623 The Emperor's Anxiety and Thirteen's Treatment

The Emperor's Anxiety and Thirteen's Treatment

Twilight Castle.

Emperor Mortis sat upon his throne, the fingers of one hand tapping the bone armrest now and then as he listened to the report from the person below.

Mofulei, the Empire's chief inquisitor and intelligence officer, knelt respectfully on one knee below the throne and reported the aftermath of the disaster.

"...In the end, only Marquis Ravencrow and two of his personal guards successfully escaped the range of the mist. All three suffered severe mana backlash from excessive spellcasting within the mist environment. Parts of their bodies have developed irreversible mutation traits, accompanied by early symptoms of mana addiction. They are currently receiving treatment in the Silent Tower."

When the report ended, the throne hall fell into a deathly silence. Only the emperor's fingers kept tapping—thud, thud—with a rhythm so steady it made Mofulei's heart tighten.

After a long while, Emperor Mortis stopped tapping.

"In other words," he said, his voice not loud, but clearly filled with anger, "those maggots from the Hand of Passing had only just created a great graveyard in Urbic Territory. Then, at almost the exact same time, someone else, right under the Empire's intelligence network, under the local garrison, under my very eyes, completed a large-scale covert ritual capable of tearing space apart, with no way to determine its ultimate purpose?"

He stared coldly at the Empire's chief intelligence officer before him, his gaze like a blade, as though examining a tool that had failed in its duty.

Mofulei lowered her head even further.

She could find reasons. Many reasons.

For instance, the loss rate of spies recently infiltrating the United Kingdom had far exceeded the past, causing a shortage of manpower.

Or the fact that, in order to purge the Slimes within the Empire, the emperor