Deep in the eastern territories, where ancient mountains carved jagged scars against the clouded sky, Clone Eleven moved through shadows that seemed to bend around his presence.
The facility holding Leoric Northwind was not the crude bandit hideout that conventional intelligence might expect, but a sophisticated fortress built into the mountainside itself—a place where screams would echo unheard and disappearances could be explained by the treacherous terrain.
Through his enhanced senses, Clone Eleven catalogued the defenses with methodical precision. Ward barriers hummed with lethal energy at precisely calculated intervals. Guard rotations followed patterns that eliminated blind spots while conserving manpower.
Most troubling of all, the spiritual signatures he detected suggested cultivation levels far beyond what common mercenaries could field.
This was a military operation backed by resources that only a Great Family could provide.
