Campione: Strongest# 481: Intel

The prep room was a bit cramped, but the harsh white of the ceiling lamp lit every corner.

Directly beneath it sat a two‑meter table, and along its sides sat one man and seven women — eight people in total, the skewed gender ratio making the whole room feel oddly lopsided.

No one present seemed to care about that, though.

Every gaze was fixed squarely on Haru and Narbareck as they talked.

“The Dark Six have woken up — and now they’re riding Night of Wallachia and a few Dead Apostle Ancestors, turning humans into Dead Apostles on a massive scale.”

“I’m not sure what method he’s using to compress the time needed for the conversion, but by this point… it’s safe to assume almost everyone in Tokyo has already been turned.”

Narbareck’s eyes narrowed, a faint gleam of excitement flickering in them, as if the idea of Tokyo becoming a demonic playground genuinely thrilled her.

In a way, she’d always had a soft spot for Dead Apostles.

Creatures that only needed a bit of blood to keep going and could then be tortured however she pleased — for a connoisseur of pain like her, they were perfect test subjects.

Haru raised an eyebrow, looking at her with tired resignation.

As her direct True Ancestor, he knew her particular kinks all too well.

He gave Narbareck a sidelong look, his tone turning a touch dry.

“Honestly, I was surprised to see you here at all. You didn’t end up under the Dark Six’ control?”

“Ah, that’s your contract’s doing.”

Narbareck shrugged, the corner of her mouth curling up as a faint chill flashed in her crimson eyes.

“The control he tried to exert on me clashed with the bond you put in place. The Church piled on a few secret rites, and the two forces canceled each other out.”

Her gaze kept drifting to Haru’s neck, like she was picking the best angle to swing from.

Haru’s expression said he’d expected nothing less from her.

With his contract and the dominance he held as her True Ancestor, he’d put this purple‑haired girl through just about everything.

They’d gone all‑in on the S&M angle — and for a certain stretch of time, Narbareck had lived more as his slave than as the Burial Agency’s leader.

Now that the contract was gone, it was only natural she’d entertain the idea of cutting his head off.

Haru completely understood that.

Of course, if she actually tried it, he’d hit back.

Narbareck stared at his unconcerned face and felt her eye twitch.

If she could get away with it, she truly would have liked to take his head.

But she wasn’t stupid.

She understood the gap between their actual power perfectly well — if she tried anything, all she’d really do is hand him an excuse to toy with her again.

So she pushed the impulse down and settled for silent, meaningless threats.

Her eyes alone, though, never stopped promising murder.

Haru, for his part, chose to ignore the glare completely.

He rubbed his chin, thought for a moment, then voiced the question that had been bothering him.

“The Church’s classified archives — they’ve got data on the Dark Six, right?”

The World had two great pillars of power, and the Church, with its two thousand years of history, was one of them.

There was no way they didn’t have at least something on the Dark Six.

Worst case, some parts were just redacted or incomplete.

Right now, though, he was dealing with a situation where the Dark Six had hijacked Alaya’s power and even set their sights on Ryougi Shiki.

A direct clash between Haru and them was inevitable.

On one side was the foster mother who had helped him more times than he could count.

On the other was someone he cared about deeply — and whose strength was still climbing with every step.

The Dark Six were threatening his core interests.

If he didn’t take them out, he’d never be able to relax and “play” again.

So he needed intel.

Find their weak points.

Then kill them in one clean strike — that was his goal.

“Intel on the Dark Six? You’re telling me you don’t know already?”

Narbareck gave him a strange look, as if he’d just asked her what the moon was called.

“What?”

Seeing that expression, Haru’s brow rose a fraction.

“Is it really that weird that I don’t know their backstory?”

Narbareck held his gaze for a long second, then reached into the stack of documents on the table and pulled out a roll of yellowed parchment.

“Before I left, that old man in the funny hat — the Pope — tossed this over as a top‑secret dossier.”

Her tone was almost bored.

“It’s all about the Dark Six. Read it yourself.”

She held the parchment out to him, giving it a light shake.

Haru met her eyes briefly, then reached out and took the other end of the scroll.

A soft, milky glow flared across its surface.

The moment the light rose, Haru let out a small sound.

“An identity‑verification barrier, huh.”

He knew this type of spellwork very well.

Almost every grimoire or restricted document he’d ever handled had carried something like it — a safeguard against leaks.

The Church’s thaumaturgy was a little different, but he had a far more convenient way of dealing with their tricks.

A clear, resonant hymn began to spill from his lips as golden light of faith coiled around the arm holding the parchment.

Caren and Ciel both stiffened, pupils shrinking.

Years spent within the Church made their reactions instinctive — they crossed themselves in unison, then pressed their hands together and joined in the hymn in quiet voices.

A faint, holy radiance bloomed around the two girls.

The Church’s sorcery always used the teachings of the “Scripture” as its core.

Now that Haru himself was standing in for the “God” meant to sit at the center of that system, he held absolute authority over the spell — whether he’d actually read the Bible or not.

The moment the barrier came into contact with that light of faith, it unraveled.

The parchment unrolled on its own, the contents spreading open in front of him.

So it really is him. Then why ask something like that?

Narbareck watched the light in Haru’s hand with a frown.

She wasn’t much of a believer, but as the head of the Burial Agency — the Church’s execution squad — she could at least tell which side a person’s faith belonged to.

Haru paid no attention to her confusion.

He lowered his eyes and began to read.