Hunter’s Bar. Karl the Mad ordered a glass of Firewater, his gaze sweeping over the bounty wall.

  Business was still booming. Quite a few drunks were talking about what had happened today in the Queen’s District, spittle flying as they spoke—like they had personally witnessed the magician’s escape performance.

  “Something’s off lately.”

  Karl glanced toward the bar. Not only had the former owner, Mr. Elvander, vanished, but now even Mr. Balkin was gone.

  He drained his drink in one swallow, pulled out a few banknotes, pinned them beneath the glass, and stood up to leave.

  Just then, a man in black brushed past him.

  Karl’s nose twitched. He caught a heavy stench of blood. A dreadful sensation spread, and even the surrounding darkness seemed to grow denser.

  That man has to be trouble.

  Karl reached into his coat, fingers closing around his revolver.

  Boom!

  A horrific explosion erupted inside Hunter’s Bar behind him.

  Fire shot into the sky. A shockwave and blast of heat flung Karl into the air, sending him rolling across the ground several times. His back was a bloody mess.

  With violent ringing in his ears, Karl forced himself upright. Staring at the bar engulfed in flames behind him—and the crowd shouting all around—his expression turned utterly blank…

  The castle hall.

  Lily and Jessica were still keeping their stall, and in their idle chatter they brought up Elvander again.

  “I heard that Mr. Elvander is a real big shot. Haven’t seen him lately. And that dagger he brought last time was pretty incredible, right, sis?” Jessica looked at Lily. “That dagger must’ve been forged by Mr. Elvander himself. He’s an Artisan!”

  “Don’t mention him to me. A man who forges something that indecent can’t be a good person!”

  Lily was practically sputtering with indignation.

  Jessica tilted her head, smiling. “It always feels like you get weird whenever you talk about Mr. Elvander. Sigh… when are we going to open the Third Sephiroth?”

  Lily shook her head and looked into the flow of people.

  Maybe it was her imagination, but tonight’s crowd seemed larger than last night’s. Some of them moved strangely—suspiciously.

  Just as Lily was about to warn Jessica, she saw a large wave of people emerge from the passageway.

  Most of them wore uniform black outfits. Their movements were crisp and disciplined, as if they’d received specialized training.

  At that moment, an eerie silence fell over the market. Many Transcendents began to tremble.

  “It’s the Bureau!”

  “It’s the Occult Constabulary!”

  “The hyenas are here!”

  Then a scream shattered the stillness. Lily didn’t even bother with the materials on the table—she grabbed Jessica’s hand and bolted.

  “Begin.”

  Xistos withdrew his gaze from the pair of sisters fleeing in panic. In his right hand, he clenched an arcane artifact shaped like a tin loudhailer. “Transcendents are also ordinary people; ordinary people possess no transcendent ability. Therefore, local Transcendents will lose their transcendent abilities. Proof… established!”

  In an instant, every Transcendent in the market felt the mystery drain from the surroundings. Most of their abilities failed outright!

  “Squads One and Two—seal every exit. Everyone else, with me to the third floor.”

  Heisinger bellowed, a fierce, delighted grin spreading across his face.

  “People of the Bureau—are you going to violate our old agreement and wage total war against the Black Queen District?”

  A thunderous voice shook everyone’s eardrums. On the wall of the castle hall, an enormous face surfaced. Bricks bulged and shifted, assembling themselves into Havier’s likeness.

  “Havier, you crossed the line first.”

  Xistos sighed. “If you’d only built a market, that would be one thing. But the logistics system you created carries too much influence. Even the other holders of the Black Queen District are jealous. You do not represent the whole Black Queen District. Right now, we’re merely clearing rats from the sewers. You want war—we’ll give you war!”

  The next day.

  William carried a paper bag packed full of bread and vegetables. The stack of food was so high it nearly filled his vision.

  “When I get back, I’m going to suggest to Mr. Morley that we hire a couple cooks and maids. I can’t do everything by myself—I’m going to die from exhaustion.”

  Passing a street-corner newsstand, he suddenly stopped.

  A Scholar’s enhanced thinking let him stay clear-headed even while busy, and he could distinctly pick out the chatter around him.

  “Was it that Hunter’s Bar?”

  “That’s the one. There was a gas explosion last night. A lot of people died…”

  “We should write to the city government and demand they replace the old gas lines.”

  “Hunter’s Bar… that place did great business, but there were always strange people coming and going. I think it wasn’t an accident—it was a gang hit!”

  …

  William’s expression went blank. His feet turned of their own accord, carrying him toward Hunter’s Bar.

  The street was already cordoned off by police, with warning tape strung up. Bodies were being pulled from the ruins one after another, covered with white sheets and carried away.

  A mortuary worker stumbled. A charred arm slid limply from a stretcher…

  Standing among the onlookers, William stared—and felt his breath catch.

  His hands and feet began to tremble uncontrollably. When he noticed a few odd figures roaming nearby with ill intent, the shaking worsened.

  I… they meant to hit the bar… If I were still working there, I’d be dead for sure!

  They might have eyes nearby—looking for me?

  No. Don’t be afraid… I’m the manservant Walson now.

  Feeling the human-skin mask against his face, William finally steadied himself.

  Yes. I’m just an ordinary manservant. I heard about the blast while buying supplies, got curious, and came over to look. I’m mixed in with all these people—totally unremarkable. Nothing will happen.

  Silently recalling a few books on acting he’d read in the grammar-school library, William turned his steps away and muttered, “If I don’t get back, I’ll get yelled at again.”

  He hugged the bag close and fled the scene at once.

  No. 27 Phoenix Street.

  “Mr. Morley.”

  William entered and found Javon. “Something happened to the bar. I came back carefully—I watched my surroundings. No one followed me.”

  “Whether you were followed isn’t for you to decide.”

  Javon tossed a coin, glanced at it, and then indifferently shook his head. Compared with the message Havier had sent last night—the Bureau raiding The Displaced Castle—the bar was a minor matter.

  The key point is that it wasn’t retaliation from the Cult of Desire at all. It was the Bureau’s move—almost made me think the Bureau was a dog kept by the Cult of Desire!

  But the Bureau is a dog. So the only ones who can make it move are those people… Looks like the Cult of Desire has serious influence at the top of the kingdom.

  Everything had happened too quickly, forcing Javon to suspect that the God of Suffering was borrowing the Bureau’s hand to retaliate!

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Verdant City.

  No. 1 Greenforest Avenue, the Sothos Museum.

  Sylvia’s air had grown ever more mature and capable—like a professional female manager—as she processed documents in her office.

  Over this period, she had fully mastered the museum’s operations, and had also come under the protection of the local Bureau of Occult Affairs. She was gradually gaining recognition in Verdant City’s upper circles, though there were still rumors…

  All in all, things were going fairly well.

  “Director… Attorney Rogel is here to see you,” Sylvia’s assistant knocked and entered, reporting.

  “Bartolo?” Sylvia looked up, slightly surprised.

  It had been some time since she’d seen the lawyer who had helped handle the museum’s property rights. “Please, show him in.”

  Not long after, Bartolo entered in a lawyer’s suit, impeccably groomed. He bowed first. “Good day, Director.”

  “Good day, sir…”

  Sylvia rose to welcome him, and had her assistant bring tea.

  They chatted briefly about the weather and topics from the papers before Sylvia guided the conversation toward his purpose.

  “In fact, I received a letter this morning. It’s from a former client of mine—Mr. Bruce Field. In it, he says he’s encountering something bad and needs help. He asked me to deliver another letter enclosed inside to his friend—Mr. Javon Yuggs—or someone acquainted with him.”

  Bartolo took a letter from his document bag, along with a smaller, unopened one, and gave a wry smile. “I’m not very familiar with Mr. Yuggs. The only acquaintance of his that I know is you, Director.”

  As he spoke, he handed both letters over.

  Sylvia did not open the letter addressed to Javon. She only looked at the one written to Bartolo.

  “Mr. Field truly is the young master’s good friend…”

  After a moment of silence, Sylvia said, “I’ll take this secret letter and find a way to pass it to the young master. You are an honest and trustworthy gentleman.”

  “Of course. Serving my client is my duty.”

  Bartolo seemed to let out a breath as he stood, a relaxed smile returning. “Thank you, ma’am… then I’ll take my leave.”

  In the office, Sylvia stared at the unopened letter and sank into thought.

  In the end, as if making up her mind, she picked up the paper knife on her desk, opened the envelope, and drew out the paper.

  On the page were lines of cipher text—something that required a specific codebook to understand.

  Sylvia did not have the codebook. But when she saw a distinctive purple-brier seal on the page, a faint smile appeared. “It really is Mr. Field’s letter. It isn’t a forgery.”

  She went to the rear of the museum, where repaired Sothos gravestones from past generations stood.

  Every day, Sylvia came here to clean.

  Now, she placed a bouquet of yellow daisies beneath an old tree nearby. This was a signal she had agreed upon with a certain mysterious person.

  Since taking over the museum, Sylvia had keenly noticed that something was off.

  For example, several of her employees were simply too competent—not only did they all hold university degrees, their abilities were outstanding, and each one demanded absurdly low pay, as if they were eager to work here for free.

  And after that mysterious person’s reminder, she learned that most of her employees were official informants—while a small portion had unclear origins.

  In fact, the entire museum might have gone through multiple inspections without her ever realizing it.

  After doing all this, Sylvia returned to her office and worked as usual. Watching the museum grow livelier by the day, she wore a blissful smile.

  …

  Among the visitors, Lilia—wearing a lady’s dress—walked through Ginny the Great’s boudoir.

  Moving through the exhibition halls gave her a deep sense of satisfaction.

  I want to shout it out loud—this is my property! The rapier guy and his maid are just managing it for me. These castles, artworks, antiques… they’re all mine, mine!

  Smiling, she greeted the female director—someone who was, in effect, half her subordinate.

  Over this period, since she continued her habit of occasionally visiting the museum, she had grown somewhat familiar with the director. And she knew the woman was Mr. Rapier’s maid, assigned to help manage this property for her.

  One of their own.

  So Lilia had quietly offered her help and subtle warnings a few times.

  With Truth Scales in her possession, she could barely be considered half a Beyond Mortality combatant, and in today’s Verdant City she was a major figure in the occult world.

  “Good day, Miss Doran.”

  Sylvia did not know that the Lilia before her was the mysterious person who had helped her. She smiled politely in greeting.

  “Good day.”

  Lilia enjoyed the feeling. After paying respects at the Sothos family mausoleum, she noticed the daisy marker.

  Her pupils tightened slightly. Keeping her expression steady, she left the museum.

  Night.

  Inside the museum office.

  A drawer slid open on its own. A letter was lifted by an invisible hand, floated out the window, and drifted toward some spot on the street.

  In the museum, the old man who served as night watch immediately perked up and quietly followed.

  When he entered an alley, his expression changed abruptly. A terrifying binding force seized him, forcing him to his knees.

  Mm-hm. As expected—someone would tail it.

  Lilia laughed lightly to herself. In one hand she held Truth Scales; with the other she took the letter from the spirit hand, intending to examine it carefully once she got home.

  Wynchester.

  Javon, in sleepwear, felt a premonition stir in his Essence and went to the Transposition Drawer he used to contact Lilia.

  He reached out and pulled it open. A letter lay inside.

  Snap!

  A coin was tossed.

  After a quick divination, Javon took the letter to the study and switched on the electric lamp.

  Opening the envelope, he found cipher text inside. The seal mark belonged to Bruce.

  “My earlier premonition was right… Bruce is in trouble.”

  Javon took out a copy of Selected Poems of Ancient Poets and began to decode.

  Gradually, subtle changes appeared in his expression. In the end, Javon flicked a flame, burning the paper to ash. He leaned back in his chair and silently recalled what Bruce’s letter had said.

  After his teacher’s death, Bruce had come to Wynchester to seek out a school and continue his studies.

  It was said that, while following Cornelius, he had been monitored by the Bureau, but after an adventure full of close calls he shook the pursuit, successfully went to the druid sacred land, completed the Historical Regression ritual, and gained the ability of Beast Speech.

  Next, he smoothly entered the school of The Eye of Gumo and began deeper learning.

  Then the upheaval came.

  Half a month ago, a group of Transcendents attacked The Eye of Gumo’s headquarters!

  The Eye of Gumo resisted fiercely, but the attackers were far too strong. In the end, the headquarters fell. Casualties were severe, and only a small number of members managed to scatter and break out.

  Bruce was lucky enough to escape, but he was hunted relentlessly afterward, forced to hide all over Wynchester—until he finally sheltered under Cornelius Ashford of The Oak Circle.

  And as the situation grew more urgent, he had no choice but to ask his friend Yuggs for help.

  Did Bruce awaken some kind of bad-luck curse? Everywhere he goes, something happens.

  First he’s an ordinary person, then a Transcendent takes him as a student, then the teacher dies; then he joins a school, and the school gets wiped out. That kind of calamity aura… it really does feel a bit like a protagonist’s fate.

  Javon rubbed his chin, thinking with a trace of amusement.

  Unfortunately, not everyone can survive a protagonist’s template…

  He sighed and stroked the Greenforest Ring on his hand. A translucent figure in ornate, elaborate formalwear appeared at once—Oclair the malevolent spirit.

  Javon’s spirit then left his body. Controlling Oclair’s form, he slipped into the wall and vanished.

  From the letter, Bruce was close to desperation—otherwise he wouldn’t have tried so hard to reach out. His situation by now had to be extremely precarious!

  The Abandoned District.

  This was Wynchester’s poorest district—without question.

  Buildings were crumbling, many of them outright unsafe. Occupancy was low.

  By contrast, most notorious gangs placed their headquarters here.

  —According to rumors in the Black Queen District, the Abandoned District had originally been part of the Lower District, until a catastrophic Eldritcha loss-of-control incident caused it to be abandoned, leaving behind numerous hidden dangers. Even a Transcendent who stumbled into the wrong trouble could easily lose their life!

  For that reason, even the Bureau judged that the cost and trouble outweighed the benefits, choosing to abandon and seal it.

  Meanwhile, quite a few Transcendents from the Black Queen District, after learning the patterns of certain blocks, used it as a base for covert gatherings—turning it into part of the Black Queen District’s shadow world.

  Every night, gang shootouts, gun battles, Transcendent trades, Eldritcha loss-of-control, mutated creatures, and nameless dangers could appear at random. It was a place every resident avoided at all costs.

  Night.

  Inside a drafty, war-scarred ruin of a building. The walls were splashed with paint and riddled with bullet holes.

  A figure moved through the dark with nimble ease, avoiding obstacles scattered everywhere, and slipped into a basement.

  In the basement, after opening a door, bright electric light spilled out—revealing Bruce’s slightly haggard face.

  “Honestly… I used to think nowhere could be worse than the Lower District. Then I came to the Abandoned District. This place is basically the apocalypse. Hard to imagine the kingdom just lets it exist…”

  He set down a paper bag containing a long loaf of bread and muttered a complaint.

  “After all, at least an Angel-grade Eldritcha went out of control here once. Back then, the Sodoma royal family even considered moving the capital and abandoning this place. They managed to contain it in the end, but the contamination took root and can’t be reversed. Ordinary people who live in the Abandoned District soon fall ill in strange ways, and the children they raise have a high chance of being deformed.”

  The basement was cramped. On the simple bed sat a man—Cornelius Ashford of The Oak Circle.

  At the moment, the druid had no shirt on. A wire ran from his shoulder, supplying power to the basement’s electric light.

  “There’s current inside the human body too. I call it bioelectricity…”

  Cornelius stroked his half-flesh, half-mechanical arm. It was slightly damaged, as if it had endured a battle of terrifying intensity. “We can’t run a wire or gas pipe from outside. Someone could notice it from the records.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I dragged you into this.”

  After a long silence, Bruce apologized.

  After the assault on The Eye of Gumo’s headquarters, he had escaped by luck. In Wynchester, the only person he knew who could help him was Cornelius.

  At the time, he couldn’t reach Javon at all.

  He hadn’t expected the attackers to keep hunting the remnants of The Eye of Gumo so aggressively. They even seemed to have some divination method—Cornelius’s safehouse was exposed, forcing him into a fierce fight with pursuers before fleeing into the Abandoned District.

  Here, the living conditions were even worse. They lacked food, medicine, even clean water—forcing Bruce to risk crossing the Abandoned District at night multiple times in search of supplies.

  “At most three days. Then we move to the next place. Shaking off a pursuer who can divine is extremely troublesome—we need help. At minimum, a Transcendent who can counter-divine, or an arcane artifact.”

  Cornelius extended his arm. Flesh and machinery lengthened automatically, and he began to devour the food at high speed. “What you brought is too little. I need enough food to replenish energy… preferably meat.”

  “Sorry…”

  Bruce spread his hands. “That’s all I could find. I spent the last of my money…”

  “Wait a little longer. Once reinforcements from my school arrive, we’ll be safe.”

  After finishing the food with his arm, Cornelius leaned back on the bed, eyes closed, murmuring.

  “Actually… I’ve already tried to notify other people.”

  Bruce scratched the back of his head, a bit embarrassed.

  “Who?”

  Cornelius’s eyes snapped open—bloodshot enough that Bruce thought he was looking at a predator mid-hunt.

  “You understand the risk of contacting others. It’s not only risk to us, but to them.”

  “It’s Javon Yuggs. My teacher trusted him deeply. I came to Wynchester with him—you’ve met him too. I think he’s reliable, and strong.”

  Bruce answered quickly.

  “That young man…”

  Cornelius seemed to recall something, and spoke with regret. “He’s well-suited to the natural path…”

  Here we go again. Here we go again. Everyone he meets ‘suits the natural path.’ Even injured, he can’t stop evangelizing?

  Bruce sighed inwardly.

  Then he saw Cornelius staring at him, eyes bright.

  “And you too, Bruce! Don’t you feel that your ability to escape so ‘luckily’ is an arrangement of nature?”

  Cornelius spoke with devout intensity. “As repayment for my saving you, listen to me explain the druidic path of nature again… I promise I won’t use the debt of your life to force you to change faith, but you can, from the heart, choose to believe in the Mother of Nature. Know that all things are part of nature…”