Moncarlo Main Island.
Inside a hotel somewhere on the main island of Moncarlo, Dorothy sat on a luxurious sofa in her suite, quietly composed and focused. Her thoughts were currently anchored in a seaside park on the southwestern edge of the island—observing through the corpse marionette Ed. It was there she had just heard advice about how to find Serinpe Purnassus. But even now, she remained full of doubts.
“Edward Gibbs… the ruler of Moncarlo, a former great pirate… It wouldn’t be surprising if he had a way to track a Crimson-rank Shadow on his own turf. But from what we know, dealing with him is likely going to be very difficult.”
Sitting on the park bench, Ed murmured thoughtfully under Dorothy’s control, analyzing the intelligence he had just received. The woman in blue beside him added.
“Difficult? That’s putting it mildly. I’ve heard Edward is extremely paranoid—and it’s only gotten worse with age. These days, he lives almost entirely alone in his fortress, manipulating Moncarlo from the shadows. He rarely sees outsiders. Most mortals in Moncarlo think he’s some long-dead legend.”
As the blue-clad woman spoke, Dorothy’s thoughts drifted back to the intelligence she had gathered about Edward.
Many years ago, Edward—the founder of Moncarlo—retreated from public view. Officially, the city was now governed by several of his most capable descendants. Edward himself wouldn’t meet with anyone unless something truly extraordinary warranted it. On ordinary days, only a few of his most trusted children were allowed near him.
“Based on what we’ve gathered… it’s definitely difficult to gain an audience with Edward.”
Ed muttered as Dorothy mulled over the situation. The woman in blue continued.
“Meet with Vania? No way. That old coot’s pride is sky-high. Vania’s schedule in Moncarlo doesn’t include a single meeting with Edward.”
Dorothy scoffed inwardly at the suggestion. She already knew Vania’s itinerary in full and knew Edward had no intention of meeting her—probably only the Pope personally could get him to show up.
“Vania Chafferon might be riding a wave of fame, but at the end of the day she’s still just a young Holy Relic Bearer. Her diplomatic rank isn’t high enough for Edward to bother with… So, aside from this, do you have any other ideas on how to approach him?”
Ed replied bluntly. The woman’s expression darkened at that, and she frowned.
“Well… if he won’t even meet with the nun, then honestly, I can’t think of another way to reach him…”
She rubbed her head, visibly troubled. Ed pressed further.
“Even if we did manage to meet with Edward, how would we convince him to help? Something like his trump cards aren’t the kind of thing you can just ask for.”
“Ugh… I’m not really sure about that part. But if you could offer something he’d truly value in exchange, I imagine he’d be willing to help. It would need to be a proper trade.”
“So then… a bargaining chip strong enough to move a Crimson-rank pirate—the master of Moncarlo. How much would that be worth? The Dreamscale Censer is originally yours, and we’re only borrowing it. So it’s unreasonable to expect us to pay everything. Can your side offer something enticing enough to sway Edward?”
With a grave tone, Ed pressed the woman further. She looked increasingly uneasy, rubbing her chin as she hesitated.
“That… uhh… well… to be honest, after our faction took that heavy blow from the Moth Faction, we’ve been running on fumes. As for something that could win over the old pirate… we really don’t have anything on hand right now...”
“Then how about this! If we don’t have the bargaining chip to make a deal with him, maybe we don’t need to. He’s a Crimson-rank Beyonder, sure, but he’s not part of the Lantern or the Church’s hierarchy. The only reason he might be able to locate a Crimson-rank Shadow is if he’s using some powerful mystical item. What if we infiltrate his fortress and steal it?”
The woman said this with a straight face. Listening from the distant hotel, Dorothy facepalmed. Controlling Ed, she looked at the woman with exasperation and replied.
“Stealing from a domain ruled by a Crimson-rank Beyonder who’s spent years fortifying it is anything but simple. Worse still—we don’t even know what the item is. And even if by some miracle we stole it, we’d instantly provoke Edward’s wrath. Combined with Serinpe, we’d have two Crimson-rank enemies in Moncarlo. Are you really prepared to go to war with both?”
“Ah… yeah… I guess… provoking two Crimsons might be a bit much…”
The woman scratched her cheek thoughtfully. Seeing that any further discussion would be pointless, Dorothy had Ed let out a soft sigh before saying:
“Alright. The intelligence you’ve brought us is very helpful. I’ll need to return and report this to my companions so we can discuss countermeasures. Please take this—if we need to contact you again, we’ll use it.”
As he spoke, Ed pulled a small notebook from his coat and handed it to the woman. She accepted it and examined it curiously.
“Is this… a mystical item? How does it work?”
“Very simple. Just read the words that appear and write your reply with a pen.”
While answering her, Ed stood up from the park bench. After casting one last glance at the woman, he lifted his hat and gave her a polite bow.
“Then I’ll take my leave. Once we’ve decided on a plan, we’ll contact you. Until next time, Miss Fox.”
He turned and walked away quickly. Behind him, the woman sat frozen in place, stunned for several seconds before finally reacting.
“Miss Fox… He knew I was the fox? When… when did I slip up…?”
…
After the brief rendezvous with the little fox, Dorothy had Ed hurry back under her control. As the great dragon Paarthurnax, she had spoken with that fox many times in the Dreamscape, and she was thoroughly familiar with her speaking style and verbal quirks. Though the fox had concealed her identity this time, she hadn’t bothered to change her habitual way of speaking—making her identity instantly obvious to Dorothy.
“Heh… that little fox is clearly childish and inexperienced. Can’t be too old. The Butterfly Faction is really scraping the bottom of the barrel if they’re pushing someone like her into an operation this important. Their situation must be bleak...”
While maneuvering Ed back through the city, Dorothy pondered inwardly. Then she slowly stood from her sofa and walked to the balcony, resting her hands on the railing as she looked northward.
In the far distance, on the northern outskirts of Moncarlo’s city proper, she could see it: a massive fortress built into the mountain, towering over the skyline. Its walls were even taller than Moncarlo’s high-rises. Behind them, the mountainside had been carved and reinforced, studded with turrets, cannons, and towers. Watchtowers were linked with the stone walls. This was no ordinary structure—it was the fortress of the great pirate Edward, meticulously crafted and used as his command base during the city’s lawless age. Now, even in retirement, it continued to protect him. Its looming form was a declaration of Edward’s absolute authority over Moncarlo.
Staring at this symbolic fortress, Dorothy reflected.
“To get help from someone like Edward—at the level where he’d actually use one of his hidden trump cards—that’s no small feat. The price for something like that is far beyond anything I can or would pay. And stealing from him? Practically impossible… But if I don’t leverage his power, how on earth am I supposed to locate a Crimson-rank Shadow Beyonder on this island?
“Whether negotiating or stealing, the first problem is simply getting close to him. And even that’s proving to be a real obstacle...”
Still on the balcony, Dorothy stroked her chin in thought. After a while, she decided to try some remote reconnaissance to gather more intelligence on Edward.
With that, she directed her corpse marionette bird—already circling Moncarlo’s skies—to fly north toward the pirate fortress. Maintaining careful altitude and distance, it eventually reached the skies above the stronghold.
From that vantage point, Dorothy activated her spiritual vision, using the bird’s eyes to survey the fortress below. What she saw was a faint glow encasing the entire area. After closely examining it, she realized it was a thin layer of spiritual mist.
This mist was composed of two types of spirituality: Lantern and Chalice. It blanketed the entire fortress, growing denser the deeper inward it went. The thickest concentration was within the inner buildings—completely hidden from view. But as soon as she sensed it, Dorothy immediately recalled her first encounter with the Abyssal Church’s White Ashes aboard the Shimmering Pearl.
“This fog… it’s the same kind of mist a Hydromancer uses. A White Ash-rank Hydromancer can sense changes in humidity to detect intruders. Back then, those two used dampened air to passively counter detection… This fortress feels like an extremely enhanced version of that…
“This invisible spiritual humidity pervades the entire fortress. Any living being entering it risks being sensed. The deeper one goes, the higher the mist density—and the greater the detection risk. This mist was likely created and maintained by Edward himself—it’s an extension of his power…
“Tch… this complicates things. On the Shimmering Pearl, I was able to bypass the humidity-based detection because it lacked spirituality and wasn’t directly connected to its user. I used electrolysis to keep my corpse marionette dry and slipped through unnoticed. Those anti-detection techniques rely on a high-humidity environment that reacts when someone moves through it, letting the Hydromancer sense them via water vapor changes. As long as the infiltrator remains dry, they can sneak past.
“But here? This is different. The moisture is mystical—imbued with Edward’s spirituality. These are no longer just conditions he created; they are an active extension of his power, like conjured water arrows. Trying to bypass them using electrolysis or evaporation would alert him immediately. It’d be like shocking or burning his own body…”
While the corpse marionette bird observed from above, Dorothy kept analyzing. As someone half-rooted in elemental arts, she understood the principles well enough to know exactly what was going on.
Put simply: Edward had cast a mist barrier spell, then diluted the mist to its thinnest form and kept it active indefinitely. Anyone entering—even invisibly—would be sensed the moment they stepped into it. Because they were walking into his domain.
“Crimson rank, huh… Maintaining a wide-scale effect like this for decades—his spiritual reserves really are monstrous…”
Dorothy sighed. The omnipresent, nearly invisible fog rendered her usual corpse marionette scouting completely useless. Without intelligence on Edward, she couldn’t negotiate—nor could she plan a theft.
“Looks like I’ll have to take a different approach…”
Still seated on the balcony, Dorothy brooded deeper—until an idea began to form.
…
Dusk. In a remote alley in Moncarlo, sunlight painted golden streaks across the stone pavement outside a hidden tavern.
The once-fresh bloodstains had dried into the cracks between cobblestones. The brutal clash that had erupted here not long ago was now over. The victorious Moncarlo City Guard had locked down the area’s key checkpoints. The defeated Hookshark Gang members lay scattered—injured and bound, or simply dead.
In Moncarlo, the city guards didn’t "go easy" on gangs. Enforcement was swift, brutal, and rarely asked questions. Even a petty crime could lead to violent death under their methods—a legacy from Moncarlo’s pirate city past. The only way for local gangs to avoid such crackdowns was to pay enough bribes… but no amount of bribery could’ve saved the Hookshark Gang this time.
Outside the tavern, corpses lay in the street. Survivors whimpered under the muzzles of the guards. A white-robed nun moved among the wounded, healing their injuries. Inside the tavern, among the wreckage and fallen, an interrogation was underway.
Within the shattered ruins of the bar counter, the bloodied Glass, with one arm broken, lay collapsed and gasping. His eyes widened in terror at the familiar figure standing before him. Missing several teeth, his voice trembled as he begged.
“T-Tenth Young Lord, please… please have mercy… I swear I’ve learned my lesson… I won’t touch this kind of business again… I’ll pay a full year’s tribute when I get back, just please… please spare me…”
Facing the bloodied and barely conscious man, Laurent stood with hands behind his back, his expression ice-cold.
“Glass… this isn’t a matter of tribute anymore. Do you even know what day it is today? And you still dare run a business like this? Have you got a death wish?!”
“Day…? What day…?”
Glass wheezed, dazed and confused. Laurent’s voice sharpened into a shout.
“Today is the day the Church’s pilgrimage nun visits! Do you have any idea what that means for Moncarlo, you brain-dead idiot?!”
Glass blinked, trying to process it. Then suddenly his eyes lit up, and he began to chuckle obscenely.
“Ohhh… that nun? Hah… right, yeah, the brothels all suddenly got a surge in demand—every girl wants to dress like her now. And those white outfits—mm, real premium stuff. Everyone’s painting their faces to look like the nun from the papers… even got the wigs ready… Hah… it feels so good using them, ohhh YES—!”
Before he could finish, Laurent’s face turned pitch-black with rage. He raised his boot and stomped directly on Glass’s remaining good arm, snapping it cleanly.
Glass howled in agony—his scream echoing through the bloodied tavern.