Countdown

Darkness filled every corner of the inn like thick black ink. Footsteps drew closer outside, accompanied by the murky flicker of blood-red candlelight.

Xia Lun held his Short Sword in a reverse grip and hid at the end of the inn's staircase, watching the ground-floor hall from the corner of his eye.

"Ugh, I hope we don't run into Renee and Xia Lun," a woman with a rough voice sighed. "I just want to stay alive and get on with my life."

"Lack of ambition is a slow suicide," a man with a shrill voice said. "Speaking of which, did you hear? The priests who handled the blood sacrifices for the past few weeks were wiped out. Every last one of them died. That's what comes of lacking ambition."

Before he finished speaking, the inn's door slowly opened. Three Annihilation Cult Cultists entered the dark hall, each holding a burning Blood Wax candle. "That's what comes of too much ambition," said a hoarse-voiced Cultist as he walked toward the fireplace opposite the stairs. "Getting ahead means dealing with danger, and if you're always dealing with danger, it's only a matter of time before something goes wrong."

As he spoke, he snapped his fingers and lit the wood left in the fireplace. The moment the warm flames rose, darkness surged over them, and the firelight silently dimmed.

"You'd be fine if you reached the Fourfold Pilgrimage." Though the shrill-voiced Cultist was arguing back, he tossed his Blood Wax into the burning fireplace in tacit agreement. "The Duke and Sir Feilier are fine, aren't they?"

The Blood Wax flared the instant it touched the flames. The wavering, fading firelight brightened at once, though its orange glow took on an unsettling bloody hue. Xia Lun silently surveyed the three of them, planning the