A Morning’s Reckoning and a Tense Alliance

The following morning, the greasy windowpanes of the Slag Inn allowed a dim, grey light to filter through, and the scent of stale ale and damp wood in the air seemed to have intensified.

Rachel leaned against the creaking chair back, her fingertips unconsciously tapping the tabletop. Across from her sat Vera, still pale, and Ruby, who remained ramrod straight, her gaze as sharp as ever. On the table, a black crystal wrapped in a handkerchief rested beside Naiya, who was curled up in a tattered blanket on the floor.

The little girl’s breathing was faint. The bandage over her left eye appeared even more soiled in the dim light, while her only uninjured eye, the right one, remained tightly shut.

“Let’s discuss this,” Rachel broke the silence, her voice hoarse from a night without sleep. “Your thoughts on what transpired last night.”

Vera hunched her shoulders, her arms wrapped around herself. The wound on her left shoulder, though simply bandaged, still throbbed faintly.

“It was… it was terrifying. Those people… and that monster… it was like a nightmare.”

“That was no nightmare; it was reality.”

Ruby’s voice was frigid, her gaze sweeping over the unconscious Naiya on the floor before settling back on Rachel’s face.

“The shadowy figure who escaped possessed uncanny skill and a clear objective. Considering the consecutive disappearances in town, the unknown whereabouts of Barton and the stewards, and the multitude of corpses strewn across the ground…”

Ruby paused, her tone deepening.

“It’s almost certain that the shadowy figure belongs to the Cult. Only those fanatics would perpetrate such a massacre with such brazen impunity.”

Rachel involuntarily rubbed her throbbing temples.

“The Cult… but what was their motive? Why would they kill the s*ave trader? And his ‘cargo’? It’s incredibly strange.”

“Does the Cult even need a reason to act?”

Ruby scoffed, unconcealed disgust flickering in her amber eyes.

“They worship Solax, the Dragon of the End, and seek only chaos and destruction. Perhaps they simply disliked the trader, or aimed to silence him, or merely wished to sow panic. For those madmen, motive is the least significant factor.”

“However…”

Vera spoke, her voice laced with lingering apprehension, her gaze darting towards Naiya.

“Perhaps the Cult was after this child; after all, the power within her…”

The eyes of all three women immediately fixated on Naiya. Vera left her sentence unfinished, yet both Rachel and Ruby understood her unspoken implication.

Ruby’s gaze instantly sharpened, becoming intensely wary, as if she were scrutinizing a dangerous young beast.

“That is certainly not a power humans should possess. It was cold and volatile… and though it erupted for only an instant, it rendered both the monster and the seasoned killer instantly incapable of resistance. This little girl… she is extremely dangerous.”

Rachel fell silent for a moment, her gaze at Naiya complex. She bent down, softening her voice as much as possible.

“Naiya?”

Naiya’s long eyelashes fluttered a few times, and her uninjured right eye slowly opened, but her gaze remained vacant and bewildered, as if veiled by a mist.

Yet, as her eyes landed on Rachel’s face, a faint glimmer seemed to pierce through the mist. She said nothing, only instinctively, and ever so slightly, shifted her body towards Rachel, her cool fingers gently clutching the hem of Rachel’s cloak.

“Don’t be afraid, Naiya, we are in the inn; for now, we are safe.”

Rachel’s voice was soft, imbued with a patience she herself hadn’t realized she possessed.

“Can you tell me? Last night… those people, the s*ave trader… what happened? Who did it?”

Naiya’s body convulsed violently. Like a startled rabbit, she abruptly lowered her head, burying her face in the tattered blanket, her frail shoulders shaking uncontrollably as stifled sobs escaped her throat.

Seeing this, Rachel could only sigh, abandoning her inquiry. She gently patted Naiya’s violently trembling back.

“There, there, it’s alright. If you don’t want to talk, you don’t have to.”

She looked up at Ruby and Vera, shaking her head. “It’s no use; she’s too traumatized. We won’t get anything out of her.”

Ruby snorted, clearly unsurprised by this answer.

Rachel’s gaze, however, fell upon the black crystal wrapped in the handkerchief on the table.

“And this,” she said, picking up the crystal. “Ruby, are you certain you extracted it from the wolf’s wound?”

“Absolutely certain,” Ruby affirmed. “It was embedded in the flesh beneath the scales. And…”

As Ruby spoke, she recalled the eerie scene, her brow furrowing involuntarily.

“When I found it, the thing was almost alive, actively absorbing the surrounding flesh.”

Vera shivered at her words.

“It appears to be a magic crystal…”

Rachel murmured to herself, her fingertips lightly tapping the tabletop.

“But I’ve never heard of a black magic crystal, much less one that can absorb blood.”

“And that monster… covered in scales, capable of spitting fireballs, it resembled some kind of modified demonic beast. The Cult has conducted human experiments in the Gray Mountain Mine before; now… have they turned their attention to animals? Or… something far worse?”

Rachel pondered for a moment, then suddenly stood, stretching her stiff limbs.

“Conjecture alone is useless. We must return and investigate. The daylight offers better visibility, and we were too rushed last night; we surely missed some clues.”

“Go back there?” Vera’s face paled further. “It’s too dangerous! What if…”

“There is no ‘what if’,” Rachel interrupted, her gaze sharp. “The killer fled injured last night, and the monster is dead. Moreover, it is daytime now, with many eyes about; I doubt even the Cult would dare openly attack a noble lord at this hour.”

Ruby nodded in agreement.

“I concur. The scene must be re-examined. We might uncover traces related to this crystal and that creature.”

Naiya seemed to sense Rachel’s impending departure. Her head, previously buried in the blanket, lifted, and her right eye fixed intently on Rachel, conveying a silent plea.

Just as Rachel was about to step away, Naiya struggled to stand, but stumbled due to weakness and fear.

Rachel halted, sighing with resignation.

“Vera, you stay here and look after her.”

Then, looking into Naiya’s dependent eyes, she added.

“We’ll be back soon.”

Naiya’s eyes instantly dimmed, like those of an abandoned kitten, yet she stubbornly watched Rachel until her figure vanished through the inn’s doorway.

Rachel and Ruby once more stepped into the desolate land surrounded by enormous slag heaps.

The daylight revealed a scene far more harrowing than what they had witnessed by candlelight last night. Large patches of congealed, blackened blood stained the cold earth and jagged rocks, like ink splatters from hell. Broken limbs and remnants of organs lay scattered everywhere, and the air was heavy with a sickly sweet, putrid stench.

Ruby took the lead, meticulously searching the ground, rock crevices, and the edges of the slag heaps, focusing on the area where the battle had erupted the previous night. Rachel, meanwhile, concentrated her search around the rock where Naiya had been found, hoping to discover any items belonging to the victims or the monster.

“My Lady!” Ruby’s low voice suddenly called out. “Over here!”

Rachel hurried over. Ruby was crouched beside a relatively clean stone, pointing at the ground.

Amidst the dust and scattered dark stains, several extremely faint footprints, almost erased by wind and sand, were visible. The prints were small and pointed towards the deeper parts of the slag heap.

“These weren’t left by us last night; they’re very fresh, likely from this morning,” Ruby assessed. “And… there’s more than one person.”

Rachel’s heart sank abruptly. Had someone arrived at the scene even before them?

Just then, a flurry of footsteps and the faint rasp of metal armor drifted from the other side of the slag heap. Ruby instantly sprang up, a dagger sliding into her palm, and positioned herself in front of Rachel, her gaze like lightning, darting towards the source of the sound.

Seven or eight figures, clad in uniform dark grey attire and bearing raven-with-coin emblems on their chests, emerged from a gap in the slag heap. They carried standard-issue long staffs and short knives at their waists, their expressions solemn. Leading them was a tall, severe-faced woman, appearing to be in her early thirties, whose dark brown hair was meticulously coiled at the back of her head, revealing a smooth forehead and sharp grey eyes.

At this moment, her gaze, like an icy probe, locked onto the incongruous duo of Rachel and Ruby, lingering particularly on the armed Ruby for a moment, her brow furrowing deeply.

“Who are you?” the female leader’s voice was as crisp and decisive as her appearance. “Why are you here? Unauthorized personnel are forbidden from this area!”

Ruby did not reply, her body tensing slightly, poised for immediate action.

Rachel took a deep breath, suppressing the turmoil within her, and stepped forward. She straightened her petite frame, barely a meter and a half tall, striving to project the dignified bearing of a noble.

“I am Rachel Lockwood, Lord of Lockwood’s domain.”

Rachel’s voice was clear and calm, tinged with a detachment peculiar to nobility.

“Who are you? And what is your connection to these deceased individuals?”

“The Lord of Lockwood?”

A flicker of surprise crossed the female leader’s eyes, quickly replaced by deeper scrutiny and caution. She gave a slight nod, her etiquette impeccable, yet her tone remained firm.

“Ah, Lady Lockwood. My apologies. I am Siena, the new interim head of the Raven Guild’s Iron Anvil branch. The matters that have transpired here are internal affairs of the Guild, and the Guild will handle them. This bloody and defiled place is unsuitable for your esteemed presence; I must ask you to move elsewhere.”

Her words were polite, yet her intent to dismiss them was abundantly clear. The Guild guards behind her subtly shifted into a semi-encircling formation, and the atmosphere instantly grew tense.

“Internal affairs?”

Rachel gave a soft laugh.

“Madam Siena, do your ‘internal affairs’ refer to the bizarre disappearance of Barton, the Guild’s head? Or perhaps the sealed doors of your Guild’s branch? Or even…”

As Rachel spoke, her gaze swept across the crimson land.

“Do they refer to the tragic incident that occurred here last night?”

Siena’s expression subtly shifted.

“My Lady seems to know quite a lot?”

“I merely happened to be passing by and witnessed a portion of it.”

Rachel shrugged.

“Even more coincidentally, we also encountered a suspect, likely the mastermind, though unfortunately, they managed to escape.”

Siena stared intently at Rachel, seemingly assessing the veracity and intent behind her words. Silence permeated the blood-scented air, broken only by the mournful whistle of the cold wind sweeping over the slag heaps.

Seeing this, Rachel knew that her noble status and a few empty words would not suffice to loosen Siena’s tongue; she required a more potent bargaining chip. Thus, she slowly reached into the inner pocket of her cloak.

Noticing her movement, the guards behind Siena instinctively tightened their grips on their weapons.

What Rachel produced was precisely the black crystal, carefully wrapped in a handkerchief. She cautiously peeled back a corner of the handkerchief, exposing the black crystal—which absorbed the surrounding light, appearing unusually profound and ominous—to Siena’s view.

“This was found on the monster’s corpse; I believe you understand what I’m implying, Madam Siena.”

Rachel’s voice dropped, imbued with a chilling penetrative quality.

“We are all discerning individuals here. The string of disappearances in Iron Anvil, Barton’s vanishing, the sealed Guild, last night’s bloodbath, and that monster with a ‘blood-sucking stone’ embedded within it… Do you truly intend to maintain that these are merely ordinary ‘internal Guild affairs’?”

Her gaze locked onto Siena’s slightly constricted grey pupils as she articulated each word:

“This modus operandi, this style of action, is clearly connected to the Cult of the End!”

The moment the words ‘Cult of the End’ left Rachel’s lips, Siena and her guards’ expressions simultaneously changed! The name struck like a massive stone cast into stagnant water, stirring profound ripples.

Unconcealed astonishment showed in the guards’ eyes, and Siena’s sharp gaze fluctuated intensely. She stared fixedly at the ominous black crystal in Rachel’s hand, then abruptly looked up at Rachel, seemingly weighing the risks.

Perceiving their hesitation, Rachel immediately pressed her advantage.

“If your esteemed Guild insists on handling this internally, then I shall have no choice but to fulfill my duty as an Imperial noble. I will truthfully report everything that has transpired here—including your Guild’s suspicious conduct in this matter—to Her Royal Highness Princess Ariya, who is currently purging the Cult in the North.”

“I imagine Her Royal Highness would be exceedingly… interested in any clues related to the Cult.”

Branding the incident as the Cult’s doing and directly invoking Princess Ariya’s name was an undeniable, blatant threat. Reporting to the Princess would mean the matter would entirely escape the Guild’s control, exposing it to the highest echelons of the Empire. The consequences—the Guild’s dereliction of duty, or even suspicion of collusion with the Cult—were certainly not something an interim head could bear.

The cold wind stirred dust from the ground, rustling Siena’s meticulously styled sideburns. Her lips were tightly pressed, her jawline rigid, and her gaze darted repeatedly between Rachel’s calm face, the eerie black crystal, and the bloody scene of slaughter.

Finally, after several long and oppressive seconds, Siena’s shoulders sagged almost imperceptibly. She inhaled a deep breath of cold air, thick with the scent of rust and blood, then slowly exhaled, the rigidity in her eyes replaced by a profound weariness and resignation.

“…Lady Lockwood,”

Siena’s voice was considerably lower, carrying a husky quality that suggested acceptance of fate.

“This is not the place to speak. Regarding Barton, regarding the disappearances, regarding last night… the information we possess, perhaps, we can cooperate.”

She paused, her grey eyes meeting Rachel’s.

“Please, follow me.”