Time passed in a deceptively peaceful atmosphere, though undercurrents of tension ran deep beneath the surface.
Azrael sat outside the president's office, watching the orange sunset paint the sky through the massive windows. He stretched his shoulders and checked his watch. "Time to call it a day."
The Onefold Doctrine was definitely concealing their true objectives, but since they hadn't revealed their hand yet, Azrael found himself at an impasse. Without concrete evidence of their plans, he could only maintain vigilance and wait for them to make their move.
For now, he had to focus on his administrative duties. He'd already ordered increased patrol rotations throughout Donglai, hoping his operatives might uncover some useful intelligence.
It's simple enough to defend against a direct assault, but guarding against shadows is infinitely more challenging.
This fundamental vulnerability plagued all large organizations, too many potential entry points, too many people to monitor, too many moving pieces that could be compromised.
"Knock, knock, knock."
Just as Azrael prepared to leave the office, someone rapped on his door. He paused, surprised that anyone would seek him out at this hour. "Come in."
When he saw who entered, genuine confusion crossed his features.
It was Kent, a clerk from the Human Resources Department.
"Where's Director Godrick?"
Azrael frowned slightly. Under normal circumstances, if Human Resources needed his attention, Director Godrick should have handled the matter personally or at least accompanied his subordinate.
"Did he slip out early again?"
The thought crossed Azrael's mind unbidden. He remembered the middle-aged director's pattern of frequent early departures, especially since his injury during the recent conflicts.
Kent seemed well aware of his superior's questionable work ethic. He offered an awkward smile and extended a document folder toward Azrael. "Director Godrick has been on medical leave for several days now and hasn't returned to headquarters."
"These are the monthly attendance records for the association. I need your approval, President."
Azrael accepted the folder instinctively, though his brow furrowed in confusion. "A Gold-level Lore Cardian falling ill?"
While the Human Resources director had indeed sustained injuries during recent events, it seemed implausible that a Gold-level practitioner would be incapacitated by ordinary sickness for an extended period.
Before I arrived in this world, seasonal illnesses would have been perfectly reasonable explanations. But now?
Azrael suspected Godrick was simply using his medical leave as an excuse for extended vacation time.
Still, several consecutive days of absence was pushing the boundaries of acceptable behavior, even for someone with legitimate health concerns.
He made a mental note to visit the director later and assess the situation personally.
Given Godrick's absence, Kent's decision to approach him directly made sense. Between Azrael and Diesel, they were the only two with sufficient authority to approve such administrative matters.
After reviewing the documentation thoroughly, Azrael signed the necessary forms but didn't immediately return them. Instead, he studied one particular section with growing interest.
"The sick leave rate in the Logistics Department seems unusually high this month."
The Logistics Department served as the association's general support division, staffed primarily by civilian personnel and Iron-level Lore Cardians, essentially the backbone that kept daily operations running smoothly.
According to the data he'd just reviewed, absenteeism in that department had increased dramatically over recent weeks, far beyond normal statistical variations.
Kent scratched his head uncertainly. "Perhaps it's seasonal? The autumn weather has been unpredictable lately, and many people might not have adjusted their clothing appropriately?"
As someone responsible only for record-keeping and data compilation, Kent had no insight into the underlying causes. Most absence requests simply cited "general malaise" or "minor illness" without specific details.
Azrael suppressed a wry smile. Kent's response had inadvertently echoed his earlier criticism of Godrick's questionable work habits.
He handed the documents back with a slight sigh. "Very well. You may return to your duties."
As Kent hurried out of the office, Azrael couldn't help but shake his head. "When leadership sets a poor example, subordinates inevitably follow suit. If only Oliver had been promoted to head Human Resources instead."
Azrael felt the entire department had been negatively influenced by Godrick's lackadaisical approach to responsibility.
After Kent's departure, no other interruptions prevented Azrael from concluding his workday. He gathered his belongings and decided to pay a personal visit to the absent director.
No need for flower arrangements or formal gifts. Some of Shiraori's cooking should suffice.
Though he suspected the spider girl might object to her culinary efforts being used as get-well offerings.
"Ding Dong."
Standing before the silent villa, Azrael pressed the doorbell and waited.
The door soon opened from within. "President."
However, when Azrael saw who greeted him, genuine shock registered on his face. "Director Godrick, what happened to you?"
The man before him appeared haggard and emaciated, bearing little resemblance to the robust middle-aged director Azrael remembered. Godrick looked as though he was barely clinging to life.
Godrick managed a bitter smile and stepped aside to allow entry. "Please, President, come inside."
In the living room, Azrael noticed Godrick moving to prepare refreshments and quickly intervened. He feared the weakened man might collapse from the simple effort.
Soon, several Shadowkhan soldiers materialized to attend to their needs with efficient, spectral grace.
After settling into his chair with a cup of steaming tea, Godrick took a careful sip before speaking. "President, I apologize for my current condition. I know it reflects poorly on the association."
Azrael raised his hand to forestall further apologies. "Skip the formalities. What's wrong with you?"
Following a moment of contemplative silence, Godrick attempted a casual tone that fooled no one. "It's a recurring condition. Happens every year around this time."
While Godrick's serious injury during recent association conflicts was common knowledge, Azrael was only now witnessing the true extent of his deterioration.
"Have you consulted a medical professional?"
At Azrael's inquiry, Godrick let out a hollow laugh. "Of course, President. I'm not completely reckless."
"But the specialists found nothing definitive. They simply confirmed it matches last year's pattern and recommended rest."
The medical practitioners Godrick had consulted weren't ordinary doctors, but Lore Cardians specializing in healing and diagnostic techniques. Their inability to identify the underlying cause was deeply troubling.
After their examination, the medical team had essentially told him to rest and wait for the condition to resolve itself.
Godrick understood his situation well enough to recognize the most likely explanation for his sudden decline.
"I may be approaching my final chapter," he said with unsettling calm.
Azrael's teacup trembled slightly in his hands, and he found himself at a loss for words.
He hadn't come here expecting personal friendship or emotional support, his visit had been intended as a professional courtesy, perhaps with a mild reprimand for excessive absenteeism.
But confronted with this sobering reality, such concerns seemed petty and irrelevant.
Azrael finished his tea in one long gulp and prepared to take his leave.
As he moved toward the door, his gaze fell upon a family photograph hanging on the wall. The Godrick in that image wore a brilliant, genuine smile, completely different from the weary, defeated man Azrael had known at the association.
"Director Godrick, get some rest and try not to dwell on negative possibilities."
"I'll have Kent handle Human Resources matters temporarily. Don't worry about work."
With those words, he set down his empty teacup and departed the villa.
Outside, Azrael stared up at the star-filled night sky and muttered absently, "That looked like my teacup."
He dismissed the thought with a shake of his head. Losing a few pieces of dinnerware was insignificant compared to what he'd just witnessed.
More pressing was his growing suspicion that Godrick's precipitous decline wasn't entirely natural. The man was, after all, a Gold-level Lore Cardian with considerable resilience.
Furthermore, during Azrael's tenure in Donglai, Godrick had performed minimal strenuous duties. His only field assignment had been the night President Kavach was attacked, and even then, he hadn't engaged any actual enemies.
Azrael felt a vague sense of unease, though he couldn't pinpoint its exact source.
"Tsk!"
Irritated by his inability to identify the threat, he kicked a loose stone with unnecessary force.
Glancing back at the quiet villa one final time, he activated his spatial transportation and vanished into the night.
In the underground chamber, Shawn stood before the crimson pool, observing the floating figure that had once been human. The thing suspended in mid-air bore no resemblance to its original form, and Shawn's expression showed nothing but cold satisfaction.
"Son, don't blame me for this."
He then turned to address Cliff, who stood nearby reviewing data on his tablet. "When can we proceed with the next sacrifice?"
Cliff didn't look up from his device, his voice maintaining clinical detachment. "Don't be impatient. Once it completes the current maturation phase, we can perform the final ritual."
"But avoid venturing outside for the time being. Your combat capabilities are significantly diminished right now."
"I'd rather not explain to our benefactors why you were eliminated by that Azrael."
The middle-aged man in the crimson robes couldn't suppress a slight facial twitch at the blunt assessment.
While he recognized the truth in Cliff's words, his previous encounter with Azrael had indeed been somewhat humiliating, the researcher's directness was unnecessarily harsh.
As if to soften the criticism, Cliff added, "But once our project reaches completion, not only will that Azrael be within your reach, but even Master-level Lore Cardians might find themselves outmatched."
As a scientific researcher, the ability to craft appealing projections was absolutely essential.
After all, a researcher who couldn't deliver compelling presentations was ineffective at securing continued funding and support.
Hearing this, Shawn's expression brightened marginally, though he remained skeptical of Cliff's more grandiose claims. "Don't try to placate me. I understand our realistic limitations."
"But regarding Azrael..."
"Once the project concludes, if we encounter him, I'll deal with him personally."
"If we don't cross paths, so be it."
Shawn wasn't naive. He understood that their activities would generate significant attention, and if they didn't evacuate quickly enough, they'd face confrontation with high-ranking association operatives.
High-ranking in this context meant Diamond-level and above.
But Azrael... he was merely a Gold-level upstart. Once their project reached fruition, eliminating him would require minimal effort.
Observing the middle-aged cultist, Cliff allowed himself a sardonic smile. "Just ensure you maintain that level of self-awareness."
Shawn chose not to respond. After taking one final look at the monstrosity floating in the crimson pool, he turned and left the chamber, following his escort toward the surface.
Returning to his residence, Azrael retrieved his secure communication device as had become his nightly routine. He checked daily for any messages from Jin.
[Five: Come here.] [Five: Address attached.]
Seeing the message, Azrael felt a moment of surprise. He hadn't expected Memphis to initiate contact.
[Six: On my way.]
After sending his brief reply, Azrael frowned thoughtfully, secured the communication device, and set out for the designated coordinates.
The autumn sea breeze carried a distinct chill as it swept across the beach.
In the darkness, a small fire flickered against the night.
"Whoosh."
The flame suddenly extinguished, and a faint voice drifted through the air, "What's taking so long?"
The next moment, a figure materialized on the sandy shore.
"Fifth Brother."
It was Azrael.
Upon receiving Memphis's message, he had traveled to the transmitted coordinates without delay.
Eventually, he located the black-suited man on a small island situated far from the mainland coastline.
Fortunately, Shiraori and Frieren possessed spatial magic capabilities that enabled rapid long-distance travel. Otherwise, reaching this remote location would have consumed considerable time.
Hearing Azrael's voice, Memphis placed a hand on his shoulder without preamble. "Relax. I'm taking you to see the Master."
As he spoke, Azrael felt the familiar sensation of spatial displacement.
They materialized in an opulent study filled with leather-bound volumes and expensive furnishings.
Memphis bowed respectfully and announced, "Master, I've brought Sixth Brother here."
Azrael also inclined his head in appropriate deference. "President."
A raspy voice echoed through the chamber, "It's been quite some time, Sixth Brother."
"You've certainly created quite a commotion in Donglai recently."
Hearing this, Azrael's internal alarm bells began ringing. "I'm not certain what you're referring to, President."
It wasn't that Azrael was feigning ignorance, he'd been occupied with numerous administrative duties in Donglai lately and couldn't determine which specific incident Jin meant.
Jin seemed to swallow something before continuing with evident amusement. "Weren't you and your operatives responsible for assassinating the Donglai association president?"
"Excellent work! Maintain that momentum and strive to advance to higher positions within the association hierarchy soon."
Azrael was momentarily stunned. He hadn't expected Jin to learn about Kavach's death, and the master Lore Cardian apparently believed Azrael had orchestrated the assassination as part of a power grab.
"It's all thanks to your support. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to eliminate Kavach so efficiently."
Since Jin had already drawn that conclusion, Azrael saw no benefit in contradicting the assumption.
"Why did you summon me here today, President?"
But as soon as he asked, Memphis shot him a deadly glare from across the room.
Azrael frowned slightly, uncertain where he'd committed a breach of protocol.
"Lunatic," he thought to himself.
Azrael suspected his error might have been speaking without permission.
After an extended pause, Jin finally responded, "Very well, Memphis. Sixth Brother's directness is understandable. After all, he maintains significant responsibilities within the association currently."
Hearing this, Azrael wondered whether the hook-nosed elder was offering protection or delivering veiled criticism.
Fortunately, Jin didn't elaborate on the point. "I summoned you today because it's time for you to meet our Crimson Oath Society's partners."
"Remember not to use your public identity. I'll provide appropriate concealment."
Partners?
This was the first time Azrael had heard about the Crimson Oath Society maintaining alliances with external organizations.
After all, those extremists working within the Empire of Aetherlight and the equally illegal Onefold Doctrine had seemed like obvious adversaries.
As Azrael processed this information, he shifted his appearance to match his "Bruce" identity.
Jin approached and placed a hand on Azrael's shoulder. "Don't worry. This won't take long. It won't interfere with your association duties."
"Understood."
What else could Azrael say in this situation?
With an internal sigh, he followed Jin toward the exit.
Upon leaving the study, Azrael found himself gazing at a city that bore little resemblance to prosperity.
"Where are we?"
He stared in bewilderment at the blonde, blue-eyed pedestrians walking past them.
Clearly, they were no longer within the Empire of Aetherlight's borders.
Memphis whispered beside him, "This is Russia."
Russia?
Azrael couldn't immediately place the reference.
But then Memphis's next words provided clarification, "Those foreigners prefer to call it..."
"Australia."
Hearing that name, Azrael looked at Memphis with visible shock. "Fifth Brother, you can teleport across such vast distances?"
While he'd spoken those words, he was actually more surprised to discover an illegal Lore Cardian gathering operating in Australia.
Though considering the continent's history as a penal colony, perhaps it wasn't entirely unexpected.
Memphis glanced at the young man beside him with obvious exasperation. He almost wanted to crack Azrael's skull open to examine his thought processes. "The president's study contains built-in spatial transportation capabilities. Open the door, and we arrive here."
"I simply brought you to the president's study."
As they conversed, the three figures made their way toward an impressive fortress-like structure.
A medieval stone castle.
Jin approached the castle entrance and knocked on the wooden gate with measured, deliberate strikes.
The next moment, a large human face materialized on the gate's surface. "Who goes there?"
After examining the hook-nosed elder's features, the face's expression shifted to one of obvious deference. "Master Jin, the other two masters have been expecting your arrival."
The wooden portal slowly swung open, revealing a spacious entrance corridor.
Azrael quickly followed Jin into the castle interior.
Memphis whispered urgently, "Remain silent unless directly addressed. The masters will handle all negotiations."
"Also, no movement techniques are permitted within this castle. Remember that restriction."
Azrael nodded slightly to indicate his understanding.
Soon, the three reached a massive metal door adorned with countless embedded gemstones.
Jin, showing no hesitation, pushed the heavy portal open and stepped inside.
Azrael and Memphis followed closely behind.
"You're finally here, Old Dog Jin!"
Azrael was startled by the aggressive greeting that met them upon entry.
Which warrior possessed sufficient courage to directly insult the notorious master criminal Jin?
Following the voice, he observed a delicate-featured young boy with a malicious grin glaring at Jin.
Several pale-skinned men and women flanked the child, watching the three newcomers with cold, calculating expressions.
However, Jin's reaction differed significantly from Azrael's expectations. He simply chuckled in response. "Chris, was your mouth blessed by a priest during childhood? Why does it emit such a foul odor?"
The boy identified as Chris instantly darkened like storm clouds and snarled through gritted teeth, "Old Dog Jin."
Azrael then glanced questioningly at Memphis, who nodded silently to confirm his suspicions.
Do priests in this world also favor blessing little boys? Azrael found himself thinking with dark humor.
Just as the two men appeared ready to escalate their verbal sparring into physical confrontation, a somewhat weary voice intervened from the side, "We can't handle your dramatics today. For my sake, could you both please restrain yourselves?"
Azrael turned to see a bronze-skinned woman wearing an elaborate feathered headdress.
"Since you requested it, Skinner," Chris said, apparently grateful for the diplomatic exit, though he continued glaring daggers at Jin before falling silent.
The bronze-skinned woman called Skinner continued, "What brings such urgency, President Jin? You seem eager to gather us all together."
"And perhaps you'd like to introduce your new associate?"
Jin led Azrael and Memphis to a long conference table and claimed the head position. "Bruce, this is our Crimson Oath Society's newest talent. We've brought him to meet everyone and prevent future misunderstandings."
Azrael located his designated seat at this point.
The identification was straightforward since an energy placard floating above his chair displayed the number six in multiple languages, including Imperial script, English, and what appeared to be indigenous Australian dialects.
He settled into his assigned position obediently.
Azrael had already recognized that Chris and Skinner possessed the same distinctive aura as Jin.
They were all Master-level Lore Cardians.
Naturally, he maintained appropriate silence in such distinguished company, especially since Memphis had explicitly instructed him against speaking.
Regarding the apparent lack of language barriers despite the international gathering, Azrael suspected translation abilities were being provided through Lore Cardian techniques.
He discretely observed the other attendees and noticed that both rival Master-level figures were accompanied by several subordinates of varying apparent strength.
Of course, numerous empty seats were also visible, similar to how positions one through four on Azrael's side remained vacant.
Most conspicuously, an entire conference table sat completely unoccupied.
Chris curled his lips disdainfully while staring intently at Azrael, making him distinctly uncomfortable. "Is that the extent of it?"
Before Jin could respond, Skinner looked at Chris with obvious exasperation. "Very well."
"President Jin must have additional matters to discuss," she observed, and the oppressive attention focused on Azrael suddenly diminished.
Jin then continued with his agenda. "Indeed, there are other concerns."
"Multiple Master-level secret realms have manifested simultaneously in Antarctica, and a Palace-level secret realm is currently developing."
"From my intelligence, Lucian and Zidaine are trapped there and likely won't escape anytime soon."
"Additionally..."
"The Palace-level secret realm that Lioren has been suppressing within Empire of Aetherlight territory is probably approaching collapse."
The hook-nosed elder's words instantly plunged the chamber into profound silence.
After several moments, Skinner spoke thoughtfully, "I wondered why I hadn't sensed Edley's Supreme Mecha God in my operational area recently. It appears he's also traveled to Antarctica."
Chris frowned and said, "Nothing unusual has occurred in my territory."
"Wait!"
Then, as if sudden realization struck him, he glanced toward the unoccupied conference table. "No wonder Marcus isn't present."
"He went to Antarctica as well?!"
Azrael felt completely bewildered.
He hadn't expected to hear his master's name in this context.
But then he understood why Lucian hadn't responded to his recent communications. It wasn't due to some secret realm crisis within Empire of Aetherlight territory that was occupying his attention, but rather because something significant was occurring in Antarctica.
But does the Antarctic situation truly require Master to travel there from the Empire?
Beyond wondering about his teacher's circumstances, Azrael realized something else.
Jin might have brought him along as a learning experience.
Perhaps Azrael's progress had exceeded expectations, or perhaps Jin simply wanted to educate him about larger political dynamics.
He was definitely gaining valuable insights into the broader criminal underworld.
A calculating smile crossed Skinner's features. "Thank you for the intelligence, President Jin."
Jin rose from his seat and declared, "Since you have no additional information to share, we'll proceed with our departure."
Chris snorted dismissively, "Old Dog Jin, have you forgotten our traditions?"
"That boy hasn't completed the trial yet?"
Seeing Chris apparently referring to him, Azrael looked questioningly toward Jin.
Hearing this, Jin glanced at Azrael beside him. "I intended to conduct his evaluation, didn't I? Why are you so impatient?"
"I'm pleased you didn't forget," Chris said, his voice trailing into expectant silence.
Moments later, Azrael found himself standing on a vast battlefield, his mind filled with questions. Before him lay three cards representing the Crimson Oath Society's power.
In the distance, a demonic entity floated menacingly.
[Name: None][Title: Test Subject][Level: Gold][Loot: Void Soul]
Glancing around at the figures observing the battle from elevated platforms, Azrael studied Shiraori's appraisal report while puzzling over how the situation had escalated so dramatically.