KRAAAAAAANG!!

  Scattering explosive remnants of mana, a massive shadow tore across the sky.

  Under the red sunset, a blood-soaked silhouette slammed down and pinned the earth.

  BOOM!!

  Like a beast with its wings torn apart, Argas crashed into the wasteland near the abandoned mine.

  The ground caved in, and the dust rose a beat late.

  He was drenched in blood.

  Skin like jagged metal shards bulged between torn flesh, warped across his arms and chest.

  The insect-like wings that had been half-spread behind him trembled translucent—then sagged, limp.

  Each time he inhaled, sparks—like splinters of fire—spat out with his breath.

  Pain leaked out with every exhale.

  “···ngh… ugh···.”

  Argas dropped to one knee and braced a hand on the ground.

  Mana seeped from his fingertips, splitting the soil as cracks spidered outward.

  This place was nothing like the temple.

  A barren drainage zone. A dead stretch of land that had once been a mine, then abandoned—no one came here anymore.

  And somewhere along the way, someone had deliberately dampened the mana waves here.

  “···Me… why… here···.”

  The words wouldn’t come smoothly.

  As if his memory had snapped—everything felt blurred at the edges.

  Red eyes.

  Hands slick with blood.

  The temple’s interior, severed and scattered.

  And then···

  Sssk.

  In the windless dark, something shifted—just barely.

  No sound.

  Still, Argas felt it. Someone was there.

  “···Who.”

  His voice split low, rough as metal scraping against metal.

  And in the next instant—

  “Hey. Easy. You planning to kill someone else before your blood’s even dry?”

  A cocky voice.

  A man strolled out from between the shadows, far too quiet for normal footsteps.

  It felt like the darkness itself was wrapped around him.

  A black cloak.

  Dried bloodstains on the shoulder.

  And at his chest, a red metal pendant jutting out.

  A serpent coiled around a sword.

  A metal seal that marked the leader of the Shadow Organization.

  The man brushed back his messy hair and spoke as if he were amused.

  “Damn··· first time I’ve seen you this close.”

  There was no fear in his eyes. If anything, it was curiosity.

  “You’re Argas. Right?”

  At the name, Argas’s gaze flashed.

  “···Who are you.”

  The man shrugged.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “Shertan. Shertan Volfest.”

  He spun the pendant between his fingers.

  “Compared to that creepy lab that dragged you out··· I’ve got a more interesting line of work.”

  Argas tensed, starting to rise—

  and Shertan lifted a hand, palm out.

  “Hey, hey. If you jump me now, you’re the one losing. You know what shape you’re in.”

  “···Shut up.”

  “Yeah. That look. Exactly that.”

  Shertan’s mouth curled—just the corner, like he was swallowing a laugh.

  “I’m looking forward to what you do next.”

  He glanced over his shoulder.

  “Later.”

  The moment the word fell, Shertan’s outline bled into the shadows.

  Like he’d never been there at all.

  Only a thin aftertaste remained—mana with a poisonous bite.

  Argas stared at the empty space.

  Then, very softly, he muttered—

  “···Shertan.”

  Krrk.

  Unstable mana sparked from his fingertips again—

  but this time, he forced it down and stopped it.

  His eyes wavered.

  Somewhere inside his body, something felt like it was… flowing.

  ◇

  “An explosion?”

  “That’s what they’re saying. Part of the temple fully collapsed.”

  “They called it a mana surge… seriously? That big?”

  Low, restrained voices spread through the town.

  Every sentence carried a hook of unease.

  And right after, came the voices trying to press that unease down.

  “This incident was a collapse caused by a ‘mana imbalance reaction’ inside the temple.”

  A guild spokesperson spoke calmly through a magical amplification array.

  “The cause is an unstable structure in an ancient magic circle. The temple and the guild have already begun restoration procedures.”

  He didn’t even pause for breath.

  “There are no civilian casualties.

  Please don’t worry, and continue your daily routines.”

  But the townspeople’s eyes didn’t soften.

  “No casualties, sure, but the whole temple got wrecked.”

  “They’re hiding something. That wasn’t just an accident.”

  The murmurs didn’t die.

  A woman holding a child.

  A merchant crouched outside a tavern.

  All of them felt the same thing—an unease they couldn’t explain.

  ◇

  Laken had already headed to the guild headquarters to report.

  In the space he left behind, Aira stared toward the rubble and spoke quietly.

  “The guild will bury it. If the truth spreads, this town will flip.”

  Ivela pressed her lips together.

  She knew it too. Right now, what people wanted wasn’t truth—it was “stability.”

  Still—

  “At this scale… ‘nothing happened’ is the strangest part.”

  Almost to herself, Ivela fixed her gaze beyond the collapsed corridor.

  Aira swept the area with uneasy eyes.

  “Don’t tell me… there’s still something left inside the temple?”

  For a moment, silence fell between them.

  Ivela nodded slowly.

  “···It’s possible. More than possible.”

  Then—

  Outside the temple, cutting through the thin air, an owl dropped from the edge of the sky.

  Its feathers were pale as gray mist, and its eyes gleamed silver like a seal.

  It circled precisely over Ivela’s head once—then landed without a sound.

  Ivela reached up without hesitation and took the letter.

  The moment she unfolded it, her face hardened.

  Her eyes shook, and her lips thinned.

  “This… might be tied to the Shadow Organization.”

  Aira swallowed.

  “What? Are you sure?”

  Ivela didn’t answer. She looked down at the letter again.

  The paper was already crumpling in her grip.

  “···There’s movement. Something off. I need to check it myself.”

  “Alone?”

  Aira’s voice held down anger that still leaked through.

  “Wasn’t the rule that we move as three?”

  “I know.”

  Ivela’s gaze didn’t waver.

  “Rynel stays with you.”

  Aira drew in a tight breath.

  “When you say it like that… it sounds like we won’t meet again.”

  Ivela closed her mouth for a beat.

  Then she stepped closer and placed a hand on Aira’s shoulder.

  “I’ll come back.”

  Two words.

  But her fingers carried weight.

  At that moment, somewhere deeper in the temple, a faint tremor pulsed through a magic circle.

  When Aira turned on reflex—

  Ivela was already activating the teleportation circle embedded in the letter.

  A white flash.

  Ivela’s shape was erased from the space in an instant.

  Aira stared at where she’d been, then bit her lip.

  “···Always trying to do everything alone. When are you going to fix that.”

  ◇

  Deep inside the temple—end of the southwest corridor.

  Fine metal dust was scattered across the floor.

  Faint footprints were pressed into it.

  The air trembled—thin as a film.

  Someone had been here. Just moments ago.

  Aira knelt beside a broken pillar.

  She lifted her hand over Rynel’s collapsed body.

  Emerald light bled quietly from her fingertips.

  Healing magic seeped into the boy’s wounds, slowly.

  Rynel’s breathing was steady.

  Cold sweat dotted his forehead.

  “It’s okay··· just a little longer.”

  Aira gently brushed aside his tangled hair.

  Then she spoke so softly it barely existed.

  “For now… I’ll hold you here.”

  That was when—

  “Hey.”

  A low, rough voice came from a thick pocket of shadow.

  Aira looked up.

  “You… Monero?”

  Monero approached without a word. He stared at Rynel for a long moment, then lowered to one knee.

  Carefully—almost too carefully—he lifted the boy into his arms.

  “We’re leaving. Now.”

  The tone was blunt, rough.

  But his hands were strangely gentle.

  Aira let out a small breath—half a laugh.

  “···Didn’t expect that.”

  Monero didn’t even turn.

  “Not something you handle lightly.”

  “True. It’s just… your mouth is rough, but your actions aren’t. Surprising.”

  “Keep talking and I’ll drop him.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. On the floor.”

  Aira snorted softly.

  “Okay. I’ll be quiet.”

  Monero led the way.

  Step by step, he navigated the collapsed corridor and headed outside the temple.

  And once that brief window passed, another faint tremor rippled from deeper within.

  ◇

  Outside the temple, near the collapsed outer wall.

  Guild reinforcements moved in a rush among fallen pillars and scattered debris.

  “That corridor is sealed. Debris removal is over halfway done.”

  “What about restoring the circle?”

  “···It’s all destroyed. The circuits melted, and the central engraving is completely collapsed.”

  “Hah… figures.”

  Laken wiped blood from his forehead with the back of his hand.

  His eyes never loosened for a second as he scanned the site.

  Incomplete engravings.

  Burst circuit lines.

  Burn marks embedded deep into the wall.

  Then—

  Krrk.

  A magical seal unfolded in midair, and space split like a tear.

  From a pale gray circle, a figure stepped out slowly.

  A white robe.

  Red mana inscriptions traced along the shoulders and sleeves.

  And at the waist, the crest of the Kingdom Mages’ Association hung neatly.

  A senior investigator of the Kingdom Mages’ Association.

  Arzen Asmail Ponite.

  Arzen surveyed the collapsed site and spoke with calm precision.

  “I received the report.

  An unusual wave was detected in this area—along with traces of magic structures that don’t exist in the records.”

  After finishing, Arzen extended a hand toward Laken.

  “It’s been a while, Laken.”

  Laken took the hand without a word.

  Back in the capital—brief days, but days when blade and magic had been leveled side by side—

  they flickered across the handshake.

  Laken pointed beyond the broken outer wall.

  “The circle and artifacts are nearly destroyed.

  The core circuits melted, and the residual mana isn’t consistent.”

  Arzen nodded, his gaze dropping to the shattered remains of the engravings.

  “The shape resembles an amplification device… but the wave flow isn’t one-way.”

  He opened his fingers and slowly gathered the drifting residue in the air.

  There was no raging energy.

  Instead, it wavered dull and sticky—as if pressed into place.

  Arzen “picked up” the clearest strand of the wave, then quietly broke it apart and let it scatter.

  “···Too distinct to call it an accident.”

  He glanced once at the collapsed corridor, then added in a low voice.

  “I’ll bring this straight to the Association’s senior council. There’s a high chance this won’t end as a simple investigation.”

  Then he looked back at Laken.

  “Before that—secure the roster. Everyone dispatched here, and every temple-related name. All of it.”

  Laken took a slow breath and nodded.

  “···Rynel.”

  Just one name.

  But the weight of it stayed in Laken’s eyes.