In ordinary times, even Guild personnel were not permitted easy access to the Great Hall. Now, however, it was packed with people. Not only relatives of the marquis house and high-ranking Guild officials, but also regional nobles, the local ruling elites, who had come to assess the Conquerors, and powerful merchants who controlled distribution networks had gathered in force. Guild staff, including Lizzy, whom Walm was indebted to, hurried about attending to them. After all, nearly everyone present possessed blue blood or stood at the top of their respective fields. No mistake would be tolerated. Even so, the staff executed their guidance and preparations flawlessly within the allotted time, then quietly observed the ceremony from the edges.

Though Walm silently praised the Guild employees’ performance, he shifted his focus. The seat assigned to him was several rows back from the front. In contrast to his somewhat worn presence, those around him overflowed with dignity and nobility, dressed in splendid attire. Aside from military personnel, only Walm and a handful of Adventurers wore armor. With his limited wardrobe, had his armor repairs not been completed in time, he would likely have been mistaken for a common townsman who had wandered in and been expelled by the guards.

In contrast to the glamorous attendees, security for this gathering of prominent figures was exceedingly strict. Aside from the attendants and personal guards of the guests, all swords and weapons had been collected and managed by the Guild. Though Walm felt somewhat empty-handed, he harbored not the slightest concern regarding security. Even within the hall alone, a platoon-sized force had been deployed. From their bearing, they were clearly elites who had undergone thorough training. Furthermore, hidden within the alcoves were an equal number of guards. By Walm’s estimation, including those stationed outside the venue, the mobilized forces likely reached company scale.

The head of the Marquis Borgia household, Orfeo de Borgia, took the stage and began addressing the attendees. Behind him stood his heir apparent. Though the occasion was to celebrate the Conquerors, it was obvious that consolidating the successor’s foundation was also part of the purpose. No one would criticize that as impure. Displaying military prestige and noble lineage both internally and externally was expected of the one who stood at the pinnacle of Labyrinth City.

However, when the speech began to delve into the heir’s introduction, the family’s lineage and its history, it became another matter. Walm felt his interest cool, though most attendees listened earnestly. Assessing the Conquerors was one objective of the ceremony. The other was for those with established interests to strengthen ties with the marquis house. Those without connections would seize the opportunity to gain entry into existing privileges. At the banquet following the ceremony, blinding sums of money, business negotiations, and secret pacts would surely be exchanged. Even Walm could easily imagine it. No world functioned on idealism alone.

Walm’s ears caught a wet, suppressed cough.

He could not tell whether it was due to unfamiliar crowds, the pressure of such formality or simply the endurance of a long speech, but several attendees and guards looked noticeably pale. Among them was even the Deputy Branch Manager of the Bergana Adventurers’ Guild. A shorter speech might have improved the marquis’s popularity.

At last, the speech that had seemed eternal came to an end, and the Three Magic Attack party, the Conquerors of the labyrinth, were finally presented.

The pleasant, varied tones of the pipe organ alone colored the ceremony magnificently. From pipes that nearly reached the arched ceiling, vibrations resonated deep enough to tremble one’s abdomen. The volume rose and fell in accordance with their steps, transforming familiar faces into heroes of legend.

“…Even as a joke, this can’t be dismissed.”

It was quite the production. Even Walm, accustomed to seeing them, found himself captivated by their majestic stride. Sunlight streaming through the stained glass set into the skylights passed through colored panes, casting vivid light along their path. The design that allowed the path of light to emerge depending on the time of day could only be praised as masterful. Walm surmised that the ceremony’s strict time management existed precisely because the path shifted with the sun’s angle.

The visual and auditory spectacle was a success. Every gaze in the Great Hall fixed upon the Three Magic Attack and upon Marquis Orfeo welcoming them. His elegant bearing was such that even renowned stage actors might have burned with envy. Lined up in a row, the party received lavish blessings and praise from the marquis himself.

Then began the presentation of medals modeled after Deep Crimson Bloom, symbol of Labyrinth City. Merrill’s already striking hair and eyes grew even more brilliant beneath the sunlight and with the medal upon her chest. It was a moment overflowing with glory.

As the excitement reached its peak, an alien sound, entirely unsuited to the celebration, rang out.

“What… is that sound?”

It was a discordant noise like clogged sewage reversing, mixed with shrill screeches. It was so grotesque that, judging by the confusion of soldiers and staff, it was certainly not planned. Amid the murmuring crowd, Walm pinpointed the source.

There was not one source.

Unbelievably, the sound was erupting from the throat of the Guild’s Deputy Branch Manager. And it was not limited to him. Guards, guild staff and attendees were affected as well.

“What’s happening? Are they seizing?!”

“Drag them outside first!”

A soldier shouted angrily as guards rushed in to remove those afflicted.

Then, as if resonating with one another, the once-disordered noises synchronized.

Their bodies swelled like balloons…

…and burst from within, all at once.

Translator – Lyxxna