Nightingale followed the path she had scouted out before, passed through three rooves, and landed straight in the dungeon that the Marquess was held.

Spear Passi heard the sound and stared up with wide eyes. "How... did you get in?"

Nightingale raised a finger to her lips as a sign for silence and limped out of the steel door. Judging from their clothing, the two guards in the pathway were probably followers of the church. She used the Mist to instantly move behind the two men and slit their throats with a dagger—they would never have expected an attack from within the dungeon, so they didn't even turn their heads as they lay dying.

After returning to the dungeon, Nightingale finally had a chance to examine her wound.

The wind-resistant pants that Soraya made for her were cut open, and blood was gushing from a wound on her shin that was half an inch deep. Her enemy's magic whip must have scraped through the pants and cut through her flesh, but thankfully it had not damaged any