest of the city had found its own ways to celebrate. Streets were decorated, taverns remained open late, and families gathered in their homes to enjoy the festivities.

It was a three-day festival, after all. As a result, hardly any adventurers had descended into the Hole to explore the dungeons over the weekend. Most had decided to take a break from their usual pursuits and enjoy the celebrations above ground.

Still, a handful of regular customers remained faithful to their favorite tavern.

Behind the counter, Hannibal stood in his usual place, wiping mugs with a cloth. He worked leisurely, seemingly in no hurry to do anything beyond his usual routine.

In front of him sat his lovely wife, Ira. She hummed a merry tune as she carefully rolled tobacco into paper, preparing a fresh smoke for her husband.

She glanced up at him and was about to say something when she suddenly noticed something strange about him. She paused and asked, "What is it, love?"

Hannibal was glancing in the direction of Mount Davos.

"I didn't even notice it until it was gone," he murmured.

Ira continued rolling the tobacco. "Notice what?"

"Ajax's presence."

Ira paused.

"To have deceived even your senses… they must have invested quite the resources," she said.

Hannibal sighed. "No. I have been complacent."

He turned in the direction of Nicholaus Hitchcock's house. The man was already dead. And so was the rest of his family.

He set down the mug on the counter and fell silent.

Sensing the subtle change in her husband's mood, Ira glanced toward the patrons in the tavern and said, "Everyone, please leave. Your tabs have been taken care of. Vacate the premises this instant."

The few customers initially looked puzzled. Some were even a little annoyed at being abruptly asked to leave in the middle of their drinks.

However, the proprietress made up for it by announcing that their bills had been settled.

One by one, they gathered their belongings and left.

Within minutes, the tavern was empty except for the staff and a dozen or so figures who had refused to leave.

Ira turned toward the staff and instructed them to return to their quarters.

Once she and her husband were alone with the remaining strangers, she leaned against the counter and smiled pleasantly at them.

"It would appear you didn't come here to venture into the dungeons."

The dozen strangers, dressed in adventurers' clothing, exchanged glances before retrieving small, disk-shaped artifacts from their gauntlets.

The moment they activated them, a barrier enveloped the Rabbit Hole.

The barrier served two purposes. Not only would it trap the prey inside, but it would also prevent anyone outside from sensing any disturbances within the area.

"Oh?" Ira's eyes gleamed with interest. "As I thought. They have indeed invested a lot into this operation."

Another thing that happened when the people removed the artifacts from their gauntlets was that their true auras were exposed.

Ira's eyes narrowed slightly. "Oh, my. These are not your run-of-the-mill thugs, dear."

Seeing how nonchalantly the woman acted, not even bothering to get off her seat, the dozen killers felt a little uneasy. Then there was Hannibal, who was staring at the wall, not at all bothered by these people who now fully radiated the aura of their true strength.

Hannibal was indeed ignoring them. He turned his gaze in the direction of Sapphire Tower. He raised his head slightly, his gaze piercing through space and settling on the massacre taking place on the floating island.

The tavern owner sighed again and looked away. From the brief inspection just now, he had understood what was going on.

He turned to the dozen strangers and asked plainly, "Did Nigel send you?"

The killers did not answer. But their silence itself was a form of response.

"Nigel. Nigel. Nigel." Ira shook her head in contempt. "That fool."

Without a word, the dozen Paladins moved as one.

Eight Saint Paladins and four Elysian Paladins—Rank 4 and Rank 5 Paladins in layman's terms—charged toward Hannibal and Ira, their weapons drawn and their intentions unmistakable.

They intended to kill them both.

Hannibal calmly reached into the basin beside him and retrieved a butter knife.

Then he swiped it through the air.

One of the Elysian Paladins was cleaved from head to groin. His body split apart, the two halves collapsing to the floor in a shower of blood.

Before the others could react, Hannibal made another swipe.

A second Elysian Paladin was sliced diagonally from shoulder to hip. Blood erupted from the wound as his upper body separated, his weapon slipping from his fingers before he hit the ground.

Hannibal's wrist turned. The butter knife swept horizontally.

Four Saint Paladins were cut cleanly through the waist.

Their upper bodies slid from their lower halves, and their entrails spilled across the floor. For a brief moment, their legs continued moving forward from sheer momentum before collapsing among the spreading pools of blood.

The remaining Paladins finally understood that something was terribly wrong. The intel on Hannibal was utterly wrong.

But it was already too late.

Hannibal flicked his wrist again.

The butter knife moved through the air in short, effortless strokes.

The remaining Paladins were cut down before they could come anywhere near Ira. Some fell immediately, their bodies collapsing onto the blood-soaked floor. Others remained alive long enough to clutch their severed bodies and writhe in agony.

Within seconds, the tavern had become a slaughterhouse. Blood stained the walls and splattered across stone and timber. Broken weapons lay scattered among limbs and mangled bodies.

A dozen Paladins had entered, confident in their overwhelming numbers and strength.

Now, all twelve lay cut down.

And Hannibal hadn't even taken a single step.

He glanced at the butter knife in his hand, as though inspecting it for damage. Then he silently returned it to the basin.

Ira clicked her tongue. "We'll have to buy new furniture."

Hannibal didn't respond. He turned his head in the direction of the Tower.

"Is Magpie all right?" Ira whispered.

"He's holding on," Hannibal said after a moment.

Ira was silent for a heartbeat. Then she said in a low voice, "Save him."

She hesitated before adding, "I don't wish to bury another one of your students. Save him, Hannibal."

Hannibal simply nodded.

Suddenly…

The air around him changed.

It was like a tiger had suddenly awakened from its slumber. In that moment, the breath of the impending hunt flowed down the hill, letting all the animals know that death was coming for them.

Hannibal raised his hands slowly, yet still leaving behind afterimages.

He clasped them together in front of his heart, and an invisible wave of energy spread in every direction, covering the entire district of Lords' Borough in the blink of an eye.

The great adventurer Hannibal parted his lips and declared:

"Domain Arcana."