Chương 69: Chapter 65: The VIP of Mistral Below

The sprawling, intricate office of Haven Academy's Headmaster was bathed in the dim, melancholy light of the moon. The large, circular window overlooking the winding, mountainous terraces of Mistral cast long, pale shadows across the room's polished wooden floorboards. Two weeks had passed since the encrypted invitation had been sent across the continental relay. Tomorrow night, Qrow Branwen would walk through the front doors.

Leonardo Lionheart sat heavily behind his desk, his golden Faunus mane looking dull and unkempt. The bags beneath his eyes were deep, bruised shades of purple, painting the portrait of a man who had not known a peaceful night of sleep in months. His hands were clasped together on the desk, trembling slightly as he stared into the dark corners of his own office. He was not alone. Standing a few feet away from the desk, her arms crossed firmly over her chest, was Raven Branwen.

She wore her crimson and black bandit garb, her terrifying Grimm mask resting on her hip. A faint, knowing smirk played across her lips as she watched the Headmaster unravel. It had been Raven's insistence, channeled through Cinder Fall's meticulous planning, that forced Lionheart to send the invitation to her brother.

"I still have questions for you," Raven said, her voice cutting through the silence of the office like a finely sharpened blade. Lionheart didn't look up. He kept his eyes locked on his trembling hands.

"You're not alone in that." Raven scoffed softly, uncrossing her arms as she began to slowly pace the room. She walked directly in front of his desk, the heels of her boots clicking sharply against the wood, forcing him to acknowledge her presence.

"You know," Raven began, her tone laced with a dark, mocking curiosity, "I never expected you would be the one to have the guts to betray Oz. You were always so incredibly loyal. So eager to please. Which makes me wonder... what does she have on you?" Lionheart finally raised his head. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, and filled with a profound, suffocating terror that had long since consumed his soul.

"I'm helping her for the same reason you are," Lionheart whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his treason.

"I'm afraid. We... we can't stop her... no one can."

"That's why I tried to leave when I did," Raven retorted sharply, her chin lifting with defensive pride.

"I'm not afraid. I'm smart. Even with that ridiculous, bald anomaly currently wandering around Vale... he is just a man. Salem is eternal. No amount of brute force can stop the tide."

"You can call it whatever you want, Raven. It doesn't really matter," Lionheart murmured, his voice dropping into a hollow, defeated rasp.

"We're here... helping her." The lion Faunus slumped forward, burying his face in his trembling hands. A heavy, broken sigh escaped his lips.

"I've crossed a line..." Lionheart confessed, the agonizing reality of his actions finally bleeding out into the open air.

"I sent my own Huntsmen into the dark to die. I've done things that Ozpin will never forgive. And he shouldn't! I... I don't know where I go from here." Raven stopped pacing. She leaned forward, placing both of her hands firmly on the edge of his mahogany desk. Her crimson eyes bored into his, burning with the fierce, Darwinian philosophy that had kept her alive in the wilderness.

"Man up!" Raven snapped, her voice harsh and unyielding.

"You did what you had to do to survive. There is no shame in that." Lionheart slowly peered up through his fingers. He looked at the bandit leader, seeing past her aggressive posture to the same, deeply buried dread that haunted his own nightmares.

"Who are you trying to convince?" Lionheart asked softly. Raven's jaw tightened. Her eyes flashed, but she didn't offer a rebuttal. The truth of the question hung heavily between them, impossible to deny. Without another word, Raven pushed off the desk. She turned on her heel, her crimson cloak snapping behind her as she strode out of the office, the heavy wooden doors sliding shut in her wake.

Left entirely alone in the dark, Leonardo Lionheart sadly leaned back in his high-backed chair, letting out a long, trembling sigh as he waited for the inevitable arrival of tomorrow night.

Far beneath the pristine, starlit peaks of Haven Academy, the subterranean depths of Lower Mistral buzzed with the grimy, neon-lit hustle of the criminal underworld. Inside the opulent, heavily guarded VIP penthouse of The Spider's Web, the atmosphere was thick with a very different kind of terror. Lil' Miss Malachite sat rigidly behind a polished mahogany table. The usually confident, untouchable queen of the Mistral syndicate was currently sweating through her expensive makeup.

Her hands were folded neatly in her lap, completely avoiding her signature cigar. Standing directly behind her, looking equally pale and entirely stripped of their usual arrogance, were her twin daughters, Melanie and Miltia. Sitting across from them, casually picking at a massive, decadent plate of high-grade roasted Mistralian boar, was Saitama. He was still wearing the atrocious, spiky brown wig, which sat slightly askew on his head, contrasting violently with his bright yellow hero suit.

Beside him, Neopolitan sat perfectly poised, sipping a glass of sparkling water through a straw, her heterochromia eyes sparkling with absolute, smug satisfaction. It had been over a week since they had claimed the penthouse, and the Spiders had treated them like wrathful deities ever since. Lil' Miss cleared her throat nervously, sliding a thin manila folder across the table toward Neo.

"Trivia, dear," Lil' Miss began, her voice carefully modulated to sound as accommodating and non-threatening as possible.

"As requested. After dedicating our top-tier scouts to the search for the past eight days... we have successfully located your target." Neo's eyes sharpened. She set her drink down and smoothly pulled the folder open. Inside were several grainy, long-distance photographs taken from the rooftops of Mistral. They depicted a woman in a dark red dress, accompanied by a gray-haired man and a green-haired girl, moving quietly through the upper terraces.

"Our spotters confirmed it yesterday," Lil' Miss explained, keeping a very careful eye on the man eating the boar.

"Cinder Fall and her subordinates are currently operating in Upper Mistral. Specifically, they have secured a safehouse within close proximity to Haven Academy." A wide, chillingly beautiful smile stretched across Neo's face. She closed the folder, tapping her gloved fingers against the cardboard. Finally.

"Man, this hair is driving me crazy," Saitama suddenly complained, his flat, nasal voice slicing through the tense criminal briefing. Stolen story; please report. He dropped his fork, reaching up with both hands to aggressively scratch the top of the cheap brown wig. He scowled, completely oblivious to the sudden spike in the room's tension.

"It's so incredibly itchy. And the roots are terribly made. If you don't clean out the pests and completely rip out the bad roots, the whole foundation just gets gross and falls apart." Lil' Miss Malachite's blood ran cold. Melanie and Miltia stiffened, their eyes widening in sheer, unadulterated horror. To Saitama, he was complaining about a five-Lien synthetic hairpiece he bought from a street vendor.

To the leaders of the Spider syndicate, the invincible, god-like entity sitting at their table was delivering a highly stylized, terrifyingly casual mafia threat. Clean out the pests. Rip out the roots. The whole foundation falls apart. Neo paused. She looked at Saitama's annoyed, scratching face. Then, she looked at the pale, sweating faces of the Malachite family. A brilliant, wicked spark of pure opportunistic genius flared in Neo's mind. She gracefully set her teacup down, pulling her Scroll from her pocket.

She typed a quick, sharp message and slid it across the table toward Lil' Miss, her smile turning decidedly lethal. You have been very accommodating. But if you report our presence here to Cinder, or anyone else... my friend will be forced to 'clean out the pests' and 'rip out the roots' of your entire organization. Lil' Miss swallowed a massive lump in her throat, her eyes darting from the text on the screen to the bald man who had literally dismantled her entire syndicate with a single pinky finger.

"You have my absolute, sworn word, Trivia," Lil' Miss promised rapidly, her hands raising in a gesture of total surrender.

"The Spiders are completely blind and deaf to your movements. We saw nothing. We know nothing. You and your... associate... are ghosts."

"Awesome," Saitama mumbled around a mouthful of pork, entirely missing the context of the conversation. He stood up, stretching his arms above his head with a loud, satisfying pop. He looked down at Lil' Miss, offering a genuine, polite nod.

"Thanks for the free rent and the buffet, lady. The pillows here are incredibly soft. Honestly, way better than the dorm beds at Beacon." Lil' Miss forced a weak, trembling smile.

"It... it was our absolute pleasure to host you. Have a safe journey." Please, by the Gods, just walk out that door and never come back. She prayed silently. Neo offered a final, elegant curtsy to the terrified crime boss. She slipped the folder containing Cinder's location into her coat, popped open her pink-and-white parasol, and strutted proudly toward the exit. Saitama trudged lazily behind her, picking his teeth with a toothpick as they left the Spider's Web behind.

The streets of Lower Mistral were a chaotic, neon-drenched maze, but as Saitama and Neo walked toward the central transit hubs, a bizarre phenomenon occurred. The hardened criminals, smugglers, and cutthroats that usually crowded the alleys took one look at the man in the yellow suit and the terrible brown wig, and immediately pressed themselves flat against the brick walls. Thugs actively stepped out of his path, lowering their gazes and holding their breaths until he passed.

During the week they had spent waiting for the Spiders' intelligence, Saitama had gotten bored. And when Saitama got bored, he went looking for cheap grocery sales. In the process of navigating the slums, he had accidentally stumbled into three separate underground turf wars, a massive illegal Dust-smuggling operation, and a hostage situation at a local bakery.

He had neutralized every single threat with a series of annoyed slaps, accidental trips, and casual backhands, utterly devastating the local crime ecology without even realizing he was fighting organized syndicates.

"You know," Saitama noted casually, his hands stuffed into his pockets as a massive, heavily scarred brawler practically dove into a trash can to avoid making eye contact with him.

"The people in this kingdom are incredibly polite. Back in Vale, everyone was always running up to me, screaming, trying to take pictures, and shoving bread in my face. It was super annoying. But here? Everyone just gives you plenty of personal space. It's really nice." Neo, walking a few steps ahead, had to bite her lower lip to keep from bursting into a fit of hysterical laughter. She glanced over her shoulder, her heterochromia eyes dancing with immense amusement at his profound, boundless idiocy.

They aren't being polite, you idiot. They're terrified you're going to accidentally vaporize them. Saitama looked up toward the massive, towering pillars of stone and metal that supported the higher levels of the city.

"So, we're heading up there?" Saitama asked, pointing toward the sunlight breaking through the upper terraces.

"I don't really know anything about this place. Is it basically just a giant staircase?" Neo pulled out her Scroll, typing a brief explanation as they walked. Mistral is built on multiple levels. The higher you go, the richer and more protected it gets. Upper Mistral is where the elites, the Council, and Haven Academy are located. Saitama read the screen, nodding slowly.

"Richer, huh? That means they probably have high-end supermarkets." He reached into his pocket, pulling out the crumpled, deeply cherished piece of paper Sun Wukong had given him. He stared at the hand-drawn banana with intense, renewed hope.

"The monkey kid said I could get a whole bunch for three Lien," Saitama muttered, his eyes narrowing with fierce determination.

"If Upper Mistral has the good stuff, I am definitely cashing this in." Neo rolled her eyes playfully, twirling her parasol. They navigated through the winding streets until they reached the base of a colossal, Dust-powered vertical transit platform. The massive elevator was designed to ferry citizens and cargo up the sheer cliff faces separating the lower slums from the affluent upper terraces. However, standing at the base of the heavy wrought-iron gates were four heavily armored Mistralian guards.

They held long, energized halberds, their expressions stern as they monitored the boarding ramp. Neo and Saitama approached the gate.

"Halt," the lead guard commanded, crossing his halberd with his partner's to block the path.

"Access to Upper Mistral is restricted. State your business and present your authorized transit passes." Neo paused. She didn't have a pass. As a known criminal, her usual method of entry involved stealth, illusions, or bribery. She subtly lowered her hand toward the hilt of her parasol, preparing to cast a localized hallucination to slip them past the checkpoint.

"Transit passes?" Saitama complained, slouching his shoulders as he scratched his wig.

"Are you kidding me? We just want to use the elevator. I'm looking for a specific fruit vendor." The second guard scoffed, eyeing Saitama's atrocious wig and bright yellow spandex with clear disdain.

"This isn't a tourist attraction, pal. No pass, no entry. Go back to the slums before we arrest you for loitering."

"Oh come on," Saitama groaned, his voice carrying the heavy, agonizing weight of a man who just wanted to buy cheap potassium.

"I walked all the way across the city for this. Can't you just let us up? I promise I'll only be like, ten minutes."

"I said, step back!" the lead guard snapped, stepping forward aggressively and raising the butt of his halberd to shove Saitama away. As the guard moved closer, his eyes suddenly caught the distinct, bright yellow fabric of Saitama's suit. He noticed the red gloves. The white cape. And finally, he looked closely at the man's incredibly blank, oval-shaped eyes beneath the terrible wig. The guard froze. His weapon hovered in mid-air.

"Wait a second..." the guard whispered, his face draining of color. He slowly lowered his halberd, his eyes widening in sudden, profound realization.

"Yellow suit... red boots... deadpan expression..." The other guards looked at him in confusion.

"Captain? What is it?"

"It's him," the Captain breathed, taking a rapid, terrified step backward.

"The reports from the lower precinct... the unbelievable police chatter from the last week and a half..." The Captain looked directly at Saitama, his voice trembling with absolute, unadulterated awe.

"Are... are you the Unknown Huntsman? The one who single-handedly dismantled The Mouse and Parrot syndicate? The one who accidentally crushed the Jade Serpents' smuggling ring by tripping into their warehouse? The man who threw the leader of the Pier 4 dust-thieves into the ocean without even blinking?!" Saitama blinked.

"Uh... I think I bumped into some loud guys in an alley a few days ago, yeah. They were trying to steal my groceries." The Captain's jaw dropped. He immediately snapped to attention, executing a flawless, rigid military salute.

"Sir!" the Captain shouted, his voice echoing off the stone walls.

"The local precinct has been trying to identify you for a week! You cleared out three of the most dangerous, deep-rooted criminal syndicates in Lower Mistral entirely by yourself! You have done this kingdom an immeasurable service!" The other three guards, realizing who was standing in front of them, instantly lowered their weapons and saluted as well.

"We are deeply honored by your presence!" the second guard added enthusiastically.

"But... what about our passes?" Saitama asked, pointing a red-gloved finger at the gate.

"Passes?! For a hero of your caliber?!" the Captain laughed nervously, hurriedly rushing forward to personally unlock and throw open the heavy iron gates.

"Please, sir, bypass the protocol! Upper Mistral is open to you! The elevator is yours!" Saitama's face lit up with a mild, pleasant surprise.

"Oh, sweet. Thanks, guys. You're way nicer than the guards back in Vale." Saitama happily strolled past the saluting soldiers and onto the massive wooden platform of the elevator, completely oblivious to the legendary reputation he was currently cementing in a second kingdom. Neo stood at the gate for a second, her pink and brown eyes wide as she stared at the bowing guards. She looked over at the bald man standing on the elevator, currently picking a piece of lint off his cape.

A wide, absolutely delighted smirk spread across Neo's face. She popped her parasol over her shoulder and strutted onto the platform right behind him. She didn't just have a meat-shield. She had an absolute, universal VIP ticket. And she was going to ride it all the way to her revenge.