I will be crowned king

Carefully closing the cloakroom door, Anson rushed down the spiral staircase of the tower as fast as he could, followed the deep corridor, and ran towards the college gate without looking back.

He only has eleven minutes. After eleven minutes, the girl will find that there is no one in the cloakroom, and then immediately realize that she has been deceived by him!

Time is running out, but Anson is not afraid and does not panic at all... Although it cannot be ruled out that this girl has some kind of special blood power or is also a spell caster, this is St. Isaac's College and the secret club of the black mage. Inside.

Unless she was willing to offend both organizations in order to catch her, she could only use the most basic conventional method - running.

However, this kind of behavior of leaving the meeting early will definitely cause some displeasure to the "Black Mage" Professor Mace Honnard, but this can be remedied after the fact.

Today I received two very important pieces of information: first, a chatty novelist has found a backer to support him in overthrowing the Guards; second, in addition to the Guards, there are other people in Clovis City. The forces began to notice the existence of the black mage.

With these two pieces of information, it is enough for him to win enough trust among the black mages and underground evil organizations...if the luxury of "trust" really exists in this kind of place.

Humming a relaxing tune, Anson finally stood outside the door of St. Isaac's College as he jogged all the way.

Standing on the street with only the gas lights on, Anson, who was in a happy mood, suddenly realized a very serious problem - there were not many taxis on the street at this time.

So...it seems like I can't go back.

Do you have to go back by walking?

St. Isaac's College is actually quite remote... From here, we walk back to Boleman Street, and it will probably be midnight when we get home.

And he didn’t even eat dinner.

On such a cold night, walking home on an empty stomach...isn't it a bit too miserable for myself who has just gained so much?

The cold wind howled through the empty street, making Anson, who was wrapped tightly in his coat and had his hands in his pockets, shiver all over.

Um?

Anson, who vaguely noticed something, suddenly turned his head to look at the deserted street. The thumb of his right hand inserted in his pocket gently clasped his index finger and made a "click!"

Along with a stinging pain in his temples, the scene within a radius of twenty meters suddenly came to his mind.

This is the "secret" skill he mastered from Bloen - using some small movements as a "switch" to control the opening and closing of spellcasters and abilities; hiding his identity as a spellcaster when not necessary .

Anson's initial plan was to use some kind of prop, such as smoking or wearing glasses; but the former is harmful to health, and the latter is to remove the glasses to unblock, and the sense of déjà vu is too strong.

Although in this world and era, there should be no one wearing a cloak and tights to come forward and sue him for copyright infringement... In the end, he chose the simpler method of "breaking his fingers"

He was being targeted.

Seven... no, eleven, their clothes and clothes are slightly different... In addition to the Guards, is there someone else ambushing me?

But if you dare to shoot and kill people near St. Isaac's College, are you really not afraid of the Church of Order?

They were scattered widely, and the streets were too empty. There were no bunkers at all. If they acted rashly, they would be shot to pieces...

Anson stood in the cold wind without changing his expression and made a quick judgment in his mind.

In short, we cannot act rashly for the time being... We must first find a way to induce someone to shoot first, and then see if we can get a chance to disrupt the situation, or consider taking action when a carriage passes by...

At this moment, the sound of rapid footsteps interrupted his thoughts.

"stop!"

The girl who was running wildly stood behind Anson, panting and raising her gun and pointing it at the back of his head. Her slightly undulating voice was full of grief and indignation:

"You liar, how dare you deceive me?!"

Uh...isn't this a bit misleading?

After coughing lightly, Anson remained calm and said: "Dear young lady, I admit that what I did was wrong, but to be honest, I didn't lie to you, I just..."

"Shut up!" The girl pulled the hammer of the revolver with her right hand, and her elegant but sharp words were filled with murderous intent:

"You damn Old God scum, how dare you pretend to be Draco Vertes and try to get information from me... Huh... I have to admit that you did a very good job, very beautiful, and you almost deceived me. …Just a little bit closer!”

"You cunning scumbag, you want to know where you showed your weakness - put your hands up and turn around!"

If I say no, can you just pretend that this didn't happen?

A little helpless, Anson raised his hands above his head and turned around slowly.

Standing in front of him was a girl wearing an exquisite boat-shaped hat. She was wearing an exquisite black silk satin dress that was low-key but luxurious.

Her slightly curly long black hair hangs naturally on her shoulders, a pair of angry eyes are embedded in her delicate, doll-like face, and her upturned red lips are filled with arrogance and pride.

Not sure if it was an illusion, but Anson always felt that the girl in front of him... looked familiar.

"Your disguise is perfect. Even this party has become your cover. No one who has never met Draco Wilters will have the slightest doubt about you." Anson couldn't hear what he was saying. The girl smiled, as if she had controlled the liar in front of her:

"But it's a pity that even if you tried all your traps and even used extremely clever methods to get a lot of information from me, you still have a lot of secrets!"

As if she was deliberately showing off, the girl held up her ironclad evidence: a piece of hair.

"You have a black hair in the hood of your robe that you left in the cloakroom, but Draco Wilters has red hair!"

"I never thought that I would be exposed because of this little mistake, you shameless and cunning old god sect!"

That's right, I never expected that I would be discovered because of this...

Looking at the "trophy" in the opponent's hand, Anson nodded seriously at the opponent: "Yes, you are really awesome!"

"But I still have a little question: Now that you have decided that I am an old god sect, do you plan to catch me like this with just the little toy in your hand?"

Anson, who asked the other party in return, kept looking at the dozen figures lurking around in his mind.

Um? The Guardsman hiding behind the gas lamp pole said something to the person next to him with a surprised look on his face. His eyes should have been looking towards him just now, right?

What's going on? Are the two groups of people ambushing around... not the same group?

"A small toy?" The girl squinted her eyes slightly, and the curvature of her raised red lips deepened:

"Sure enough, the Old Gods are really tougher and more confident than the other; I'm really curious, will you still be as confident as you are now when you are tied to the exhaust valve of the steam engine?"

"Or do a trick and slip away from the eyes of the executioner, the Judgment Knight?"

Someone moved.

Anson raised his eyebrows and twisted the wrist of his left hand, slightly exposing the bayonet handle hidden in his sleeve.

The next second, the girl suddenly raised her gun and took half a step back, her eyes flashing with determination:

“Everyone—do it!”

"I want to live!"