The training grounds of the Draven estate were usually reserved for the clash of iron and the heavy grunts of vanguard knights. This morning, however, the wide expanse of packed dirt was occupied by cooks, stable hands, maids, and off-duty guards.
The morning air was biting. Breath plumed in white clouds as over two hundred people stood in uneven formations. They shifted their weight, muttering quietly among themselves.
No one knew why they were here. The estate had been breached the night before. Four inner guards were dead. The engagement banquet had ended in chaos, and the entire mansion was supposed to be on high alert. Instead of cleaning the ruined ballroom or reinforcing the barricades, the entire staff had been ordered outside before the sun even crested the horizon.
The heavy wooden doors of the armory swung open.
The murmurs died instantly.
Neo walked onto the dirt field. He didn't wear formal clothes. He wore a simple, dark tunic and trousers. He looked tired. His white hair was messy, and there were faint, dark bags under his eyes.
Right beside him, sticking so close their shoulders frequently brushed, was Nora. She wore a pristine white dress that looked entirely out of place on a dirt training field. She held the fabric of his sleeve in her left hand. Her violet eyes scanned the crowd with the cold, detached interest of a butcher evaluating a herd of livestock.
Neo stopped a few paces in front of the gathered staff. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't puff out his chest.
He just looked at them.
"Good morning," Neo said. His voice was flat, carrying easily through the quiet morning air.
"I know it's cold. I will make this fast."
He pointed a finger at a group of men and women wearing white aprons near the back.
"If you were working in the kitchens, baking bread or roasting meat between the hours of ten and midnight yesterday, step forward."
Thirty people nervously shuffled to the front of the crowd.
Neo looked them over.
"The main hall is a mess. Go clean it. You are dismissed."
The cooks blinked, thoroughly confused. They bowed awkwardly and hurried away toward the manor, grateful to escape the biting cold.
Neo turned his attention to a block of armored men.
"Outer perimeter guards. If you were stationed on the northern or eastern walls last night, step to the left."
A large chunk of the vanguard knights stepped sideways, their armor clinking.
"Go back to your posts," Neo instructed. "The wall doesn't watch itself."
The knights exchanged bewildered glances but followed orders, marching off the field.
The remaining crowd shrank to roughly forty people. It was a mix of interior maids, maintenance workers, and western wing security. They watched the thirteen-year-old heir with growing unease.
"You guys," Neo said, gesturing to a row of maids.
"Who polished the silver in the guest wing yesterday?"
A young maid raised her hand tentatively.
"I did, Young Master."
"Did you use the lemon oil or the ash paste?"
"The lemon oil, sir."
"Good. Go help the cooks. Dismissed."
She scurried away.
Neo continued walking down the line. He asked bizarre, mundane questions. He asked a stable boy what the horses ate for dinner. He asked a guard if his boots were newly resoled. He asked an older servant if the tapestries in the western corridor were dusty.
With every answered question, he dismissed someone.
The remaining staff—were completely lost. He wasn't interrogating them about the attack. He was acting like a bored estate manager doing a routine inventory check.
Soon, only twelve people remained standing in the dirt. Seven guards, three maids, and two groundskeepers.
Nora hadn't spoken a single word. She just followed Neo, her violet eyes narrowing whenever one of the guards shifted their weight too loudly. Her presence alone was making the remaining suspects sweat despite the freezing temperature.
Neo stopped pacing. He turned to face the final twelve.
"The anti-scrying ward in the western wing was bypassed last night," Neo stated. The casual tone was gone. His voice dropped, carrying a heavy, unnatural weight.
"It wasn't broken by a spell. It was turned off from the inside. Someone walked up to the anchor crystal on the third floor and manually removed it from its casing."
The guards stiffened. The maids looked horrified.
"To prevent exactly this kind of sabotage," Neo continued, pulling a small, empty lead box from his pocket and holding it up, "my mother coated the anchor crystal in a rare alchemical compound. It is a specialized tracking dye."
He paced slowly in front of them.
"The dye is completely invisible. It has no smell. But it reacts to human sweat. If you touch the crystal, the dye seeps into your pores. Twelve hours later, the skin on your palms turns a deep, permanent, bruised purple. It cannot be washed off. It cannot be magically cleansed."
Neo stopped.
"Take off your gloves. Show me your hands."
The silence on the training ground was suffocating.
Slowly, the maids held up their bare hands. They were clean. The groundskeepers showed their calloused palms. Clean.
The guards hesitated, then unbuckled their steel gauntlets and pulled off their leather under-gloves.
One by one, they held up their hands.
Neo walked down the line, inspecting them. He reached the end of the row. Every single person had perfectly clean, normal-colored skin. There was no purple dye.
A collective sigh of relief rippled through the remaining suspects.
A tall guard near the end of the line cleared his throat.
"Young Master, our hands are clean. We are loyal to the Duke."
Neo looked at the tall guard. He looked at the man's clean palms.
Then, a slow, wry smile spread across Neo's face.
"I know," Neo said quietly.
"Because the dye doesn't exist."
The guard frowned, confusion wrinkling his forehead. "Excuse me?"
"I made it up," Neo said, dropping the empty lead box into the dirt.
"There is no alchemical coating on the anchor crystal. My mother didn't put anything on it. If you touched it, your hands would be perfectly fine."
The twelve people stared at him, completely lost.
"If the dye is fake," the tall guard asked carefully, "then why did you ask to see our hands?"
"Because," Neo said, taking a step closer to the man.
"I didn't need to see your skin. I needed to see your soul."
The guard's breath hitched.
Neo's deep blue eyes darkened. Thanks to the fragment of the Nameless God resting in his core, his perception of the world had fundamentally shifted. He didn't just sense mana anymore. He sensed the flickering, fragile life force inside every living thing around him. He can sense the Soul Fluctuation of the people weaker than him. He Saw through the nervousness and fear in them. He can find out the truth just after he sense their panic.
When people remain in serene mood their soul fluctuation remain steady. But when they were in panic there soul fluctuation became chaotic. Neo was just checking who show nervousness and panic. He could able to easily able detect that after seeing their soul fluctuation.
"When I mentioned the kitchen staff, you didn't care," Neo explained, his voice cold and analytical.
"When I dismissed the outer guards, you felt relieved. I spent the last twenty minutes filtering out the innocent people because they were just curious. Bored. Confused."
Neo tilted his head, staring directly into the tall guard's eyes.
"But when I mentioned the anchor crystal," Neo whispered, "you become nervous and panicked."
The tall guard took a sudden, jerky step backward. His hand dropped toward the hilt of his sword.
"When I told you the dye would turn your hands purple," Neo continued, stepping forward to close the distance, "you panicked. I felt your fear. And right before you took your gloves off, you covertly channeled a minor cleansing spell into your palms, hoping to wash away a dye that wasn't even there."
The guard drew his blade.
He didn't waste time denying it. He realized he was caught. He lunged forward, aiming a desperate, lethal thrust directly at Neo's chest.
Neo didn't flinch. He didn't summon his ice. He didn't summon his lightning.
He just looked at the man.
[ Absolute Soul Manipulation: Seize ]
Neo exerted his will. He didn't push mana outward; he simply reached into the invisible, ethereal space between them and clamped a mental grip directly onto the guard's life force.
The charging guard froze mid-lunge.
His sword clattered to the dirt. The man's eyes rolled to the back of his head. He let out a wet, choked gasp, his hands flying to his own throat as if an invisible noose was crushing his windpipe. He dropped to his knees, completely paralyzed, his armor clanking heavily against the frozen ground.
The remaining eleven suspects scrambled backward, terrified by the sudden violence.
Nora, who had been standing quietly the entire time, simply tilted her head. She looked at the choking traitor on the ground, then looked at Neo.
"Do you want me to crush him?" Nora offered. Her tone was casual, as if asking to pass the salt at dinner. A single, razor-sharp crimson petal materialized above her shoulder, humming with lethal intent.
"No," Neo said, maintaining his invisible grip on the traitor's soul. He turned his head slightly toward the stunned, loyal guards still standing nearby.
"Bind him in anti-magic iron," Neo ordered.
"Take him to the dungeons. Tell my father I found the rat who let the shadow-mages in."
The loyal guards snapped out of their stupor. They rushed forward, hauling the gasping, paralyzed traitor off the dirt and dragging him toward the keep.
Neo released his mental grip. The strain of manipulating a soul faded, leaving a dull throb behind his eyes, but the satisfaction was immense. He didn't need to torture people for information. He didn't need complex investigative teams. He just needed basic psychology and mental Strength.
He turned back to the remaining staff. They were pale, staring at the thirteen-year-old boy as if they had never really seen him before.
"The rest of you are cleared," Neo said, his voice softening back to its normal, tired cadence.
"Go get some breakfast."
They didn't need to be told twice. They bowed hurriedly and scattered across the courtyard.
Neo let out a long exhale, his shoulders slumping. The adrenaline was fading, and the exhaustion of the previous night was creeping back in.
He felt a tug on his sleeve.
Nora was looking up at him. The crimson petal had vanished. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a small, slightly squished sweet roll she had clearly stolen from the banquet leftovers, and held it out to him.
"Eat," she demanded softly.
Neo looked at the pastry. He looked at the girl who had just offered to murder a man for him without a second thought.
He took the sweet roll, a wry smile touching his lips.
"Thanks, Nora."
The estate was secure. The traitor was caught. But as Neo took a bite of the stale pastry, he knew the real work was just beginning. The Emperor had shown his hand, and Neo was done playing defense.