Seated in the comfort of her hotel suite, Dorothy sat on a cozy chair, gazing into the distance through the vision of a corpse marionette, focused on the content of a mystical text. After finishing Tragedy of Leicher, a mystical text chronicling an obscure yet grand and pivotal battle during the Muddy Stream War, she began concentrating on extracting spirituality from it. Before long, she had drawn 8 points of Chalice from it—an abundant yield indeed.
Having gone through the previous two texts sent by Edward, Dorothy immediately directed her corpse marionette to begin reading the final mystical text he had mailed her. Its title was City of the Dark Abyss.
This mystical text, too, was a compilation and analysis of legendary tales. Like several other texts Dorothy had encountered before, its author had undertaken research on a particular type of legend circulating around the Conquest Sea—specifically, a deep-sea city called "Ayam."
According to the author’s description, Ayam was a colossal city lying beneath the waters of the Conquest Sea, deep in the dark seafloor. Legends about it circulated both among the fishermen living around the Conquest Sea and the natives on the islands within. Some tales told of horrifying half-fish, half-human monsters residing there. All of them male, these creatures would snatch fish from the fishermen, hunt animals and humans along the coasts, and even force land-dwelling creatures to mate with them in order to bear offspring.
Other versions, however, portrayed Ayam quite differently. In those tales, the city was not inhabited by terrifying fish monsters, but rather by beautiful merfolk—both male and female. The females were elegant and lovely, the males strong and handsome, and together they had birthed a prosperous undersea civilization. It was said these merfolk would often assist shipwrecked sailors and guide the lost with their songs.
The mystical text’s author pointed out that although these accounts were vastly different and difficult to verify, the existence of the city of Ayam itself was almost certain. However, while the city might be real, the creatures said to inhabit it—fish monsters or merfolk—were likely fictitious. The rationale was that in the current era, virtually all nonhuman intelligent species and mystical creatures of the material world had already gone extinct. Records of civilizations established by nonhumans date back to the distant Second Epoch, and even then they were marginal civilizations. The author found it hard to believe that any nonhuman civilization still survived in this Fourth Epoch.
That said, he speculated that Ayam may well have been built by one of those ancient nonhuman races, for he had found an archaic version of the city’s name—one that had undergone little linguistic evolution and was highly incompatible with human phonetics.
Therefore, the author of the mystical text surmised that those tales—whether of fish monsters or merfolk—were very likely fabrications by the Abyssal Church. He theorized that the Church may have already discovered and seized control of this deep-sea city, perhaps even establishing their sacred headquarters within it. What they obtained or studied within Ayam, however, remained unknown.
“The deep-sea city of Ayam... built by an ancient nonhuman civilization? Indeed... the phonetics of its name do bear a faint resemblance to Abyssal tongue... If such a city truly exists in this world, then only the Abyssal Church could be in control of it. It really might be their headquarters…
“Also, another noteworthy point in this mystical text is that it references civilizations established by nonhuman intelligent species... All these civilizations were only recorded in the Second Epoch, meaning that era was likely one where humans coexisted with other nonhuman intelligent races, huh? But what led to the extinction of all those nonhuman civilizations?”Staring at the new mystical text in the hands of the corpse marionette, Dorothy pondered silently. She still remembered back in Igwynt, when she had purchased the mystical text about dreams from Aldrich. That book had described harpies and abyssal species. Throughout her subsequent extraordinary experiences, she had always found it strange she’d never encountered such fantastical beings—now she finally understood: they had already gone extinct in that unimaginably ancient past.
After finishing the final mystical text, Dorothy once again began extracting spirituality as usual. From this text, she gained 5 points of Chalice and 3 points of Lantern.
Including what she had previously accumulated, Dorothy’s current spirituality tally stood at 28 points of Chalice, 16 points of Stone, 50 points of Shadow, 22 points of Lantern, 31 points of Silence, and 50 points of Revelation.
“I just gained 17 points of Chalice in one go—instantly hitting the target. These mystical texts Edward gave were quite potent. Right now, only Stone and Lantern are falling short. Once I get to Tivian, I’ll have to find a way to make up for those.
“Another thing worth noting is that after I advanced, the spirituality used for the advancement will vanish. If I run into a crisis afterward and don’t have enough spirituality, that’ll be a real problem. So if possible, I should stockpile a bit more of the major attributes that have already reached the threshold—just to be safe.”
Having finished reading, Dorothy reflected inwardly. Then, after taking another sip of coffee, she stood up from her seat, stretched lazily, and walked over to the window. After gazing out for a moment, she murmured to herself.
“Now then, it’s about time I returned…”
…
Eastern Coast of the Kingdom of Pritt, Tivian.
In the daylight, on Silver Street in Tivian’s eastern district, the streets bustled with people and carriages streamed past. Amid the hazy dust, a young man dressed in a shirt and vest, full of spirit, strolled along the sidewalk, casually taking in the cityscape.
Chewing a piece of soft candy, Gregor walked the streets at ease. Lately, nearly every weekend, he would find time to visit this area—to buy and sell, or simply to unwind. Having not done any overtime in quite a while, this had become a weekly routine for him.
Holding a fishing guidebook he had just bought from a roadside bookstall, Gregor continued browsing the storefronts, looking for anything that might catch his eye. He paused in front of a children’s clothing store, eyes drawn to the pretty dresses in the display window. He thought about buying one to give to his sister as a belated birthday gift once she returned. But then he hesitated—Dorothy was already fourteen this year. He wasn’t sure if she could still wear such clothes.
“Hmm… I probably shouldn’t just buy it on a whim. If it ends up being too small, that’d be a hassle. I should wait for Dorothy to come back and take her shopping myself so she can try things on. But the problem is—when will she actually be back?”
Staring at the children’s clothing in the window, Gregor thought silently. His sister had been studying abroad for more than half a year now, with no sign of returning. If not for the regular telegrams she sent to let him know she was safe, he would have been worried sick long ago.
“Hope she comes home soon…”
With that thought, Gregor withdrew his gaze from the display window and continued walking down the street. After passing an intersection, he turned into a quieter road and proceeded slowly, subtly directing his peripheral vision toward the storefronts across the street, quietly observing the state of the shops.
As he walked, Gregor’s gaze suddenly narrowed, and the relaxed expression on his face darkened. He came to a silent halt and turned his body toward the other side of the street, locking eyes on a particular store—it appeared to be a recently opened department shop.
Standing there, Gregor stared at the store for a moment, then stepped forward, crossed the street, and entered. Inside, he saw a few scattered customers browsing the goods and, behind the counter, a slightly chubby, mustached shopkeeper reading a newspaper.
Once inside, Gregor casually strolled around, examining the merchandise on the surrounding shelves. Then he made his way to the counter and knocked on its surface. The shopkeeper looked up from his paper, and when he saw Gregor’s figure, he paused in slight surprise.
“Boss… do you have any Dauren Red Silk?”
Gregor asked in an ordinary tone.
Hearing this, the shopkeeper snapped out of his daze. After a moment of thought, he replied.
“Red silk cloth, huh… I do have some. But I don’t know if it’s the Shamanic Dauren Red Silk you’re looking for. How about this—you come with me and take a look.”
With that, the shopkeeper got up. After instructing a clerk nearby to keep an eye on the store, he turned and headed into the back room. Gregor followed him, and after turning down a few corridors, they entered a narrow and dimly lit room. Once Gregor was inside, the shopkeeper immediately shut the door behind him and turned to face Gregor, who had already found a seat.
“Lord Adelin, you’ve finally arrived…”
The shopkeeper said respectfully as he approached Gregor.
Gregor responded with a faint smile.
“It’s been a while. Are you still going by the name Donald?”
“Still am, still am… Those black dogs haven’t noticed anything around here, so there’s been no need to change identities. Changing names suddenly would cause complications,” said the shopkeeper—Donald—with a grin. He had been waiting here for Gregor for several days.
Earlier this year, following the attempted assassination of Duke Barrett, the Eight-Spired Nest had withdrawn from Tivian to avoid the heat. Donald, who had served as Gregor’s contact within the organization, was among them. Before leaving, he had told Gregor that once things settled, they would return to Tivian, and Donald would resume his role as liaison.
Now, with the Eight-Spired Nest returning, Donald had marked a prearranged sign on a wall along Gregor’s usual route to work, signaling him to meet at the designated location—this very shop. Upon seeing the sign, Gregor had begun “casually” passing by the place during his holidays to check on it. Until now, it had always been closed. Today, it was finally open.
To minimize risk of a Face-Spider falling into the hands of the Serenity Bureau, the Eight-Spired Nest hadn’t assigned one to Gregor, their “mole.” Instead, they arranged for single-line contact through Donald. Now that the Nest had returned to Tivian, they had decided to reactivate this buried contact line.
“We’ve… already started returning?”
Gregor asked quietly, his tone solemn.
“Yes,” Donald replied without hesitation.
“The organization’s deployments are gradually returning to Tivian. The danger has passed, and we’re restarting operations here.”
“Restarting operations… Does that mean... something like the Barrett incident is going to happen again?”
Gregor asked gravely.
“That I’m not sure about,” Donald responded.
“An operation on the scale of assassinating Duke Barrett—unless it directly involves us—wouldn’t be something they’d inform us about. Just like last time, we knew nothing beforehand.
“But what I can confirm is that the organization’s main focus isn’t yet on Tivian. However, that will slowly change. For now, our job is to carry out preliminary work here—to clear obstacles and lay the groundwork for future major actions.”
Donald lowered his voice as he spoke, and Gregor paused before continuing.
“From what you’re saying… do I already have a new mission?”
“Indeed. The organization has a new assignment for you. Lord Adelin, you’re familiar with Misha Devonshire, aren’t you?”
Donald asked in a hushed tone.
Gregor’s eyes narrowed slightly. Then he replied.
“Misha Devonshire… the eldest daughter of the Devonshire family, a Royal Knight, trusted aide of Prince Harold… and also my direct superior in the Black Dog Bureau. Of course I’m familiar. I’ve carried out numerous missions with her over the past six months. She’s extremely capable—a tough, risk-taking woman. So… has she drawn attention from above?”
“Yes… just as you said, she’s very capable. According to intel from above, she seems to have sensed something critical about the organization’s presence within the Bureau and has begun her own private investigation. The organization has tried to interfere, but her stubbornness exceeded expectations. She’s become a problem for us…”
Donald said quietly.
Gregor responded in a low tone.
“So… are we to contain this problem… or…”
“No need to contain. Eliminate her outright.”
Donald said firmly. Gregor paused briefly at that. Then Donald continued.
“Headquarters has concluded that this Misha poses the risk of becoming another Barrett. So she must be dealt with early. And since you, Lord Adelin, are her subordinate in the Bureau, the task is best suited for you.”
Gregor silently shook his head.
“Me? That’ll be difficult… Sure, I can get close to her. But she’s White Ash, and I’m only Black Earth. That’s a cross-rank assassination. Even with the element of surprise, the success rate is incredibly low.”
“That’s not an issue, sir. Headquarters said they’ll find a way to create an opportunity for you—a perfect moment for you to strike at the Devonshire woman. In return, you must provide us with her schedule for the next few days. We’ll prepare accordingly and carry out a focused deployment to ensure a swift kill. The organization will fully support you in this operation.
“Lord Adelin, headquarters has made it clear—if this mission succeeds, and she is eliminated without leaving any trace, then they’ll arrange for you to inherit her position within the Bureau. You’ll be promoted officially—and ascend to White Ash.”