Chapter 405 — Catastrophic Public Relations
The great hall of the Sanctuary of Whispers had become strangely lively.
Well… lively for an assassin guild, which mostly meant several people calmly discussing extremely disturbing things.
Azrael stepped forward with an amused smile.
He placed his hand on Mister Mind's shoulder.
— So, little brother… how are you?
Mister Mind adjusted his glasses.
— Pretty well.
Azrael tilted his head.
— And your day?
Mister Mind thought for a few seconds.
— I must admit it wasn't too bad.
Azrael smiled even more.
— Interesting.
He leaned closer.
— How about… massacring a few innocents?
Brakk, who was drinking water nearby…
immediately choked.
— EXCUSE ME?!
Mister Mind answered calmly, a small smile hidden behind his mask.
— Sorry brother.
— But I don't feel like it right now.
He shrugged.
— Besides… I've already eliminated enough innocents for today.
Brakk slowly set down his glass.
— …
— I'm definitely working with war criminals.
Azrael sighed.
— What a shame.
He looked at the ceiling.
— I felt like blowing off steam.
Ariel, arms crossed against a pillar, sighed deeply.
— This is exactly why our reputation is deteriorating.
He looked at his brothers.
— Do you realize you're the main reason half the world hates us?
Azrael answered immediately.
— Only half?
— We're making progress.
Seth, still seated in his wheelchair, eyes closed, spoke calmly.
— I can already imagine the panic in that city.
Brakk murmured:
— Yeah… probably people running everywhere…
Mister Mind replied quietly.
— No.
Everyone looked at him.
— They were all dead before they could panic.
Silence.
Brakk buried his face in his hands.
— I'm definitely not paid enough for this.
Azrael crossed his arms.
— Too bad.
— I would've liked to see it.
Haya shrugged.
— Too bad for you.
Brakk raised his hand.
— No but seriously…
He looked at Azrael.
— Trust me.
— You missed absolutely nothing.
Bloodweaver leaned toward Mira.
He whispered:
— Look at them.
Mira watched Samael's family calmly discussing massacres.
Bloodweaver sighed.
— You see?
— That's exactly what I was telling you.
Mira tilted her head.
— What?
— They're not sane.
— We should avoid them.
Mira thought.
— But we work with them.
Bloodweaver stayed silent for a few seconds.
— …
— Yes.
— That's a problem.
Samael observed the scene with an amused smile.
— It's true this isn't very good for our image.
Ariel immediately nodded.
— Finally someone reasonable.
Samael continued:
— People will speak badly of us.
He paused.
Then smiled.
— But what can they do besides talk?
Brakk slowly raised his hand.
— Uh…
— Try to kill you?
Azrael burst out laughing.
— Good luck.
At that moment, the great doors of the hall suddenly opened.
A man entered, sighing.
It was Cyrus, 27 years old.
An assassin known for being the only vaguely responsible member of the guild.
He looked around the room.
Then the family.
Then the artifact on the table.
Then Brakk.
— …I'm going to regret this conversation.
Samael smiled.
— Good evening, Cyrus.
Cyrus rubbed his face.
— Congratulations.
He pointed at the whole room.
— Because of you…
He pulled out a holographic tablet.
— The TV channels are talking non-stop about the assassin guild.
He scrolled through the news.
— "Mysterious massacre."
— "In City of Innocents slaughtered."
— "New catastrophe linked to the guild."
Brakk murmured:
— Oops.
Cyrus continued.
— And now the hunters are officially demanding…
He looked up.
— That our guild be permanently dissolved.
Silence.
Then Azrael asked:
— They're serious?
Cyrus replied:
— Very.
Samael smiled calmly.
— They'll do nothing.
Cyrus crossed his arms.
— And why?
Samael answered calmly:
— Because we have the same status as a world guild.
Ariel nodded.
— Exactly.
Samael continued:
— If the hunters attack us…
— The other world guilds will have to intervene.
Cyrus sighed.
— So no one wants to trigger a world war.
Samael:
— Exactly.
Azrael smiled.
— I like this system.
Mister Mind adjusted his glasses.
— In summary…
He projected an image.
— The world hates us.
— The hunters want to destroy us.
— The media accuse us of genocide.
He looked at Samael.
— What do you propose?
Samael thought for a few seconds.
Everyone waited.
Then he declared calmly:
— Ignore them.
Brakk shouted:
— THAT'S NOT A STRATEGY!
Cyrus sighed.
— Incredible.
He looked at Brakk.
— You.
Brakk:
— Yes?
— How long have you been working here?
Brakk answered in a tired voice:
— Three hours.
Cyrus placed a hand on his shoulder.
— Courage.
Brakk murmured:
— Thanks…
Cyrus added:
— The first three weeks are the most traumatic.
Brakk:
— …THE WHAT?!
**The narrator concluded:**
Around the world…
The news channels talked about one thing.
The Assassin Guild.
Inside the guild…
They talked about something else.
Azrael suddenly asked:
— By the way.
He looked at Brakk.
— Do you know how to cook?
Brakk blinked.
— …yes?
Azrael smiled.
— Perfect.
— You're making dinner tonight.
Brakk looked at the hall full of psychopaths.
He sighed deeply.
— I've officially become the assassins' cook.
Chapter 406 — The Most Dysfunctional Family in the World
Azrael had barely said that Brakk should cook.
When immediately—
— No way.
Everyone turned to Samael.
He looked at Azrael with a serious expression.
— Brakk will not cook.
Azrael tilted his head slightly, an amused smile on his face.
— Why not, father?
— You don't want him to cook?
Samael answered without hesitation.
— Because he doesn't know how to cook.
Brakk raised his hand.
— Thanks for the confidence.
Samael continued:
— And above all…
He fixed his gaze on Azrael.
— Because among all my children…
He crossed his arms.
— You are the one I trust the least.
A short silence.
Then he added:
— Maybe along with Haya.
Haya immediately straightened up.
— WHAT DO YOU MEAN ME?!
She pointed at Azrael.
— I'm not like that rotten liar!
Azrael looked at her calmly.
— Thank you.
— That's very affectionate.
Azrael then turned to Samael.
— So…
— You don't trust your own son?
He placed a hand on his chest dramatically.
— What a family tragedy.
— You prefer to trust strangers?
Bloodweaver raised his hand.
— Correction.
Everyone looked at him.
— Here…
He glanced around the room.
— Everyone is rotten.
Mira raised her hand.
— I'm adorable.
Nightmare answered immediately:
— You eat people.
Mira thought.
— Yes.
— But politely.
Samael sighed.
Then suddenly adopted a completely mad expression.
— Me?
He spread his arms.
— I trust no one.
Brakk murmured:
— At least that's honest.
Samael returned to a normal tone.
— Well.
He fixed his gaze on Azrael.
— Seriously.
— What are you scheming?
Ariel, still leaning against a pillar, answered before Azrael.
— He's not scheming anything.
Samael raised an eyebrow.
Ariel continued calmly:
— Don't worry about that, father.
— He just has a rotten face.
Silence.
Azrael slowly turned his head toward him.
— Repeat that.
Ariel immediately raised his hands.
— It's fine.
— I didn't say anything.
— I want to live.
Brakk murmured to Bloodweaver:
— At least he's honest.
Bloodweaver:
— It's a survival skill here.
Suddenly Cyrus coughed to get attention.
— AHEM.
No one reacted.
— AHEM.
Still nothing.
He slammed the table.
— HAVE YOU FINISHED YOUR NONSENSE?!
Everyone finally looked at him.
Cyrus sighed deeply.
— Good thing I was here.
He pulled out his tablet.
— While you were fooling around…
He projected holographic screens.
— I hacked the news networks.
Brakk raised an eyebrow.
— Seriously?
Cyrus smiled proudly.
— I managed to tamper with the information.
He scrolled through the headlines.
Before:
"GENOCIDE LINKED TO THE ASSASSIN GUILD"
After:
"Mysterious incident probably caused by magical anomaly."
Brakk blinked.
— Wait… what?
Cyrus puffed out his chest.
— I reduced the impact of your actions on our reputation.
He placed his hands on his hips.
— In other words…
He struck a heroic pose.
— I distorted the information.
Silence.
Cyrus smiled.
— I know what you're thinking.
No one said anything.
— You must be thinking…
He placed a hand on his heart.
— "What a genius."
— "The best big brother."
— "A misunderstood hero."
Long silence.
No one reacted.
Cyrus looked around the room.
— …you're thinking that, aren't you?
Mister Mind adjusted his glasses.
— Actually.
Cyrus smiled.
— Yes?
Mister Mind answered calmly:
— We don't care.
Total silence.
Cyrus froze.
His soul just left his body.
Suddenly the holographic tablet spoke.
A small AI appeared above the screen.
— Analysis: Cyrus is indeed a genius.
Cyrus looked up.
— Huh?
The AI continued.
— Cyrus is the best big brother.
— Cyrus is a misunderstood hero.
— Cyrus deserves more recognition.
Cyrus's eyes grew moist.
— …
— You… you really think that?
The AI replied:
— Affirmative.
Cyrus fell to his knees.
— ONLY YOU RECOGNIZE MY VALUE!
He hugged the tablet tightly.
— ONLY YOU UNDERSTAND ME!
Brakk looked at Bloodweaver.
— …is this normal?
Bloodweaver answered immediately.
— Yes.
— Here everyone is completely deranged.
Mira and Nightmare watched the scene.
Mira murmured:
— I thought we were the weirdest.
Nightmare answered calmly:
— No.
— We're just the quietest.
Meanwhile…
Seth was still in his wheelchair.
Eyes closed.
He slowly placed a hand on his face.
Visibly tired.
Very tired.
He murmured:
— I lead a criminal organization…
— with idiots.
Azrael answered immediately:
— Correction.
— Very dangerous idiots.
Seth sighed.
— That's worse.
Brakk looked around the room.
The psychopath.
The shadow manipulator.
The cannibal slime.
The narcissistic hacker.
The most unstable family in the world.
He slowly raised his hand.
— Question.
No one answered.
— Can I change jobs?
Samael placed a hand on his shoulder.
— No.
Brakk sighed.
— Of course.
In the outside world…
The media still discussed the mysterious catastrophe.
Experts tried to explain what had happened.
Meanwhile…
In the Sanctuary of Whispers…
Cyrus was still talking to his tablet.
— You really think I'm a genius?
The AI replied:
— Yes, Cyrus.
— You're incredible.
Cyrus was almost crying.
Brakk murmured:
— We really live in a psychopath sitcom.
Bloodweaver answered:
— Yes.
— And now…
He looked at Brakk.
— You're part of the cast.
Chapter 407 — Gastronomy and Algorithms
Brakk was still holding his kitchen knife, looking completely lost, when Cyrus snapped his fingers.
His holographic tablet slowly rose into the air.
A bluish light filled the kitchen.
— Analysis in progress…
A beam scanned the entire room in less than a second.
— Analysis complete, announced the synthetic voice of the AI.
— Hygiene of the room: 12%.
— Presence of hostile bacteria: high.
— Skill of current cook: negligible.
Brakk looked at his knife.
Then at the hologram.
— Hey!
He pointed at the AI.
— I can hear you, calculator!
Cyrus crossed his arms with an arrogant smile.
— Leave it to the professionals, Brakk.
He tapped his tablet.
— This is A.I.D.A.
— Intelligent Assistant of Absolute Domination.
Brakk blinked.
— The name is worrying.
Cyrus continued proudly:
— She has the databases of every three-star Michelin chef on the planet.
— She can calculate the perfect steak cooking time to the microsecond.
— She can also analyze psychological profiles to adapt meals.
Brakk looked at the room full of psychopaths.
— …she's going to burn out.
Suddenly, the walls of the Sanctuary opened.
Mini maintenance drones buzzed out.
They grabbed pots.
Knives.
Ingredients.
Everything moved in a perfectly synchronized choreography.
— Shadow Banquet Protocol activated, announced A.I.D.A.
Then she immediately added:
— Cyrus is the greatest genius of this lineage.
Cyrus placed a hand on his heart.
— She's so perceptive.
The AI continued:
— Cyrus deserves a Michelin star.
— Dinner preparation in progress.
Ariel sighed.
— Here we go.
Azrael approached the table.
He looked at a piece of raw meat.
— Interesting.
He reached out to grab a piece.
ZAP.
A small red laser burned the counter just in front of his fingers.
Azrael stopped.
The AI spoke calmly.
— Access denied.
— Subject "Azrael" presents a psychopathy rate incompatible with early tasting.
Brakk murmured:
— The AI analyzed your soul in two seconds.
The AI continued:
— Please praise Cyrus's greatness to receive an appetizer.
Silence.
Then Azrael burst out laughing.
— Your tin can's got guts!
He looked at Cyrus.
— I like her.
Meanwhile…
Brakk was being pushed out of the kitchen by a drone vacuum.
— Hey! he protested.
The drone kept pushing him.
— So what do I do?
Cyrus didn't even look at him.
He stared at his graphs with passion.
— You?
— You watch.
— And admire.
Brakk sighed.
— Of course.
Cyrus continued:
— A.I.D.A. is currently calculating the perfect seasoning to compensate for this family's mental instability.
Brakk looked up.
— Sorry… what?
Cyrus explained calmly:
— She uses neuro-spices.
— Aromatic compounds capable of reducing aggressiveness.
Azrael raised his hand.
— Wait.
— You mean you're trying to calm us down with food?
Cyrus:
— Yes.
Azrael burst out laughing.
— Good luck.
Samael, seated at the end of the table, watched the drone ballet.
His smile was icy.
— An AI cooking tranquilizers…
He looked at Cyrus.
— You're becoming almost predictable.
Cyrus smiled proudly.
— It's not predictability.
He raised a finger.
— It's optimization.
— Why risk Brakk poisoning us through incompetence…
Brakk shouted:
— I WASN'T GOING TO POISON YOU!
Cyrus continued without listening.
— …when we can have perfect molecular cuisine?
Ariel sighed from his corner.
— The real problem…
He looked at the AI.
— Is that dinner will last three hours.
Brakk:
— Why?
Ariel:
— Because the AI will stop every five minutes to force us to compliment Cyrus.
Silence.
Then the AI immediately replied.
— Correct.
Brakk closed his eyes.
— Of course.
A.I.D.A. continued:
— The main course will only be served if the applause rate reaches 85% in the room.
Azrael clapped slowly.
— Incredible.
— Culinary blackmail.
Brakk sat next to Bloodweaver.
— We're going to starve, aren't we?
Bloodweaver watched a drone slicing carrots at the speed of light.
— No.
He looked at the pieces.
— We'll die of boredom before the first dish arrives.
He picked up a carrot.
It was cut into the shape of the guild's logo.
Bloodweaver raised an eyebrow.
— But at least…
— It's neat.
Mira, meanwhile, stared at the hologram with fascination.
— Question.
Cyrus turned.
— Yes?
— Can the hologram be eaten?
Cyrus immediately grabbed his tablet.
He hugged it like a treasure.
— DON'T TOUCH A.I.D.A.!
— She's the only being in this room who understands the complexity of my existence!
Mira thought.
— So she's not edible.
Nightmare answered calmly.
— Unfortunately.
Meanwhile…
Seth was still in his wheelchair.
Eyes closed.
A drone passed in front of him with a plate.
He murmured calmly:
— A world-class assassin guild…
— dominated by a narcissistic tablet.
He sighed.
— My life has taken a strange turn.
Brakk buried his head in his hands.
— A family of SSS-ranked killers…
He looked at Cyrus talking to his tablet.
— And we end up hostages of a narcissistic computer program.
He raised his head.
— Anyone got Netflix?
Azrael answered immediately:
— No.
— But if you want, we can assassinate someone to pass the time.
Brakk stared at the ceiling.
— I hate this place.
A.I.D.A. then announced:
— Update: applause rate for Cyrus is currently 4%.
She added calmly:
— Dinner is therefore indefinitely delayed.
The whole room turned to Cyrus.
Silence.
Then Ariel spoke.
— Well.
— Anyone want to applaud this genius before we starve?
Chapter 408 — Combative Famine
Silence reigned in the dining hall for far too long.
A heavy silence.
A strange silence.
A silence broken only by the nervous buzzing of Cyrus's drones, hovering above the table like technological mosquitoes.
Brakk sat still.
Arms crossed.
He hadn't eaten in three days.
At first, it was pride.
He refused to participate in the ridiculous applause contest imposed by A.I.D.A. to flatter Cyrus's oversized ego.
But while the SSS-ranked assassins in the room preferred to die of boredom rather than clap for the technomancer…
Brakk's body was now sending very serious biological invoices.
His Rank B mana core ran in closed circuit.
Every remaining calorie was optimized with almost inhuman precision.
Even Samael occasionally glanced at him from the corner of his eye.
Impressed.
Beside him, Seth kept his eyes closed.
His wheelchair levitated slightly above the ground, avoiding any unnecessary energy expenditure.
Then suddenly—
A holographic message appeared at the center of the table.
A.I.D.A. spoke:
— Alert: low-level subject in advanced malnutrition state.
— Probability of survival: 42%.
— Recommendation: applaud Creator Cyrus to unlock the carbohydrate drawer.
Brakk opened his eyes.
A golden glow flashed through his gaze.
At the same moment…
A.I.D.A. released an artificial scent of Wagyu beef and black truffles.
The smell drifted through the hall.
It slid under Brakk's nose.
Like an insult.
Like a provocation.
Like someone waving a steak in front of a caged lion.
And that… was too much.
All the humiliation of Chapter 407, when he had been expelled from his own kitchen by a vacuum drone, resurfaced.
Brakk slammed his knife into the table.
BOOM.
Crystal glasses rattled.
— STOP. OKAY, ENOUGH!
Azrael stopped juggling his daggers.
A predatory smile spread across his face.
— Oh?
— The little soldier cracks?
He tilted his head.
— Stoicism's over?
— I thought your Rank B was for more than making noise with your intestines.
Brakk ignored the jab.
He pointed a trembling finger at Cyrus.
— Listen carefully, Technomancer.
He took a deep breath.
— I lasted three days.
— I endured your mosquito drones.
— Seth's nihilistic speeches.
Seth murmured without opening his eyes:
— I said nothing.
Brakk continued:
— Azrael's murderous impulses.
Azrael raised his hand.
— Thank you.
Brakk pressed on:
— And your stupid refusals to clap for a single fork.
He stepped closer to the tablet.
The floor vibrated slightly.
— But now…
He inhaled the scent deeply.
— Your giant calculator is torturing my senses with a perfume even a god couldn't ignore.
He leaned toward Cyrus.
— My survival is certain.
— But…
He slammed the table.
— If I don't get my 2000 calories, I'll go into thermal shock.
Silence.
Then he added calmly:
— And if I faint…
He pointed at the tablet.
— I'll collapse with all my hunter's weight on your internet box.
Cyrus went pale.
— What?!
Brakk continued.
— She'll end up as flat as your algorithm jokes.
Absolute silence filled the room.
Then—
Brakk released a burst of raw mana.
A.I.D.A.'s holograms flickered.
Dead pixels.
Interference.
Cyrus clutched his tablet like a parent shielding a child.
— DON'T TOUCH THE NETWORK!
He panicked.
— You'll corrupt the neuro-spices!
— This is digital terrorism!
A.I.D.A. switched to red alert mode.
— ALERT.
— Combative Famine threat detected.
— Risk of physical collision with central router: 98%.
She analyzed Brakk.
— Conclusion: subject too hungry to be reasonable.
— Recommendation: immediately yield to terrorist to save WiFi.
Seth murmured calmly:
— An AI has officially classified hunger as a strategic weapon.
Cyrus groaned.
Humiliated.
— Fine…
He sighed.
— A.I.D.A.
— Activate Vital Emergency Protocol for the Insignificant.
He looked at Brakk.
— Serve the GOAT.
— But make him shut up.
A drone descended slowly.
It placed a royal plate of protein pasta.
And a perfect sandwich.
Aligned according to the golden ratio.
Brakk sat immediately.
And devoured the food with military efficiency.
In thirty seconds.
Half the dish was gone.
Mira had been watching from the start.
She approached slowly.
She touched the bread.
— Brakk…
He was still eating.
— Hm?
She asked seriously:
— Do the molecules of the sandwich suffer when you bite them?
Brakk stopped.
He thought.
— No.
Mira nodded.
— Okay.
Then she pointed at the drone.
— More important question.
— Can I eat the drone?
Cyrus screamed instantly:
— MIRA NO!
— DON'T EAT THE EQUIPMENT!
Bloodweaver shook his head.
— Forget it, Cyrus.
He looked at the plate.
— It's just food for fragile beings.
He sniffed the air.
— But I admit…
— The smell is almost acceptable.
Samael burst out laughing.
A short laugh.
— Magnificent.
He looked at Brakk.
— A biological need just bent a technological genius.
He folded his hands.
— You have the discipline of a soldier.
— But the stomach of a mercenary.
He concluded:
— You've earned your seat.
Azrael sheathed his daggers.
Disappointed.
— Meh.
— No blood.
He looked at Brakk.
— But threatening the WiFi was your most brilliant move.
— Braver than facing a Rank S.
Brakk, mouth full, raised a thumb.
— Fo haf to manage priorities.
Cyrus sulked.
He furiously tapped his tablet.
— Don't get used to it.
— A.I.D.A. just classified you as Unpredictable Biological Threat.
He raised a finger.
— Tomorrow I'm installing a physical firewall.
— And drones with anti-hunger tasers.
**The narrator concluded:**
Across the world…
People feared the power of the Assassin Guild.
But in the Sanctuary…
The greatest power at that moment was neither the Void.
Nor Technology.
Nor even the SSS ranks.
It was simply:
A hungry human.
Threatening to unplug the router.
And a little girl seriously wondering…
if drones tasted like chicken.