Dustin White grips Clive's head firmly as Clive's body goes limp.
Clive collapses into unconsciousness.
Dustin's expression remains calm.
He closes his eyes.
A thin thread of his power slips into Clive's mind.
He must know.
Before coming here, did Clive speak to anyone about him?
Did he reveal anything?
The moment Dustin's power penetrates deeper,
A mark on Clive's body flares.
Hidden beneath fabric.
Dormant until now.
It shines.
Dustin's vision shatters.
The world dissolves.
He finds himself standing in a black space.
Silent.
Endless.
Before him stands a man.
Kaelan tilts his head slightly.
"Your power," Kaelan says softly. "You are not an alchemist. But you are not a knight either."
Dustin's pupils contract.
He recognises danger instantly.
He pulls at his power, attempting to withdraw it.
But the black space tightens.
Kaelan steps forward, raising a hand.
"Let me see who you are."
Power surges toward Dustin like a silent tidal wave.
Dustin struggles, dragging his consciousness backwards, fighting to sever the connection.
Kaelan's power closes in.
In that instant, resolve flashes across Dustin's eyes.
A blade forms in his mind.
Sharp.
Absolute.
He swings it.
And cuts.
He severs the portion of his consciousness that entered Clive's body.
The fragment is sacrificed.
The connection snaps.
The black space vanishes.
Outside,
Dustin staggers backwards as if struck by lightning.
Clive's unconscious body crumples fully to the floor.
Blood seeps from the corner of Dustin's lips.
He wipes it away with the back of his hand.
His eyes remain solemn.
That presence,
He felt it.
He cannot risk staying.
Without hesitation, Dustin turns and disappears into the darkness.
Far away.
Inside the dome-shaped building beneath the ruin.
Kaelan's eyes open briefly.
Calm.
Unreadable.
Then they close again.
His thoughts return to his Law.
Hours pass.
Clive groans.
Pain splits through his skull like a blade driving down the centre of his head.
His eyes snap open.
Darkness.
Dusty ceiling above him.
He blinks.
Why am I not dead?
He pushes himself upright quickly, heart racing.
His mind flashes back.
Dustin.
The finger tap.
Darkness.
Clive pats his body down.
No puncture wounds.
No restraints.
No spiritual seals.
Only a dull ache on his left side.
Likely from falling.
Why didn't he kill me?
He scans the room.
Nothing disturbed him beyond his collapse.
He glances toward the window.
The darkness outside is fading.
Dawn.
I need to return before Rosalyn notices.
He rises swiftly and exits the building.
At the gate, he pauses.
Looks left.
Looks right.
The street appears empty.
He steps into the nearest patch of shadow.
The Shadow Cat bloodline activates.
His breath slows.
His presence thins.
His body melts into darkness, edges blurring.
He moves along the street unseen.
But as he advances,
His eyes widen.
Soldiers.
Dozens.
Entering houses.
Dragging men out.
Fathers.
Sons.
Brothers.
Bound.
Confused.
Some shouting.
Some silent.
Clive's pace slows.
What is happening?
More large steam carriages wait at intersections.
The captured men are being loaded inside.
Not criminals.
Civilians.
Clive's heart tightens.
He increases his speed and returns to the residence.
He reappears from the shadows only after ensuring that no soldiers are near.
He enters quietly.
He says nothing.
He observes.
The day arrives.
A massive steam-powered carriage waits outside.
Unlike ordinary carriages, this one is pulled by a large steam engine mounted at the front.
Iron pipes hiss.
Steam vents release white clouds.
Inside sit Rosalyn, Reese, Adam, Clive, and several soldiers.
Clive sits silently, watching.
Through the window, he sees more carriages.
Identical.
Filled with the men taken from their homes.
Rosalyn sits opposite him.
Composed.
Expression blank.
Clive speaks quietly.
"Why are they being taken to the ruin?"
Rosalyn answers without emotion.
"I don't know."
Clive studies her.
Which means she does know.
And she will not tell him.
He turns back toward the window.
Why so many civilians?
Why now?
The answer forms slowly.
Traps.
The ruin is ancient.
Dangerous.
Unpredictable.
Ordinary men can trigger traps.
Expendable.
Clive's jaw tightens.
He says nothing.
Protesting here would accomplish nothing.
He is still too weak.
If he wants to change this,
He must speak to his Master.
The steam engine whistles sharply.
With a violent jolt, the convoy begins to move.
One by one, the heavy carriages roll forward.
Toward the ruin.
By nightfall, the convoy arrives at the excavation camp.
Steam engines hiss as the heavy carriages roll through the guarded gates. Torches burn along the perimeter. Soldiers stand alert, rifles slung over their shoulders, eyes sharp beneath the dim glow.
Clive steps down from the carriage and follows behind Rosalyn.
Ahead, a tall man with golden hair and light blue eyes waits.
The moment Clive's gaze falls upon him, a chill runs down his spine.
It feels as if he is standing before a wild beast.
Contained.
But ready.
Rosalyn approaches first.
"General Raphael," she says calmly. "How is the exploration of the ruin going?"
General Raphael's gaze shifts toward the bound men being dragged down from the carriages.
"With the criminals arriving," he replies evenly, "the exploration of the ruin may start again."
Clive's lips curl faintly.
"They are not criminals," he says, voice sharp. "They are civilians pulled out of their homes."
Raphael turns his head slowly.
His eyes settle on Clive.
Then move to Rosalyn.
Rosalyn sighs.
"With the death of his son-in-law and being tricked by the killer, Abel has lost his mind."
Raphael raises an eyebrow.
"What is going on? I heard the killer was eliminated."
Rosalyn shakes her head.
"The killer tricked us. We chased and killed a flesh-and-blood clone."
Raphael's brows lift higher.
"Abel must be furious. Most of his underlings are dead."
He exhales sharply.
"But what about the killer? We cannot let him roam free. If news spreads, the situation in the Celtic region will spiral out of control. And it will affect the exploration."
Rosalyn's expression tightens.
Clive steps forward slightly.
"The killer was not part of the rebels."
Raphael's eyes narrow.
"Who is he?"
Clive extends his hand confidently.
"Private Detective Clive Holmes. At your service."
Raphael does not shake it.
Instead, he looks at Rosalyn.
"What is a private detective doing here?"
Rosalyn rubs her temple briefly.
"He is also Master Kaelan's disciple."
Raphael's demeanour changes instantly.
His posture stiffens.
His gaze returns to Clive, assessing him from head to toe.
"Really?"
Rosalyn nods.
Clive lowers his hand.
"Your generals and nobles were killed not because they served the Royal Griffon Kingdom," he says steadily, "but because they were beasts who did not spare even little girls."
Raphael's eyes darken.
Behind them, bound men plead and cry as soldiers force them toward the ruin's entrance.
Raphael looks back at them.
"So they are not members of the rebels."
Rosalyn shakes her head.
"No."
Raphael's jaw tightens.
"Do you want the Queen to take my head?"
Rosalyn answers calmly.
"I was going to inform you. You threaten Abel's position. And in his current state, he cannot hold power much longer. So he wants to drag you down with him."
Raphael turns sharply.
"Sister, then you should stop Abel from sending them here."
Clive's eyes widen.
His head turns between Rosalyn and Raphael.
Sister?
Rosalyn meets Raphael's gaze.
"We must keep Abel in check until his position is formally stripped. If he believes he can still take you down with him, he will remain predictable."
Raphael considers.
Then nods.
"There are many empty spaces in the ruin. They can stay there."
He turns toward the entrance.
Rosalyn and Clive follow.
"But this delays the exploration further," Raphael adds.
Clive glances at him.
"Why?"
Raphael explains as they walk.
"Three creatures emerged from the ruin. Each one is equal to my cultivation."
He pauses.
"I failed to defeat even one."
Clive's steps falter.
Raphael continues.
"Master Kaelan eliminated all three alone."
Clive's face lights with pride.
Of course.
Rosalyn, however, falls silent.
Shock flickers across her features.
They descend toward the ruin.
Mist gathers thickly around a cluster of dome-shaped structures.
As they near one particular dome, the mist parts.
An array disperses.
A door reveals itself.
Clive steps forward instinctively.
Without hesitation, he enters.
The mist closes behind him.
Rosalyn and Raphael remain outside.
For a moment, neither speaks.
Then Rosalyn exhales softly.
"We have invited a god."
Raphael nods slowly.
"I requested assistance from the court."
Rosalyn looks toward the concealed dome.
"Can the Queen's plan succeed?" she asks quietly. "Will we be able to make the Sand Temple lose its power?"
Raphael does not answer immediately.
He watches the mist.
The Sand Temple is a behemoth.
Across continents.
Across centuries.
Every power that has sought global influence has eventually clashed with it.
From the time of the Holy Kingdom, none have succeeded.
Those who tried were erased.
Or absorbed.
The Sand Temple only grew deeper roots.
Now, the Royal Griffon Kingdom stands at a crossroads.
Break the cocoon of the Sand Temple's dominance and rise.
Or fail.
And become another name in forgotten history.
Raphael finally speaks, voice low.
"I do not know."
The mist swirls gently around the dome.
And within,
Clive walks toward his Master.