Chapter 1028: The Network of Information
Thalen rested both hands on the table, his hair disheveled and a dark scowl twisting his expression.
In front of him, Alystren and three other people stood waiting.
Silence stretched between them before he exhaled heavily.
"Helena still cannot be contacted?"
The one beside Alystren—a slim, freckled boy—slowly adjusted his glasses and clutched the book he was hugging.
"I tried to track her location with the item, but the last trace I could find was the academy island."
Thalen’s scowl deepened.
"There have been reports of seismic shockwaves surging through the air all the way from the academy. The Aerial Transportation Body passed an urgent warning that no airship should traverse the academy route. As if that weren’t enough, Fhugal has been completely wiped from the surface. Everything has vanished."
Alystren, folding his arms, added:
"All this, I suspect, is linked to the military. I heard Verulania was nearly destroyed. All communication with the Nation Alliance has been severed. It’s nearly impossible to determine the state of the central plains at this moment."
Another man with slicked-back, red and black gradient hair interjected:
"The entire continent feels isolated—warp systems are down. They claim there’s interference, and locations are disconnected. Everything feels discombobulated, too much of a disaster."
Thalen stepped away from the table and straightened his back. He closed his eyes, massaging his forehead as he considered what to do.
In that moment, a light knock came at the door. Everyone in the office glanced back, and the last man—who had short, wavy brown hair—went to answer it.
The person at the door was a young attendant with grey hair tied in a ponytail, slightly slanted eyes, and a pale complexion.
"Sir, there’s a strange man claiming he’s from Sage Rian."
She hesitated briefly.
"However, the unbelievable part is that he claims to be Ilitis."
The man’s eyes narrowed.
"What absurd lie is that? Ilitis is a network of information, not a person."
He paused for a moment, then looked at the attendant.
"However, if he claims to be from Sage Rian, I think you should let him in."
The lady bowed.
"Very well, Savant Treasure. I’ll send him in."
The man nodded and turned around.
Thalen looked at him as he approached the center of the office.
"Treasure, what was that about?"
Savant Treasure gestured lightly.
"Some guy claiming to be Ilitis."
Everyone in the room frowned at the absurdity almost simultaneously, and nearly said in unison:
"Huh?"
Treasure added:
"I know. He also claims to be from Sage Rian—"
The moment Thalen heard that, he bolted forward. Everyone in the room completely missed the instant he reached Treasure—all they knew was that he was gripping the Savant’s shoulder.
"From Rian?! Send him in! If he’s from Rian, it could really be Ilitis!"
Savant Treasure looked at his Headmaster with a cautious expression and slowly rolled his shoulder from the gentle grip.
’He gets like this whenever Sage Rian is mentioned. What is it about this guy?’
Another knock came at the door, and a young gentleman with a monocle over one eye and a neatly tailored black suit slowly walked inside.
He stopped before reaching Treasure and Thalen and bowed subtly.
"It is an honor to meet the Headmaster of the Tharion Citadel, Tharion Thalen."
He was looking directly at Thalen.
Thalen rarely showed his face, and the people who knew him as the Headmaster of the Citadel were mostly within the Citadel itself—he could count on one hand those who knew.
Surely some middle-aged man with prim and proper dress and refined accent wasn’t supposed to know.
Thalen looked at him, his purple eyes glowing faintly. Then he exhaled steadily.
"You are Ilitis."
The man replied:
"I am Ilitis."
Thalen wanted to laugh, but his expression was pale, and a forced smile slowly crept across his face. His eyes were almost trembling.
It was really Ilitis—a man that even the Empire would die to have under their control. It was difficult enough to reach the Northern continent, but rumors claimed this guy frequented all three continents as if they were a street or two away.
And it was so insane that Ilitis could never be considered one person. This guy was everywhere; somehow, he knew everything while no one knew him.
Thalen looked at him with narrowed eyes and raised his head slightly.
"If you are Ilitis, then prove it to me."
The proper man smiled gently.
"You are rather mistaken, Lord Thalen. The only one I have anything to prove to is the Void Lord."
He looked straight into Thalen’s eyes.
"However, I must tell you that in a few minutes, South Drywall will be attacked. You must rally your Drifters. And that attack is only a surface distraction."
Thalen frowned as Ilitis paused. But the gentleman continued, his speech unhurried.
"You are very familiar with the Age of the Firsts, aren’t you? The time before the World was torn apart?"
Thalen looked at him keenly.
"Yes..."
Ilitis spoke indifferently.
"There are survivors from that age—perhaps descendants. Dark Elves. They are also behind this disaster. The attack on Drywall is to throw you off, so they can steal the compass."
Thalen frowned. A lot was being unveiled as the man spoke. He didn’t even need any other confirmation that this was Ilitis.
But the problem was that these were high-level secrets that Thalen believed had never left the underground of the Citadel.
Thalen’s expression grew dark and hostile.
"Do you think the fact that you are Ilitis would let me overlook that you’re privy to information that even people here don’t know?"
Ilitis responded with the usual calmness he’d maintained since the beginning.
"I don’t care whatever goes on in your mind. There is only one person I care about. And thanks to him, I am at your disposal. Why don’t you kindly, Sage Thalen, use me to save your Citadel and your plan to find a permanent door to the Underworld? This is, after all, the best time such a plan can come to fruition."
Thalen was silent. He lowered his head for a moment, deeply conflicted.
But Ilitis was right.
He needed to save his Citadel and his plan.
He slowly turned back and looked at the rest of them, then commanded:
"Rally all the Drifters in the Citadel—every single one, whether on duty or not. There’s about to be an attack on the city."