A bustling market had been established at the city gate, welcoming traveling merchants and visitors.

Inside a nearby house, a blacksmith was busy hammering tools, a jeweler was working on a necklace, and batches of vegetables and fruits were being delivered by farm workers for sale.

Nearby, large piles of timber were stacked on open ground, destined for the construction of new houses and fortifications.

The town appeared prosperous and secure.

But a settlement with a large population could never ensure that everyone lived in wealth and happiness. Beneath the surface of prosperity, there must always be oppression and shadows.

Unless that town belonged to Garrett.

Clearly, this one didn’t.

“Move faster!”

Armored guards shouted loudly, driving a group of laborers to pull up wooden posts and dig deep construction pits.

This scene stood in great contrast to the thriving market just a short distance away. It would be difficult to act here.

Alatar sat in the corner of a building along the roadside, raising his head to observe the street.

Groups of guards patrolled the marketplace, appearing at regular intervals. The nearby city walls were also heavily defended.

Trying to influence such a heavily fortified town from the outside would clearly prove quite challenging.

“There they are.”

After sitting by the wall for a long time, at last, a few people emerged from the garden at the center of town. One wore golden armor and was rather tall; the other wore splendid robes.

The two were walking together toward a carriage.

Alatar stood up and walked in the opposite direction, toward a construction site.

“No time for rest, get back to work!”

A soldier barked angrily at the burdened laborers, as if shouting louder would make them stronger.

“I’ll find someone to relieve you. Keep watch.”

Another soldier said this and temporarily departed.

Now only one soldier remained at the site.

“Hey? Where’d this beggar come from? Get lost—”

Thud!

A staff struck without warning. The soldier collapsed on the spot, unconscious.

“I truly hate being called that.”

Alatar nudged the fallen soldier aside with his foot and approached the group of laborers.

He cleared his throat and called out, “Are you content to remain slaves for the rest of your lives?”

“The nobles and their guards enjoy the lives of the privileged, while you are treated like bondsmen. A few coins are all it takes to buy your time and health.”

“Just a few coins they don’t even value. Such pitiful wages, and after a whole day of labor, you might not even get a full meal… Do you even know how much a piece of hard, black bread costs these days?”

The wizard quietly drew upon his power.

Moments later, a cheer erupted from the site. The usually docile laborers suddenly seemed possessed, picking up whatever tools they could wield as weapons.

“Hey, what are you doing!”

Just then, the replacement guard arrived.

“Do you wish to resist the nobles?” Alatar asked him.

“Why would I rebel?”

The soldier seemed bewildered.

“You will want to.”

A hand suddenly grasped the soldier’s head. His whole body froze, he couldn’t move and could barely breathe.

A massive shadow loomed within his mind. The old man’s glowing eyes turned cold. His robe shifted from ocean blue to deep navy, darkening until it was nearly black.

“Obey me!”

His mind was thrown into chaos.

When the soldier came to, he found himself, somehow, already holding a weapon. Around him stood several equally dazed comrades. Behind them were the laborers.

They were now in a beautiful garden. Screams and angry shouts rang out around them. A richly dressed noble was collapsed on the ground, frantically crawling backward. Next to him stood a tall warrior in golden armor, raising a sword and bringing it down toward the soldier.

Wait, wasn’t that our lord…

“M-My lord, I—”

Before he could finish, the soldier fell.

The town was in complete chaos. Blood trickled from the edge of the garden into the ornamental pond.

Old boots stepped through the blood, leaving behind stained footprints. But their owner seemed utterly indifferent to the surrounding chaos and the fallen bodies, as if none of it concerned him.

Alatar walked openly to the ornate carriage that had been smashed by the furious laborers. He retrieved the letters from inside and stopped a fleeing noble, knocking him unconscious with a strike of his staff before searching through his belongings.

“That should be everything.”

All the messages that needed to be intercepted were now in his hands. The laborers and soldiers, who had suddenly risen up as if possessed, were quickly suppressed by the town’s armed forces.

There was no longer any reason to remain here.

Suppressing the violence and darkness within him, Alatar strode quickly toward the city gates.

“This was all necessary.”

He muttered to himself: “Power… I need power to resist the true enemy… Only with sufficient power can I drive them back, or even… make them submit.”

In that year, an Easterling historian recorded: One of the many fortified towns in the East experienced a riot. The laborers, dissatisfied with meager wages and slave-like conditions, somehow managed to convince their guards to join them in launching an assault on the central garden. The town lord, who had been walking there with an envoy from the royal capital, responded swiftly and organized forces to suppress the minor uprising.

—

“No one knows what madness overcame those people.”

As things settled down for the moment, the terrified envoy scrambled onto the wrecked carriage, only to feel his blood run cold, everything had already been taken.

“What happened?” the town lord asked, anxious.

“I don’t know. Forgive me, my lord… I didn’t have the authority to open the letters. I will return to the capital to confess my failure…”

Whatever the means, Alatar had succeeded in his goal: delaying the enemy’s advance.

Even if the method was… questionable.

—

Elsewhere, in the southern region of Easterling lands.

In the highest and largest hall, a person cowered inside a room meant for receiving distinguished guests. Trembling, he picked up a quill and began writing his first line:

“As I write this, my mind is on the verge of collapse.”

“I’ve had enough of living like this. I don’t want to continue. Thoughts swirl endlessly in my head, depriving me of sleep. I can’t even taste the sweetness of cake anymore.”

“It all began with one event…”

“A few days ago, I followed the king’s command and delivered a letter to the border.”

“On the road, someone of unbelievable boldness blocked my path and tried to steal the letter. I held it up and taunted him: ‘If you want it, come and take it.’ Then I ordered my royal guards to seize him and interrogate him.”

“What happened next was beyond anything I could have imagined. I had completely underestimated him. His black armor was impervious to blades and spears. His weapon breathed fire. Golden light flickered across his body. In mere moments, all my guards were lying on the ground, burned to charred corpses by the flames from his weapon.”

“That fire, I couldn’t tell if it came from the weapon or his mouth. Honestly, I suspect it was the latter. Was he even human? Or some monster wearing a man’s skin?”

“There was no time to think. Overcome with terror, I leaped from the carriage, cut the reins, and fled on horseback as fast as I could.”

“Everything grew distant, like a nightmare. I don’t even know how I made it back. I just remember the gatekeepers helping me down from the horse, my panicked state frightened even them.”

“Though I’ve long left that place behind and completed my mission, the events of that day continue to torment me. I can’t forget.”

“I prayed and sought counsel from a missionary sent by the great Eye. Though he tried to comfort me, his words were laced with mockery. He understood nothing.”

“He understood nothing. Yes, nothing at all, because he never saw it, never heard it. That sound… like something from the depths of Udûn.”

“The black armor seemed to melt into the night. It haunts my dreams. Like a nightmare that never ends, it keeps following me.”

“Even now, I think I hear footsteps outside the door. Something is knocking at the wall. Cracks are forming in the plaster.”

“But when I look, the knocking stops, and the cracks vanish. I think I’ve been tormented by visions for too long.”

“Man or monster, I won’t let him find me.”

O great Eye, the window, someone’s there!!

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