Chapter 140: His Double Agent

Raziel stood in the dark dormitory room with the red communication crystal humming in his palm, while Oswyn pressed his spine against the wooden headboard and Lucian kept the iron practice dagger digging into the traitor’s throat.

Raziel knew how to trace the magical signal back to Angelina right now.

He wanted to hunt the spy down and end the threat tonight, but the tactical side of his brain calculated the massive risk.

Killing Oswyn or attacking Angelina carried a heavy consequence because Seraphina would notice the sudden silence.

The cult leader would raise her defenses and change her plans if her informant disappeared.

Raziel needed Seraphina to feel comfortable and arrogant, so he needed her to make a stupid mistake.

He decided to turn the traitor into a weapon instead.

“Lower the blade,” Raziel told Lucian.

Lucian frowned but pulled the iron dagger away from Oswyn’s neck.

He sheathed the weapon at his belt.

Raziel tossed the red crystal onto the wool blanket, and the artifact bumped against Oswyn’s shaking hands.

“You are going to send your report,” Raziel stated.

“You will tell her the Inquisition patrols double their numbers near the western wall at midnight, and you will tell her nothing else.”

Oswyn nodded and swallowed hard. “And then what?”

“And then you work for me,” Raziel answered.

“You keep sending her reports, but you feed her the exact information I give you. If you disobey or try to warn her, Lucian will find you in the dark.”

Raziel and Lucian left the dormitory and walked back through the empty corridors to the East Basement.

They entered the Inscription workshop where Zorya sat at the large wooden table, copying geometric sequences into her notebook.

Lucian grabbed a wooden stool and sat down. He crossed his arms and looked at Raziel.

“We left a traitor alive in the dormitories. That is a massive risk.”

“A known traitor is an asset,” Raziel explained.

“We control the narrative now. We need to feed Seraphina a specific lie to lower her guard, so we need her to think I am chasing a useless power.”

Raziel walked to the center of the room and outlined the disinformation campaign.

They needed to stage a fake conversation near Oswyn in the refectory.

Raziel would mention his intense interest in the Gift of Healing, and he would claim he discovered a hidden Healing chamber in the west wing of the academy.

It was a total lie. St. Celeste possessed zero healing chambers in the west wing.

But if Seraphina believed Raziel wanted to become a healer, she would classify him as a passive support unit instead of a lethal threat.

Lucian leaned forward on his stool. “What if Oswyn doesn’t bite?”

“He will bite,” Raziel answered. “He is devoted. The devoted believe what they want to believe.”

“What if Angelina verifies?”

“She can’t verify without access to the basement. And the basement is mine.”

Raziel paused and looked at the noble. He corrected his own sentence.

“Ours.”

Lucian met his gaze and nodded. “Ours.”

They executed the operation the very next day.

Raziel and Lucian sat at a crowded table in the refectory during lunch, while Oswyn sat two tables away and picked at his bowl of stew.

Raziel raised his voice just enough to carry over the ambient noise of the dining hall, talking about finding a map to the Healing chamber and needing to unlock the west wing doors.

Oswyn stopped eating.

The Orator kept his head down but his posture stiffened, and he memorized every single word.

He sent the fake report that same night.

Angelina received the information in her hidden camp and smiled.

She relayed the intelligence to Seraphina in the capital, and the disinformation flowed through the enemy network to secure Raziel crucial time to prepare for the real war.

Three days passed since they turned Oswyn into a triple agent.

Raziel sat in his isolated room in the old wing and read a heavy book on runic theory.

He turned the page and memorized a new geometric sequence.

TAP. TAP.

Someone knocked on the narrow window glass.

Raziel closed the book and walked over to the stone sill.

Arawn Rivers crouched on the outer ledge wearing his dark Exorcist combat gear.

Raziel unbolted the latch and pushed the window open.

Arawn stepped into the room and brushed road dust from his cloak. He didn’t bother with greetings.

“I just returned from the capital,” Arawn announced. “I bring a report regarding the cult.”

Raziel crossed his arms. “Tell me.”

“Seraphina triggered the artifact,” Arawn said.

“She broke the glass vial she received from Angelina, and she tried to implant the prophetic essence into her own core.”

Raziel kept his face blank.

Lucian dropped the fake vial under the western gargoyle over a week ago, and Angelina finally delivered the payload to her boss.

The Umbral tracking rune hidden at the bottom of the glass just detonated.

“What happened?” Raziel asked.

“It failed,” Arawn answered and let out a dry laugh.

“I don’t know what you put inside that glass, but Seraphina didn’t get future sight. The magic backfired and threw her into a massive six-hour trance. She woke up weak and furious.”

Arawn leaned against the stone wall.

“She lost a full week of planning,” Arawn continued.

“The backlash damaged her mana channels. She is hunting the culprit right now and she wants to rip someone apart.”

Raziel listened to the report.

Seraphina expected to see the future and received a face full of diluted mana water and hostile Umbral energy instead.

The trap worked.

He crippled the cult leader from miles away without drawing a single weapon.

He delivered a brutal intellectual strike, and Seraphina had zero idea who punched her.

Raziel didn’t smile because his corrupted soul lacked the capacity for genuine happiness.

But a deep and quiet satisfaction crossed his face.

He felt the tactical victory settle in his chest and It was the absolute closest thing to joy that his current percent empathy allowed.

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