After the first invasion, Lithia was left in a state of ruin. The monsters had retreated—mostly thanks to the Veil of Embers—but they had never truly left.
Instead, they lurked in the waters beyond the Veil, circling the city like vultures over a dying beast. Because of this, Lithia had no choice but to begin preparations for departure.
That was the mistake they made.
The plan for departure had caused an even more greater attack, monsters that were lurking, and had retreated, even from the sky all descended like hurricanes of catastrophe wrecking havoc on their attempt to flee.
And that was how Paragon Raizel discovered that the invasion of Lithia had never been a mere coincidence.
In truth, everything had unfolded exactly as someone had intended.
Though the Paragon often came across as self-assured, his words carried undeniable weight. He made it clear: the blockade’s objective had never been the trade routes.
It was him.
They wanted to trap him in Lithia. The blockade of trade routes may have been an added benefit, but if that had been the true priority, there were countless other ways to achieve it—ways that wouldn’t have required endangering an entire city.
The nations were arrogant in their own right. Beyond the immense resources required to engage in war, they were often indifferent to matters that did not directly concern them.
And even when such matters did affect them, they hesitated—afraid of the consequences, afraid they might bite off more than they could chew.
So, more often than not, nations played it safe.
The number of people who could act in the interest of the Plain as a whole was small. Besides Paragon Raizel, there were only a handful—fewer than three—who wielded enough influence and strength to make a difference. And they weren’t even Paragons. They were powerful Ascendants.
Raizel’s explanation made one thing clear: he understood the depths of this conspiracy. He knew something much darker, something hidden from everyone else.
And Northern could tell—he was holding something back.
Everything suddenly clicked.
The monsters in the forests and oceans weren’t just random threats. Why they were waiting. Blocking entry. Blocking escape.
Someone had orchestrated this entire catastrophe, using the lives of civilians as shackles to bind Paragon Raizel to Lithia.
’…Is Dante really behind all of this?’
Northern wasn’t certain—he had no concrete proof. But he had heard whispers that the military was behind this movement.
If it really was Dante, then that raised another question:
Just how powerful was Paragon Raizel that it required such an overwhelming show of force to keep him contained?
Northern mulled over the thought for a few moments before finally speaking.
"So… how exactly do the goods I brought help your current situation?"
Paragon Raizel sighed, hesitating for a moment before locking his jade-green eyes with Northern.
"They’re stimulants."
"Stimulants?"
Experience tales with .Côm
Northern raised a brow, intrigued. He had never heard of anything like that before.
"They temporarily enhance a Drifter’s soul potency. But they’re dangerous—highly unstable. If taken too frequently, they can cause irreversible soul damage. It’s… more of an addiction these days."
’Like… drugs?’
Northern frowned, digesting the Paragon’s words before responding.
"When you say it increases a Drifter’s soul potency… are you saying—"
Raizel nodded before Northern could finish.
"Yes. Rank. A Drifter can temporarily ascend by one rank. If taken in excess, they might even jump two ranks."
Northern’s eyes widened, his posture straightening.
"So we already have people reaching Radiant rank?!"
"Eyy, eyy, eyy. It’s not that easy." Raizel waved his hand dismissively. "No, we don’t."
Northern leaned back, his lips downturning in disappointment.
"It’s not even possible to become a Paragon or an Ascendant with this," Raizel clarified.
Northern tilted his head slightly. "So it only works on weaker Drifters? What happens if a Sage takes it?"
Raizel exhaled through his nose.
"The level of essence saturation required for a Sage to ascend to an Ascendant is immense. And for an Ascendant to reach Paragon? Impossible." His voice turned grave. "When one becomes a Paragon, they face an unbreakable wall. Their soul core becomes a vast, hollow world—one that demands endless essence to fill. And the more you kill… the deeper that world becomes."
He gestured sharply, signaling one of his subordinates for a drink before turning back to Northern.
"This stimulant—whoever made it, I don’t know how they did it—but it artificially fills a Drifter’s core with essence. Not real essence, but something close enough to hold weight in the Central Plains."
He leaned forward slightly.
"However, the mimicry it provides is never sufficient for a Sage to temporarily rise to Ascendant. And for an Ascendant to reach Evanescent? Out of the question."
He paused, then added, "That said, it still affects Sages and Ascendants. Their attacks become exponentially more devastating."
Northern nodded.
"I see… I guess that makes sense."
He paused for a moment, his gaze unfocused, thoughts drifting. Then, snapping back to the present, he turned to the Paragon, who had just received a glass of water and was bringing it to his lips.
"So, who is the supplier of these stimulants?"
Paragon Raizel gulped down a large portion of water, exhaling with a satisfied sigh.
"I don’t know, really. But whoever they are, they must be stinking rich! These things cost a fortune!"
Northern remained silent, watching the Paragon impassively. At the same time, a question gnawed at him.
’Why, in this gods-forsaken world, was Roma after those things? She seemed to know exactly what they could do. But was she trying to use them?’
That didn’t make any sense. Northern didn’t believe she’d do something that reckless. Besides, the stimulants wouldn’t even work on her.
So maybe she was tracking them for another reason. And maybe—just maybe—she knew the supplier.
As Northern sank deeper into thought, Paragon Raizel studied him, his jade-green eyes flickering with realization. He signaled to one of his subordinates, who left briefly and returned with another glass of water.
The man placed it in front of Northern.
Northern raised a brow subtly, then smiled.
"I’m not particularly thirsty, but thank you."
Still, he picked up the glass and drank.
The moment the cool liquid hit his throat, an alarm erupted—shrill, relentless, slicing through Lithia like a blade of despair.
Northern pulled the glass away from his lips, his eyes shifting toward the window. But before he could even glance outside, he noticed something else—the change in the air.
The atmosphere in the room shifted.
Paragon Raizel’s subordinates had gone pale, their faces grim.
Northern’s gaze flicked back to the Paragon, who remained unfazed.
"What’s happening?"
Raizel forced out a smile.
"That?" He gestured lazily toward the blaring sirens. "That’s Code Red. It means something very dangerous has appeared. Something capable of breaching the city’s defenses."
He leaned forward slightly, his grin widening.
"And those kinds… usually bring a lot of casualties."
There was something brooding behind that grin.
Northern already knew what was coming next.
"Ral, boy." Raizel cracked his knuckles, the amusement in his eyes sharpening into something more lethal.
"What do you say we handle this one together?"