"I know you're a Nephilim."

Zyler calmed his heartbeat and instantly steadied his breathing, forcing a smile at Aster.

"What are you talking about?"

"If you had been part of either the Templar of the Cathedral, I would have known about you already. But you live amongst the commonfolk like some dullard."

Zyler's eyes changed, his hands buried in his pockets as he secretly clenched his hidden needles, preparing for a potential threat from the person in front of him.

He was a long-ranged combatant. Hence, faced with a swordsman who didn't seem to have the slightest hesitation in killing, he felt it was quite a disadvantage. The only thing he could use as a counter was the narrowness of the alleyway, which could hinder Aster's movements if he ever decided to swing his sword.

"What do you want?"

Similarly, Aster clenched the scabbard of his sword even though he had no plans on actually wielding it.

"You said you had a debt to settle with me, is that still active?"

"Of course." Zyler's grip in his poisoned needles loosened.

As far as Zyler knew, the person in front of him is also a Nephilim. However, unlike himself who lives a double identity, Aster has an orthodox faction behind him. It's something he would never wish to provoke.

"Introduce me to an information broker. A cheap one who can provide any type of resource."

Zyler scratched his head in contemplation.

"Buddy, there's nothing cheap in that line of business."

"So you have nothing to recommend?"

"Well..."

"I guess we both wasted our time then."

"Wait!"

"I know one. A trusted information dealer who takes on any type of request." His eyes darted from side to side, wondering if he should continue.

"...If you go to Isen Detritus, you'll find a rundown fighting arena in 4th street. If you approach the host and tell him the code I'll give you, they'll escort you to their secret office."

Zyler bit his lip. He just basically introduced to Aster, who was part of an orthodox Nephilim faction, to their information unit, the Hyacinths. Ironically, he had to expose their organization's existence in exchange for keeping his identity a secret.

"Where is that place?" Aster didn't doubt Zyler. At the very least, he wouldn't lie about such things.

Zyler tilted his head.

"You...don't know where Isen Detritus is?"

"It's the place where most unregistered Nephilims flock around in hiding though? To avoid the black stars' eyes." He subtly referred to Kuanos Genesis and their iconic insignia.

"Ah. I see. It seems you've only been bestowed recently, so perhaps you don't know much yet." Zyler mumbled to himself.

Aster didn't bother confirming his deduction and turned away.

"With this, we're even, right?"

Aster didn't bother answering him.

"What a rude..."

"He acts like his mother didn't raise him right." He spatted in a boomer's tone.

"I don't have a mother."

"Damn."

He sniffed and formed a lazy frown.

'He heard me.'

"Zyler! My name is Zyler! At least remember it and stop calling me 'You'!"

Hearing no response, he walked like a typical street drunkard and trudged away with a bitter taste in his mouth.

"...Did he not hear me?"

'Why do his ears always pick up the wrong words?'

"Are you coming with me?" Aster whispered subtly.

"Will you allow it?" Vontravis, still in his raven form, glided just below Aster's head.

"You'll find out what I'm up to either way." Aster paused and stared intently at the piece of ripped paper Zyler conveniently handed over to him.

"So it's better not to give her the wrong impression."

As soon as they reached the Cathedral, Aster went past Harin, who followed behind like it was a natural thing.

"Harin. Would you care to guide me to Isen Detritus?"

"What business would you have in such a filthy...no—I will guide you, Your Reverence."

Harin nearly paused his steps and eyes Aster in confusion, before lowering his gaze immediately.

"Please, this way." Harin guided him further into the deepest parts of the diocese, into his temporary office. It had wooden furnished shelves with well-kept books and records, along with a simple desk at the middle.

"This belonged to the former branch leader, but it'll soon be yours once you're officially ordained."

Harin smoothly picked up a lantern placed on one of the shelves as he caressed several book spines, likely looking for something.

Soon enough, his fingers added more force and pushed a shelf entirely, revealing a secret passageway from the bookshelves.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

'A little too old fashioned...'

Harin motioned them to enter first, to which Aster complied without a word. Vontravis quickly transformed to an oversized hooded leathery robe and draped the former's figure perfectly.

Harin could no longer be surprised at their antics.

"How was the test, Your Reverence?"

"Good."

"Have you secured a ranking?"

"First."

"That's impressive. Well, knowing a Sorenian's capabilities, it must have been cakewalk." Harin let out a dry chuckle unbefitting of his huge stature, but was quickly met with silence.

He realized the conversation was going nowhere.

"...Uhm. Your Reverence."

Aster turned to Harin, responding to his low call.

"About the letter..."

He was referring to the invitation letter sent by the Academy.

"Please do not mistake my intentions."

"I don't mean to brag, but I was a knight instructor in the Academy. They requested me to help fill the absence of the professors who were summoned to the headquarters."

"Why did you ignore it?"

Harin's eyes trailed off to the distance.

'At least he's finally interested.'

"It's fine if you don't wish to talk—"

"I have an ailing daughter. No, I had one."

Aster opened his mouth to reply, but chose to close it soon after and listen quietly instead.

"I lost her when she was a child. A couple of ruffians sold her off to prostitution districts because of my father's debt, and I later found her riddled in venereal diseases."

'He became a Nephilim in exchange for healing her?'

"But why not join the Templar? Abyss doesn't specialize in life and restoration soren."

"She died shortly after I found her. The best I could do was send her off to a better place."

Harin gave him a chagrined smile.

"In order to be a better father to that poor child, I've fully prepared myself to leave behind my dream profession. Going back there would make me want to pick my sword back up again and make me waver, and I do not wish for that."

[Humans are very strange beings.]

Aster focused his senses at the distance.

'Giving up something you want to have for something you deem should be done...it seems we're both very sad people.'

They didn't share another word, making their stroll a little more quieter.

It wasn't as awkward at least. Vontravis hadn't spoke the whole while after noticing their atmosphere.

"This is as far as I can go, Your Reverence. It's not favorable for Phantoms to roam around the Isen Detritus while clad in priest robes."

Aster nodded, stepping outside from the narrowed exit of the passageway.

The soil underground was damp and musty, leaving an uncomfortable stain of mud and grime onto his leather boots.

The whole city looked straight from a dwarven settlement; the establishments were mostly carved rough of stone or poorly constructed bricks. One thing was for certain, there were lanterns literally everywhere.

"Welcome to Isen Detritus, the slum city beneath Lestissine. In ancient Vendalian wordplay, its name literally translates to 'Mother Soil's Remnants'."

The notoriety of their descriptions didn't disappoint. People were in the middle of a brawl in broad daylight, red light districts and prostitutes were randomly scattered in the area—barely dressed and not displaying an ounce of decency, and carts with chained slaves filled the main roads.

Even sorts of poisons and organs were being sold in the side of the streets without sanitation measures.

"A complete opposite of the sleepless city of dreams, you can find every type of filth in this place."

It was a sight one would normally not see on a busy city as populated as this, one that at first glance, can easily rival its aboveground counterpart, Lestissine.

"You can return now." Harin lowered his head, heeding Aster's casual command.

"Your face stands out too much."

'Even here? But I'm full of small scars and cuts all over, I thought it looked fitting in this kind of place.'

"Am I that hideous?"

"Not that..." Vontravis heaved a long sigh.

'Then how so?'

[No idea.]

[Eh.]

"Never mind."

Aster spots an inconspicuous shop with hanging displays of light wooden masks and robes of various materials, some being synthetic leather while some donned in cheap silk. The stubby owner occasionally rubbed his beard, looking around the passersby with a scowl plastered on his wrinkled face.

Aster quickly snatches a plain white mask in the corner of the displays, leaving a faint gust of wind. By the time the stubby owner noticed that one of his masks were missing, Aster had long blended with commonly robed folks walking around the filthy aisles of Isen Detritus.

"Thief!" The stubby old man stormed out of his shop, wielding a blunt bronze axe.

"Which little shit dares to steal from me!"

It wasn't a surprise that many people here are either covered from head-to-toe, or wearing bizarre masks to conceal their identity. People continued to pass by the owner without a care. Here, robbery was as common as the pigeons scattered across Lestissine's streets.

Aster's feet soon stopped right in front of a poorly chiseled signboard that says 'Dog Arena'.

[What a crude name...]

He no longer hesitated and carefully opened the creaky plank door with its wood slowly rotting from the humidity. He had to exert some effort not to separate the knob from the stiff sorry-excuse-of-a-door.

"Give it up for Isen Detritus's rabid pup, Lanceri!"

A gambling host's exaggerated baritone boomed across the damp area. Even the ceiling hung low and uneven, with moldy planks barely keeping it together. Aster had to cover his nose from the smell of random rotting materials all over.

"He's none other than the undefeated champion of the Dog Arena!"

In the middle of the poorly arranged tables was a circular platform that serves as the so-called fighting arena, where the people's cheers were currently directed.

'Lanceri?'

Aster squeezed into the crowd of cheers to take a closer look to the ones fighting in the arena. Contrary to the place looking worse that a beggar's den, most of the individuals who make up the crowd seemingly came from distinguished backgrounds and wore plain masks similar to the one he was currently wearing.

Aster was a little thankful for that coincidence.

Upon closer proximity, he inadvertently flinched at the familiar mana signature he sensed at the center of the arena and lowered his head, stepping backwards to hide among the crowd again.

'Lanceri, seriously? What a poor excuse for a disguise.'

[You're way worse though...]

Lancelot's dirty blonde locks swayed with him while he effortlessly tackled his opponent to the ground, shattering the podium's weak base. A few debris shot towards the host, who energetically dodged it like it was an everyday occurrence as he announced the winner.

His head sharply turned towards Aster's direction, who slightly lowered his hood more and gazed elsewhere. Aster clicked his tongue, annoyed by Lancelot's sharp senses.

[I was wondering where he got that fighting style from.]

Aster silently observed his next few matches before he finally lost interest. They said the betting period was over, and he didn't have much to place a huge bet on Lancelot.

As soon as he had the chance to subtly approach the host, he just stepped out if the platform, he whispered a phrase that Zyler taught him in a hurry.

"The poppy's petals are stained white by the winter's first snowfall."

The host, with his face half-covered in a veil, plastered a jester-like smile at the betters and turned to Aster naturally. His eyes peered at his figure from head-to-toe, much unlike his unchanged expression.

"How may we serve you, my lord?"

"I want intel."

"Come, good sir."

He bowed and motioned his hands towards a narrow doorway illuminated by a small lamp. The host cleared the scrolls scattered on his side-table and dragged a creaky chair towards Aster, as if telling him to sit on it.

"How much for a background check?"

"Class?"

He sat on the opposite side of the desk, facing Aster, and resting his feet on the side of the table.

"A marquis."

"A thousand pounds."

"Pretty generous. Investigate Aster Riverblood."

"What do you wish to find out?"

"Everything. Family line, territory and estate, down to the habits of each family member if he has any. I want all of it in detail."

"We'll require an additional payment of 500 pounds for that. Will you pay upfront?"

"I'll deliver my payment once you bring me conclusive results."

[You see, we don't have money as of the moment because of a particular birdbrain who lost our funds.]

[But, you shouldn't know that.]

...is basically what Aster meant.

[So much for being the so-called incarnation of Greed. He's penniless to boot.]

[But you were the one who told him not to bring his jewels with him. His entire manor is covered in those shiny rocks.]

He recalled Lanceri, or rather Lancelot, who was enjoying his time being the undefeated star of this arena.

'Maybe I should've came earlier. I would have raked in funds by betting on him...'

The eye behind the screen veil peered at him, before turning away.

"We don't trust payment upon completion of service."

'As expected...'

"Do you take consumables as payment?"

'We're dead broke, but we still have Kaisellin's fancy blood.'

[Sure bet a drop costs millions.]

[When I say blessed bloodline, I meant exactly this.]

"That depends on the value. What do you plan to bargain?"

"I cannot tell you yet, but I can swear its value in my deity's name."

[But you're the deity? Oh, I see.]

"Gods don't mean a thing in Isen Detritus, good sir. Are you new here?"

Aster involuntarily scraped the side of his fingers. He misspoke, his tone made him seem like a knight. He swallowed a rough inhale to calm himself.

"Will a sample do?"

"Quite, yes. i can examine it on the spot if you wish."

"Then..." Aster took out a tiny glass tube from his pocket. Gilded liquid shone through, shimmering exquisitely. He held it with two fingers delicately and showed it to the host as if tempting him. The man's pupils constricted for a brief moment before being replaced with a palpable chilling gaze.

As expected, he knew what it is.

"Where did you get that thing?" The host couldn't hide his eyes staring at its brilliant sheen in wonder. It was nothing more than a drop in a tiny vial, but he knew its potency at first glance. He had never seen one quite as pure as this, so it was natural to show excessive interest.

"If I tell you, then you'll have to make a separate deal." The host stared at him for a moment and displayed the widest grin he could.

"Consider it done, good sir. Please return in two days's time." He tried to snatch the vial from his hands, but Aster retracted it and quickly placed the vial back in his pocket. Thank god he carried it around just in case.

"I told you, it's just a sample. You don't have any immediate information at your disposal?" The host's eye twitched momentarily as he rubbed his hands to display good favor.

"I'm afraid not. He simply popped out of nowhere hailing from some official noble house no one's ever heard of...there were a handful of rumors surrounding his House, but that's about it."

"Rumors are fine. Anything is fine."

'Quite desperate hmm...?' Purple Hyacinth stretched out his fan, creating an satisfying whip sound.

"It's just a passing rumor, but I've a few mentions of how the Riverblood House was established all the way back during the former king's days as a fledgeling prince; yes, that tyrant. A bit too recent to be one of the old generation Houses and technically didn't emerge after the bloody war, so it's not one of the new generation nobility either. Honestly, it's a bit awkward to classify due to the timing."

"There were only two known family members—who were a married couple at that time. A few have speculated it was an honorary title bestowed to one of the former king's secret generals or legion leaders, which is again, a mere passing rumor. I am quite ashamed to inform you of things that haven't been confirmed yet, but with your payment, I'm willing to provide any relevant information at our disposal."

[A couple...]

[I'm intrigued. The enigma lies on the former king inevitably, as the central figure of the war eight years ago.]

He cleared his throat, not hiding the fact that he already realized that Aster was new to the business.

"From where did you hear our secret code?"

"A passing hooligan told me."

'Hooligan?'

For some reason, the host couldn't shake off the Orion's face, but quickly tried to dismiss it.

'No way. He's only a village idiot for a front. That guy's real colors are ruthless.'

"How may we address you, good sir? Most clients go by two word aliases. As an example, they call me Purple Hyacinth."

Aster contemplated for a moment

before answering.

"Black Swan."

Aster tugged his large hood down and turned around without waiting for a reply. His robe, a transformed version of his raven-like butler, swayed side-to side through his steady steps.

A few informants shrouded in the shadows appeared behind Purple Hyacinth as if waiting.

"Follow him as discreetly as possible."