Somewhere in the Kingdom of Caelumbre — in the industrial city of Drexlour, far from the capital.
A thunderous *slam*echoed across the marble halls of the estate.
*"YOU BASTARDS!!! YOU FAILED—ALL OF YOU!"*
An old man stood at the head of a long oak table, his gloved hand still pressed against the dented surface. His sharp gray eyes blazed with fury beneath a gold-embroidered cravat. He wore a velvet noble coat lined with black fur, medals pinned to his chest — a man of prestige, power, and pride. But tonight, all that crumbled into rage.
Around him stood trembling subordinates, each one pale with fear.
*"Those Night Crawlers—those *experiments*—cost me a fortune! Years of work down the drain! Do you realize what this means?! We were *this close to toppling the kingdom, and now—now we're doomed!*"*
A man standing before him, likely his second-in-command, tried to speak despite the sweat on his brow.
*"S-Sir… It was that man… We didn't expect him to appear. He wasn't in any of the predictions."*
The noble clenched his jaw.
*"That man…"* he hissed.
Then turned to another aide.
*"Prepare the Carriage. I'll explain this to *The Order myself."**
*"Yes, sir!"* shouted one of the henchmen, rushing to summon the carriage and the guards.
But he didn't make it past the corridor.
Without warning—**a slicing sound suspended in silence.**
Then—a thud.
The henchman's body collapsed to the polished floor, blood spilling, his head rolling beside him.
Everyone froze.
The old noble's eyes widened with dread.
*"W-Wait… I—I was going to meet with you all in person…!"*
In front of him, standing unnaturally still, was a *hooded man clad in a white cloak—drenched in blood*. More of them began appearing—**emerging from the shadows**, their cloaks whispering across the marble, *dripping red.*
His subordinates screamed—only to fall one by one. Silent. Swift. Merciless.
*"Please!"* the old man pleaded. *"It wasn't my fault! Please—give me one more chance! If it weren't for that brat—none of this would've failed! I was *this close! I—I can fix it!!"**
But the hooded figures didn't speak. They merely *watched*, the sound of blood trailing from their blades louder than words.
Then—**someone stepped forward from the shadows behind them all.**
A figure hard to perceive—shrouded in impossible darkness, as if light itself bent around them. Their presence alone made the room colder, heavier. Wrong.
The noble's voice broke.
*"No… NO! PLEASE—FORGIVE ME!"*
His scream echoed into silence.
---
In the heart of Caelumbre, the morning air carried a gentle breeze — one that fluttered through the half-rebuilt streets like a breath of fragile hope.
The city was still healing. Some buildings stood tall and defiant, others lay in ruin, their skeletons wrapped in scaffolding.
Carriages rolled slowly along stone-paved roads, weaving between townsfolk walking with heavy steps. A few faces wore soft smiles, clinging to normalcy. Others looked hollow — with eyes swollen from grief, or dark circles betraying nights spent without sleep.
Amid this quiet hum of resilience, one café still opened its doors. It had no grand sign, just a modest arch of ivy above its windows and tables scattered outside beneath the cloud-speckled sky.
At one of those tables sat Aiyana.
For the first time in what felt like days, she was eating a proper meal. A warm loaf of bread rested beside a delicate plate of creamy carbonara, steam still rising from it. Her coffee was dark and slightly bitter — just enough to ground her thoughts.
She took a slow bite, savoring the flavor.
Then came the memory.
"I should eat something," she had told Virelle before leaving the Kingdom Library. "And… thank you. For everything."
Virelle, who had barely looked up from the ancient scroll she was transcribing, simply replied in her usual quiet voice:
"Go to the café near the Western Arch. Good morning food. Quiet corner. You'll like it."
And Aiyana did like it. The recommendation was perfect.
Except… she hadn't made it five steps from the library doors before—
"WAIT—AYIYAAAANAAAA!!"
Elvan had dramatically burst into the hall, arms flailing, coat twirling behind him like a stage performer caught in a monsoon.
"Go, my radiant star of the Archives! Feast bravely! May your breakfast be as unforgettable as this parting!! I shall forever hunger… for your return!"
Aiyana had frozen, half-embarrassed, half-amused — until Virelle sighed behind him and muttered:
"Ignore him."
Now, seated at the café with her fork halfway to her mouth, Aiyana stifled a laugh.
She chewed, smiling faintly to herself — but her expression softened into something more solemn.
She looked around again.
Beyond the café's quiet comfort, the city still bore its scars. Families clutched one another as they passed. Workers hauled stones in silence. Some children played, but their laughter seemed smaller than usual.
Aiyana lowered her gaze to the table.
"I'm lucky to be here," she thought. "But so many aren't."
She took another sip of coffee, letting the warmth settle the ache in her chest.
Then—
click,
clack,
click.
The sound of polished boots against cobblestone echoed nearby.
Aiyana turned her head slightly.
Two men approached, their movements precise, almost too composed for civilians.
She tensed.
They were dressed in midnight-blue longcoats, lined with subtle silver thread that shimmered when caught by the morning light. One wore a sharp-brimmed, witch-hunter-style hat. The other had a high-collared coat buttoned to the neck, his gloved hands folded behind his back. Their presence was heavy—official, quiet, and unmistakably watchful.
Aiyana blinked in surprise. Wait… are those—police?
Her heart stuttered. Did I do something wrong?
She set down her cup and stood politely, trying not to let her nerves show. "Excuse me… who are you gentlemen?"
The two exchanged a nod.
Then the man in the hat stepped forward and spoke, voice calm but commanding.
"We are with the Order of Public Custodians, miss," he said, producing a silver-and-obsidian badge. "You may refer to us as the OPC."
The emblem shimmered faintly in his hand— an eye enclosed within a serpent, glowing ever so slightly in the morning sun.
Legitimate.
Official.
Aiyana raised an eyebrow. There's a police force here too?But the name's… different.
She gave a respectful nod, softening her voice. "What can I do for you, gentlemen of the OPC?"
The officer gave her a small, almost apologetic smile."You're an adventurer, correct?"
Aiyana blinked. "How did you know that?"
He motioned toward her waist. "Your revolver — it bears the insignia of the Adventurer's Guild."
She glanced down — and winced.
"Ah. Right… I forgot I had that showing."
The officer didn't laugh, but there was a slight shift in his expression.
Almost amused.
Almost.
"We've been sent to retrieve all active adventurers still within the city," he explained. "There's been a major development. The Guild has called an emergency gathering. They need everyone available."
Aiyana's posture straightened, the sleepiness of her quiet morning vanishing in an instant.
"I see," she said softly.
She placed a few coins neatly on the table, finished the last of her coffee in one swift, bittersweet sip — and stood.
"Lead the way."
As the OPC officers and Aiyana vanished into the crowd, their long coats rippling in the breeze, a young waiter stepped out to clear the table.
He stacked the dishes, collected the empty cup — then saw the coins she'd left.
He reached down, counted them… then paused.
"…Wait."
He blinked, counted again.
Then frowned.
"This is short."
He glanced around in confusion, as if she might be hiding under the table.
"Really? She underpaid?"
He examined the coins — they were real enough. Stamped with the royal crest, standard Caelumbre silver.
But clearly not enough to cover the meal.
He let out a long, theatrical sigh and dragged a hand down his face.
"…Adventurers."
Shaking his head, he pocketed the coins with a grumble. "Survive the Night Crawlers, forget basic math. Typical."
Then he turned on his heel and marched back inside, muttering something about raising prices for anyone carrying a Guild badge.
Now, at the Adventurer's Guild—
The main hall buzzed with tension. Adventurers filled the space, clustered in teams, some decked in glamoured gear and polished suits,chatting in hushed tones. Among them were members of the OPC—and even the feared Eye of Veritas.
Aiyana stood alone.
She tugged her coat slightly, sweating nervously.Surrounded by chatter and the glint of enchanted armor, she felt completely out of place.
"Well… I did just join," she muttered to herself. "It's normal. But still… it feels lonely."
Suddenly, a pat on her back made her flinch.
She turned—and her eyes lit up.
"Vincent!"
"Yes, Miss Aiyana, it is I," Vincent said with a warm smile. "Why are you standing here alone?"
"I… don't know many people,"she admitted.
"Ah, yes, but don't worry. I'm here now," he replied kindly, and for some reason, Aiyana felt comforted.
"Do you know why we're all here? Everyone looks so serious… or confused."
"A lot has happened in just two days," Vincent said. "The Night Crawler attack—and even more earlier today."
"Earlier?" Aiyana asked, puzzled.
"Yes. I heard seven merchant ships were traveling to Caelumbre, but something happened. Only two made it to port—Port Helios, I believe. I'm not sure of the details, but I imagine the Guildmaster, the OPC, or the Eye of Veritas will explain soon."
Aiyana tilted her head.
"The Guild Master?"
"Yes, Miss. Is this your first time seeing him?" Vincent raised a brow. "Then prepare yourself. He's not just powerful in strength—he's one of the most influential people in the Kingdom."
She blinked, now burning with curiosity.
"But—Vincent, where's Elara?"
"There," he gestured.
Across the guild hall, Elara stood behind the reception desk with other Guild staff, flipping through thick folders packed with contracts and reports.
When she spotted them, Elara looked up, smiled, and waved. Aiyana and Vincent smiled and waved back.
Suddenly—
Silence fell across the hall.
The OPC and the Eye of Veritas stood at attention. Every adventurer froze.
Then—
Step…
Heavy footsteps echoed down the grand staircase.
Step…
Aiyana craned her neck, eyes widening.
Step…
Vincent leaned in, eyes fixed on the figure.
Step…
A man appeared—sharp-featured, wearing a long coat that swayed with each step. A Victorian cigarette hung from his lips, smoke curling like whispers in the air. On his right walked a high-ranking Eye of Veritas. On his left, a commanding OPC officer.
That man… Aiyana thought, heart pounding. He's the one leading all of this?
He stopped at the center.
"Good noon to you all."
His voice was clear, low, commanding.
"Some of you know me. Some do not. So allow me to introduce myself."
He took a slow drag of his cigarette.
"I am Silas Crowhurst. Guildmaster of the Adventurer's Guild. I'm delighted to see so many of you gathered."
Another pause. The room held its breath.
"I am here to formally announce the initiation of—"
He exhaled smoke, pausing deliberately—
"—a Subjugation Mission."
Murmurs.
He raised a hand.
"This is not just any assignment. A ruin of unknown origin has emerged in the center of the East Ocean. We don't know what lies inside, nor how it appeared… but its aura has been detected even from the coasts."
The room stirred. Adventurers exchanged wide-eyed glances.
"A ruin?"
"In the middle of the ocean?"
"Impossible…!"
Aiyana clenched her fists.
What kind of place is that…?
Another stream of smoke curled from the lips of Guildmaster Silas Crowhurst, his sharp gaze scanning the gathered adventurers beneath the vaulted ceiling of the Caelumbre Adventurers' Guild.
"I received this information," Silas said slowly, his voice like gravel over steel, "from our allies—the Eye of Veritas and the OPC."
As he spoke, the two officials standing beside him stepped forward and bowed. Their presence radiated authority—one in pristine silver-gray armor with a crimson sash of the Eye, and the other clad in the dark uniform of the Order of Public Custodians.
Silas took another drag from his cigarette, then dropped the embers to the floor, crushing it beneath his heel as he looked around the room.
A cold silence followed. Every adventurer present held their breath.
"I know many of you survived hell that night. Some of you saw friends fall. Others barely escaped the flames of Caelumbre. But we must rise again. Because something far worse is coming."
A flicker of unease passed through the crowd.
"When ruins rise where there should be only ocean," Silas said, stepping forward, "it means something is stirring beneath the surface of our world. Something ancient. Something that should have stayed buried."
His voice dropped lower.
"And we will not let it reach our shores."
Gasps. Mutters. Someone in the back of the room whispered a prayer.
"The surviving merchants who returned from the East Sea brought news—news many of you may not believe."
Silas turned his head, his cold blue eyes gleaming.
"But perhaps you'll believe this."
He raised his voice:
"You may know him by the name…"
A pause.
"…The Mysterious Witch Hat Man."
A ripple spread across the hall.
"That man again?"
"Is it true?"
"Impossible…!"
Aiyana's breath caught in her throat. Her hands trembled.
That man… again? But… how?
Wait, she thought, back in the Kingdom Library… he paused. Looked toward the window like looking something far away. As if he felt something.
She said nothing. She simply lowered her eyes and kept the memory to herself.
The Guildmaster nodded to the officials.
"I'll let them explain the rest."
The OPC officer took a step forward, clearing his throat.
"Our contact—one of the lead sea merchants of the Southern Fleet—encountered an unnatural event in the East Sea. A place once known as safe for trade has become… corrupted."
A large arcane map unfurled behind them, depicting the region. Marked in blood-red ink was a swirling black spire rising from the ocean floor.
"At the heart of it," the OPC officer continued grimly, "a ruin emerged from beneath the waves. It shook the entire sea."
"Worse," said the Eye of Veritas officer, stepping beside him, "our top Pathway Mages stationed on the isles felt the impact… directly. Many are now hospitalized, their Pathways—damaged."
A gasp echoed. Even some seasoned adventurers stepped back at the word.
"Pathways… damaged?"
"That's not possible…"
The Veritas officer nodded gravely.
"Not all were affected. Those gathered here seem… immune. But this is no blessing—it's unknown why some were spared. And if it spreads…"
He left the rest unsaid.
The OPC officer raised his hand again.
"Seven merchant ships were sunk. Destroyed by beasts from the deep. Creatures that should not exist. The survivors speak of writhing shadows, glowing symbols… of monsters born from forgotten times."
He paused.
"But they survived… thanks to him."
The Eye of Veritas officer stepped forward one last time.
"The Mysterious Witch Hat Man intervened. He annihilated the threat… single-handedly."
The room fell into stunned silence.
Aiyana stood frozen beside Vincent, sweat forming on her brow.
He got there… that quickly?
Silas exhaled smoke once more, eyes narrowed.
"That's why all three of our factions have agreed. We must act. If we wait… this Kingdom will fall like Caelumbre."
He pointed to the adventurers.
"You are the ones who remain. The ones who fight. We call upon you to protect this Kingdom—not as mercenaries, but as its last line of defense."
For a heartbeat, no one spoke.
Then—
"…For the Kingdom!"
"WE'LL DO IT!"
"WE FIGHT TO PROTECT OUR PEOPLE!"
Cheers erupted. The crowd roared. Swords were raised. Magic crackled in the air.
Aiyana looked down at her trembling hand… then clenched it into a fist.
"…Yes," she whispered. "For the Kingdom."
Vincent, standing beside her, smiled.
Murmur
Everyone talks like they are ready-
Silas, the Guildmaster, raised a hand, and the voices of hundreds died into silence once more.
"…And," he continued, his voice low and deliberate, "if possible—bring the Mysterious Witch Hat Man alive."
The air changed. Even the most seasoned adventurers tensed.
The Eye of Veritas officer nodded slowly.
The high-ranking OPC agent said nothing, but gave a single solemn bow of agreement.
Silas stepped forward again.
"You may not be able to catch him. But if he appears, our scribes will record everything. Every movement. Every word. The King himself demands we learn more of this man."
Then—a side door opened.
Dozens of heads turned.
Robed figures emerged—scribes, draped in ink-black mantles embroidered with golden thread. Their scrolls floated beside them, carried by invisible glyphs. Pens hovered midair, already scribbling in luminous ink, etching every presence into memory.
A silent wave of power and precision swept into the room.
Until—
"IT IS I! THE ONE WHO SHALL ASCEND ALL TITLES, ALL RANKS, ALL HEARTS!"
A burst of glitter exploded from the doorway.
Some scribes were nearly knocked over.
"ELVAN!!" Virelle's voice barked behind him.
SMACK.
A solid book met Elvan's head with expert aim. He stumbled forward, clutching his skull in defeat, though still dramatically.
"Ow… that hurt… but was still worth it."
Aiyana blinked in disbelief—then smiled.
Elvan grinned and waved, as if nothing had happened. Virelle, beside him, gave Aiyana a polite nod and the smallest of smiles.
Aiyana waved back, warmth slipping into her eyes—though she was still shaken by all she'd heard.
She looked down, gripping her gun tight at the right side of her waist
"I think," she muttered quietly to herself, "…this might just be the most surprising day yet."
Chapter 11 has Ended