Glass Island, Lloyd District.
Sherlock carefully sized up his surroundings and followed the path in his memories until he found the stinking ditch and mountain of garbage.
Perhaps because the factory's wastewater discharge had worsened, there was far more household waste here than in the abandoned chemical plant from his dream, and the water smelled even worse. It had practically sealed off the road and gave off a foul, rotting stench. When Sherlock leaned closer to examine the garbage, the disturbed cockroaches crawled out from beneath the pile.
Edward, following behind him, kept his back straight and his brows tightly furrowed.
He stared deeply at the garbage heap with an ugly expression, clearly unwilling to come any closer.
"...How did you discover this place, Hermes?"
Edward said this without moving from where he stood.
"First-hand intelligence obtained during my advancement ritual, my partner."
Sherlock concealed nothing from his close friend. "Go from here, climb over that little slope, and you'll see an abandoned chemical plant. The Sweater Brotherhood's hidden base is there."
"Then move aside first."
Edward said this.
Sherlock obediently stepped behind his friend. He saw this classmate, who gave off a deep, shadowy impression, draw one of the elven short swords from his waist and point it ahead.
White, glowing runes lit up at his right wrist, rapidly crawling toward his fingertips before making their way along the spine of the short sword.
"—The law grants me the necessary right of passage."
As he issued the command, pure white radiance surged forth and the wind roared.
An irresistible, invisible force extended from the sword's tip along with the light, pushing the entire garbage heap apart.
A broad passage wide enough for ten people to walk abreast opened in the middle, while the ground was covered by a faintly