I Don't Need To Log Out

"We need to move now. Where did they go?" Leon asked, scanning the area with a hint of urgency.

"June said they'll come on their own," Lei replied.

She had used the system's chat function to send a message, explaining that they had something to take care of and would meet up at the next location by themselves.

It wasn't an unusual decision, but it still left a moment of uncertainty.

Arlon had only taken June and Nyx with him, leaving "Arlon the guide" still present with the group. Without delay, he stepped toward Leon and leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.

After a brief exchange, Leon let out a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. "I see... I get it now." He glanced at the others, then nodded. "We have time anyway, so let's go."

He didn't press further. If Arlon had explained it that way, there was no reason to question it. Zephyrion trusted him, and that alone was enough.

With that, they moved toward their next destination.

---

The man led Arlon and June through a series of narrow, winding streets, the path growing more desolate with each turn.

The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and decay, and the further they walked, the fewer people they encountered. Eventually, they stopped at a dead-end alley.

Discarded crates, broken bottles, and piles of garbage lined the walls, adding to the filth of the dimly lit passage.

A rusted backdoor to what looked like an abandoned store stood at the far end, its wood warped from years of neglect.

The man turned to face them, his expression unreadable. "We're here," he said. "Before we go in, I'll need to take your weapons.

If you enter armed, everyone inside will be hostile toward you." His tone was firm but not threatening, as if he had given this warning many times before.

Arlon and June exchanged a brief glance.

If June took her staff from her inventory, it would expose her as either a player or a high-level mage. Spatial magic wasn't something just anyone could use.

But a high-level mage would be well known in Trion, and she couldn't simply hand over the Infernal Spire—it wasn't an item that could be entrusted to just anyone.

Lying about not having weapons wasn't an option either. They were with the saviors, and it was expected that anyone working with them would carry weapons.

If they claimed otherwise, their guide would grow suspicious.

Arlon subtly sent a message to June through the system, instructing her to stay still.

Nyx was tracking them from above, out of the man's sight, so she remained an unseen advantage.

"Sure, here you go," Arlon said casually, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out two short wands and handed them over. "We just got them repaired today, so I was carrying both."

The man eyed the wands, then looked back at them. "Are you both mages?"

"Of course. We're red-grade Maguses," Arlon replied with confidence.

At the mention of the red grade, the man's eyebrows lifted in mild surprise.

Red was an uncommon grade in the crystal ball assessment—any Magus with at least a red rating would strive to become a full-fledged mage.

"Wow, really?" he said, his voice carrying a hint of envy. "You're lucky. I'm only a yellow grade." His mood dipped slightly, but Arlon already knew the truth. The man wasn't a mage even though he was a Magus—he was an assassin.

Still, Arlon kept his expression neutral.

"Anyway," the man continued, shaking off his moment of self-pity. "Since I have your weapons, we can enter now."

He turned to one of the walls behind the garbage heaps, brushing away a few loose scraps before placing his hand against the surface.

Soft incantations left his lips, barely audible in the silence of the alley.

A few moments later, the wall shuddered, the stones shifting with a grinding noise as a narrow passage opened before them.

"Wow!" Arlon exclaimed, feigning amazement. The man's lips curled into a smug grin at the reaction.

Without hesitation, they stepped inside. The passage was nothing like the grimy entrance—smooth stone walls stretched ahead, forming a tunnel that looked freshly carved.

Lanterns lined the way, their flickering light casting long shadows.

As soon as they entered, the wall behind them slid back into place, sealing them in.

The man gave Arlon a sidelong glance. "Sir, you have the highest grade badge, but I don't think I've seen you here before," he remarked, his voice cautious but not outright suspicious.

He wouldn't act rashly. If Arlon was a real big shot, causing trouble here could put the man's own position within the anti-saviors at risk.

Arlon didn't so much as glance at him. "I'm on a special mission," he said flatly as if the question itself was beneath him.

The man nodded but said nothing more.

June followed closely behind Arlon, keeping silent as she observed everything around her, still trying to piece together what was happening.

Arlon wasn't finished with the man just yet.

His time hunting with Wok and his group had given him a clearer picture of the anti-saviors—or at least, of the recruiter.

From what he had seen, they weren't bad people. Of course, that didn't mean every member shared the same principles. Discover stories at My Virtual Library Empire

Organizations like this always had layers—different factions with different beliefs.

Some might have noble intentions, while others could be using the cause for their own benefit.

His mind drifted to the banquet, to the three Trionians he had met that night.

They hadn't explicitly revealed their identities, but Arlon had a strong suspicion that they were the ones pulling the strings behind the anti-saviors.

If that was true, then it meant they held considerable influence.@@novelbin@@

And yet… he didn't know them. Not really.

That alone was enough to make him cautious. It was easy to trust individuals like Wok, people he had spent time with and could judge based on their actions.

But the higher-ups? At least one of them could have their own agenda, operating in the shadows while the others remained unaware.

Especially now that he had learned about the Kri Folk—the shapeshifters. That knowledge changed everything.

He would start with this place since it was where anti-saviors were born.

"Now that I think about it… didn't you reveal your status as an anti-savior a little too quickly?" Arlon said, his tone casual yet probing.

The man stiffened slightly but kept his expression neutral.

Since Arlon was clearly the superior here, he had every right to question those beneath him. And he intended to use that authority to his advantage.

"I mean," he continued, tilting his head slightly, "I could have been an administrator trying to trick you into exposing the other anti-saviors." His voice was calm, almost amused as if he found the idea ridiculous—but the implication was there.

Arlon wasn't actually trying to threaten the man or make him afraid. That wasn't his goal at all.

Instead, he wanted the man to think he was outsmarting Arlon.

Arlon already knew that no administrator in this region could force anyone to betray the anti-saviors—doing so would create a much bigger issue.

The man likely knew that too, which meant this was the perfect opportunity.

As expected, the man scoffed. "I would never reveal the headquarters' location. Even if they killed me." His words were firm, carrying the conviction of someone who believed himself unshakable.

Inside, Arlon smirked. He was in.

"But you told me you were an anti-savior without hesitation," Arlon pointed out. "I didn't even have to pressure you."

The man blinked, then quickly shook his head. "B-because I knew you were one of us! I could tell the moment I saw you, sir."

He was lying. That much was obvious. But Arlon wasn't about to call him out on it—at least, not directly.

Instead, he simply let the silence linger for a moment before giving a slow nod. "Still… it was a bold move. Not everyone in our line of work is careful. If you had been wrong, it could've cost you."

The man shrugged, trying to appear unfazed. "I don't make mistakes like that."

Arlon's expression shifted, his brows furrowing as if in irritation. For a second, it seemed like he was about to push further—but then he sighed and shook his head as if finally conceding.

"I understand," he muttered.

To the man, it looked like Arlon had tried to corner him, but he had dodged the questions flawlessly—his superior intelligence winning out. And in the end, Arlon had no choice but to accept it.

Satisfied with his own cleverness, the man relaxed, his shoulders loosening. He thought he had just outwitted someone above him.

Exactly as Arlon had planned.