"The eight swordsmen guarding Mr. Tales when the incident occurred are all here. Out of respect, and because the situation was urgent, we didn't move them at all. They've been left exactly as they were."
On the third floor of Mindis Hall, Gilbert spoke to the stern-looking Jinnie as he faced the eight corpses before him.
Yordel stood quietly to one side.
"Six skilled, battle-hardened Mortal Tier swordsmen who had a chance of breaking through to Transcendent Rank, and two genuine Transcendent Rank experts—all had their neck arteries slashed open by irregular blades."
Gilbert walked over to one of the corpses and crouched down. When he pressed its neck, an ugly, horrifying wound was exposed. The wound had already changed color, and even the blood had coagulated.
"Our preliminary estimate is that the culprit may be an Extreme Realm Expert. To kill eight people in an instant, he would need exquisite technique and immeasurable strength. His speed was even beyond Yordel's ability to follow."
"There was also that terrifying ability to hide. When the intrusion occurred, we had clearly guarded every entrance and exit, yet he still slipped in. Yordel didn't sense anyone at all."
Gilbert spoke heavily as he explained his deduction. He took a mechanical watch from his breast pocket and stared at the time: half past six in the evening.
Even the moon had risen.
Jinnie's brows drew tightly together, and her shapely lips pressed into a firm line, accentuating the beauty mark beside them. She folded her arms and thought deeply for a while before suddenly raising a hand and snapping her fingers.
"Remove their helmets."
At Gilbert's glance, several guards nearby stepped forward together and removed the dead men's helmets.
Jinnie walked over, then knelt on one knee in her elegant high-heeled boots, carefully examining each man's face.
"Severe bleeding from the neck arteries. They couldn't have lived long after being wounded—only long enough to struggle on the ground for a while. That period was the time each of them had to observe the killer."
"Their expressions..." Jinnie bent over as she observed them, speaking cautiously. "Each one is subtly different."
"These four were lying facedown. Their expressions before death were almost identical: anger, hatred, unwillingness, and gritted teeth. They likely had no chance to react at all. They were gravely wounded and died without ever understanding what happened. Only then would they have died with such resentment and fury."
"These two were lying on their sides. Their expressions showed surprise, disbelief, and confusion. They should have sensed the killer's fatal strike and desperately counterattacked, only to fail. That left them astonished and puzzled. The time they spent struggling on the ground fixed those expressions on their faces."
"The last two should have been the strongest. One was lying on his back, while the other was sitting slanted against the wall. Their expressions were far subtler than those of the previous six. The one lying down showed regret and pain; the one sitting showed relief and helplessness. They both tried to fight back, but still failed. However, they should have been the last to die, which gave them time to struggle and see the killer. That's why they showed regret and sudden realization before death. In other words, if the two of them had known the enemy's identity beforehand, they could have responded effectively."
Jinnie rose with a cold expression and folded her arms. Looking at the somewhat helpless Gilbert beside her, she spoke decisively:
"The killer isn't an Extreme Realm Expert!"
"If the killer possessed the kind of overwhelming strength associated with the Extreme Realm, against which resistance is impossible, the last two would have shown despair and fear. The killer should have used some special technique, supernatural ability, or mechanism. He cleverly struck the strongest first, then moved on to the six weaker men. That was why the two strongest had the chance and time to see the killer and his method of murder after they fell."
"Although he hasn't reached the Extreme Realm, he's very fast. He may already be close to, or even faster than, half of the Extreme Realm Experts. But because he hasn't reached the Extreme Realm, there was still an order to his killings."
Yordel stepped forward and crouched down before the corpses, seemingly verifying Jinnie's words.
Gilbert stared blankly at the woman before him, as though he had seen the spirited young girl from twenty years ago, standing proudly in the courtroom.
And the young man who had often stood behind her, green and sunny.
He sighed inwardly and walked up to her.
"Lady Jinnie, I know you were once the finest Alert Officer in the Royal Capital. You even participated in the investigation of the royal assassination during the Year of Blood and tracked the Air Elementalist. Even the kingdom's Secret Section often borrowed your services." Gilbert clasped his hands behind his back and spoke calmly:
"Your deduction is also remarkable, as sharp as ever."
"But our most urgent task is to find that child."
Jinnie fell into thought and glanced at him.
The finest Alert Officer?
Her fist clenched unconsciously.
What a load of bullshit, Alert Officer.
But the charming woman revealed none of her emotions. Instead, she habitually touched the beauty mark to the left of her lips with her left hand, which rested across her other arm, and gave a silent, faint laugh.
"Men really are the embodiment of carelessness and negligence."
Gilbert narrowed his eyes and slightly lifted the top of his bowler hat, showing his confusion.
"Was I not clear enough?" Jinnie lowered her arms and strode forward without ceremony. Pointing at the corpses before her, she spoke with absolute confidence:
"These two Transcendent Rank guards were the strongest. They were also standing together and encountered the attack first. These two were next, and the remaining four were attacked last. But their order of death was the opposite: the strongest struggled until the end and saw the killer!"
"If I determine where they were positioned before being attacked, I can follow the trajectory and find where the killer entered."
"Although too much blood was lost, causing the bloodstains to mix together and making it difficult to find traces of the guards' movements as they struggled before death..."
"Based on the time it takes for an artery to bleed out and the speed at which a person falls and struggles on the ground, we can use the two strongest men as the centers and draw two circles. These represent the range of their movement from the moment they were attacked until they died."
"Don't forget, the two strongest men were attacked by the same weapon almost simultaneously. That means they were standing together before the attack."
"So the intersection of the two circles is where they were attacked!"
"The two circles have two intersections. Only one is the answer—the place where the two men were truly attacked, which is also where the killer entered." Jinnie's expression was focused. She marked out the shape step by step with her feet, and the content of her explanation made both Gilbert and Yordel look over seriously.
"Judging from the final direction of the two strongest men's gazes before death, the killer appeared here after killing everyone. I suspect that was also where the child was standing."
"Starting from where the killer last appeared..." Jinnie stood at that position and slowly moved backward. "Following the order in which they were attacked, we can roughly find the killer's path." She slowly passed several corpses, then returned to those of the two strongest men. "The end of the path connects back to the area of these two circles. The closest point is this intersection!"
Jinnie walked past the scattered corpses, her gaze sharp, and finally stopped at one spot:
"This is where the two strongest men were attacked first. In other words, this is where the killer entered and launched his first attack!"
Gilbert hurried over and looked around.
"You mean the killer suddenly appeared here?" he said slowly. "The Mercenary Squad did indeed advance this far. But that's impossible. This place is still far from the stairs. During the time we were cleaning up, he had nowhere to hide."
Jinnie gave another disdainful little laugh.
Only Yordel silently walked over and pointed at a small decorative vase beside them.
Such vases were common in the corridor. This was the only one, and it was closest to Jinnie's position.
Under Gilbert's puzzled gaze, Jinnie hurried forward, grabbed the vase, and smashed it without hesitation!
"Crash!"
She silently crouched down and picked up a shard. After examining it carefully, she lightly wiped a finger across the inside of the shard and held it up to the two "useless men."
Gilbert was astonished to see red blood on Jinnie's finger!
Yordel crouched down as well and picked up several shards.
Tiny drops of blood covered the insides of the vase as well.
"Nowhere to hide?" Jinnie sneered sarcastically, leaving Gilbert somewhat embarrassed.
"So..." Gilbert took the vase shard from her, his expression changing. "This is—"
Jinnie stood and spoke crisply:
"Victims: eight. Cause of death: bleeding from severed neck arteries."
"Killer: a Transcendent Rank member of the Blood Race—in other words, a Vampire. Weapon: Blood Race claws—"
Jinnie was getting carried away when she suddenly froze, realizing the current situation.
She gritted her teeth and swallowed the words that followed.
After all, I'm no longer an Alert Officer.
Jinnie shook her head and cleared away her irrelevant emotions.
"So he relied on his innate blood-transformation talent to infiltrate and hide, then used his innate instantaneous speed to kill and abduct people—not his own strength." Jinnie raised her head and rolled her eyes at Gilbert. "And this is the Extreme Realm Expert you mentioned?"
Gilbert was extremely embarrassed, but he knew this was no time to lose his temper. Thus, he asked politely, "Truly eye-opening. So, what about the child?"
This counts as eye-opening? Jinnie thought disdainfully.
What a narrow-minded high-ranking official. If you had seen Star Kingdom's Secret Section, Exeter's Dark Chamber, the Black Robe Guard of the Suye Dynasty, and Quintana of the Hanbur Dynasty—if you had seen their methods, you would know how many terrifying figures lurked in the darkness beneath the surface. With just a movement of their fingers, they could uncover all your secrets.
Then her gaze sharpened, and she said decisively, "When the incident occurred, the sun hadn't set yet! He could only have hidden in his blood-transformed state among those groups of mercenaries!"
"A member of the Blood Race below the Extreme Realm can only transform into blood, and can maintain that state for no more than half an hour. This means those groups of mercenaries arrived here within half an hour!"
"For a group of mercenaries traveling at full speed, a half-hour's distance from the Dusk Star District can only be the DC District, filled with noble estates; the Morning Star District, where the City Hall and commercial centers are concentrated; and the Central District, where Revival Palace is located!"
Jinnie exhaled. The mature beauty finished her deduction and habitually reached behind her waist, only to grasp nothing.
She froze again, then laughed bitterly inwardly. That's right. I'm no longer an Alert Officer. I even quit smoking a long time ago.
And the intern who used to follow me around and light my cigarettes—hadn't he already become someone else long ago?
She sighed.
The astute woman put away her memories and looked at Gilbert.
"Make a decision, Count."
Gilbert drew a deep breath. "The nobles were definitely the ones who sent people to test us. The DC District is quite large, and the estates are the most suitable places for a member of the Blood Race to hide! Although there are quite a few estates over there—"
Yordel's figure blurred, and he had already disappeared.
Choked off by his colleague's blunt action, Gilbert could only sigh. "Fine. At least we've narrowed down the search area."
Gilbert looked at Jinnie and gave her a slight nod.
She merely snorted softly in response.
Gilbert didn't take offense. Instead, he began assigning people again:
"Open the backup armory. Everyone, prepare for battle and equip yourselves with exorcist silver swords!"
"Choose the thirty best men and come with me! Our target is the DC District!"
"Bring that lamp!"
"Bang, bang! Bang, bang! Bang, bang, bang!"
The muffled banging from the ceiling continued, growing increasingly urgent!
Chris spun around violently. For the first time, he showed a slightly anxious expression. He glared unpleasantly at Tales and ordered Istrone, "Take him back to the Dungeon! Keep him locked up properly!"
Then, before Istrone or Tales could react, the old man and Rolana vanished from sight together!
Istrone also looked delighted. He hoisted Tales up in one hand and, ignoring his struggles and shouts—"Hey, hey, what's going on? Weren't we going to exchange information, Lord Istrone?"—shot toward the stone stairs!
The next second, before his dizziness had even faded, Tales landed headfirst on the damp stone floor!
Thud!
The pain made him grimace.
"You little brat! Stay put! We can hear you no matter what you do!" After the crisp sound of a lock turning and Istrone's anxious parting words, the surroundings fell silent!
Only then did Tales climb to his feet, both annoyed and relieved.
Istrone had already disappeared.
He silently reached down to his leg, pretending to scratch an itch, and deliberately brushed against the JC Dagger strapped there.
Pain surged through him.
His blood fell onto the ground.
It's here.
Tales drew a deep breath and welcomed the searing heat spreading through his body.
This way, Gilbert and Yordel will know where I am, right?
He slowly exhaled and completely relaxed. A wave of exhaustion suddenly swept over him.
The boy shakily felt his way to a wall and sat down beside it.
Today's experiences were no less intense than yesterday's trip to Red Quarter!
Only now did Tales have time to observe his surroundings.
Dim light came from two small torches.
The stone floor was damp, chilly, and hard.
The mottled walls were covered in countless scratches and carvings.
There were narrow metal bars and a lock as thick as an arm.
His foot kicked a rusty chain, which jingled.
Tales sighed and lay down on the cold floor.
There was no doubt about it. This was a cell—damp, filthy, and bloody.
Bloody?
Tales smelled the salty, fishy scent in the air.
It was exactly like the smell he had detected in Red Quarter last night, only much stronger.
Just as his heart tightened, terrifying screams and groans suddenly came from outside the cell.
"Ah—"
Tales shot to his feet in fright!
The Tales in his memories had never been able to tolerate horror movies. He had always been forcibly dragged to watch them by that terminal chuunibyou patient whose name he could never remember.
The excuse had always been, "To build your courage."
As goosebumps rose across his skin, Tales's brain once again began operating frantically on its own!
Dungeon.
Blood.
Blood Race.
Screams and groans.
Tales suddenly realized what this place was.
It was the Blood Race's "pantry."
A wave of nausea washed over him.
Tales sighed again. In the past two days, he had probably sighed more times than he had drunk water.
But just as he was about to sit down, a low, coarse breathing sound suddenly came from beside him!
"Huff—huff—ah—"
It frightened him into crawling several steps in the opposite direction!
Could you stop scaring me?
Still shaken, Tales patted his chest. Only then did he realize that his cell was not a luxurious private room.
Tales slowly moved closer in that direction.
In the dim light, a human figure appeared, lying on the ground and breathing painfully while wearing heavy shackles.
"Whimper—"
In the darkness, the prisoner seemed unable to speak and could only continue panting. His voice was filled with pain and suffering.
A tube seemed to be inserted into his wrists, which were tightly locked inside the shackles, and connected to somewhere outside the cell.
Tales knew what it was.
"Honestly, we could just connect him directly to a blood extractor and nutrient infusion tube, then lock him in a coffin." That was what Istrone had once said.
So this is the blood extractor.
Tales lowered his head helplessly and sighed again.
Perhaps he was a poor wretch who had been abducted by the Blood Race and brought here to serve as their food source.
"Uu—" Sensing someone approaching, the prisoner struggled and moaned.
Tales felt another wave of nausea.
That nausea also made him decide that he had to do something.
"Sorry, this might hurt a little."
"Please bear with it."
He whispered to the poor prisoner.
The boy reached out, touched his wrist, grasped the rough blood-drawing device, and yanked out the needle that had been driven several inches into the blood vessel!
"Ah—Uu—" The prisoner struggled and moaned even more violently, yet continued to make meaningless creaking sounds, like a mute.
Tales pressed down on the wound on his wrist. Fortunately, it was not bleeding much.
Of course, perhaps he simply had very little blood left in him. Tales thought bitterly.
During his recent clash with three members of the Blood Race, Tales had been tense and afraid, but he had never felt weighed down.
Yet now, looking at this "blood source" locked up and being drained, he inexplicably began to feel heavy-hearted.
Perhaps it was pity, he thought self-mockingly.
Tales touched the shackle and only then noticed that it was a mechanical lock made of dark stone, covered in intricate patterns and characters. Heavy yet ingeniously designed, it locked the prisoner's hands crossed over his chest. Two additional clamps extended upward, tightly gripping both sides of the prisoner's jaw so that he could not even turn his head left or right. Tales shoved at it with all his strength and found that the thick mechanical stone lock seemed to be firmly fixed to the floor—or else it was simply so heavy that there was no difference.
It seemed to be a heavy restraint designed specifically for experts.
Tales found the lock's catch. It was made of a special metal.
At that moment, the metal suddenly heated up, and a wave of searing heat surged from the catch!
"Ah!" Tales cried out in pain and released it.
The boy frowned and tried the catch again... Whenever anyone touched it, it erupted with intense heat.
It seemed he was powerless to open the lock.
The prisoner's struggles gradually weakened.
Watching his painful struggle and torment, Tales felt utterly miserable, yet all he could do was silently retreat to the side and sit down against the wall.
As he moved, the torchlight outside the cell was no longer blocked and shone directly onto the prisoner's face.
Tales saw the poor man clearly.
He was covered in scars, and his gray clothes were torn and filthy.
He was also disabled.
Both his legs were missing below the knees.
Even more horrifying was his neck. The flesh there was knotted into a twisted mass, displaying a terrifying purplish-black color, as though his throat had suffered a severe injury.
That was probably why he could not speak, either.
Tales touched his own throat. Remembering the two times he had been strangled and the pain he had endured, he could not help shuddering.
Looking at the prisoner, he thought silently: What a poor man. Covered in injuries and disabilities, yet he has managed to survive until now. It's a miracle.
The prisoner's expression was exaggerated. As he panted, all his features twisted together, as if he were enduring tremendous pain.
Yet all he could produce were rough moans that sounded like "Uu."
His short cyan hair covered half of his face.
The other half bore a strange tattoo.
"Uu—" He continued to moan in pain.
Wait.
Tales suddenly froze.
He recognized the tattoo on the other man's face.
Tales suddenly realized that this gasping, speechless man sharing a cell with him was actually an "Old Friend."
An "Old Friend" he had just met last night in the Red Quarter—alongside Yala.
Midira Rolf.
One of the outstanding Twelve Supremes of the Blood Bottle Gang.
A Psion skilled at controlling the wind.
A Transcendent Rank expert.
"Rolf the Wind Ghost"—Rolf.