My steps were quick, perhaps a little too hurried. What I saw—their lack of fear—was unsettling.
Of course, I could handle hundreds of them alone, but… what happens when they grow stronger? What would I do then?
So, I chose to return to base. To plan. To find a way not to antagonize all of them at once. From the way they behave, it's logical to assume they're not all allied with each other. And if I was able to understand that some strange force drives them forward, then other high-ranking figures will come to the same conclusion.
And no matter how weak they are, immortal soldiers remain the greatest asset imaginable.
The "guild" Silas mentioned worried me slightly. It means that, even if they aren't united, they have ways to organize. I know guilds—alliances between merchants, blacksmiths, runesmiths, and others seeking to secure political influence in the world. They establish cost barriers, control markets, and defend their members.
But the way he described it… it sounded closer to a militarized group.
That was not good.
Perhaps I'm overthinking it, but I couldn't help it.
My pace quickened at the thought, and after half a day traveling west from the Sun Post, I reached the Blessed City.
This was one of the most important cities within the territory controlled by the Voss Theocracy—an ancient, deeply religious kingdom that held vast resources thanks to the mountain range rich in mana-infused minerals within its lands.
That doesn't matter now. What matters is that this city houses the headquarters of Crow's Nest.
Before reaching the city, several kilometers away, I slipped into the distant forest and knelt to draw on the ground.
With my finger, I traced a hexagonal pattern inscribed with runes, spreading across roughly three meters in circumference.
This was my master's legacy—the spell he designed for me when I needed to hide.
A fourth-circle spell, where mana becomes liquid and is internalized through the veins, using the heart as its source of power.
Its effect? Simple, yet powerful. It allowed the user to alter their physical features at will. The effect wasn't permanent—only one week—but it could be renewed.
My master created it before selling me to the Pope. He said that, since I now bore unique markings in my eyes, I needed a way to conceal myself in case of trouble.
I never expected the trouble to come from him.
Even so, the spell remains useful.
I sat at the center of the hexagon and began channeling my mana, filling it with energy.
The pattern glowed as mana swirled around me.
Quickly, my face began to change. My sharp, symmetrical features softened, becoming more androgynous. My eyes darkened, shifting from gold to a deep brown, while my hair faded from its usual black to a muted chestnut.
I didn't like this appearance. But when you're a hunted heretic, you don't have many options.
With the ritual complete, I stood and made my way toward the city gates.
An imposing wall rose before me, built primarily of hardened stone—but upon closer inspection, intricate patterns could be seen etched across its towers.
These reinforced the structure with fortification runes, hardening the stone and increasing its density, making it nearly impossible to break apart.
The wall would either fall whole… or not at all.
Ahead stood a massive gate, nearly four meters tall, surrounded by guards.
Not like the ones those children faced—these were true mystical warriors, using mana to reinforce their bodies, harden their flesh, and increase their resilience.
They were powerful, but still weaker than a mage of the same level. A third-circle knight could not properly utilize gaseous mana to fortify the body, while a mage could shape it to impose their will upon the world.
I approached the bustling gate calmly. Merchants, travelers, and warriors crowded together, pushing forward.
Three lines moved slowly as each person underwent a thorough background inspection.
That didn't concern Severin.
As I walked past them with indifference, some cast irritated glances my way.
It didn't matter.
When I stopped before the squad controlling entry, several of them recognized me—or rather, the face I wore.
"Lord Arizu," they said in unison, bowing respectfully.
With a small gesture, I dismissed the need for formalities.
I moved to pass, but the commander stepped forward, blocking my way.
"Lord Arizu, we all respect your status, but due to recent attacks, you'll need to confirm your identity," he said, trying not to sound disrespectful.
Severin looked at him steadily. "What is your name, commander?"
"Axel, my lord," he replied, humble—but firm.
"Axel… Crow's Nest is about to finalize the renewal of the winter supply contracts for this sector. If you delay me here, I'll have to inform my auditors that inefficiencies at the main gate are causing disruptions in our production chain. Do you think your superiors will maintain your rank when the guard's budget drops by twenty percent next month?"
Axel's jaw tightened. The hatred was evident in his posture; his hand brushed the hilt of his sword, caught between religious duty and economic reality.
In the end, he exhaled and signaled his men to let me through.
I don't enjoy crushing small fry.
But if they subjected me to magical scrutiny, they might notice my appearance wasn't real.
I didn't think they would—the spell was designed by a seventh-circle mage, my master.
Still, better safe than sorry.
"Was that so difficult, Axel?" I said as I walked past him, indifferent.
Behind me, merchants and warriors who recognized me watched with a mix of interest and resentment at the privilege I claimed for myself.
Some voiced complaints aloud—quickly silenced by Axel's cold stare.
I continued through the city streets, moving across the lower district.
Around me, crumbling houses rose unevenly, beggars lay sprawled across the streets, and workers with hollow expressions dragged themselves along.
I didn't look for long. After eleven years here, this was nothing more than routine.
I continued toward my destination in the middle district. After passing through another inner gate, I arrived.
Crow's Nest headquarters.
The middle district was primarily home to merchants and lower nobility—at least those who didn't reside out in the countryside.
Small mansions lined the streets, alongside large facilities functioning as production centers.
Crow's Nest stood above them all. A corporate structure nearly four stories tall and sixty meters long, with a banner hanging at its entrance—a crow in full flight.
I stepped inside, greeted by a lavishly decorated reception hall. Gold details gleamed alongside paintings and finely crafted wooden furniture.
I moved forward without acknowledging anyone, as people rushed about in quiet urgency.
At the reception desk, I glanced at the secretary.
"How are you, Samantha?" I said casually. "I'll be in my office. Call Bianca. Urgent."
She didn't have time to respond before I walked past. Not out of disdain—there were simply more pressing matters.
Reaching the fourth floor, I stopped before a solid oak door and opened it slowly.
The office was spacious, though sparsely furnished—only a desk and a sofa.
The scent of wood and incense filled the air, creating a warm, controlled atmosphere.
I sat behind the desk and prepared two cups of tea while waiting.
Fifteen minutes later, a soft knock echoed at the door.
"Come in."
The door opened quickly, and a woman stepped in with urgency.
Bianca was twenty-five, with a presence that commanded the room before she even spoke. Her brown hair was tied in a practical braid, and her sharp green eyes scanned the office with the efficiency of someone used to managing the city's undercurrents. She wore hardened leather and fine cloth—the attire of an executive unafraid to dirty her hands in the docks if necessary.
"Boss," she said, closing the door behind her with a metallic click. "We weren't expecting you for another three days. Reports from the Sun Pass mention an incident involving one of our grain caravans. Though I assume you already know about that."
Always quick.
"Yes, I'm aware. I ordered the reduction of the caravan's security for an… experiment," I said, exhaling slowly. "The results were disastrous."
Bianca stared at me, her green eyes sharpening with confirmation.
"Severin, there are reports of multiple attacks—not just ours—across several trade routes, not just the Sun Pass," she said, pausing briefly. "They're here, aren't they?"
I slid the cup of tea toward her.
"Yes. They've arrived. Earlier than expected. A threat no magical wall can stop," I said with a quiet sigh. "And it's worse than we imagined. They don't die, Bianca. They don't fear. They don't feel. I cut one's arm off, and it looked at me with a calm smile. They're killers, driven by something… unknown."
Bianca studied me, searching for any trace of deception. She already knew who I was. She knew what was coming.
She had never imagined it would be like this.
"Then our preparations are insufficient," she said tiredly. "What's the plan?"
"I regret the passivity, but for now, we wait. The ones here now aren't permanent. They'll disappear—and return later."
"So you found a way to kill them?" she asked, though there was no expectation in her voice.
I exhaled, resigned.
"No. That's why I need your help. I have to reactivate the full power of my eyes."
Bianca frowned, concern flickering across her face.
"That's unreasonable. You know that if you fully activate them, they'll begin to emit traces of divine power. If you do, eventually… they'll find you."
I met her gaze, understanding her concern. Bianca had always been my most loyal soldier—and my friend.
I didn't want to drag her into this.
But there was no choice.
"My eyes allow me to perceive the intangible will of the world," I said quietly. "Those things communicate with something beyond this place. They revive—but we don't know where. What happens to their souls? Their bodies? We need answers, Bianca. And I need your help."
She sighed, resigned, watching me for a long moment.
"You know… one day you're going to get yourself killed doing this kind of thing."
"I know," I said, frustration creeping in. "But without my eyes, I won't have the information I need for what's coming." I exhaled slowly. "There aren't enough arrows in this world to stop a beast that refuses to die."
Bianca said nothing, just stared at me.
My tension was at its peak. She was my anchor in all of this.
"…Will you help me, Bianca?"