Chapter 52: The Rift and the Dark Web

By the time Charles unceremoniously pushed the door open, Sieg was already inside waiting for the two of them.

At the moment, Sieg had taken off the knight’s armor he had worn at the villa and changed into a meticulously tailored formal suit. His erudite demeanor immediately stood out—it wasn’t hard to see why Charles and the others referred to him as “Professor.”

Sieg was seated at a table, his desk cluttered with various documents, suggesting that he was busy with work. However, it seemed as if he had somehow been informed of Wang Yu’s arrival.

“Welcome, Wang Yu. You’re finally here now. We’re seriously understaffed, so your arrival should help alleviate some of the workload,” Sieg said with a smile.

“Professor, you were messing with me earlier, weren’t you?” Charles exclaimed.

“Charles Ryder. Yesterday morning, at 7:49 AM, you were performing magic tricks at a tavern in the eastern quadrant of the capital. You provoked a drunken patron, causing a brawl, and then escaped the scene using the ‘Dark Web.’ Now, given the Nightblades’ regulations, what do you think the compensation should be for unnecessary financial damage that you caused during a mission?”

Sieg was suddenly all smiles as he eyed Charles, but underneath his warm, affable demeanor was the weight of authority.

“Ahaha, well then, I won’t disturb you anymore. I’ll be going!” Wang Yu noticed sweat trickling down Charles’ forehead as he quickly laughed off the allegation and left the room.

Upon watching Charles leave, Sieg sighed. His smile faded away, replaced by exasperation.

“Charles and Edward can both be a bit unreliable, but the boss you can count on. I hope you’ll be reliable as well.”

“I’ll do my best,” Wang Yu replied with a nod.

“Good. Here’s the situation: Commander Garcia and Archbishop Fang both think highly of you. Normally, even if you’re considered promising, you’d still need to work your way up from the bottom.

“However, due to increasingly active void incursions and the unrest caused by the war, we’ve formed this Nightblades special ops team. Considering various factors and your unique traits, we’ve decided to recruit you directly.

“What exactly does this special ops team do?” Wang Yu asked curiously. He had expected that his job in the capital would be a straightforward role as local police, but that didn’t seem to be the case.

“Archbishop Fang mentioned your personality, so I’ll get straight to the point. This is a role with the best pay and benefits, but it involves the most dangerous and demanding work. We handle minor issues, and we’re the first to respond to major ones.”

“Hmm, that’s fine—but I do have a question. Where does your trust in me come from? Aren’t you worried about me, someone without much of a track record, potentially causing problems for you or even betraying you?”

Wang Yu wasn’t surprised by the nature of the job; danger and difficulty didn’t scare him.

“I’ll be direct: we investigated your background. The fact that no intelligence agency in any kingdom has any information on you suggests that you’re unlikely to be a deliberately planted spy. More importantly, we value capability. Endless suspicion within an organization is meaningless. We evaluate you based on your performance,” Sieg explained.

“No problem. That’s acceptable to me, but aren’t I still rather weak by the standards of the capital? Even Charles is already at the level of a formal magician. I’m a mid-tier knight-in-training at best.”

Wang Yu accepted Sieg’s explanation but raised another point of confusion—his own strength, which he knew wasn’t particularly exceptional.

By comparing himself with others around his age, he knew that there were plenty who were stronger. Wendy, for example, was four or five years younger but likely already physically stronger than he was.

“You may not fully understand your own strength. Take what you did at the manor, for instance. According to our investigation, 32 mercenaries were killed there, a formal knight went missing, a spatial rift appeared, and the projection of an evil god was destroyed. You were responsible for all that, weren’t you?” Sieg looked Wang Yu in the eye.

“Yes. The evil god’s projection was jointly destroyed by me and Avia.” There was no point in denying it; Wang Yu admitted it outright.

“And do you know what would happen if Charles, a formal magician, were to face the same situation that you did?” Sieg asked, smiling.

Wang Yu thought about the scenario. Even a formal knight without specialized preparation or abilities wouldn’t fare well against 32 people, another formal knight, and an evil god’s projection on a single night. “He’d die?”

Sieg shook his head. “No, he’d run. I have to admit, he’s very good at running.”

“…” Wang Yu wasn’t sure why Sieg felt the need to add that, but he understood the point that Sieg was making.

“Strength isn’t just about raw power. While your raw abilities might seem mediocre to us, your performance in combat far exceeds your level. We call people like you ‘specialists.’ So, Mr. Wang Yu, you’ll primarily be responsible for combat and assault tasks in our special ops team.”

Wang Yu rubbed his chin. That made sense. Combat strength wasn’t solely tied to raw ability—strategy, terrain, and individual inclination could all significantly impact one’s effectiveness in combat.

Wang Yu’s innate talents leaned heavily toward combat. While his raw power might lag behind others, his overall combat effectiveness often allowed him to stand out among peers at the same level.

“No problem. Improving my strength is something that I need to focus on anyway.”

“Great. Let’s proceed with registering your identity, then.”

Sieg cleared the documents on his desk, setting aside a stack of papers and pulling out a gold-lined parchment from a drawer.

“This is a contract enforced by the god of order, and it outlines the rules you must follow. Read it. If you’re fine with it, sign your name at the bottom.” Sieg slid the parchment toward Wang Yu.

Wang Yu took a look at the parchment. He had read about such contracts. On the top of the page was an emblem featuring scales; a feather rested on the left pan, and a gold coin on the right, the emblem of the church of order.

Once the emblem was inscribed on a document, the contract became binding under the influence of the god of order. The more precious the materials used for the parchment, the greater its power to enforce agreement.

Wang Yu carefully read the contract and confirmed the benefits and descriptions as laid out on the parchment.

He hadn’t expected the Nightblades to detail such things in the contract. The special ops team offered a monthly base salary of 50 gold coins, along with numerous special benefits.

The last three clauses were the most crucial. Wang Yu summarized their lengthy legalese as follows: 1. Do not betray the Nightblades or cause the organization undue harm. The nature of what constituted harm was very well defined, and this was more than acceptable.

2. Do not maliciously harm the kingdom. Again, what constituted harm here was well defined as well. The kingdom’s rules could be bent, but shouldn’t be broken excessively.

3. Absolutely do not facilitate the summoning of evil gods. The language here wasn’t very precise, but it was the most absolute clause.

“Looks fine,” Wang Yu replied, nodding. The contract seemed reasonable, with restrictions that were minimal aside from the three clauses.

“In that case, sign your true name here,” Sieg said, pointing at the bottom of the parchment.

“True name…” Wang Yu paused. True names were something everyone was supposed to instinctively know at birth. In principle, they didn’t need to be used in contracts. Any script imbued with belief could be used in place of a true name for a signature.

There were well-known legends involving the true names of dragons and demons. When dragons invoked their draconic magic, they had to recite their true name; demons whose true names were uncovered by others could be enslaved by them.

“As for my true name, I suppose it’s Wang Yu…” Wang Yu belatedly discovered that he didn’t, in fact, know his true name.

He hadn’t been born in this world. His parents had named him, and it had never been changed.

“But as long as I acknowledge it, it works,” Wang Yu thought. With that understanding, he signed his name—using Chinese characters.

“What kind of script is this? Are you from some remote kingdom? Well, the scroll hasn’t reacted negatively, so it does carry the weight of your true name. You should feel a slight sense of restraint, a faint divine bond. You can ignore it.”

Sieg eyed Wang Yu’s name curiously. He didn’t understand the script that piqued his curiosity as a researcher, but he focused on the task before him and explained things to Wang Yu, “I don’t feel anything like that…” Wang Yu murmured inwardly. He mentally tested for the divine bindings that Sieg had mentioned, but to no avail.

Even with his inner eye, he couldn’t see any traces of divine power. Another anomaly, perhaps? Sieg seemed oblivious to his issues, so Wang Yu decided to remain silent.

“If possible, I’d love to hear more about your written language at some point. It seems to follow a very distinct pattern, which greatly interests me as a scholar.”

Sieg stored the signed contract away, making the request almost as an afterthought.

“Sure. By the way, I have something I’d like to convey to Archbishop Fang. Can I contact him here?” Wang Yu agreed casually, then brought up the second reason for his visit.

Though the gnome merchants’ guild would report the incident with the goblins wearing Selwyn armor to the kingdom, Wang Yu felt that it would be best for him to relay this matter to Archbishop Fang personally.

Furthermore, he needed to inquire about the Lady of the Night, Eunice. He had virtually no understanding of her, and Archbishop Fang was the true expert in such matters.

“Of course, but it’s better to go in person. It’ll also give you a chance to familiarize yourself with our ‘Dark Web,'” Sieg replied. He didn’t pry into what Wang Yu wanted to speak with Archbishop Fang about; since the contract had been signed, there was no need to maintain excessive suspicion.

“The ‘Dark Web’?” Wang Yu repeated. This was the second time he had heard the term. The first was when Sieg had used it to intimidate Charles earlier.

“Follow me,” Sieg said without elaborating, standing up and leading Wang Yu out of the room.

Wang Yu followed, trailing Sieg through what appeared to be a nondescript corridor, much like those in any ordinary large house.

At first, Sieg didn’t speak. Wang Yu quietly followed behind him—but after a few minutes, Wang Yu began to sense that something was off. The corridor was too long.

They had been walking quickly. By Wang Yu’s rough estimation, they had already covered several hundred meters, but the corridor showed no sign of ending. Moreover, the surrounding decor on the walls was identical, as if the corridor were endlessly repeating itself.

This was intriguing. Combined with the resistance Wang Yu had encountered earlier when attempting to probe beyond the corridor’s boundaries with his ripple ability, it was apparent that this space was no ordinary hallway. There was something special about it.

Wang Yu slowed his steps as he contemplated this realization. Sieg, noticing his confusion, began to explain, “This space is known as the Gap, a unique dimension created through spatial magic and a specialized branch of barriercraft. It roughly covers the entirety of the capital, and the floating island’s magical projection node is its core. Within this space, the concept of distance becomes relative for those who possess the appropriate permissions. Anyone authorized to interface with the array can use the vast reserves of magic here for spatial transfers. However, due to the enormous energy cost, this space is only accessible to a select few.”

Sieg continued, “Furthermore, the rules inside the Gap have been altered using specific wizardry techniques. Spatial transference within the Gap is disabled, but instead, physical distances are reduced by a factor of sixteen to one. Every step here is effectively magnified sixteenfold in the outside world. The space itself has also been modified to appear as you see it now—a corridor inside a mansion. Authorized users, like myself, can submit an application to the royal family for customization of designated areas, such as my office.”

Sieg continued, “Only several organizations associated with the royal family currently have the ability to traverse the gap, high-ranking Nightblades among them. For now, all you need to know is that this corridor, and others like it, form what we call the Dark Web, a concealed transportation network.”

Sieg gestured at the seemingly endless corridor, leaving Wang Yu intrigued by what he referred to as the Gap.

For spatial magic, techniques like transference and bubbles—used to create localized dimensional pockets—were already considered advanced. Something as permanent and expansive as the Gap was on an entirely different level. It made Wang Yu marvel at the wonders of this world, where such feats seemed within reach.

“These corridors might appear endless and linear, but in reality, they stretch between the capital’s magical nodes, forming unseen, twisting, and interwoven transportation routes. Only these magical nodes can support access points to the Gap. These nodes, along with the corridors that link them, form a network that we’ve named the ‘Dark Web,’ buried deep beneath the city.”

Wang Yu raised his eyebrows as he mentally mapped out this system based on Sieg’s description.

He envisioned an invisible grid of pathways spanning the city, which unseen travelers could take advantage of without ever having to interface with the ordinary world at large. These interconnected routes formed a dark web beneath the city’s surface.

“The utility is immense—sixteenfold travel with unrestricted movement across the network…”

Wang Yu praised the name Dark Web, which he found quite fitting. Once again, he was struck by the uniqueness of this world. Miracles that seemed unimaginable on Earth were entirely plausible here.

“Many critical locations are also linked to the dark web. Some highly sensitive areas have been excluded for security reasons, but the church of light, where we’re headed, remains connected to the network. This system is incredibly convenient. As a member of the special ops team, you’ll need to memorize the location of every access node in the city. Charles has already done so, but he rarely uses it for anything serious,” Sieg remarked, somewhat exasperated.

“Now, pay attention to the doors in these corridors. Each one has a unique identifier that corresponds to a node exit. I’ll provide you with a map later, which you’ll need to memorize.”

Wang Yu nodded. He noticed a wooden door that had suddenly appeared along the corridor. It looked identical to the one that Charles had opened earlier, except this one had a number plate above it that marked it as a specific node.

“Let’s keep moving. The node for the church of light isn’t here,” Sieg said, starting to pick up speed as he broke into a run down the corridor.

Wang Yu followed suit. Sieg was surprisingly fast—this scribe’s physique was as good as a knight’s, just like Charles had mentioned. Wang Yu had to run at 70% of his top speed to keep up.

They passed door after door as they ran. Eventually, Sieg stopped in front of another door that had appeared along the corridor. “This is the one. I’ll explain how to use it. You already have the credentials, so I won’t need to issue you anything else.” Sieg gestured toward Wang Yu’s right hand.

“This?” Wang Yu raised his hand, indicating the gauntlet engraved with the Nightblades’ emblem left to him by the old knight Reynard.

“Exactly. Use your mental energy to activate it, then place your hand on the door.”

Feeling a renewed curiosity about Reynard’s original identity, Wang Yu focused his mental energy on the emblem. Immediately, the carving of a sword piercing through an eye came to life. Placing his hand on the door, he felt it shift slightly. Magic surged throughout the surrounding space as the door opened.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep