"Good evening, you two."
Rowan rcer hovered casually in the air as Kristel and Radar arrived at the burning estate.
Behind them, terrified girls were being escorted out under church protection.
In front of them lay three mutilated bodies.
Kristel frowned. "Rowan... what happened here?"
Rowan gestured toward the crippled figures on the ground.
"I stumbled onto a trafficking ring while out walking. These three were overseeing it. They’re military-affiliated awakened operatives."
Radar’s expression darkened.
"Military?"
Rowan nodded.
"They were working under orders. Their direct superior is soone called Sert."
Both demigods stiffened.
"Saint Sert," Kristel said quietly.
Radar clenched his fists.
Saint Sert was a demigod of the royal military.
A direct agent of the crown.
If royal-aligned forces were secretly sponsoring large-scale trafficking...
Then this wasn’t corruption.
It was strategy.
Rowan continued, "I’ve already extracted their abilities. They’re alive, but that’s about it. Everything else is in their mories."
Kristel took a slow breath.
"We’ll handle the rest."
She looked at Rowan seriously.
"When you finish stabilizing your recent advancent, co to . I’ll give you the formula for the next stage."
Radar added, "And if we need to apprehend a demigod, you’ll be our first call."
Rowan nodded.
"That works."
Flas folded around him.
He vanished.
Back ho, Rowan set aside the larger conspiracy and returned to his own research.
If Bernadette failed to locate Roselle’s hidden island, Rowan intended to search for it himself using specialized tracking magic.
He had barely begun before soone triggered the bait.
Jason Belial.
Inside Jason’s villa, the air rippled.
A tall figure stepped out of the shadows.
"You didn’t follow the original plan," the man said coldly.
Rowan, controlling Jason, leaned back in his chair.
"The target is dead. That’s what matters. Unless you’re planning to withhold paynt?"
The man snorted.
"A single Blasphemy Card is nothing."
He flicked a card across the room.
Jason caught it.
Abyssal formulas.
Complete.
Authentic.
Rowan was satisfied.
The man did not leave.
"Your performance exceeded expectations. If you’re willing to continue working with us, we can provide materials for your future advancents."
Rowan smiled faintly.
"Tempting. But I’m curious. Who exactly are ’we’? And why did Duke Nigan need to die?"
The man answered without hesitation.
"He stood in the way of progress. He stood in the way of the Creator’s return. He had to be removed."
"And your organization?"
"You may call us the Twilight Hermit Circle. We ensure history flows toward its destined end."
Rowan froze.
The sa na.
From Roselle’s diary.
So it wasn’t just the royal family.
It was them.
Or both.
"Let’s confirm sothing," Rowan said softly.
Flas blood.
His real body appeared behind Jason.
The man’s eyes widened.
"It’s you—!"
He punched.
Dark authority wrapped around his fist.
Rowan didn’t move.
The blow landed.
Nothing happened.
The man’s heart dropped.
Rowan reached out.
The man’s body locked.
"Mind search."
Images poured in.
A na surfaced.
Lockhart Sikayam.
Publicly, Duke Nigan’s personal secretary.
Officially, a military intelligence operative assigned to protect the duke.
In truth...
A mber of the Twilight Hermit Circle.
A planted agent.
Rowan released the puppet’s grip.
"Well," Rowan murmured.
"That explains everything."
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