By The Blood

Of course, Vin said nothing about the boy. Judging by the fact that they didn’t ask directly, it seemed likely his actions had been veiled by the uniqueness of the tree and the events surrounding it.

Aletha frowned. "Isn't that too much of a coincidence?" She seemed unconvinced. Well, even Vin wouldn’t have accepted such a flat answer, but unfortunately, it was all she could offer. The only alternative was directly revealing everything, which would only end with the boy being hunted and purged.

"Perhaps it was just a strange coincidence," Vin replied.

"That's—"

"I suppose that is possible," the Invigilator interrupted Aletha, who immediately fell silent. In terms of rank, except for the doctor, the Invigilator outranked them all.

Speaking of the doctor, Vin wondered if he should really be privy to this conversation. But she dismissed the thought quickly. Since the Invigilator was present, nothing untoward would happen.

The Invigilator regarded them both. "This matter will no longer be discussed by either of you." He gave each woman a pointed look.

Vin nodded respectfully, though she had no intention of fully adhering to the order. Yes, it went against everything she had been taught as a cog in the empire, but something about this—about the boy—compelled her to pursue it. This feels too instinctive. She suddenly groaned as pain shot through her sides.

In response to her cry, the doctor swiftly pulled out his needle and approached her.

Sensing the threat, Vin nearly slammed the man against the ceiling but stopped herself—after all, the Invigilator was still there. Instead, she waved the doctor away and swung her legs over the bed, standing up despite staggering. She took a deep breath, forcing the pain down.

I need to return to base. Now that she knew something significant was happening in Canen—from the attack by the thieving guild to the strange faction of individuals birthing children—there was much to investigate. It’s almost as if everything is circling... Could it be related to the Maw? They’ve been acting strange lately.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the Invigilator’s voice. "How exactly did you stop the enemy, and what happened?"

Didn’t he just say no one should talk about it? Vin wondered if he had changed his mind. She retrieved her trusted rapier and said, "After discovering the veil concealing the heretic, I used distortion to break it down and confronted the enemy."

"Distortion?" The Invigilator regarded her with a sharp gaze. "Is that a power from the Strange Faced Pitcher branch?"

"Yes," Vin replied simply, then continued, "When I broke through the veil, I discovered the driver was giving birth."

A frown darkened the Invigilator’s face. Understandably so—how could he not be outraged upon hearing a heretic was making men give birth?

Vin added, "The woman did something that transformed the space into a barren land, with a strange tree of flesh and blood. Her powers didn’t align with any of the 19 known branches or even the incomplete ones I’ve encountered. Which means..."

"It’s a hidden branch, perhaps only recently formed," the Invigilator interjected, pausing briefly before giving Aletha a glance. "Leave us, Captain."

Aletha, though likely annoyed at being excluded from the conversation, didn’t protest and left the room. As a garrison captain, she had no right to hear the details of their discussion.

"Continue," the Invigilator ordered.

Vin nodded. "The space was filled with the cries of a child, and strangely, the sound seemed to weaken me, purging my components. Though I can’t be certain if it was the child or the nature of the space itself. In any case, I fought the woman and, as a last resort, used an experimental potion from the SS0. Its effects were akin to purification."

The Invigilator raised an eyebrow.

I shouldn’t have said that! Vin cursed herself. The potion was useless—if he investigates, it could be a problem. But then she remembered. He has no jurisdiction over SS0 matters, so he can’t check. She prayed he wouldn’t push further.

Fortunately, the Invigilator simply sighed and said, "That will be all." Without another word, he and the doctor left the room.

Vin was left in silence. What I need to do now is find a way to track down that boy... and that gathering. No, that can wait until tomorrow. Today, I can focus on interrogating that man.

Aletha sighed as she walked down the cobblestone road toward her carriage.

She had to return to the garrison, but it irked her how the guardsmen were often treated like subpar soldiers. Just then, a man approached her. He was dressed in a white coat buttoned to the left, with black expendables that reached to his knees to keep the dust off from the main white coat. He appeared middle-aged, with black hair and a neatly trimmed beard.

The man bowed and said, "Pure to you, Captain. My name is Bethel."

Karl inserted the key into the door, opening it to reveal the well-organized room. A desk lined with books stood to one side, and a well-made bed occupied the other. But he wasn’t interested in these things. His attention shifted to the door on the right—the bathroom. He smelled of blood and dirt.

But just as he was about to move, his eye caught sight of a stray paper pinned beneath a book on the desk. He approached, leaned over, and picked up the paper. Who does this belong to? Fredrick? Anette? Or someone else? His thoughts raced for a moment, but he quickly calmed himself and began reading.

"Master," the note began, and Karl already recognized the sender. "There are some clothes for you and other necessities. I apologize for my disappearance, but I’ve been assigned to investigate the missing candidates from the faction. You will be among those sent to save them."

Candidates? Are these connected to Shaman Olmer? Is he the one who kidnapped them, or are these two unrelated matters? He continued reading.

"Due to the maws fascination with storms, it is likely the Shaman is a Sanguine with storm-related powers. However, it has been confirmed he is not above desolation class."

Which means he’s possibly at special... but how can I even deal with someone of that level? Karl summoned his Face of the Soul, gave it a quick glance, then dismissed it. As expected, there’s nothing here that can help.

He missed the white flames.

He glanced at the syringe in his pocket. Should I take a chance with evolving? he wondered. No, that would be foolish. I don’t even have grace to bind it. He dismissed the thought and continued reading. The rest of the note was unremarkable—just pleasantries and well-wishes from Anette.

After finishing, Karl folded the paper, placed it on his tongue, chewed, and swallowed it. Knowing that divination was possible, he had to be extra cautious in hiding his tracks. Even something as simple as paper might give away crucial information. He took one last look around the room before entering the bathroom.

Karl wasn’t sure how long he spent bathing, but one thing was clear—the trail of blood, water, and black soot washing off his body was unsettling.

He sighed and donned the clothes left by, presumably, Anette. It was a white coat buttoned on the left and black trousers.

Afterward, he combed his hair and brushed his teeth using something that looked like a bunch of soft hairs on a stick. The sensation felt strange. For toothpaste, all he found was a handful of salt. Primitive.

Once finished, he spent a few hours reading books written in Canenese, trying to decide which task to tackle first: the Mason Hotel or the gathering.

The hotel needs my attention. Some of them may have already forgotten what I did yesterday and could be looking for opportunities to take back what’s mine.

He sat on the soft bed, staring at the gray walls. On the other hand, going to the gathering might offer valuable insights—or maybe some knowledge of the mysticism arts that could help me in my pursuits...

He sighed. What I need is power. The gathering will always be there, but the hotel might not. That’s what I need to prioritize. He looked around the room before pulling out the gun from his pouch.

He paced around, looking for a place to hide it. Carrying something so useless would only slow him down. He searched and searched but eventually opted to hide it under the bed—a crude solution, but since he had the key to the room and no one could track him here without special means, it seemed like the best option. Well, not really. He could always summon Fredrick and give it to him—maybe the man would have access to more bullets. But Karl didn’t feel like eating a finger today. And while he could use a voicestone, he preferred not to.

After a while, he left the hotel.

SHE DECIDED TO WEAR the red dress. There was no particular reason, except that it was her favorite color. Despite how the rest of the city might view her, wearing such an "unwhite" color, Jean couldn’t care less. Nobles could say whatever they wanted.

Right now, she was heading to a ball. Not one organized by a noble family, but a simple one hosted by a theater celebrating the signing of a new singer. As for the singer? She didn’t care. Theaters were where men went to gawk and hope to get lucky, and most of the time, those men were inexperienced.

A footman opened the carriage door. Jean gave him a casual glance and a smile, releasing faint traces of charm—just enough to boggle his mind. The man staggered but surprisingly remained steady. Who knows how many times this had happened to him for him to resist so well. From what she could tell, he didn’t seem to be a Sanguine. But anything could be anything.

Shrugging, she accepted the footman’s hand and stepped down. She straightened her dress, hoping for a random tear to reveal some skin. Unfortunately, the shop she’d "borrowed" it from was high-tier. She walked in, following the other tycoons and nobles into the keep.

Despite being a theater, they had managed to own a keep in Canen with several guardsmen as security. Supposedly, the keep once belonged to an old noble family that sold it for money. Jean tried to remember the name...

Oh yes, it was Adeiheid. She dismissed the thought. The keep wasn’t that impressive and was even smaller than... the Ventures!

She sighed, distracting herself by imagining several noble heads on spikes—perhaps after draining their energy once she became a Lady of Bliss. Jean felt a thrill at the thought.

She caught glimpses of other women’s feet, noting that they wore high-heeled shoes, unlike her simple sandals.

"Should I have borrowed a pair too?" she muttered quietly to herself. Inside her, she felt Susan skittering. "Yeah, I know... I’m not a noble, and I don’t plan on becoming one." She composed herself. Now, what I need is to find something to keep warm for the night.

She soon stepped up to the squat ballroom building, spotting a stage ahead, covered by a pure white curtain that stretched all the way to the high ceiling.

Eternal lamps burned on either side, the pillars wide enough for three men and taller than she could imagine.

Tables lined both sides of the room, covered in white cloth, while servants arranged unique chairs in the center—likely preparing for the main show. Who is this mystery singer, anyway?

A servant led her to a table on the outskirts of the room. She sat down, observing as men, entranced by her beauty—or maybe the subtle charm she exuded—considered approaching her. But many had already bedded several women, and therefore didn’t meet Jean’s particular requirement for purity.

She was a very picky person.