Frisland, Northern Shore of the Main Continent.
At night, along the coast of Dragon Severance Bay, on the balcony of a luxury hotel suite in a certain location in Aransdel, Dorothy sat on a chair beside a table, her expression focused as she read the words Artcheli had just written to her in Literary Sea Logbook.
“So the former Vambas is actually the current Kramar?! And that’s his true name? So Archbishop Sinclair of Frisland used to be a colleague of the current Inquisition Cardinal decades ago? There was such a thing…”
Reading Artcheli’s handwriting on the page, Dorothy couldn’t help but think in surprise. Earlier, she had her corpse marionette, Ed, roam the streets and surroundings of Frisland to casually gather information, and unintentionally spotted the name “Vambas” at the ruins of the Inquisition outside the city. Curious, she had asked Artcheli about it—but didn’t expect such a response in return.
“I saw that Vambas had once participated in a major case in Frisland with Sinclair. Can you tell me more about what happened? You should know the details better, right?”
Picking up her pen, Dorothy quickly wrote the question in the Literary Sea Logbook. Not long after, Artcheli’s response appeared before her eyes.
“Based on the records I found, sixty to seventy years ago, Frisland was in a period of extreme religious tyranny. This was a result of overcorrection during the Muddy Stream War’s purging of entrenched heretical forces.
“You should know that before the Muddy Stream War, Frisland was a stronghold for True Saint heretics—even the local royal family had fallen under their control. During the Great Holy War, this region not only rebelled, but even the heretical cardinal Fabrizio fled here and died.
“As a result, after the Great Holy War ended, Frisland was considered the most heretic-plagued region. It was purged at the same level as Ivengard. When the new Kramar took office, a large number of inquisitors were sent, and many Inquisition courts were established.
“The heretic purge in Frisland after the war was extremely brutal. The monarchy was abolished, tens of thousands executed. Under the policy of ‘better to kill mistakenly than miss one,’ false convictions were rampant, and Frisland—like Ivengard—entered a time of terror.
“But unlike Ivengard, Frisland lacked figures like Radiant King Emmanuel during the war, so after the Great Holy War, no new kingdom government with mystical inheritance or influence was established. The mortal government became a mere formality. Without the counterbalance of a kingdom, the Inquisition courts became the de facto rulers of Frisland, and inquisitors gradually gained powers they never should have had—this changed the very nature of the Inquisition.
“Over a century, the inquisitors of Frisland, bloated with power, slowly became corrupt and degenerate. They deceived superiors, oppressed subordinates, using their authority not just to purge heretics but to strengthen their control and exploit the lower class. They ruled like feudal lords. Anyone who disobeyed was arrested under the pretense of heresy.
“So while heretics might’ve long been eliminated, heretic arrests continued for centuries, as inquisitors abused their power to maintain rule and exploitation. The purges in Frisland became something else entirely. For a long time, clerical lords ruled Frisland cruelly—until a turning point arrived.
“This turning point came due to the ongoing pirate problems in the Conquest Sea. The Redemption Faction gained the upper hand in Ivengard affairs. In the Cardinal Council, the Redemption Cardinal defeated the Inquisition Cardinal and took over Ivengard policy, using appeasement to ease the pirate crisis. This alarmed the Inquisition Cardinal, who feared losing more ground to the Court of Redemption. Thus, he began internal reforms—Frisland being the top priority.
“He sent two inquisitors to Frisland—both reformists advocating changes in the Inquisition to meet new challenges. These were Sinclair and Vambas.
“What followed, you’ve probably heard already. Once they arrived, they reversed the chaos, purged many corrupt inquisitor-lords, dismantled excess courts, reined in Inquisition power, returned governance to mortal authorities, and ended Frisland’s religious reign of terror. This became a precedent for reforms in other Inquisition-controlled regions, and caused the Inquisition to lose more ground.
“Later, the internal reform movement went too far, even challenging the then-Inquisition Cardinal himself. He tried to deceive the Holy See and was deposed. When the Holy See chose a new Saint Kramar, both Vambas and Sinclair, as leading reformers, were considered. Eventually, Vambas was chosen to succeed the Inquisition Cardinal, while Sinclair was appointed Archbishop of Frisland.
“That’s everything I’ve found about the background of Frisland, Vambas, and Sinclair.”
As Artcheli’s writing on the page came to an end, Dorothy spun her fountain pen with interest, then flicked off a bit of ink and began writing again.
“So in a way, Sinclair and the current Inquisition Cardinal Kramar were once colleagues—and rivals? Sinclair could’ve become the Inquisition Cardinal instead?”
“You could say that. According to what I’ve found, although there were many candidates, the main competition was between Vambas and Sinclair. The Holy See ultimately chose Vambas.”
Artcheli’s handwriting continued to emerge on the page. Dorothy contemplated it briefly before writing again.
“Then what do you think of the Pope’s decision? Based on Kramar’s performance lately—did he make the right choice?”
Dorothy asked directly. After a pause, Artcheli finally responded.
“No matter what, I’m now one of the Holy Church’s cardinals—I shouldn’t judge the Holy See’s choices. All I can say is, the Holy See definitely had its reasons. Kramar may have issues now, but when the Pope chose him, there must have been justification…”
That was Artcheli’s reply. Seeing it, Dorothy paused thoughtfully and decided not to pursue the matter further. Instead, she lifted her pen and changed the topic.
“All right, let’s leave that question there. So, where are you now? When will you arrive?”
“I’ve already arrived in Frisland. Since the destination is very risky, for stealth and safety, I’ll be disembarking the Twilight Devotion and proceeding alone.
“I’m very close now—within an hour, I should be inside the ‘zone of influence’ you marked.”
Artcheli’s handwriting slowly appeared before Dorothy. After reading it, she paused, then wrote,
“Is that so… then I wish you a safe journey.”
As Dorothy wrote the words of blessing, far from Aransdel, still within Frisland, a massive but invisible aerial warship soared silently through the dark sky, flying toward the horizon.
Inside the invisible ship, in front of a wide window, Artcheli stood motionless. After reading the final message in the book she held, she closed it and tucked it safely into her cloak. Then she turned toward a wall-projected dynamic map not far away.
The map depicted the northern part of the main continent. In addition to topography, it marked cities—yet the blinking moving dot representing the Twilight Devotion was headed toward an area with no labels at all.
In that blank stretch of light-projected terrain—the very direction Artcheli was traveling—a note had been affixed. Upon it was a name, written in Dorothy’s elegant script:
Stinam.
…
It was nighttime. In a high-end hotel near the cathedral district, close to the center of Aransdel, a grand banquet was drawing to a close inside a conference hall.
Inside the hall, the celebratory performances had already concluded. On the many banquet tables, the once-abundant delicacies had been mostly consumed and were now being swiftly cleared by servers, replaced by refined desserts. The ensemble had begun playing a gentle concluding tune, while the upper-class guests of Frisland, gathered from various sectors, had broken off into small groups, chatting over dessert. Some had already begun to bid their farewells and leave.
At the edge of the hall, on a balcony adorned with beautiful flowers and greenery, stood the central figure of the banquet, Vania, dressed in flowing white. She gazed out into the cityscape sparkling under the night sky.
“Phew… this kind of view is still more comforting…”
Letting out a slow breath, Vania thought quietly to herself. After spending months in the quiet, oppressive atmosphere atop Holy Mount, the lively and peaceful atmosphere before her brought a rare sense of ease to her heart.
There was a time, back when she had first risen to fame, when attending a banquet like this and mingling with high society figures had left her overwhelmed with nerves. But now, she could handle such occasions with grace. Compared to the pressure of facing the cardinals atop Holy Mount, the banquet just now was a minor affair.
“Frisland, huh… Such a beautiful place. And yet even a place like this is already being eyed by cults? May the Lord bless us. May we once again drive away evil and bring peace to the people…”
Gazing at the night, Vania silently offered this prayer. Her open arrival in Aransdel had been a deliberate move—discussed with Amanda and Artcheli, and decided upon after Artcheli had consulted Dorothy. It was a strategic gambit meant to startle the enemy, a bait to probe the Nether Coffin's response.
Whatever plot the Nether Coffin Order was brewing in Frisland, they were bound to notice Vania’s sudden appearance. Even though she only claimed to be on pilgrimage, making no overt move to investigate, the cult might still take precautions, such as sending watchers or employing ghostly methods of surveillance.
That was precisely when the countermeasures arranged by Artcheli and Dorothy would come into play: methods placed on and around Vania to identify those watchers or eavesdroppers, and then follow the trail back to investigate the Nether Coffin Order in turn.
For example, among the members of Vania’s pilgrimage retinue were many high-ranking agents from the Court of Secrets. Alongside Dorothy’s people, they were constantly watching for anything unusual around Vania. Meanwhile, more agents from the Court of Secrets had already entered Aransdel and other Frisland cities via various means and identities, conducting covert investigations. These were the dark pieces of the chessboard—complementing the overt play.
For now, however, neither Vania’s group nor any of the others had uncovered anything unusual. All they could do was wait.
“How was the banquet, Sister Vania?”
Just as Vania was pondering the instructions Amanda and Dorothy had given her while enjoying the scenery, a kindly voice suddenly came from behind. She paused slightly, then turned to see Sinclair, dressed in loose clerical attire and wearing a benevolent smile, approaching her slowly.
“It was quite lovely… The scenery and the cuisine both surprised me pleasantly, Your Grace,” Vania replied with a polite smile. Sinclair, still smiling, stepped beside her and continued the conversation.
“Sister Vania has traveled to many cities on her pilgrimage. Your breadth of experience made me worry our hospitality might not suffice. But hearing that puts my mind at ease…”
“Not at all… If we’re talking about experience, how could a junior like me compare to you, Archbishop Sinclair? Your seniority within the Church is far greater than mine…”
Vania continued to reply courteously, and the two exchanged pleasantries for a while, politely praising each other before gradually shifting the conversation to more substantive matters.
“Sister Vania, since you’ve graced Aransdel with your presence, it is my duty to assist you with any questions or concerns you may have about our region. Feel free to ask me anything.”
Sinclair smiled as she offered her help. Vania, after a brief moment of thought, asked directly.
“Thank you for your kindness, Archbishop Sinclair… As it happens, I do have a few questions. During the banquet, I heard several guests—particularly those involved in commerce—complaining about economic issues. Has something gone wrong with Aransdel’s economy recently?”
Vania’s question prompted a slow reply from Sinclair.
“Yes… there have indeed been problems. Strange ones, at that. Around April or May last year, major cities across Frisland, including Aransdel, suddenly experienced a surge in unemployment. Some areas faced severe shortages of supplies, while others had inexplicable surpluses...
“In short, the market and daily life throughout Frisland were thrown into varying degrees of disarray. Fortunately, our local government managed to stabilize the situation through regulatory measures. Things have mostly returned to normal—but only mostly. Lingering effects remain, which is why you’re still hearing complaints.”
Having listened to her explanation, Vania asked again.
“This sudden economic chaos… No cause has been found?”
“No cause,” Sinclair answered.
“Economics is even more elusive than mysticism. It’s not so easily unraveled. Local economists still can’t agree on a reason for the crisis and none of their theories sound convincing to me…”
Then, as if suddenly recalling something, she added.
“But… there’s a saying that ‘where there’s anomaly, there’s malevolence.’ In my view, this kind of unexplained disruption is very likely tied to something beyond the mundane.”
“Something beyond the mundane… You mean involving the mysticism world?”
Vania asked. Sinclair nodded and continued in a low voice.
“Yes… perhaps even heretics or cults. Forgive my suspicion—it comes from my Inquisition background. I did have my people investigate, but we found nothing of substance.”
“Nothing came of it? In that case, Archbishop Sinclair, have you considered reporting the matter to Holy Mount? Perhaps requesting support from them to investigate?”
Vania’s suggestion prompted Sinclair to shake her head.
“I have considered it. But if I report it, I would have to face today’s Saint Kramar—the Inquisition Cardinal himself. Frankly, I don’t want him involved in Frisland’s affairs, so I’ve withheld any reports or requests.”
Hearing this, Vania asked curiously.
“Kramar… From your tone, do you harbor some dissatisfaction toward the Inquisition Cardinal?”
Sinclair pondered a moment before replying.
“Let’s say I understand him, not dislike him. To be frank, before he ascended to his current position, we worked together. We’re old acquaintances. I know him fairly well.
“Back then, he fit the stereotype of a zealous inquisitor: rigid, fanatical, vowing eternal war against all heresy, decay, and threats to the Church. But unlike the stereotype, he also retained a base level of rationality… and acted with method. That was my impression of him at the time.
“But at some point—perhaps after becoming Cardinal—he changed. His radicalism deepened, and the rational side seemed to vanish, replaced by sheer madness. Last year, he visited Frisland to inspect my work. He overturned many of my rulings, sentencing minor offenders to death, heavily punishing lesser crimes, and even imprisoning suspects without evidence. Then he rebuked me, accusing me of excessive mercy and enabling heresy’s return. Hmph… laughable. Many of his judgments were baseless… He’s undermining the very foundations of our judicial system.
“After that visit, I became convinced: he’s changed. He’s become more fanatical than the corrupt inquisitor-lords who once ruled these lands. So even though the economic chaos in Frisland is suspicious, I chose not to report it to him, for fear of innocent lives being unjustly ruined. I decided to handle it myself.”
With a solemn tone, Sinclair explained to Vania. She considered her words for a moment, then asked.
“I see… So as an archbishop from the Inquisition, you still favor a more merciful approach to judgment?”
“More or less. We are all children of the Lord. All sins can be redeemed. Judgment and punishment are means—not ends. In my view, rooting out heresy and cults requires more than just thunderous force… This is a belief that even the old, rational version of him wouldn’t accept, let alone the one now.”
Sinclair spoke calmly. After hearing her out, Vania sighed gently.
“In the Inquisition, it's rare to find someone like you with such mercy, Archbishop Sinclair…”
Then, her brows arched ever so slightly as she shifted the topic.
“Actually… the Church doesn’t only have the Inquisition when it comes to investigations. Other branches could assist you, some even with cardinal-level backing. Why haven’t you sought help from them?”
Her question made Sinclair pause, her brow furrowing slightly. After thinking for a moment, she replied.
“Sister Vania, are you referring to the Court of Secrets? It’s true that the Court of Secrets and the Inquisition are the only two Church institutions with strong investigative capabilities. And the current Secrets Cardinal does have a good reputation. But their main jurisdiction involves royal families and foreign cults. I’m still unsure if this incident involves heresy or not. I don’t even have enough evidence to prove its severity. That’s not enough to justify pulling the Secrets Cardinal’s attention.
“Perhaps… once I’ve gathered sufficient evidence, I’ll reach out to Saint Artcheli in secret…”
As he spoke, Sinclair seemed deep in thought. Hearing his response, Vania, too, nodded thoughtfully.
“…I see.”
…
Time passed, and the night deepened.
As the moon rose high into the sky and the city lights gradually dimmed, most of the populace slipping into slumber, a warm light still glowed from the window of a luxury suite in a hotel somewhere in Aransdel.
Though it was already deep into the night, Dorothy had not gone to sleep. Wearing a white nightgown, she sat by the window at her desk. Before her sat a peculiar crystal orb, into which she stared intently. Inside the clear orb, lines of softly glowing script were appearing one by one.
This crystal orb had been given to her by Artcheli. With it, Dorothy could connect to the mechanical terminal aboard the Twilight Devotion. Through this connection, she could assume the role of the Secrets Cardinal and receive reports from the countless church agents under the Court of Secrets’s command—including those aboard the Twilight Devotion—and issue directives accordingly.
Because Artcheli was now heading alone into a dangerous location for a covert operation, she had to sever contact with both her saint steel warship and her subordinates. Thus, she temporarily transferred partial authority over the Court of Secrets to Dorothy, just as she had previously done in Tivian.
At this very moment, Dorothy was using the orb to read through report after report sent by the Court of Secrets’s agents. These agents were scattered throughout Frisland, most of them having infiltrated the region through various channels prior to Dorothy’s arrival. Previously, they answered to Artcheli. Now, they took orders from her.
“Upper Moride… Lower Moride… Aransdel… economic report… transportation market survey…”
She murmured softly while poring over the dense content of the reports, silently summarizing the streams of text and data. Throughout the process, she frequently recalled the intelligence her corpse marionette, Ed, had gathered earlier in the city.
“Stinam… A significant city in Frisland, with close ties to other urban centers, especially Aransdel. Its sudden disappearance caused massive repercussions. That wave of economic turmoil was one manifestation. Countless people tied to that city—like couriers—suddenly lost their jobs. Assets based there became worthless overnight. Goods slated for sale in Stinam were left unsold. Whole supply chains broke when key links vanished…
“But… if that economic chaos was the only effect, then it feels too minor. What Stinam provided to Frisland was far more than just employment…”
While thinking this, Dorothy picked up a thick stack of documents from the table—commercial statistical reports from the Aransdel government. Scanning them casually, she found many blank or redacted sections. These spots had originally contained information related to Stinam.
Though the content was now missing, Dorothy could still infer, from the rest of the data and summaries, what those blanks had once held.
“Grain… Stinam was Frisland’s largest grain-producing region. Its highly developed fisheries and agriculture made it the central food supplier for Aransdel. Aransdel itself thrives on commerce, finance, tourism, and light industry—it lacks arable land and has poor fishery yields, producing very little food on its own. That there was no widespread famine after Stinam vanished is practically a miracle…”
As Dorothy studied the documents, she thought this to herself, then turned her gaze back to the reports inside the crystal orb.
“From the intel Ed gathered in the city, the passenger transport sector in Aransdel took a big hit after Stinam disappeared, but the freight industry barely suffered. Court of Secrets’ agents found that many freight drivers were confused for a brief period around April or May last year, unsure what to do since their destination vanished. But very soon… they got flooded with business from other cities and changed routes almost immediately. Barely any losses at all.
“According to Court of Secrets agents in other cities across Frisland, around the first half of last year, several new large-scale suppliers suddenly appeared on the market. Cities that used to trade with Stinam—including Aransdel—continued to receive grain-based goods in large volumes. These new sellers nearly perfectly replaced the supply gap left by Stinam’s disappearance.
“Particularly for food, Aransdel’s vendors panicked only briefly before the influx from these new suppliers filled the void… It’s thanks to that timely substitution that the economic disruption didn’t escalate into a full-blown crisis.
“But… isn’t that timing far too convenient? A nation’s top food-producing city disappears, and its supply gap gets filled that fast? Where did these sudden suppliers even come from?”
Staring at the reports from Surveillance agents across the other cities, Dorothy pondered. She had already issued orders to investigate these suppliers in depth, but that would take time. She wouldn’t receive the full results until the next day.
But while she couldn’t obtain those supplier reports tonight, there were still things she could get her hands on.
…
Late night, in the outskirts west of Aransdel.
The night breeze swept across the silent fields. Tall windmills creaked as they slowly turned under the gentle winds, filling the air with intermittent groans.
Windmills were one of the most iconic symbols of Aransdel and Frisland. Once, the people of Frisland used them to grind wheat. After the industrial revolution, however, with more efficient power sources available, windmills were abandoned in favor of specialized processing factories. Now, windmills served mainly to attract tourists.
Far south of this windmill village stood the enormous food processing district of Aransdel. Countless factories and warehouses dotted the plains—Frisland’s largest food processing base.
Though it was deep into the night and some plants had shut down, most were still running. Under bright lights, machines rumbled nonstop while tireless workers hauled raw materials, fed them into machinery, packaged finished goods, and loaded them onto carts to be shipped out to Aransdel and other Frisland cities by morning.
As the workers labored, a group of uninvited guests silently slipped in. Easily bypassing snoring guards and a dog curled up with a bone, they moved unseen through the shadows and spread throughout the base.
They were Court of Secrets agents.
Acting under orders, they infiltrated under cover of darkness. Once inside, they split up to investigate different workshops and plants. Some even used mystical items to disguise themselves, mingling with the workers and gathering intel through casual conversation.
With expert skill, they searched the entire base for some time. Any mystical detection measures from minor organizations would’ve failed to notice them, let alone the ordinary factory workers. Within a short period, several factories were completely scouted. The agents didn’t leave immediately, instead regrouping at a concealed warehouse.
“Target 1 has been checked, no signs of mystical traces.”
“Target 2 also inspected, no signs of the mystic or hidden elements.”
“Target 3 is clear, no suspicious findings…”
Inside the dark warehouse, within a carefully placed sound-dampening barrier, several night agents stood in a row, reporting to a tall figure who seemed to be their squad leader. After hearing all the reports, the conclusion was: no anomalies had been found in the base.
“Really… not a single irregularity?” the leader asked seriously.
Each subordinate answered firmly.
“No signs. Everyone here seems to be ordinary mortals. The machinery runs as it should. Neither the raw materials nor finished goods showed any unusual traces of spirituality… From preliminary checks, nothing abnormal. If something is hidden here, it’s very well concealed—it would require long-term observation to uncover.”
Hearing this, the team leader fell silent. He stepped over to a stack of sacks in the warehouse and opened one—it contained wheat flour.
Examining it, he took out a small lamp etched with strange runes. Lighting it with a soft orange glow, he illuminated the flour, gently stirring and rubbing it with his fingers. Nothing unusual was detected.
He extinguished the lamp, scanned the rest of the goods, and gave his order,
“Take samples of the raw materials and finished products—just a few. We’ll study them slowly.”
“Yes, sir.”
The agents responded quietly and scattered into various warehouses, retrieving samples as instructed.
Once the task was complete, they regrouped and made a swift retreat from the base.
Just after leaving the factory, the squad leader suddenly stopped, frowning as he looked up at the sky. After staring for a moment and seeing nothing, he lowered his gaze and muttered to himself in confusion.
“Was… that just my imagination?”
…
After retrieving raw materials and products from the factory, the Court of Secrets agents returned to their secret base in Aransdel. There, they immediately began further testing on the items they had brought back.
With the aid of the base’s specialized tools and equipment, their research soon yielded results. Near dawn, the squad leader found himself staring wide-eyed at what was before him.
“This is…”
In front of him was a sealed vial of special reagent. Inside was a portion of flour taken from the factory. The flour had been placed into the solution to settle. Once settled, different substances within would separate by color—any foreign contaminant would shed its disguise and manifest a hue distinct from normal flour.
And now, within that vial, mixed in with the flour, an impurity had indeed been revealed. Its color sent a chill through the squad leader’s heart.
He immediately stood up.
He had to report this—at once.
…
“What? Human bone powder?”
At dawn, Dorothy sat by the window of her suite, having stayed up all night waiting for updates. She sipped a cup of strong coffee to stay alert while monitoring the emergency reports from the Court of Secrets agents via her crystal orb. When she saw the test results, she immediately felt a jolt of energy—her lingering sleepiness was swept away, and she focused intensely on the report in front of her.
“Human bone powder mixed into the flour… Canned meat products containing human flesh disguised in a special way… Brewing grains also found to contain disguised human tissue…
“The disguises were extremely well-made—undetectable by normal methods, and containing no apparent mystical traits. Even mystical detection barely picked up anything.
“These tainted components were shipped along with the raw materials to the factories. The processing plants themselves appear to be unaware of the problem. The ordinary people involved had no means of detecting it… The real issue lies with the original suppliers of the grains…”
Wearing a grim expression, Dorothy read through the Court of Secrets agents’ report while mentally working through the deeper implications.
“So… after Stinam disappeared, the suppliers that suddenly appeared to fill the grain gap are indeed suspicious. The grain they provided largely contains disguised human remains…
“Those grains were distributed to various cities—especially Aransdel, which is the central food processing hub of Frisland. From there, the processed products are distributed all across Frisland… meaning this contaminated grain has likely spread throughout the entire country!”
She stood up slowly as that thought took root, her heart gripped by a rising sense of dread.
“And who knows how long this has been going on… Whether all the supplies from those vendors are tainted. Stinam was Frisland’s largest grain producer—the volume it supplied was massive. For these new suppliers to seamlessly fill that void…
“Even ignoring where they got all that grain, if the contaminated grain was distributed at this scale, and each portion was mixed with human tissue as the agents estimate… the number of human bodies required wouldn’t be just a few hundred or even a few thousand…”
“Where did those people get that many human bodies to dismember and grind up?”
As the horrifying thought surfaced, Dorothy’s expression changed. She shook her head and forced herself to calm down before turning to consider the motive behind this nightmarish scheme.
Crushing human remains and distributing them through food to be consumed by the population—this wasn’t a new tale to Dorothy. Not long ago, she had learned of something similar… a story from thousands of years ago, about the Evil Spirit King of the Starfall Continent.
As she paced within her suite at dawn, preparing to further analyze the situation, a familiar voice suddenly echoed in her mind. Someone was contacting her through a secure mental channel!
“Miss Dorothea! I just received a message from Archbishop Sinclair—she’s requesting I come to the Spirit-Calming Cathedral immediately!”
Hearing Vania’s voice in her mind, Dorothy blinked in surprise, then promptly replied.
“Sinclair wants you now? What’s so urgent?”
“I’m not sure of the details. What I do know is, the Inquisition Cardinal has arrived at the Spirit-Calming Cathedral!”
Vania answered.
Dorothy’s eyes widened in shock.
“What? Kramar is in Aransdel?”
…
Early morning, central Aransdel. Within the cathedral district of the Spirit-Calming Cathedral.
Vania, freshly out of bed and not yet finished with her morning prayers, was walking briskly across the cathedral square. Guided by a priest ahead of her, she strode forward with urgency, her attendants following close behind.
Soon, she arrived at the administrative building behind the cathedral, right in front of Archbishop Sinclair’s office. Several guards stood outside the door, their uniforms unmistakably those of the Inquisition. Upon seeing someone approach, they immediately called out.
“No unauthorized entry!”
“Please don’t block me.”
Vania continued forward with calm but firm steps. Though her voice was polite, her feet showed no hesitation. The guards moved to intercept her, but upon recognizing her, they hesitated.
This was Sister Vania Chafferon. The one who had once singlehandedly knocked out a dozen Sanctuary Guards and stormed the Holy Mount’s Grand Chapel unscathed. Rumors claimed she was the secret daughter of the Redemption Cardinal, the most unruly figure on Holy Mount in the past century. Some of the guards she had once floored were still bedridden in the Healing Ward. Was she really someone they wanted to block?
Sharing a look, the two guards made only a symbolic gesture of resistance, then allowed Vania to push the door open and step inside.
…
Inside, she saw two familiar figures—Kramar and Sinclair—locked in a heated argument, too occupied to even notice her entry.
“I warned you before, Sinclair! Your weakness and mercy would eventually cause a disaster! And now look!”
Kramar pointed at Sinclair, his tone severe.
Sinclair shot back in defiance.
“I don’t need your warnings, Vambas! I have my own way of doing things. You promised back then—you wouldn’t interfere in Frisland’s affairs!”
“But now I have to interfere!”
Kramar roared. He pulled out a stack of documents from his sleeve and slammed them onto the desk.
“Look! These are secret reports I received—already confirmed in several regions! Heretical and cultist forces are spreading through Frisland. In multiple areas, traces of human remains have been found in food products! And the biggest source of this food is right here, Aransdel! You mean to tell me you knew nothing about this?”
He barked at Sinclair, who was stunned. She picked up the report, reading it in disbelief.
“Food containing human remains… distributed across Frisland with Aransdel as the hub… How could this be? How could something like this happen?
“To make so many people consume human remains… Is this some kind of twisted cult ritual? But the scope… It’s unimaginable…”
She spoke in disbelief. Kramar, hands behind his back, scolded her without softening his tone.
“You know this is an unprecedented-scale evil ritual, Sinclair. From the current intelligence, the ritual appears to still be in the preparation phase. But you and I both know—if this ritual is successfully conducted, the consequences would be catastrophic.”
“We have to stop the food circulation immediately! Inspect every processing plant! Destroy all contaminated food!”
Sinclair said urgently, setting down the report. But Kramar sneered.
“Hmph… Taking action now? Too late. The contaminated food has been circulating for far too long. Countless people have already eaten it. In the worst-case scenario, the entire Frisland population may have become instruments in the cult’s ritual!
“With things as they are, we can only do what we can… and if it’s not enough, then we must resort to the final measure.”
“Final measure… Vambas, you’re not saying—”
Sinclair looked at him in alarm.
Kramar answered with solemn gravity.
“No matter what, we cannot allow a ritual of this scale to be completed. If the masses have become its instruments, then we must destroy the instruments before the ritual begins!
“A ritual this vast and complex likely requires a minimum threshold of instruments. If we eliminate several hundred thousand to ten million of those who consumed the food—those from affected cities across Frisland—the ritual will collapse from missing components. That way, we not only stop the ritual, but we can save the remaining population of Frisland.
“If we don’t… all fifty million people in Frisland may face a fate beyond redemption!”