Chapter 290 (Patreon)

Suri didn’t bother changing out of her sleepwear, as if the idea itself had been left behind the moment urgency took hold, though she did pull a hooded cloak over her shoulders, the fabric hanging loosely and shadowing her face just enough to make her look less like someone who had sprinted out of bed and more like someone who had chosen not to be recognized. “There’s a chance someone noticed my scouting illusions,” she said as they moved, her voice tighter than usual, carrying a quiet edge that made the air around her feel thinner. “If they did, then we’re not early—we might be a bit late.”

That was enough to kill any hesitation before it could even form.

They were mounted soon after, Kana, Suri, and Leo urging their horses forward with little regard for the stares they drew, their pace cutting through the morning traffic like a blade through cloth. Boris was left behind without discussion, his absence an unspoken agreement between them, because whatever Suri had found, it wasn’t something that would wait politely. Mica followed without needing to be asked, riding atop Shai, the large feline moving with a smooth, predatory grace that made her presence feel just as fast as the galloping horses, if not more so.

They pushed through the wider streets quickly, but the city had a way of narrowing both path and pace, and by the time they reached the commoner district, their speed gave way to something more controlled. Buildings leaned closer here, conversations quieter but sharper, and movement felt more watched, even if no one seemed to be looking directly at them.

“You’ve been here before,” Mica said as they dismounted near a stable, her gaze following the way they chose their route without needing to think, slipping naturally toward streets with fewer people, fewer interruptions.

“You do know going down there is illegal, right?” Mica added, her tone light, though there was something underneath it that wasn’t quite a joke.

The three of them exchanged a glance then laughed.

They tied their horses quickly to a nearby stables and moved on, slipping toward a narrow entrance that didn’t look like much unless you already knew what it was.

The underground district greeted them with a kind of quiet that felt intentional, like the world above had been sealed away rather than simply left behind. It was still late morning, and Kana could almost feel the contrast pressing in on her—the liveliness of the streets above replaced by something slower, heavier, as if time itself had chosen to linger here instead of move forward.

There were people but not in the same way as she could remember every night when they visited the underground district.

They lay along the sides of the path, curled into themselves or slumped against the walls, unmoving until the sound of footsteps reached them. Then, almost all at once, they stirred, sitting up, hands extending with practiced desperation, voices rising softly but insistently.

“Spare coin…”

“Anything…”

“Please…”

Suri didn’t slow, didn’t look, her focus locked ahead as if even a glance would cost them something they couldn’t afford to lose. The faint smell of food drifted from a few scattered stalls, but even that felt out of place, like something that belonged to another world.

She led them deeper without hesitation.

Until she stopped.

The old temple stood apart, older than everything around it, as if it had survived by refusing to disappear. It resembled a church, or at least what a church might look like after being forgotten for too long, its markings worn down by time until they were barely more than ghosts carved into stone.

And yet—

It wasn’t empty.

A few candles burned inside, their light flickering faintly through the entrance, just enough to reveal shapes that didn’t quite belong—bones arranged along the walls, not scattered, but placed, as if someone had decided they mattered.

“One thing is for sure,” Suri said quietly, her voice dropping as she stared at the structure. “This is where it starts.”

Kana’s gaze sharpened.

“I couldn’t see inside,” Suri continued, her grip tightening slightly on her staff. “Every time I sent an illusion in… it just vanished.”

As if something inside had reached out and erased it.

“You can’t access it at all?” Kana asked, though she already felt the answer forming.

Suri shook her head. “No idea what’s inside.”

Shai growled, a different growl. It was more of a warning. Her body lowered slightly, muscles tightening as her gaze fixed on the entrance, fangs slowly showing as if she were staring at something the others couldn’t yet see.

“Shai doesn’t like this,” Mica said, her voice quieter now, her earlier ease gone as she rested a hand against the feline. “Neither do I.”

Kana didn’t respond right away. Instead, she focused, letting her [High Awareness] stretch outward, pushing gently at the edges of the space in front of her—

And stopping.

Not because there was nothing there but because there was something that refused to be found. A blank space. That alone made her frown.

“We can pull back,” Suri said, though her voice carried hesitation now, like she didn’t fully believe her own words. “But this might be our only chance to catch them off guard.”

Leo shifted beside them, his unease no longer hidden as he stared into the dim entrance. “Should we call the knights?”

“It won’t matter,” Suri said quickly. “If they noticed me, they already know we’re here.”

Her gaze flicked toward the faded markings on the walls.

“These runes… they’re old,” she added, her voice tightening slightly. “But they’re strong. Interesting.”

“Sorry. Got distracted.”

They stood there for a moment longer, just outside the threshold, the faint candlelight flickering inside as if it were breathing, slow and patient.

Waiting.

For them to decide whether to step in—

Or turn away.

….

Flowel stood off to the side of the hall, his back slightly hunched as though the years had settled onto him unevenly, the staff in his hand bearing more of his weight than it should have needed to. To an untrained eye, he might have looked frail, forgettable even. But there was a stillness to him that didn’t belong to the weak. It belonged to someone who preferred not to be noticed.

There were six of them gathered in the underground hall, counting him. Executives, each one dangerous in their own right. The hall itself was dim, lit only by a handful of torches clinging to the walls, their flames flickering weakly, as if even light struggled to exist in this place. Shadows pooled in the corners, thick and patient, swallowing details and leaving only silhouettes behind.

“We need more plantation fields,” one of them said, breaking the silence with a tone that carried both urgency and frustration.

“I agree,” another added quickly. “Demand is rising faster than we expected. At this rate, we won’t just fall short—we’ll run dry. And you all understand what happens if the supply stops.”

No one answered that directly.

At the center of the room, seated upon a crude but imposing throne, was the man they all deferred to. A jagged scar carved across his face, pulling at his features in a way that made his expression seem permanently hardened. Scar, the leader. The strongest among them, and equal prowess to the guildmaster or so the rumors insisted.

His voice, when he spoke, was low and deep. “We’ve secured land in the empire. The soil isn’t as rich as what we have here, but it will suffice. It will keep the flow steady.”

The others nodded, some with relief, others with quiet calculation.

Flowel said nothing. Behind his lowered gaze, his thoughts curled into something sharper, something far more satisfied. Scar spoke, Scar decided, Scar ruled—yet every word, every action, every choice had already been decided long before this meeting began.

Scar was an excellent puppet.

Flowel’s fingers tightened ever so slightly around his staff as the memory of the item surfaced in his mind, its name almost tasting sweet in its rarity—[Orb of Imprisonment]. A dungeon item, ancient and powerful, capable of binding not just the body, but the will itself. There were only three known to exist. One now rested firmly in his possession, and through it, the strongest man in the organization danced to strings no one else could see.

Of course, the others had been suspicious at first. They weren’t fools. They had noticed how often Flowel stood near Scar, how easily his suggestions aligned with the guildmaster’s decisions. But suspicion had limits. Fear did not.

And they feared Scar. So they chose silence.

Flowel’s thoughts drifted further, moving past the present and into the shape of what came next. Coin. He would need an absurd amount of it. The last remaining orb—unused, unclaimed—would not come cheap. It would be an auction of nobles and collectors and worse, all vying for something they only half understood. To win, he would need more than influence.

He would need wealth that hurt to gather but it would be worth it. Because there was one more piece he intended to claim.

Kana of the Saltrain Village.

The name lingered in his thoughts longer than it should have. A gold badge holder. A prodigy who had already crossed blades with empire students and unexpectedly won one sidedly. He even witnessed the fight himself. She was better than he fought her. He disliked admitting it, even to himself, but she was… dangerous. Not now. Not yet.

But she would be. Stronger than Scar, one day.

That alone made her invaluable. He had considered others, briefly. Ruvel, the guildmaster, had been an option. Powerful, established, immediate. But Ruvel was already near his peak. Kana, on the other hand…

Kana had greater potential.

And potential, when properly controlled, was far more profitable. Worth investing.

“Some little birds found us.”

The voice cut cleanly through the room, drawing Flowel back to the present. The one who spoke was responsible for the defensive barrier, the ancient runes woven into the structure surrounding the entire temple.

Flowel’s lips curved faintly, though the expression never quite reached his eyes. “Arkan. Dolce. Steel,” he said, his tone calm, almost casual. “If they’re not here to buy, then they’re here to pry. You know what to do.”

The three turned toward him, their gazes sharp, edged with something that bordered on resentment. They didn’t like taking orders from him. That much was obvious.

But liking something had never been a requirement.

A low grunt echoed from the throne.

Scar.

That was enough. The tension broke instantly. The three lowered their heads in reluctant acknowledgment before turning and heading toward the exit, their footsteps fading into the dim corridors beyond.

The barrier executive in charge let out a quiet chuckle as they were about to leave, the sound thin against the heavy air. “No offense,” he said, glancing back briefly, “but they didn’t look like buyers. One of them had the look of a noble.”

Steel paused near one of the tables, his large frame casting a shifting shadow as he reached down and gathered a handful of fine, glittering grains—almost beautiful at a glance, like crushed crystal or pale salt. Without a word, he pocketed them and followed the others out.

The hall fell quiet again.

Flowel remained where he was, leaning on his staff, his posture unchanged.

But his thoughts were already moving ahead.

They need to expand their business.

Post note:

Hope you still remember him 😂

4th chap of the weekHope you enjoy the chap! 🙂

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