Pidia shrank lower at Lucian's question, nearly pressing his forehead to the floor.
"N-no, I don't know! I'm just a lowly servant—how could I ever meet Lady Ranni?"
"Please forgive me! Please forgive me!"
Unfortunately, all he offered were panicked apologies.
Lucian suspected the act was feigned, but he had no interest in dragging it out. Shaking his head, he leapt back to the first floor of the church, hoisted the great jar onto his back, and moved on.
He was already here. A little farther, and he would reach his destination.
When Lucian's footsteps faded, Pidia rose shakily from the ground, letting out a long sigh. He stared after the departing figure, expression thoughtful.
Far away in Seluvis's tower, the old sorcerer stirred from his seat for the first time in ages. Without a word, he set out toward Ranni's rise.
Lucian left the church and stepped onto the bridge leading toward the upper levels of Caria Manor.
The moment his boots struck stone, puppet soldiers emerged.
Unlike spirit ashes, these puppets had flesh—though their skin was lacquered in a cadaverous blue sheen of sorcery, as if embalmed. Every one of them wore Cuckoo Knight armor. Clearly, they were once slain soldiers, reforged into Seluvis's abominations.
The narrow bridge left no room to maneuver. Shield and sword in hand, the puppets glared at him like wolves.
Lucian merely raised his hand. A storm roared to life, sweeping across the span. One by one, the soldiers were hurled screaming into the abyss below.
Satisfied as the bridge cleared, Lucian nodded. The fall would not destroy them, they were only puppets, after all, and not his to worry about.
From this vantage atop the high bridge, he could see the manor's other towers clearly. Caria's design was defensive to the core: stairways led up from below, where warriors and sorcerers could rain death upon invaders from the battlements.
Lucian's eyes lingered on a nearby tower ladder. Somewhere in this manor lay the legendary armament Sword of Night and Flame. A tempting relic… but he had not yet met Ranni. It would be discourteous to plunder her home so freely.
Better to wait.
As he pressed onward, a faint Carian sigil flared beneath his feet. A burst of Glintstone Shards erupted from the rune circle, streaking up toward him.
Lucian stepped back, evading the first shot. Another trap triggered to the side, loosing another shard. He batted it away with his Swordspear, scanning the bridge.
There were countless traps hidden here, woven into the stone. Nearly impossible to detect before triggering.
He gave up on avoiding them. Better to walk straight through. The Glintstone bolts were nuisances, nothing more.
But the next trap was different.
At the very end of the bridge, before the lift to the upper manor, his step activated a vast teleportation sigil.
There was no escaping, the circle spread meters across, engulfing him instantly.
Light swallowed his vision. A heartbeat later, Lucian was standing in open wilderness.
He turned—and there, far across the plain, loomed the gates of Caria Manor.
The trap had ejected him entirely.
At once, the manor's defenses came alive. From the battlements, a rain of spectral blades fell like a storm, a thousand swords shrieking down upon him.
This was no accident. The trap was designed to hurl intruders outside, only for the sorceries to tear them apart.
Lucian narrowed his eyes. In all likelihood, this was Pidia's doing. Or Seluvis's petty mischief.
He had ignored the earlier snares without complaint. But this—this was outright mockery.
His temper spiked, though not enough to truly break him. He reminded himself: this was the Lands Between. This was the world of the old thief.
Lucian clenched his fists, took a steadying breath, then blew Torrent's whistle.
The spectral steed answered at once. Lucian mounted and spurred him forward.
Torrent's speed easily outpaced the pursuing sword-rain, leaving the sorceries flailing behind. Within minutes, Lucian had crossed the deadly zone unscathed.
Back before the manor gates, he exhaled sharply.
He had no more illusions, no servant here would ever call Ranni on his behalf.
Taking up his staff, Lucian cloaked himself with Unseen Form. The Fingercreepers might be grotesque guardians, but they were still defenders of Caria. He would not slaughter them needlessly.
Invisible, he slipped past their clutching limbs, through the chapel on the second floor, and back to where he had been cast out.
Pidia was gone.
Which confirmed his suspicions.
Lucian's lips thinned. He silently etched both Pidia and Seluvis's names onto his mental ledger. One day, Seluvis's cellar of puppets would be stripped bare.
For now, he pressed on.
This time, the bridge yielded no traps. He swept aside another wave of Cuckoo puppets and reached the upper manor at last.
Stepping outside, he glimpsed a Illusory Tree shimmering in the distance. But he did not rush forward. Instead, he renewed his invisibility.
Here, finally, there were living creatures—wolves, both gray and white, playing by the Erdtree's glow. They chased one another, tails flashing in the moonlight. The leader clutched a golden orb in its jaws.
Lucian's eyes narrowed. That orb was a Golden Seed.
It was a game to them. Whoever held the seed was chased until another snatched it away.
Lucian felt some of his ire fade at the sight. The playful wolves cooled the heat of his blood. He slipped by quietly, unseen.
Up the path toward the Royal Moongazing Grounds, a Troll Knight loomed, standing sentinel. Lucian ignored him. He had abandoned the hope of formal introductions. At this point, only one phantom barred his way—Loretta, guardian of the road to Ranni's tower.
A spirit had no life. Defeating it would harm no one. And defeating it would restore one use of his Wind Spirit Moon Shadow through the System's reward.
Cloaked, he bypassed the knights and continued until the vast circular reflecting pool came into view.
By now, night had fallen. The waters mirrored a perfect moon, round and luminous. Around the pool, countless chairs were arranged as if for an audience.
Lucian dismissed his spell, setting the jar that held the Black Knife to one side.
The water rippled. A phantom shimmered into being, rising from the reflection like a mirage.
Astride her steed, wielding a glaive shaped like a great guandao, Loretta's spirit emerged.
At once, she drew her weapon aloft, conjuring a massive magical bow. Four Glintstone arrows streaked forth, locking onto Lucian with murderous intent.
He reacted instantly, pouring power into the Dragon Communion Seal. Agheel's vast head materialized overhead, jaws yawning wide. A fan of flame roared forth, swallowing the arrows whole.
Loretta spurred her mount sideways, barely escaping the inferno. Even in motion, she raised her glaive, releasing a Carian Phalanx. Nine spectral blades materialized and shot toward Lucian.
His Swordspear swept in a broad arc, shattering them.
Loretta thundered in close, glaive aglow with azure power. Her horse leapt high, bringing the weapon down in a cleaving strike. Mid-swing, the blade's sorcerous edge surged, magnifying severalfold.
Lucian stood his ground. He braced his spear-sword across his body and caught the blow head-on. The paving stones beneath him cracked under the force.
He grinned. Too close. Far too close.
His left hand raised his staff. Crystal Barrage—Glintstone Gatling!
The air erupted in a hail of shards. At such range, Loretta could not evade them all. They peppered her body, the phantom's form flickering.
She spurred her mount back, leaping aside, but the barrage had already done its work.
Lucian shifted seamlessly, firing a Ambush Shard and lunging with his Swordspear in the same breath.
Loretta parried the thrust, but the shard struck her back squarely.
Blow after blow, her phantom form grew thinner, less solid. Mist wavered at her edges.
Desperate, she pulled away, gathering power. The glaive in her hands swelled with sorcery, forming a titanic blade—greater even than Caria's famed greatsword.
But before she could release it, Lucian struck.
The storm rose at his command, black flame whirling along his weapon. He lunged, faster than sight, piercing through her steed. Phantom flesh unraveled, scattering to smoke.
The storm tore outward, ripping Loretta's spirit to shreds. The great sorcerous blade never fell.
Her form dissolved into mist, leaving silence in its wake.
Lucian lowered his weapon. Strong, yes. Among heroes, Loretta was near the top. But this had been only a phantom. Even her true self would fall, though perhaps not so quickly, not so utterly.
The storm faded.
Lucian turned toward the tower, prepared to ignore the soldiers beyond. But as the winds died, he realized—they had already lowered their weapons, bowing deeply.
A presence stirred.
He lifted his gaze.
Atop the great stairs, upon the altar, she sat.
Ranni the Witch.
Moonlight crowned her, the pale glow outlining her as though she were the moon itself. She leaned lightly against the lunar disk, a faint smile upon her lips.
"It has been some time, Stormlord Lucian," she said softly.
"Tell me—why do you trespass into Caria Manor, unbidden?"