Chapter 12 – Red Threads and Loose Ends
The morning after the infiltration smelled like burnt toast and regret.
Cyrus stared at the blackened bread in Yura's hand. "What in the seven cursed circles is that?"
"It was breakfast," she replied, flicking the charcoal at him.
Calen, still in full armor despite it being barely past dawn, didn't react. He was busy sharpening his sword with the kind of intensity that screamed overcompensation.
"So," Yura said, munching on a slightly less-burnt piece, "what's the plan now? We poked the hornet's nest. You gonna light it on fire next?"
Cyrus leaned against the wall of the smithy, arms folded. His mask rested beside him for once, revealing tired eyes and morning hair that refused to obey gravity. "No. We wait."
"Wait?" Yura frowned. "That's your genius move?"
"Yes," he said simply, then pointed to his head. "Big brain. Galaxy-sized. Trust the process."
Calen finally looked up. "They'll tighten security now. If they suspect we were there, it won't be that easy again."
"Exactly," Cyrus said. "Which means they'll start moving things. Covering tracks. Sending messages. And we…" He leaned forward with a grin. "...will be watching."
He stood up and stretched, cracking his back. "Calen, get me a map of the town. Mark old noble houses, abandoned places, underground routes. Yura, I want you tailing Elric. But subtly."
Yura raised an eyebrow. "You want me to spy on him?"
"You're quick, quiet, and weirdly good at climbing roofs. Yes."
"I don't do subtle," she said flatly.
"You do now," Cyrus replied.
She scowled, but didn't argue.
"Also," Cyrus added as Calen brought over a rough parchment map, "keep an eye out for shipments—barrels, crates, anything that smells too clean or too bloody. Cults don't summon demons with hugs."
Calen then said, "Don't forget that I'm only following what you say for now. You are still a suspicious individual that needs to be eliminated."
"Sure, sure." Cyrus replied
Calen then pointed to an area on the map. "This old wine cellar under the merchant quarter has been sealed for years. Might be worth a look."
"Nice," Cyrus nodded. "Add that to the stakeout list."
Yura tied her hair back and stood. "You're failing very hard at trying to be super cool."
He then frowned. "I fucking hate you."
Later That Night—Rooftops of the Merchant Quarter
Yura crouched behind a chimney, eyes narrowed as Elric moved below.
The man was cautious. Too cautious. He doubled back twice, looked over his shoulder five times, and even changed his cloak once behind a street vendor's stall. Definitely not behavior fitting a former guard just "visiting family."
She kept her distance, sticking to the shadows.
Eventually, he slipped through an alley and vanished behind a worn-down chapel.
She was about to move closer—when she felt it.
A presence.
Not Elric. Something else.
She tensed and slowly turned her head—
Nothing.
But the rooftops felt colder. The moonlight dimmer.
She slid back into the shadows, heart steady despite the sudden shift in the air.
...
Meanwhile—Back at the Smithy
Cyrus stood at the forge, flipping through system menus only he could see.
[Tracking Skill: Unlocked]
Usage: Tag targets to monitor general location and movement within short radius.
Cooldown: 24 hours.
"Huh, that's random. I guess this system isn't useless after all. Heh, I knew it, I'm a main character."
[Quest Progress – The Second Oath]
Subquest: "Plant the Seeds"—2/5 "members recruited
Reward: ???
Warning: Factional hostilities increasing. Influence limit reached in this town.
He rubbed his temples. "Okay. So I'm popular and out of time. Neat."
The words dissolved, and he glanced at the door.
This town was already a mess. Too many threads, not enough needles.
And he still didn't know what the cult was planning—just that it involved blood, demons, and probably zero party hats.
Still.
They'd noticed the red thread.
He was sure of it.
They'd moved too quickly. Too nervously. That door had been a threshold.
And now?
They knew someone else had crossed it.
...
Midnight – The Abandoned Chapel
Elric knelt before a robed figure. His voice shook. "They've seen the door."
The figure didn't respond.
Just reached forward with a bony hand—and dropped something into Elric's palm.
A single thread of red.
"Eliminate the watchers," the figure rasped. "Quietly."
Elric swallowed.
And nodded.