Chapter 86: Seeds of Calamity

The leaves outside the window swayed gently in the wind and rustled softly. A few yellowed leaves, no longer able to cling to the branches, spiraled to the ground. Sparrow-like birds flitted about and pecked at something unseen.

It had already been autumn for some time, and the weather was gradually growing colder. Both Selwyn and Aleisterre were kingdoms near the icy tundra of the north.

Of the two, Selwyn’s winters were arguably harsher. Each autumn, cold winds blew from the St. Anna snowfields in the north toward Selwyn, prematurely ushering in the chill of winter.

In contrast to the bleak and chilly scene outside, the interior of the room exuded comfort and tranquility. The decor was clean and slightly minimalist, with bookshelves, chairs, and a desk forming a simple yet tasteful arrangement. Though the furnishings weren’t extravagant, they carried a sense of refinement and age.

The room would have been spacious and simplistic if not for the vast collection of books filling nearly every available nook and cranny, adding a unique charm to the decor. There were books everywhere, both on shelves and stacked in piles on the floor, leaving only a narrow pathway leading to the door.

An elderly hand, wrinkled and thin, adjusted a golden monocle. The deeply lined face bore a pair of bright, clear eyes that belied its age. Long, gray-white hair, dry and slightly curled, hung loosely and unkempt, casually pushed back behind the ears so as not to obstruct its owner’s reading.

The old man was engrossed in the book before him, reading with a focus and dedication that suggested an undiminished passion for learning despite the vast array of books that had already accumulated in his room.

Someone rapped on the door, then pushed it open before the old man could respond.

A young man stepped inside, his slightly curly hair a clear match for the old man’s, though his was dark and lustrous with youth. His bright, emerald-green eyes shone with unusual intelligence, but exhaustion lined his face. Thick, dark circles ringed his eyes, and his pallid complexion hinted at overwork. Despite his bright gaze, his fatigue was unmistakable.

“Oh, Aloysius. How’s the situation?” The old man didn’t seem to mind the intrusion. He asked a question casually.

“Fine, Grandfather. Our plan was moderately successful. Several squads from the Abyssal Gate have infiltrated Aleisterre. Many were rooted out by the royal guard and the Nightblades, but some succeeded in providing the Font of Life with part of the nourishment it requires. It will mature given time.”

“That’s insufficient,” the old man replied, setting his book aside. “What you’ve done is barely sufficient to keep up appearances. The royal academy is growing increasingly dissatisfied with the resources I’ve taken up for my research. Though we’re officially under their banner, and the Abyssal Gate and Selwyn’s other operatives believe that we’re aligned with them, you know as well as I do that it’s all just a facade. Oh, and you had better not call me Grandfather. Mr. Roland will do. I prefer that mode of address.”

The old man turned his gaze to the fatigued young man, his smile warm and demeanor amiable—and yet Aloysius felt a heavy pressure weighing on him, the back of his shirt growing damp with sweat.

He knew exactly what sort of person his grandfather was. Many of the deranged experiments that now plagued the world were his creations. At times, Aloysius couldn’t help what twisted creature lay behind his erudite and wise exterior.

“Understood, Mr. Roland. I’ve already summarized part of the situation. Allow me to describe the rest in detail.”

“Go ahead.”

Aloysius retrieved a stack of papers that he had prepared beforehand, quickly reviewing their contents before delivering a concise report.

He spoke quickly, but the old man didn’t interrupt or ask him to slow down despite his advanced age. He listened intently to every detail.

Aloysius’s report was filled largely with favorable updates and precise data, much of which pertained to the results of Roland’s research. He smiled upon hearing these details.

When Aloysius neared the end of his report, he paused for emphasis. “Mr. Roland, the next two reports are particularly important.”

“Hmm.”

“Do you recall the squad leader from the Abyssal Gate tasked with coordinating our plans within Aleisterre? His name was Adit. The ‘blessed vampire’ project he was overseeing was a success—the Font of Life responded to our prayers and eliminated the vampire’s weaknesses.”

“Oh? That sounds like good news. Hardly worth emphasizing, though.”

“But he failed. The vampire was surrounded and eliminated by a Nightblades unit. Moreover, Adit himself has gone missing. We’ve confirmed that he’s alive but have no idea where he’s gone.”

“The Abyssal Chains’ vow wasn’t triggered?”

“No. It’s possible he didn’t betray us but has other plans he’s carrying out in secret,” Aloysius suggested.

“You’re overlooking another possibility. He might have gone mad. Madness can break the vow.”

Aloysius frowned. “With the abyssal chains you crafted that linked them and those ‘gods,’ Mr. Roland, how could they possibly go mad?”

“You’re too naive. Those ‘gods’ are unworthy of their name. They’re nothing more than powerful void entities, merely larger fragments that I managed to salvage from the remains of that singular existence. No matter how powerful they seem to you, they are incomplete and inherently unstable. Do you understand?”

Without waiting for Aloysius’ response, the old man continued, “For instance, that void entity representing the night—our chains broke completely, and all of its ‘followers’ forgot its name. It was nothing more than a defective product, one that disintegrated without warning.

“A true god does not die,” the old man said firmly. He glanced at Aloysius, his eyes piercing. Aloysius averted his gaze, unable to meet the old man’s stare.

“This Nightblades unit seems quite formidable. Overcoming a vampire that’s immune to sunlight is no easy feat. Adit’s disappearance and this vampire’s elimination suggest the Nightblades are more formidable than I had anticipated. Keep an eye on their actions in the future.”

“Understood,” Aloysius said.

“What’s the next report?”

“The Grand Library that you’ve had me monitor is about to close down.”

“Oh?” The mention of the Grand Library immediately roused the old man. He straightened up and set his book aside entirely. His fingers tapped lightly on the desk as he sank into thought, his posture and energy betraying none of his advanced age.

“Our contact there has reported a potential discovery of a ‘key.’ If I’m not mistaken, this would be the thirteenth.”

“Ha! Finally! The door to his legacy is finally about to open. That bastard’s inheritance—he’s had me wait far too long.”

The old man’s expression twisted into a momentary bout of unrestrained laughter before he suppressed it. Then, he muttered to himself, too quietly for anyone else to hear.

“You didn’t hear anything, did you?” he asked abruptly as he turned to Aloysius.

“N-No…” Aloysius’s heart skipped a beat. He hurriedly shook his head, gesturing to the small magical device hanging by his ear.

“A portable silencing array? Not bad. You’re clever. Keep it up, and you’ll be rewarded. I hope you won’t end up like the previous few grandchildren—all disappointments. So far, you’ve satisfied me.”

“Give the contact whatever he wants—all our research materials. Provide them all, but make sure the most dangerous knowledge is clearly marked. We don’t want him to lose his sanity and get killed by his own knight like his father nearly did. That nearly exposed our plans.

“I need that key. Have him deliver the information as soon as he obtains the data. This thirteenth ‘key’ must be mine.

“And what about the ‘key’ hiding in the courtyard? Have they found it yet? Tell them to work faster. We’re down to the last two keys. I won’t let that old fool in Aleisterre gain an advantage over me. Whatever lies behind that door shall be mine!”

“Yessir! I’ll order the family to accelerate the search immediately. He won’t elude us for long.”

“Good. Now leave. Don’t disappoint me. And once again—I don’t care for social niceties. Hemming and hawing only shows lack of confidence in fulfilling my requests. All I need is for you to comply and carry out my orders.”

The old man waved at Aloysius dismissively.

“Understood.” Aloysius straightened, abandoning years of learned noble decorum. He turned and sprinted out of the room.

As Aloysius left, his mind replayed the brief flash of crimson fire in the old man’s eyes when he had suddenly looked up. He couldn’t shake the image of the mutilated “keys” suspended in jars—bodies with limbs severed, their lives preserved by a grotesque combination of strange potions and sinister apparatuses.

He didn’t know exactly what Mr. Roland sought, only that he was determined to collect thirteen keys.

Those keys seemed to correspond to specific individuals. Somewhere in Aleisterre, someone like Roland was also searching for these so-called keys.

Thirteen keys… Roland’s ultimate goal was to unlock the legacy of some ancient being. The number thirteen echoed in Aloysius’ mind, pulling a buried memory to the surface—a fragment of an old historical text he had read in the family library as a child.

“A true genius among wizards, the one who stands at the pinnacle, who is closest in spirit to the void, Ro—” Aloysius bit down hard on his tongue, interrupting his thought. He pressed a handkerchief over his eyes and muttered repeatedly to himself, “I see nothing. I know nothing. I think of nothing.” He repeated it thrice, until the memory of the book faded into a haze.

Taking a deep breath, Aloysius dismissed his idle thoughts and rushed to carry out Mr. Roland’s requests. Cold sweat dripped down his forehead. Don’t think, don’t be curious, don’t pry—this had been Aloysius’ motto for survival.

A carriage raced across a dirt road in the wilderness, pulled by two horses. The twin horns on their heads and faint sparks on their bodies betrayed their mixed heritage.

These hybrids possessed unparalleled strength, their hooves pounding the ground and driving the heavy, metal-forged carriage forward.

Inside the carriage, Sieg examined the brief report transmitted via magic, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“Not bad, Wang Yu, Edward. To think they’d be able to thwart an Abyssal Gate incursion in just a single day.

“And as for this ‘blessed vampire’ with raw physical power on par with an advanced knight, they even managed to kill it without losing a single person thanks to sound judgment and teamwork.

“Though it’s obvious who wrote this report given its vainglorious tone, Charles is at least honest enough to acknowledge the contributions of Wang Yu, Edward, and even the soldiers.

“Ah, hmm. Wang Yu’s friend, Avia, even received high praise from Charles for her quick thinking and magical skills. It’s rare for him to commend someone like this. If the opportunity arises, we should have Wang Yu recommend her to join us.

“Lastly, Charles seems to think this report is for your eyes only, given how often he maligns me throughout.

“He wrote that since I don’t have to fight on the front lines, I don’t need that much funding and, because I’ve been out of sight recently, you should deduct half my salary and give it to him instead as a bonus for his diligent report.”

Sieg put away the report, not at all angry. Charles was always like this. It would be stranger if he didn’t make a fuss about once every three days or so.

“The others are commendable; it’s just Charles who needs some discipline. Let them handle the rats in the sewers—they seem more than skilled enough for it. Hugin, prepare a list of possible traitors for me. I’ll investigate them myself.”

Hugin, sitting across from Sieg with a pipe in his mouth, listened calmly as Sieg summarized Charles’ report.

Sieg chuckled wryly. For some reason, the title “Professor” had become his exclusive nickname among them. Still, he didn’t dislike it.

“Oh, and Charles mentioned that Avia has suspicions about a certain orphanage on the outskirts of the city. They were having a group outing in the vicinity during the vampire conflict. An investigation team has been sent to the orphanage, so there should be news soon—ah, here it is.”

Sieg recalled Charles’ final note in the report. While Charles personally doubted there was any connection between the orphanage and Erphine, he still accompanied Wang Yu’s team to investigate, just to be thorough.

Injecting mana into the crystal, Sieg read the new message…

“Are we sure there’s nothing wrong?” Wang Yu and Avia stood in the central archives of the orphanage in question, flipping through the documents on the table. Nearby, Edward questioned Charles, who was frowning at the Wheel of Fortune card in his hand.

“There doesn’t seem to be a problem. The Wheel of Fortune tracks traces of ‘transcendence.’ If there’s no reaction, it means that nothing supernatural has been detected here in at least the last week.”

Charles examined the unresponsive tarot card to double-check Edward’s inquiry.

“Wang Yu, did your latent ability pick up anything?” Avia had confirmed that the personnel records matched the staff and children they had seen—there were no discrepancies.

Wang Yu shook his head. He had used his ripples to examine the bodies of the staff and children. There were no issues—no signs of magic, divine intervention, or void energy.

“Maybe I was wrong—but divine projection always requires a medium, doesn’t it? Just like that small statue you gave me, Wang Yu. Surely it wouldn’t be possible otherwise.” Avia frowned in frustration.

“I couldn’t say. It’s alright, though—taking precautions and following up on potential leads is exactly what we should be doing.”

Wang Yu patted Avia on the shoulder, assuring her that her suspicions were not unwarranted. There was clearly some connection between the events, and the investigation hadn’t been a waste of time.

“Looks like there’s nothing here for now. Let’s go.” Wang Yu called out to Charles and Edward, who both still seemed hesitant. Charles, in particular, looked disappointed as he stared at the unresponsive Wheel of Fortune card—despite the fact that he had been the most skeptical about any link between the orphanage and Erphine.

“I keep feeling like I’m forgetting something.” Charles scratched his head but quickly shrugged it off. It probably wasn’t important—just some fleeting thought or trivial observation.

“Forget it. Let’s go, Edward.” Charles tugged at Edward, who followed him out of the archive room.

As they exited the orphanage, Edward glanced back at the building. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss, but ultimately came up blank.

At the gates of Stevenson Academy of Magic, a middle-aged knight watched a young girl carrying a suitcase, his eyes full of affection.

“Vanessa, you’re an exceptional girl. Make the most of this opportunity. I can’t do much for you, but this spot at Stevenson Academy is a small privilege I secured for you before my retirement. I hope it helps your talent blossom.”

This middle-aged knight was the same one who had taken Vanessa to the orphanage during the chaos in the walled district.

He had stayed in touch with the orphaned girl, admiring her intelligence and budding talent in magic.

Though her aptitude for spellcasting wasn’t particularly outstanding, Vanessa was a quick learner who excelled in absorbing knowledge. Aside from her reserved demeanor, she left little to be desired.

As his retirement approached, the knight used his connections with the Nightblades to secure a recommendation for Vanessa, giving her a chance for a brighter future.

“Thank you, Uncle Klaus. I’ll work hard. Let’s keep in touch,” Vanessa said, hugging the knight before entering the academy under his warm gaze.

In her eyes, a gelatinous substance briefly shimmered before settling into stillness. A faint, imperceptible wave of magic emanated from her as sudden, sourceless flames burned a dossier hidden in her suitcase to ashes.

The dossier read, “Vanessa, one of the orphans who survived the walled district disaster, …”

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