The Shepherds Are Dense

Chapter 151. Popping Champagne at Halftime, Huh?

The call from the Lloyd Society was to inform Aiwass that the attack was set for Tuesday night into Wednesday morning.It was Monday afternoon, meaning the assault would hit at midnight tomorrow.

York, the lawyer, even provided a detailed list of the attackers and their setup: four demon scholars—two at third tier, two at second tier—accompanied by two demon hounds, one flayer demon, and one blade demon.

The lineup was… classic, to say the least.

The flayer demon, nicknamed “Overseer” by players, was a standard demon type, a buff machine that continuously enhanced nearby demons but was fragile itself, typically guarded by spellcasting demons.

Demon hounds, like those in the Pelican Bar dungeon, were artificial demons created by scholars, roughly second-tier in strength. Their advantage lay in high attack frequency, relentless aggression, and fearlessness. Best to kill them instantly, or they’d cling and harass endlessly.

The blade demon was the trickiest. A pure melee demon, it lacked flashy teleportation, control, or ranged abilities—just sheer speed and masterful combat skills. Born from the souls of sword-obsessed killers who died testing their blades or slaughtering the strong, blade demons carried Great Sin Brands.

Weaker and more controllable than other branded demons, they weren’t classified as high-tier. With fewer emerging in modern times, the last batch dated back centuries.

In terms of Path abilities, a blade demon matched a third-tier melee transcendent, but its refined combat prowess and experience boosted its threat by at least one tier. In-game, it was the only low-tier demon—or phantom under level 40—that used variable-tempo attacks, chaining combos with unpredictable pauses and rapid feints. It could read dodges, adjust mid-swing, and target landing spots, with a knack for exploiting weaknesses by enchanting its weapon with the victim’s least-resisted element.

Dodging was nearly useless against it, parrying was risky, and its relentless pursuit made escaping for healing nearly impossible. Its sole flaw was fixated aggro—once it locked onto a target, it never switched. The strategy: control it, then focus-fire to kill quickly, as delays spelled trouble.

As for the four demon scholars, they were low-tier, fragile, and lacked home-field advantage. Left unchecked, though, their ritual-based, stationary spellcasting dealt heavy damage.

This lineup screamed “every man for himself.” A classic NPC team with no disruption or defensive demons, charging head-on for a trade. While they lacked synergy, each unit demanded priority elimination, making the group deceptively troublesome. Killing one let the others shine.

For high-tier combatants, they’d fall to a single skill. But for Aiwass, publicly a first-tier, this was a near-unwinnable setup, even with foreknowledge.

“You said I could handle this myself!” Aiwass snapped. “How am I supposed to counter ?”

“Don’t be mad, Mr. Moriarty…” York stammered over the phone, voice trembling. Aiwass could almost see him wiping sweat with a handkerchief. “That’s why I was frantic when I couldn’t reach you! We didn’t want you actually getting killed!

“But there’s no choice. Vice-President Boca originally planned to send only second-tier scholars to keep the attack low-key, avoiding Avalon’s heightened alert and making officials underestimate us. Internally, he argued the Society wanted to weaken us by sending our people to die, so we should conserve strength.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Aiwass countered. “What’s the problem?”

“It is, and I thought so too… but the President overruled him,” York explained. “He said your status is too sensitive—any attack on you is a major event, so scaling down the assault won’t lower Avalon’s guard. Boca’s reasoning didn’t hold. Plus, since many know you’ve joined the Lloyd Society, a full-force scholar attack could muddy the waters, distancing us from the Noble Red Society and buying time.”

York relayed the leaders’ arguments. “The vote favored the President overwhelmingly.

“Boca suggests you find help or go all out. Your survival is the priority.”

Aiwass clicked his tongue, staying silent.

The President was a smooth talker.

His plan was to throw Aiwass under the bus. If Aiwass, a known Lloyd Society member, was attacked by the Noble Red Society, it could suggest the two groups weren’t closely tied.

The Lloyd Society comprised merchants—timid, self-preserving, yet drawn to bold, high-reward strategies. The President’s logic, appealing to their greed, outshone Boca’s cautious plan.

Good grief, what infighting. Their internal damage outstripped the Supervisory Bureau’s efforts.

Aiwass was a legitimate Lloyd Society member, yet the President didn’t fear him turning traitor?

He squinted, thinking.

Unless… the President planned to abandon the Lloyd Society entirely, siding fully with Noble Red. By ignoring Boca’s second point, he signaled the end of his fence-sitting.

Conversely, Noble Red’s bold push to attack Aiwass might be a ploy to let Avalon’s authorities crush the Lloyd Society for them.

Classic Transcendence Path scheming—already squabbling over Avalon’s spoils before claiming it.

Aiwass’s value made the President wary. His “misdirection” excuse was a facade; his real goal was to avoid being dragged down if Aiwass betrayed them. If Aiwass stayed loyal, it suppressed Boca’s faction. To the President, Boca, with his clear rival faction, was a worse heretic than any outsider.

He wasn’t a pure Transcendent. This “Lloyd” had a strong authoritarian streak, clinging to power. That explained his reluctance to fully join Noble Red, keeping one foot in the Lloyd Society.

How laughable—a merchant with ambition and a thirst for control.

Yet this greed created a crack in the Lloyd Society–Noble Red alliance.

Popping champagne at halftime, huh?

Fine, I’ll open a few more bottles.

“I understand… No holding back, right?” Aiwass replied curtly, hanging up before York could ramble further, feigning anger.

In truth, he wasn’t mad at all.

His lips curled into a pleased smile. “The opportunity’s finally here.”

“The fake-death plan?” Yulia, who’d been holding her breath nearby, asked, worried. “Is it really safe?”

“Trust me, Yuli. I never act recklessly,” Aiwass reassured her, tweaking his plan. “Tomorrow, I’ll invite Princess Isabel to discuss your enrollment. Your grades are more than sufficient; you’ll just need an extra exam.

“I’ll have her come in the afternoon. You’ll stick to her, saying you want to visit the palace. That keeps you safe. You’re so charming, the Princess will adore you.”

“But… what about the assassins at night?” Yulia asked, sharp as ever. “Should I insist on returning later, escorted by palace guards?”

“No need,” Aiwass said with a gentle smile. “I can handle it. You gave me your little butterfly, didn’t you? It’ll protect me.”

“And Miss Shadow and I will too,” Lily added. “Afterward, we may disappear for a bit. Miss Yulia, don’t let anything slip.”

Yulia nodded earnestly. “I’ll do my best.”

Luck was on his side.

Without the President’s greed, Aiwass’s plan had a flaw. Now, that final gap was filled by the President’s own ambition.

“Alastair…” Aiwass murmured, lips curving as if savoring candy, “say hi to Vice-President Boca for me.”

(Chapter End)