In the end, the interrogation lasted only twenty minutes. Magnus asked everything he wanted, and the guild leader—after facing enough pressure to shatter his resolve—spilled every detail Magnus sought as if he had been waiting to confess. The few times he hesitated, a whisper or two from Niall broke him down without fail.
"T- That's all I know, I swear!" the guild leader stammered, still kneeling on the floor. Niall kept him in place, while his eyes darted upward toward Magnus.
Magnus sat back in his chair, head tilted slightly, his cheek resting against a hand propped on the armrest. Behind the smooth, ever-smiling mask, no expression could be read. When he finally spoke, his tone carried nothing but certainty.
"So that's why it's been so difficult to locate Nightshade's base of operations. They've been crawling underground like rats."
From the man's testimony, Nightshade had taken over old, abandoned waterways that had once been part of the city's sewage system. The tunnels had long since been sealed when the city stopped using them—too costly to fill in completely—so their entrances had simply been blocked off. A while back, Zeth had managed to acquire the original schematics, and from there the group had been secretly excavating and rebuilding the hidden passages.
As for why no one noticed, Magnus already had theories. The most convincing was simple: Nightshade bought out the buildings standing above those sealed ways. With every potential entrance under their ownership, inspections from the city guard were impossible, while the group gained hidden access points stretching across Arlcliff City. Based on the guild leader's own use of them, there were at least twelve such entrances in the Lower City alone.
If we're going to launch a raid, we'll need to identify which entrance leads closest to their core operations. Zeth isn't foolish enough to hand over a full layout to his men, and the original schematics are likely destroyed—or hidden where no one will find them. Perhaps the Major General could acquire something similar through his authority, but those tunnels have surely been reconstructed by now. Before we take any action, I'll have Niall secure a proper layout for comparison.
But there was still more he needed.
Turning his attention back to the guild leader, Magnus probed, "What about the executives? You've offered next to nothing on them."
The guild leader tensed, his voice breaking as he answered, "I- It's because they don't tell us anything. Not long ago, the whole structure was reorganized. Each member only knows their details of their own branch and a few basics about the others. Most of the time, we don't even know who the other executives are."
Magnus didn't seem surprised, as he simplified, "So even you can't explain the structure beyond Zeth's branch?"
The man nodded quickly, unease plain in the way his shoulders hunched. He knew his ignorance might cost him everything.
Magnus didn't linger on it, though. Instead, he offered a detached acknowledgment.
"I can see why Zeth controls your type so easily. With the branches kept blind to one another, their enemies are left guessing, and any thoughts of rebellion die before they reach the higher-ups." Information was power, after all, and moving against an organization that splintered its knowledge across branches was dangerous.
Of course, that danger only applied if you planned to take control of it. If your sole aim was to wipe the organization out, then all that mattered were their numbers and their trump cards. From what Magnus had extracted from the guild leader—and combined with Niall's knowledge of the Jackals' former operations—he already had a solid grasp of Nightshade's manpower.
Once he contacted the Major General and had Niall run reconnaissance, he would have their exact location pinned down as well. As for their trump cards, Magnus used the Hierarchs as his standard. They were Master Class combatants, ranked just under Heiman, the executive of his branch. He doubted every branch had fighters on that level—Zeth himself was nothing more than a normal man, and yet he was still an executive. Even so, Magnus fully expected to face at least some Master-level opponents, perhaps stronger.
At my current strength, even a Master level opponent isn't beyond my ability to handle—especially with Niall and the Nullfang at my side. In the worst case, I only need to memorize their appearance and use [Deletion]. That alone would end it. But for anyone beyond that—Archmage or Champion-level—I'll rely on Eveline. Still with the Major General involved, he'll at least lend me Alwen and Kolten, two Master-level knights. That means my safety net is more than secure. Add to that Luden's willingness to participate, along with others in our faction who may join in, and the odds are firmly in my favor.
Reviewing the full force at his disposal, Magnus smirked faintly, confidence radiating from him.
This should work. I may have been forced to call in a few favors, but in the end, it proves I've built the right connections and allies. As expected of myself.
Though brought together through mutual benefit, the force he was assembling against Nightshade could rival the strength of a normal kingdom's military. It was exactly this potential for overwhelming force that kept the Batis Military and the Ten Great Magic Academies in constant tension, and why knights and mages were often drawn from separate noble families. So long as loyalties and values remained divided, large-scale unification could be avoided. But if those divisions ever broke, a united front strong enough to topple kingdoms would rise.
Silence lingered while Magnus considered all of this, until Niall spoke up with measured deference.
"My Lord, is there anything else you would like me to do? How should I deal with him?"
He was referring to the guild leader, who still knelt in place, trembling more at the question. Magnus's gaze shifted back to him, taking in the way the man shook.
"Why are you trembling? I told you I would spare your life, did I not? Do you doubt my word?" Magnus's tone was steady, the quiet weight of certainty behind it, twisted by the modifications of the masks' theatrics.
"No... of course not," the guild leader stuttered, his earlier bite long gone. His voice carried a slight tremor now, and he looked as if he wanted to say more but thought better of it.
"Hmph." Magnus dismissed the thought with a short sound as he rose from the guild leader's former chair.
"Relax. You won't die in jail—at least not from poison. I have one last question for you. Answer it, and I can assure you Nightshade will be far too busy to deal with a traitorous member who might be inclined to run his mouth."
Hope flickered in the guild leader's eyes.
He looked up eagerly and nodded, "Yes, yes, anything!"
"The next meeting between Nightshade's executives. When is it? Even if they don't tell you directly, I'm sure you know when Zeth suddenly becomes unavailable." The question threw the guild leader off at first. Why would this masked figure want to know something like that? But then Magnus's earlier words clicked in his mind—Nightshade would be too busy to deal with him.
I see... he's planning to strike at Nightshade. If he attacks when the executives are gathered, that would be the best time. And if he succeeds, then even if I'm imprisoned, I'll survive.
Driven by the sudden chance at survival, the guild leader thought quickly. The higher-ups kept meeting dates secret, but everyone knew that every month, almost without fail, Zeth and several others would vanish on the same day. Rumors said the same thing happened in other branches too.
"I... I think it's probably the twenty-second. That's usually when Zeth and the others are unavailable," he answered.
Behind the mask, Magnus's brows drew together slightly.
The twenty-second... sooner than expected. That leaves less than a week for preparation. I don't need much time myself, but this will be short notice for the Major General, Luden, and the others.
"Niall, we're leaving. Bring him with us." Magnus turned, already decided on their next move.
Niall nodded without hesitation, hoisting the guild leader effortlessly before following him out.
The Metal Gear Guild had been dealt with, its members all but wiped out. There was nothing left to hold them here. After one last sweep of the building, Magnus and Niall left the way they had come—through the rear entrance.
Outside, the storm raged overhead. In the alley, the two remaining guild members were still bound by Magnus's magic, struggling uselessly. Magnus intended to deliver them, along with the guild leader, to the Major General for interrogation. It would serve as both an offering and a safeguard against any political fallout from eliminating the guild so suddenly.
Standing beneath the pounding rain and wind, Magnus glanced at Niall, who carried all three captives without effort despite the resistance of two.
"I can't teleport three people at once along with myself. Take them to the garrison. I'll meet the Major General ahead of you," Magnus instructed.
"Of course, my Lord." Niall obeyed with a steady nod.
With that handled, Magnus stepped out of the alley. After only a few paces, his figure vanished. From his perspective, the world flickered—the waterlogged walls and storm-cracked skies dissolved, replaced by the inner halls of the garrison.
The echo of his footsteps shifted, now tapping against carved stone floors. The sound carried through the hallway, lined with wall-mounted displays of swords, shields, and rarer weapons alike.
He hadn't even blinked when a blaring warning from the BGM Glitch rang in his ears. A blade halted a hair's breadth from his neck, a hand clamped his shoulder, and a second sword pressed into his back. A single motion would be enough—one strike to sever his head, the other to pierce both spine and heart.
Death was a certainty.
The attackers were none other than Alwen and Kolten. When not on duty, the two Master-level knights usually guarded outside Major General Arbarath's office, which Magnus now found himself only a few meters from.
"So a knight's sixth sense can even catch teleportation through the Liminal Veil?" Magnus remarked with a hint of surprise, though the two knights didn't acknowledge the comment. Their movement had been so fast and silent that not even the creak of armor gave them away.
"Identify yourself," Kolten ordered coldly, the sword at Magnus's back shifting forward slightly.
"Who are you, and why are you here? Try anything, and you die."
Magnus showed no trace of tension.
"Kolten. Alwen. It's me—Magnus. I'd appreciate it if you'd move your swords away from me... now." The two knights frowned behind their blades. That a masked stranger knew their names wasn't enough proof. Magnus seemed to realize as much, so he slowly raised a hand, moving without threat, and shifted his mask aside just enough to reveal his face—without dispelling its effects.
Recognition hit instantly.
Both knights eased, lowering their weapons. Relief softened Kolten's tone as he sheathed his blade.
"Oh. It really is you."
Alwen nodded, though his brow furrowed.
"When did you learn how to teleport?" He shook his head a moment later.
"Actually… never mind. Trying to keep up with your absurd rate of improvement is pointless. But don't teleport into the garrison again. We nearly mistook it for an ambush."
"I'll keep that in mind," Magnus said, brushing off the shoulder where Kolten had grabbed him.
He then turned his gaze to the office entrance.
"Is Arbarath here?"
The two knights nodded.
Alwen replied, "Of course. He almost always is, even in a storm like this. Do you need to see him? I'm guessing that's why you went so far as to teleport here."
Magnus inclined his head.
"I have information about Nightshade. I assume he's already mentioned that you two may be assisting me soon?"
"He did. Something about you locating their base. He's been preparing, sending out notices to get everyone ready. But... that was only a few days ago. You found it already?" Alwen's disbelief was plain; the Major General's forces had searched for months with no results.
Magnus shrugged lightly, the faintest hint of smugness in his tone.
"What can I say? I'm efficient."
"Fair enough," Kolten conceded, and he and Alwen gestured for Magnus to follow. Together, they led him down the hall to the Major General's office.
Inside, Arbarath was, as expected, buried in work. Seated at his desk, he juggled more than most would dare. The sudden storm engulfing Arlcliff City and the surrounding region had rendered both the military's and the city guards' usual patrol routes useless. Not that crime had spiked—no one was desperate enough to risk venturing out into such a violent storm just to steal or rob from another. Even so, countless documents required his signature, and messages had to be dispatched to coordinate the upcoming raid.
So when the knock came at his door, he let out a weary groan, already bracing for yet another issue to be added to his pile.
"What is it?" His voice carried through the office walls.
Alwen answered promptly.
"It's Alwen and Kolten, sir. You have a visitor. Magnus. He says he has information regarding Nightshade to discuss with you."
Arbarath's eyes widened almost instantly. His hand froze above the page he had been about to sign. A wave of disbelief hit him. He already knew the most likely reason Magnus would come directly to him.
But how could he have located their base so quickly?
He didn't waste time speculating further.
"Send him in."
One of the double doors swung open. Magnus stepped inside, still wearing the guise of Abel.
For a moment, Arbarath blinked in mild confusion, until Magnus explained: "I had to take on a disguise other than myself—and the persona I use in Takerth Academy."
"Ah, I see," Arbarath replied with a curt nod of understanding.
Alwen shut the door behind Magnus, leaving the two alone.
[Master, I believe it would be best if you reverted now for this discussion.]
Basker's voice cut through Magnus's mind, causing him to freeze, his lips tightening beneath the mask.
What? Why? Do you think I can't handle a simple exchange of information?
[Of course not. But your mannerisms and speech have shifted. With your face obscured, it may come across as unnatural. Consistency is important for your image.]
Magnus's eyes narrowed behind the mask.
And you think the version of me that needs to suppress his emotions is any better? I wouldn't need to waste my time with this if my 'original' wasn't too incompetent to handle the simple task of wiping out a guild.
[I understand, however, this is the most efficient solution until your original mental state stabilizes. Even without your other aspects, I'm certain this version of you is already experiencing side effects, correct?]
Magnus fell silent, jaw tightening. A faint, muffled click of his tongue followed.
Fine. I couldn't care less. But that so-called 'original' had better pull himself together soon. As he is now, he's dead weight—dragging me down.
At that thought, the changes in his brain began to undo themselves, links reconnecting. Slowly, Magnus's true self returned. He blinked a few times, then exhaled heavily.
Ugh... it feels strange not liking myself.
•
Year 348 of the Great Sundering Era, 2nd Month, 19th Day of the Mistveil Cycle.
It had been a full day since the summoning that called Lazitha, Mulvin, Eredim, and the other Master-level mages and knights who made up Takerth Academy's professors and staff. No exact departure time had been given, which was no surprise. Takerth—and in truth, any of the Ten Great Magic Academies—rarely issued strict, military-style orders to those of the Master Class. One of the greatest privileges of the academies was the freedom they granted to these superpowered beings, so long as they abided by the rules set before them.
To force rigid instructions on them would accomplish little except increasing the number of potential rogues. Still, no one dared to waste time. The Headmistress herself had endorsed the order, and with the mission tied to potential Rogue Mages, its urgency was obvious.
It had to be handled swiftly.
And so, that very night, Master-level mages and knights departed from Takerth Academy and Arlcliff City in great numbers, scattering across the land. Their personalities were as varied as their methods.
Adept-levels could still be considered mostly normal, even if extreme, while Archmages and Champions were—by most accounts—outright insane. Masters stood between those two dichotomies, the bridge that connected humanity to that creeping madness.
Some went in groups, treating the mission like a hunt to be enjoyed, or traveling together out of long-standing friendships. Knights, in particular, often joined forces with mages who could wield spatial magic—it was far easier to rely on teleportation than to travel across the storm-drenched terrain. Others left alone, slipping away without fanfare. As for why? Some simply worked best alone, their abilities more efficient without the chains that came with aid. Others were motivated by pride, stubborn independence, or simply the inability to endure company.
Lazitha belonged firmly to the latter. She had left the city without hesitation, as had Mulvin and Eredim. The three of them had turned the assignment into a contest—whoever found the Rogue Mages responsible first would win. Each had their own methods for traveling and searching for clues.
As for Lazitha, she relied on one of the more common techniques among Master-level mages for traveling at speed: Void Walking. Just as teleportation itself was a vast subcategory of magic, Void Walking was a specialized spell beneath it—a modified form of basic teleportation that could be customized by the mage who used it.
The concept began with a simple question:
Why could things—objects, people, even mages—exist outside the world, if the world was supposed to be everything that existed?
This was the question asked by the first mage to ever leave the world—the very founder of teleportation and the first to step into the Liminal Veil: Ileus Vulzier.
The answer he gave upon his research was this:
"The world, as we understand it, is wrong. We see it as something with clear boundaries—but that's only the human perspective, limited at its core. The truth is, even when something leaves the world, it's still part of it. At most, its 'departure' temporarily stretches the world's boundaries further into the Liminal Veil, until the force of existence pulls it back. Time, space, and matter are intrinsically linked—separating them is meaningless."
What Ileus discovered was deceptively simple. Matter, as humanity understood it, existed in three dimensions: length, width, and depth. Everything—from the land beneath one's feet to the tiniest particle—followed this rule.
Matter could not exist without space. That was the foundation.
Which meant: even when something left the world, it wasn't truly gone. It was like an object passing through the wall of a soap bubble. Yes, it could slip through, but it would be coated in the soap as it passed, and the bubble itself would stretch—remaining attached to what went through it, resisting its total escape.
This was how space and time behaved with matter. When something left the known world, it took a fragment of space and time with it—a piece of the world itself. This was what allowed it to exist beyond the world, and this same tether was what inevitably pulled it back, just as a bubble reforms into a sphere after being stretched.
As long as that link remained, anything outside the world would still be bound to its flow of time. It would still be part of the world's rhythm.
To fight that pull, mages developed anchoring magic—spells that allowed them to resist the tethering force of reality. But it came at a cost mana-wise. Not only did one have to resist the universe's pull, but even within the Liminal Veil—the so-called nothingness beyond—the spirit suppression effect still lingered.
In the end, it was only by severing the link—cutting free the last threads of time and space—that a mage could become an isolated entity within the Liminal Veil. Only then could they move freely through the void and re-enter the world as if no time had passed at all.
Teleportation.
Void Walking shared similarities with teleportation, but its principle was different. Instead of cutting the connection to the universe, the mage remained tethered, walking outside the world while still existing within it. Because of this, it drew far less attention from the spirits than true teleportation, allowing it to be sustained for longer periods.
Distance still existed during Void Walking, though it was measured differently than in the physical world.
In truth, Void Walking was the act of treading across the very surface of the universe itself—whether that surface stretched over mountain ranges, deep tundra, the frozen upper skies, or the endless depths of the sea.
At the moment, Lazitha was doing exactly that.
A mana construct appeared before her with every step, existing only to give her something to walk upon. The moment her foot left it behind, it dissolved into the soundless void, vanishing as though it had never been.
Her vision of the world here was fragmented, as though she were looking at a picture torn into countless pieces. Each shard represented a fragment of creation. To Void Walk, she had to piece them together in her mind—aligning the image to know where she was, where she had been, and where she was going. The effort was staggering, far more complex than simply casting oneself into the void and reemerging at a chosen point.
This was why Void Walking was considered Master Class Magic.
"Hm?" Lazitha halted mid-step, her gaze sharpening. Only moments ago, her expression had been that of a traveler quietly taking in the sights along a journey. Now, it shifted, touched with a spark of curiosity.
"Oh? Did I find them already?" Her lips curved with intrigue, voice soft in the silence.
"It's just as Mulvin said... It's as if they're not even trying to conceal themselves." With that, she willed herself back into the known world, vanishing from the void.