Above Silver Scale Bay, a gray hawk rode the sea breeze, circling lightly in the sky, its gaze firmly locked onto several ant-like figures below.
As the sun set, the sky grew increasingly dim.
Cooking smoke rose from the small town, lamps were lit one by one, and there were far fewer pedestrians on the main streets, making them much quieter and colder.
Several blue-robed figures hurried along and soon arrived at a secluded dock, slipping one after another into a warehouse.
The warehouse was dilapidated: the main door hung crookedly, the roof leaked through several large holes, and it was clearly long abandoned.
As night fell, one furtive figure after another appeared around the warehouse. In less than half an hour, more than a dozen people had gone inside.
Anser, staying at the inn, learned of this and let out a sigh, feeling that there was probably no hope today.
He had not expected such a small fishing town to have so many cultists.
About an hour later, the cult gathering inside the warehouse finally ended. One figure after another left in batches, each heading in a different direction, looking extremely cautious.
Anser felt they were being overly self-important. Aside from himself, who else would bother watching them now?
Gais and the other two were the last to come out. It seemed that the elite class professional was the leader of this area.
However, after the three emerged, they actually split up. Two returned along the original route, while one boarded a small sailboat moored by the dock alone. Judging by the build, it should have been that elite class professional.
"Could it be a trap?" Bratt felt the coincidence was too great.
Finn immediately communicated with the gray hawk, telling it to lower its altitude for reconnaissance, and discovered that there really was no one else following.
"They probably haven't seen us. When we went out to eat, they stayed in their room the whole time," Anser recalled carefully and did not find any oversight.
"Maybe that person didn't live here in the first place and just came to look for someone," Bratt speculated.
"That's possible," Anser nodded. "Let's move. There's no time to waste."
The three armed themselves, pulled on cloaks to conceal their faces, and swiftly left Moonshadow Quelin.
Seeing their attire, the gate guard seemed long accustomed to it. There were no questions and no attempt to stop them.
They moved silently through the quiet streets of the small town, arriving early at a crossroads and slipping into a nearby alley.
Bratt and Finn concealed themselves in the shadows at the mouth of the alley. Anser stood slightly farther back, the Magic Power around his body hidden and unexpressed.
No one spoke. There was only the faintest sound of breathing.
A few minutes later, the sound of footsteps approached, and two dark silhouettes appeared at the entrance of the alley.
Just as they were about to pass by, a hoarse utterance in Draconic abruptly shattered the silence.
"વ્યક્તિગત"
Innate Spellcasting + Metamagic: Twinned Spell + Hold Person!
The two blue-robed figures were struck with shock. Before they could even see who it was, a wave of numbness surged through their bodies. Their movements froze, and they stood rooted in place like wooden statues.
Bratt let out a silent, ferocious grin. In a few quick steps, he rushed in front of them. A cold flash of light swept past, and with a sharp sound, one head was severed. Blood sprayed everywhere like a fountain.
[Target eliminated. Gained 69 experience points.]
With a sharp crack, Finn knocked the wand from the other person's hand with the back of his blade, then drove his elbow forward and twisted, dislocating the man's jaw. He immediately forced him to the ground and bound his hands and feet in a few swift motions.
Watching his practiced movements, Bratt's eyelid twitched. He seriously suspected that Finn must have had some sort of side occupation in the past.
"We didn't kill the wrong person, right?" Anser jogged over. In truth, he already knew the answer from the experience points.
"Don't worry. There's no way," Bratt said confidently. Just by the silhouette alone, it would have been impossible to mistake the target.
Finn pulled back the hood of the person on the ground, revealing Gais's terrified face.
"Deal with the body. Withdraw immediately," Anser urged.
Although the place was secluded, people still passed by from time to time.
Bratt took out a waterproof sack and stuffed the corpse inside. Each of them carried one and quickly followed after Anser.
"Mmm—mm…"
Gais's face was filled with fear. He wanted to speak but couldn't. He struggled continuously, which began to irritate Finn.
Finn raised his elbow and drove it hard into the man's groin. The world instantly became quiet.
Anser found a desolate, run-down shack, while Bratt kept watch outside.
With a heavy thud, Gais felt himself slammed hard onto the ground. Broken stones dug painfully into his body. He tried to open his mouth, only for a fresh wave of agony to surge through his jaw.
Crack—
Finn roughly set his jaw back into place.
Gais clenched his teeth, not daring to cry out. When he looked up, he saw a black-cloaked figure staring down at him from above. A few strands of moonlight filtered through holes in the roof, casting patches of shadow across the scene.
"Who are you?" His eyes widened as he tried to see the face beneath the hood.
"Gais?" Anser asked softly.
"It's me." A chill spread through Gais's chest. It wasn't an accident after all. "What do you want? I'll give you anything. My mentor is an elite class professional. If I die, he will definitely investigate this to the end."
"Your mentor… what's his name?" Anser's expression turned strange.
"Alvis. We just split up…" Gais tried to make the other party think twice.
"Isn't your mentor named Fabian?"
"Ah—who are you, exactly?" Gais asked in alarm and suspicion.
"That's not important. I ask, you answer!" Anser deliberately refused to say, determined to make him stew.
Only dumbass villains blow their own cover just to satisfy that tiny urge for revenge. Dead men can still talk, so it was better to play it safe.
"If I tell you everything, will you let me go?"
"Depends on how you do."
Gais closed his eyes, despair on his face. He feared death, and he feared being tortured even more. Resigned, he said, "Ask."
"How did you join the Order of Blue Fire?"
"Huh?" Gais's expression stiffened. The other party seemed to know everything. He didn't dare conceal anything and told him all he knew.
One asked, one answered—at a rapid pace.
One side didn't want the other to have time to think; the other had no intention of hiding anything.
Gais took Fabian's belongings and successfully escaped to the Rivington district. After confirming that something had happened to the Weave, he fell into utter despair; years of perseverance and hope burst like a bubble.
At that time, the Order of Blue Fire began preaching among the common folk, and their first-choice targets were low-level Wizards and magic apprentices.
Gais was overjoyed. Using money to pave the way, he successfully made contact with his current mentor, Alvis, and spent most of his fortune to successfully become a Sorcerer.
The process was extremely simple. He only needed to drink a kind of potion, then lie down on some kind of ritual magic circle and sleep. When he woke up, he had become a Spellscar Sorcerer.
The biggest change was that some strange blue tattoos had appeared on his body. Every time he cast a spell, blue light and shadow burst forth, making it easy to identify.
A Spellscar Sorcerer was different from an ordinary Sorcerer. At level 1, there was only one 1st-level spell. There was no choice. The upside was that casting was fast, and the power was strong.
However, this class was not perfected. Gais often had nightmares. From time to time, unknown whispers sounded by his ear. His mind and body were continuously assaulted by "blue flame," and an unknown magical plague transformation was taking place.
Anser pulled open Gais's clothes and saw that his chest was covered in magic tattoos. Other parts of his body also had some strange changes—for example, his hair had turned blue, and a small patch of skin on his shoulder was semi-transparent, with the blood vessels clearly visible.
"I have no way back. Now, every few days, I have to drink a bottle of a blue potion called Purification to suppress the plague transformation—one hundred gold coins per bottle…" Gais's eyes were bloodshot. This was the first time he had confided in someone, even if it was forced.
Anser felt no sympathy for him. He had chosen all of this himself. "What are you doing here?"
"To hunt down a well-known Sorcerer," Gais said without hiding it.
Anser's mind tightened. "Why? A cult dares to make enemies everywhere!"
"I don't know the specifics," Gais shook his head. "I heard other priests say that the main ingredient for the magic-tattoo potion is a Sorcerer's blood…"
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