Though the Student Ambassadors of the Collegium were moved about in a great cart with no roof, the chancellors of the Concord sat in a well-managed carriage, following just behind them. The four sat there somewhat silently.

  “Tell me, Cyril…” Sibylle Vantz, chancellor for her kingdom, spoke up. “We’ve been patient because you’re still settling in, but we’d like to know the empire’s position on the new draft of the Treaty of Verne.”

  Cyril had been watching the outside of the carriage, and he didn’t look away as he answered, “I intend to redraft the treaty exactly as it was originally written.”

  Sibylle looked pleased, but Turke Dumane, chancellor of the confederation, scoffed. Marissa Goldhain crossed her arms, but said nothing. In reality, Cyril was barely focused on any of them. He was busy maintaining some extremely draining magic—a dark elemental spell by the name of Dark Doppelganger. This was a spell of his own design, only usable by those with intensely powerful dark affinity.

  A shadow version of Cyril roamed the countryside, scouting on his behalf. He had made great use of this spell in recent years as his body began to fail him. Now, he was using it for a simple purpose—scouting the perimeter for the purpose of keeping the students safe. He had a feeling that, considering it had already happened once before, the demons might turn their sights toward these students again.

  He wouldn’t let that happen.

  “I’m sure that you would prefer the Treaty of Verne be redrafted as it originally was, considering it’s been proven that your empire is infested with demons,” Turke said with a condescending tone. “Nevertheless, we can’t afford to be so relaxed now that we know the truth.”

  Cyril crept up along the hillside, looking up into a tree. What he saw… it made him lose all patience.

  “Be silent,” Cyril said quietly, confirming his observations.

  “Excuse me?” Turke said indignantly.

  Cyril raised his hand. Dark magic swirled, then exploded outward to consume the carriage. All sound except that outside died. The other three were understandably panicked, but Cyril’s focus was unbreakable. He watched the outside like a man possessed.

  After a few moments… no sight could be more certain.

  “It’s you…”

  Parts of Cyril’s body started to flare with darkness, followed shortly by blood. The duke gathered a tremendous bulk of magic in his hand, then thrust it out of the wall of the carriage. A powerful spell of the blackest dark magic erupted out, heading toward a tree in the distance. The dark magic was so powerful that it turned everything in the surroundings colorless, leaving the whole landscape as nothing but shades of gray.

  Moments before the darkness reached the tree, an explosion of pure white light rose to meet it. A shield of holy magic manifested, dispelling the colorlessness that had consumed the surroundings. The dark spell was powerful enough that the tree was blown away immediately, but the shield stood stalwart against the beam of dark energy. Bits of powerful magic bounced off into the landscape nearby, sending great bursts of dust, grass, and debris up into the air and clouded the area.

  Duke Cyril stepped out of the carriage. The moment that his foot hit the ground, dark magic flared again and blood shot out of his leg. He crumpled to one knee, but his gaze never wavered on that hill with the tree. When the dust from the clashing magic finally faded, a lone figure was standing there. He had medium-length white hair, a black cloth mask over his face, and unassuming black clothes dangling with bottles, knives, pouches, and a few trophies taken from monsters. Cyril’s Dark Doppelganger stood behind, preventing escape.

  “Duke Cyril, what is…!” Chancellor Sibylle asked, the quickest to move. She stopped and stared at the man on top of the ridge, who stood there without moving.

  “That man is Belcourt Asheford,” Cyril said, and Sibylle looked terrified. “The First Inquisitor. I fought him but once, and it was enough to leave a memory I could never forget. The students are in danger—tend to them. I suspected this would be a trap of some kind from the beginning,” he said under his breath, then waved her away. “Leave him to me and the instructors they sent as escort. No one else here is near his match. He could kill us all.”

  Sibylle stared at Belcourt, her glance flitting to Cyril. “But your leg…”

  Cyril rose. It bled more. “Freeze it solid. Use your most sturdy ice magic.”

  “What? I can’t—”

  “Just do it,” Cyril said. “The leg is lost to me anyway, and I need to fight now.”

  ***

  Staring at Belcourt Asheford, Lucian was positive that he was on the cusp of a panic attack. His head was swimming, his heart was pounding, and his breathing was labored. He’d nearly died. Had Duke Cyril not spotted him… Belcourt could’ve noticed something. Lucian had designed this entire plan with the basis someone like him might be watching, but to see him here, now?

  You wanted a sequence break, buddy? You got it, Lucian thought, reigning in his panic.

  Belcourt, the First Inquisitor. He wasn’t the last boss—he was the secret one. Defeating him marked the difference between the good end and the bad end. Naturally, that meant he was quite difficult. Not just difficult, either. He was clever enough to trick most people on their first playthrough. It took an astute player to figure out his secret before the game ended. The player would merely seal the First Emperor, not kill him.

  Many claimed the title, but Belcourt was the true right hand of the First Emperor.

  Did he come here for me? Lucian thought. If he did…

  “Looks like you were right,” Rowan said, leaping over the side of the carriage. He ran to the back, opening up a compartment that had their equipment. “Everyone, arm up!”

  Lucian didn’t honestly know if Belcourt was here for him. Either way, he knew one thing for certain. If the Student Ambassadors weren’t there to protect the labor union, they would all die. That would be the spark in the powder keg that triggered a revolt against the imperial government. Miriam realized this, too.

  “Rowan!” Miriam called out. “We’re obviously not this man’s match. We should make the job easy on Cyril and the others and make our way to this spot for the negotiations. There might be something more planned there. It only makes sense.”

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  Rowan considered her words for a second, and then nodded. “She’s right. Chances are they probably intended to attack us there to begin with. Duke Cyril must’ve noticed something was wrong.”

  It was a running joke in the War of Four community that the Collegium was incredibly incompetent, but it seemed that was true. Cyril had noticed something was amiss independently of Lucian’s intervention. One competent person had tipped the scales of the stories completely.

  Ruining my plans even when he doesn’t mean to, Lucian thought. Even still, it might be a blessing in disguise. He definitely wouldn’t have been able to carry out his other plan if Belcourt was watching over his every move. If Belcourt came here for him, there’d never be another opportunity to use the Jeweled Eye. Now, with Cyril and others nearby…

  “We’re accelerating things,” Lucian told Miriam. “No time to waste at all.”

  “Then get me a horse,” Miriam said.

  Lucian found one quickly—there were four leading the carriage. He hopped off, retrieved his Inquisitor’s Spetum, and ran to the front. He cut its restraints, then led it out where Miriam got on. She helped him up, and then without delay, set off. Lucian nearly fell, but he grabbed her waist with one hand while holding the spetum off to the side.

  “Lucian, what are you—!” he heard Rowan shout, but his voice was soon enough cut off by the sounds of the wind and the growing distance between them.

  Lucian would definitely have some explaining to do when this was all over. Cyril’s fight might provide Lucian the only opportunity to use the Jeweled Eye. He had to take that risk. Nothing was going his way. The timeline was spiraling off. Rowan and the Student Ambassadors were capable of protecting the union—hell, they were capable of protecting the whole world—but as he was now, Lucian was only falling ever further behind. If he kept stealing the protagonist’s opportunities, meddling… things might only get worse for everyone involved.

  After using the Jeweled Eye, everything would change. Why should he keep stealing the protagonists’ buffs when he could steal from the antagonist?

  ***

  “Something I need to tell you. You should know that the Black Bloom was modified,” Lucian said as the horse trotted through the narrow mountain passage. “Charlton—he made it correctly. The disease didn’t mutate naturally. It was mutated unnaturally by an outside party.”

  This mountain passage had been treacherous, but there were hidden paths to make the journey much easier. As they took them, Lucian felt the need to say this.

  “That’s… I don’t… why in the world are you telling me this now?” Miriam asked, confused and overwhelmed in equal measure.

  “Just in case,” Lucian said. “That man was Belcourt Asheford.”

  “And he was up against Duke Cyril and some of the gold-ranking instructors from the Collegium,” Miriam said. “He may—”

  “Not one of them could beat him,” Lucian said confidently. “And if, for some god-forsaken reason, he comes back here… not sure I can escape him.”

  Miriam stopped. “What are you saying? We made potions to help our escape.”

  “We did,” Lucian said with a nod. “But I said it before, and I’ll say it again. That man was Belcourt Asheford.”

  Miriam cautiously spurred the horse forward. “You say that like it should mean something to me.”

  “I forget you’re elven sometimes,” Lucian said. “Belcourt was the founder, and the destroyer, of the Inquisition. He pioneered the method to absorb the power of demons to use it against them. He also fell so deep into that power he lost himself, corrupting the entire order.” Lucian gritted his teeth.

  Belcourt had been sort of like a mini boss rush. He had the abilities of all major demonic antagonists—for instance, he had Belhazek’s ability to turn into black smoke. It was limited, but nevertheless potent. Most people found him harder than the First Emperor, even if he was inferior stat-wise. He was just that tricky.

  “Do you know how purified essence came to be?” Lucian asked her.

  “Yes. They’re the corrupted essence of people that demons or monsters have slain,” Miriam said. “When you kill a demon, you free their souls, and they empower you as gratitude.”

  “Belcourt figured out how to absorb the souls from people as demons do,” Lucian said. “He’s mastered both the power of demons and humans. He’s the best, or worst, of both worlds.” Lucian hefted his spetum, arm growing tired from holding it for so long.

  “But you need me to activate the Jeweled Eye,” Miriam said. “So why are you telling me as if you might not get another chance?”

  Lucian swallowed. He hadn’t been thinking clearly.

  “Whatever happens, now you know,” Lucian said. “I wish I could help you more, but that’s really all I know. I didn’t study the details of the cure.”

  “Cure… you said ‘cure?’ it exists?” Miriam said.

  “Yeah,” Lucian said, looking back. “And you can make it. You have, in fact.”

  Miriam looked deeply affected. She spurred the horse on faster. “Then let’s hurry up and finish this so I can get back to work!”

  Lucian smiled. She led them onward through the mountain path until it opened up. Looming above was an abandoned stronghold, its dark stone partially merged with the mountain. The monastics of Heavenwatch Monastery were gathered here, alongside Aurelia. Usually, the protagonist made it to this place after mission after mission of investigation. Lucian was doing the grand finale of the Riverran arc right away.

  This place was where the player got the first hint as to what the First Emperor was planning. The First Emperor planned to take the Jeweled Eye here after it was plundered. But now, Lucian had long ago beaten him to that.

  “Right.” Lucian dismounted, then walked up to them. “Any troubles along the way?”

  “None,” Brother Crane said.

  “Then I won’t waste time.” He offered his hand to Aurelia.

  Aurelia took his hand wordlessly. He unlocked the Mentor’s Seal. She didn’t transform right away, but she took a deep breath as if full of power once more.

  “Just remember… it’s unlocked, not removed,” Lucian said.

  The only reason he tolerated unleashing Aurelia was that the Mentor’s Seal was a very powerful thing, preventing her from so much as harming him. There was still some risk in this, but it protected him from Aurelia personally.

  “Will you tell us what this place is, finally?” Aurelia said, looking at the abandoned stronghold. “This place is at the foot of our monastery’s mountain, I’m sure of it.”

  Lucian walked up to the busted doors of the stronghold. He placed both hands on it and threw it open. A wave of heat jumped out at them, as well as a distortion in the air. It was difficult to see deeper beyond.

  “This is a portal to the Hells,” Lucian said, looking back.

  Aurelia’s eyes widened. All of the others were similarly frightened, except Miriam. She was the only one he told.

  “You told me… told me this was just a demon outpost,” Aurelia said, her voice shaking.

  “It is.” Lucian turned to it.

  He wanted his sequence break. Well… he was even doing his sequence break out of sequence.

  The Hells. Lucian should be scared… but these sections were his favorite in the entire game. How many times had he replayed this mission? As a challenge runner, as a speedrunner, the Hells were his favorite segments, always. And now, it had a true reward at the end of it all. Something that could make him a force to be reckoned with, finally.

  Lucian took the first steps forward.

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