Northern Shore of the Conquest Sea, Telva.
In the early morning hours, the city of Telva was slowly rousing from its slumber. Crowds of people hurried along the sidewalks on their way to work, carriages grew in number along the roads, and newsboys were shouting at every corner. Everything about the scene seed no different from the Telva of any other day.
Inside a modest carriage making its way along the street sat two n, seated side by side within the cabin. Judging by their appearance, they were both middle-aged, around thirty or forty years old. One wore glasses and a gray-black trench coat, while the other was dressed in a simple yellow overcoat and trousers. One gazed out the carriage window at the passing cityscape, while the other perused a newspaper with quiet concentration.
“Anything in the paper? Has there been any major disturbance in the city these past two days?” asked the man in the gray trench coat, watching the pedestrians outside.
The man in yellow flipped a page, gave it a quick scan, and responded calmly.
“Nothing major. If there’s anything of note, it’s the explosion and fire that happened two days ago in the western part of the city. A whole building burned down. The paper says it was likely caused by a gas leak. That might be related to our business.”
“A single building destroyed… and it’s being called a gas leak? That’s not enough to confirm it’s connected to the Dark Gold incident…”
The man in gray turned from the window, shifting his gaze back to the cabin and his companion.
“To take down a Gargoyle and several Wall Walkers with brute force, the resulting damage wouldn’t just be one building. It could easily wipe out half a street.”
“You’re right,” the man in yellow nodded.
“Still, the paper doesn’t ntion anything more destructive. If the Dark Gold faction was really eliminated, then the person who did it might be an extraordinary individual strong in the spiritual or ntal domains. It’s hard to overpower a Gargoyle physically.”
Setting down the paper, he continued, “That would be the likeliest explanation.”
“Maybe so,” the man in gray agreed. “If this rcenary really wiped out the entire Dark Gold stronghold in one go, that’s the most reasonable assumption…”
“You sound skeptical, Bosque,” the man in yellow—Mador—raised an eyebrow.
“It’s not that I don’t believe it,” Bosque replied, “but it feels far-fetched. Think about it, Mador. Telva’s station No. 5 contacted us just recently. Then No. 6 from the Central Workshop tells us the Telva base was infiltrated and replaced by Dark Gold agents, and now it’s been eliminated by a hired rcenary?
“Even if No. 5 had already been replaced, that would an they were still operational recently. And now we’re told the whole base was wiped out overnight? When did South Cassatia suddenly get rcenaries capable of that?”
Mador fell silent in thought, then said, “You have a point—it does sound suspicious. But regardless… since this ca from the Central Workshop, there’s credibility. We should trust their word. Perhaps one of the officials pulled so strings.”
“That could be,” Bosque said, “but doesn’t that seem a bit too casual? To maintain neutrality, the Workshop usually doesn’t call on outsiders so easily. Yet this ti, they not only hired soone but decided it all very quickly. It doesn’t sit right.”
“It is out of the ordinary,” Mador admitted.
“But we’ve confird the Workshop’s order multiple tis. All we can do is carry out our task… carefully.”
Bosque didn’t reply, simply falling silent. Mador looked outside the window again, and after a few monts he spoke.
“Looks like we’re here. Let’s get out. Stay alert.”
He signaled to the driver to stop the carriage, and both n stepped out onto the sidewalk. After surveying the quiet surroundings, they retrieved their luggage from the back, then turned their eyes toward a seemingly ordinary hotel by the street.
The two entered the old-style hotel and made their way up the stairs. After ascending several flights, they searched for the appropriate room number.
“Room 504. This is it,” Mador said, stopping in front of a door and knocking.
“Please hold on a mont,” a male voice answered from inside.
They heard footsteps. Soon, the door opened, revealing a well-dressed young man in a shirt and vest. With a pleasant smile, he looked at the two n standing before him.
"Ah… you’ve finally arrived, gentlen of the White Craftsn’s Guild. I’ve been waiting here for quite so ti. My na is Brandon. May I ask how I should address the two of you?"
With a warm tone, Brandon smiled and extended his hand in greeting. The two n exchanged a glance, and then Mador reached out to shake Brandon’s hand as he replied.
"Nas aren’t necessary—let’s get straight to the point, Mr. Brandon."
"Straight to the point? Of course. Please, co in."
With that, Brandon released his handshake and gestured invitingly. After the two entered the room, they took a quick look around. It was a modestly decorated but fairly spacious guestroom. On the floor lay a stretcher, covered with a white cloth, and beneath the cloth was clearly a human-shaped outline.
"The corpse of the black-market leader is right here. Feel free to inspect it."
Brandon spoke casually as he gestured toward the body. The two n walked up to the stretcher and lifted the cloth. What appeared before them was the corpse of an elderly man. After briefly discussing it between themselves, Bosque opened his case and took out several unfamiliar instrunts to begin so form of examination. anwhile, Mador approached Brandon and struck up a conversation.
"Mr. Brandon, are you the rcenary who hunted down the Dark Gold Society in Telva?"
"To be precise, I serve the one who did… I’m rely a representative here to facilitate the handover," Brandon replied smoothly.
Mador continued his questioning.
"Serve soone…? In all of South Cassatia, there aren’t many forces capable of wiping out a Dark Gold stronghold overnight. And we’re fairly aware of all of them. Mr. Brandon, it seems you and your companion ca from elsewhere?"
"That’s right. We just happened to be passing through Telva when the master I serve noticed sothing unusual. After alerting his old friends in your White Craftsn’s Guild, they were commissioned to take care of the cleanup. And now, aren’t you here to confirm the results?"
Brandon continued smiling as he spoke. Hearing this, Mador figured it was as he suspected—this so-called rcenary was likely connected to a high-ranking figure in the Central Workshop, brought in temporarily as a favor. There had to be a strong and trusted relationship, or else the Central Workshop wouldn’t have broken protocol by hiring externally to resolve the issue in Telva.
Mador was silently piecing things together when, suddenly, a surprised exclamation interrupted his thoughts.
"This… this is… impossible…"
Recognizing the voice, Mador imdiately turned around to look at Bosque, who was squatting and conducting the inspection. Seeing Bosque’s astonished expression, Mador frowned and asked.
"What is it? Sothing wrong with the body? Isn’t it the Gargoyle?"
"No, I’ve already confird the body’s true identity. He is indeed ‘Bengo the Shattered’ of the Dark Gold Society—a Gargoyle. No question about that," Bosque muttered, eyes wide as he stared at the corpse. Before Mador could say anything more, Bosque stood up and turned to Brandon with a solemn expression.
"Mr. Brandon, I’ve completed the examination. There are no issues. I’m grateful that the master you serve was willing to lend a hand. I am Bosque. Here is the token prepared by the White Craftsn’s Guild for your master."
As he spoke, to Mador’s slight surprise, Bosque opened another case, took out an oil-paper package, and respectfully handed it to Brandon.
Brandon accepted it with a smile and said, "Thank you both for making the trip. I’ll return to report now—please excuse ."
With that, Brandon quickly left the room with the package, leaving behind a grave-looking Bosque and a puzzled Mador.
Glancing again at the corpse on the stretcher, Mador’s expression turned slightly odd as he walked over to Bosque.
"So that’s Bengo the Shattered, huh? Hmph. Didn’t think the old bastard would be the one to die. Good riddance. But as long as we can confirm it’s him, what was with your overreaction?"
Bosque looked at him and pointed to the corpse on the floor.
"Take a look at the wound."
"Wound?"
Mador leaned in to examine the corpse, noticing the shirt had been removed and the chest area was fully exposed—there, a very distinct injury was clearly visible.
It was a perfectly circular hole that pierced cleanly through the left side of the chest, and upon seeing it, Mador’s eyes widened in shock.
“This is... a wound?! And such a large one. Bengo the Shattered... wasn’t he a Gargoyle? How could such a massive wound…”
Staring at the wound on the corpse before him, Mador muttered in disbelief. Bengo the Shattered was a Gargoyle—a White Ash-rank Stone Beyonder with defenses rivaling steel. How could he possibly have sustained such a severe injury?
Mador had considered what kind of thod the rcenary might’ve used to take down a Gargoyle. Perhaps spiritual or soul interference—but in such cases, wounds like this typically wouldn’t appear. Maybe he had been restrained with potent Chalice powers and slowly suffocated to death—yet that wouldn’t leave this kind of wound either. Or perhaps his armor was forcefully pierced by a powerful Shadow ability—but in that case, the body should have been covered in slashes, not a singular, symtrical hole through the chest.
He and Bosque had discussed the possible cause of death for the Gargoyle in Telva beforehand, and they had both agreed: it was unlikely that the rcenary defeated the Gargoyle through physical ans. But contrary to their assumption, that was exactly what happened.
To a Gargoyle, even a rifle shot was nothing more than a white mark on stone. What kind of attack could inflict such a clean, fatal blow?
“Horrifying… To pierce a Gargoyle clean through—what kind of terrifying force could do that… Bengo the Shattered, killed by this kind of damage…”
“And that’s not all. Take a closer look at the inside of the wound.”
Squatting by the stretcher, Bosque gestured toward the body and continued. Mador followed his prompt, crouching down and inspecting the edges of the wound—and imdiately noticed the ring of charred flesh.
“This is... scorching? The hole was burned through?! He was struck by a fire-elent mystical attack? That rcenary was on the Solar Fla Path?”
Mador blurted out in surprise, though a beat later he realized sothing didn’t add up.
“No… Bengo the Shattered was a Gargoyle, wasn’t he? Aren’t they supposed to absorb all elental mysticism-based attacks? How could soone have burned clean through him?! Just how high must the temperature have been… And how could the fire have been so intensely focused on a single point?”
Mador said in disbelief, while Bosque took a deep breath and replied gravely.
“Gargoyles are natural counters to Elentalists… That’s indisputable. For an Elentalist to kill a Gargoyle with elental attacks, they would have to elevate their output past the Gargoyle’s tolerance threshold in one go—and that’s beyond what most White Ash-rank Elentalists are capable of…”
Bosque spoke solemnly. Hearing this, Mador swallowed hard. He thought back to the fire incident he’d read about in the newspaper. At the ti, they’d assud it was unrelated to the Gargoyle incident.
After all, if that really had been the battle site, with explosions and fire, it clearly involved physical combat. And if soone fought a Gargoyle physically, it would’ve been a brutal, prolonged fight—yet the scale of destruction had seed too small for that. But now he reconsidered. There might be another explanation.
That rcenary may have simply outclassed Bengo the Shattered by an entire rank—so thoroughly that the battle ended quickly, without much collateral damage.
This theory floated through Mador’s mind, and it actually aligned perfectly with another suspicion he’d had: if that rcenary was working for soone in the Central Workshop and had earned deep trust, then that “soone” was likely a high-ranking official. After all, to have a close relationship with a Crimson rank, they likely had to be Crimson themselves.
“So that rcenary—the person served by that Brandon—is a Fla Saint? A Church mber?”
Mador asked, voicing his hypothesis. Bosque pondered before replying.
“Very likely. In that case… it would an the Central Workshop is now collaborating militarily with the Church—unless there exists a Fla Saint in this world unaffiliated with the Church.”
Bosque said this with grave seriousness. For a mont, both of them felt as though they had just glimpsed a shadowy secret buried deep within the Central Workshop’s upper ranks, and a chill ran down their spines.
“Don’t think too hard about this. Matters at that level aren’t for us to consider. Let’s just get the body back.”
“Right…”
…
At daybreak, elsewhere in Telva, inside a luxury suite of another hotel, Dorothy was seated by the window, enjoying breakfast while her Literary Sea Logbook lay open on the table. She held a grilled sausage in her left hand and a pen in her right, writing on the page.
“Their inspection is done. Can you share the intel now?”
After writing that, Dorothy took a big bite of the sausage. Just then, neat printed script began to appear on the page.
“They’re done? That’s fast. I won’t bother double-checking, then. Let’s get to the point—Miss Neighbor, you were after information about the Star Nurology Scriptorium, right?”
“Of course. Do you know of any secret relic sites connected to the Scriptorium? Preferably a big one.”
“I don’t know of any relics myself, but I do know soone who frequently visits such ruins. Have you ever heard of the Corpse-Sand Society?”
“Corpse-Sand Society? What’s that?”
“They’re a treasure-hunting syndicate. They operate across many regions and specialize in excavating ancient ruins. Among the many syndicates out there, they’re the only one on record to have excavated multiple Star Nurology Scriptorium sites. Just from selling Revelation alone, they beca one of the most financially powerful treasure groups. Out of all the syndicates, they have the deepest ties with the Star Nurology Scriptorium.”
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