"I know," Rollo said.

I suppose that makes sense. He is an adept Archon, Dunn thought, waiting a few moments before speaking again. "I’ve been tasked with gathering a squad for a mission."

"Then go find some guardsmen or another shard-bearer—there’s no reason to come to me." Rollo glanced away, looking at the wall of maps.

This might be harder than I thought. Dunn focused, making sure not to get distracted. "The Radiant wants the best, and as an adept, you’re one of the best."

Rollo eyed him, crossing his hands behind his back. He looked every bit the Tudorson. "So, I don’t have a choice in the matter?"

"I suppose not," Dunn replied. Even he didn’t have a choice in the matter, though he wouldn’t have changed it even if he did.

Sighing, Rollo said, "I assume by 'Radiant sir' you mean a Golden Knight?"

He didn’t know? Dunn nodded. Who else but a Golden Knight would be called Radiant?

"I see," Rollo said. "Who else is part of this squad, and what’s the mission?"

Even I’m unclear about that, Dunn thought, his eyes drifting to one of the burning lamps, where shadow wisps floated around like tiny purple dots. "I don’t know the full details. But I understand it involves rescuing some Death Runners and guardsmen from a giant’s camp."

Rollo frowned, and Dunn shared the sentiment. Of all things the knight could be involved in, this seemed odd. But Dunn suspected the rescue mission was a cover for something else. He of course saw no need to share his suspicions with the adept.

Rollo’s frown faded. "Rescuing Death Runners? Those criminals whose only purpose is to serve as shields for real warriors? These are the people the ruler sent a knight to save?" His gaze sharpened, clearly doubting the mission’s true nature.

"The ruler might have other reasons," Dunn said, hinting at the possibility of a different motive.

Rollo stayed silent for a moment, then sighed. "Who else is part of the squad?"

"Ren—Archon Ren. You, Adolla, the Radiant Sir, and myself," Dunn answered truthfully, though he had yet to meet Adolla. The last time he saw him, the man was trying to jump into a volcano with a smile on his face. Nevertheless, finding him shouldn’t be difficult; wherever the nearest commotion was, Adolla would be in the middle of it.

"You?" Rollo glanced at Dunn, his surprise evident.

I was also surprised, Dunn thought.

"So... is there anything else?" Rollo asked.

"No, Adept."

"Then leave," Rollo said curtly.

"Alright," Dunn bowed but then paused. "I forgot—the mission starts in three days."

Rollo glared at him, his more primal "Maw" self breaking through the Tudorson elegance. After a moment, he took a breath and casually left the gallery. Dunn watched him go, muttering to himself, Now, where would Adolla be?

----------------------------------------

Vision returned to him as his eyes fluttered open. His senses slowly came back to life, ringing in his ears.

He groaned, clutching his head, barely able to make out the scene around him. Broken piles of stone were scattered across the floor. Sizzling smoke rose from certain corners, warming the damp air, while the swirling mist created a sticky humidity.

The hall's walls were cracked and riddled with holes, and the chandelier that had once hung above was now smashed into the bed.

On the bed lay the man, eyes wide open, his lower body soaked in blood. Faint vines and roots grew from the ground, curling back into the earth like some green, hardened serpents. Karl managed to stand, though he staggered, his limbs heavy.

Karl gritted his teeth, opening and closing his fist. The power was gone. That beautiful, majestic power... vanished.

He scanned the room for the woman—she was likely the one responsible for all this. Or was it Vin? The explosion she caused had knocked him out, robbing him of the chance to savor the power before it slipped away.

No! It might still be there. Karl summoned the "Face of the Soul"—the collection of countless, myriad-colored stars appeared, some connected boldly by silver threads, others by faint lines. He searched frantically for the component—the red one, or perhaps the white one? He wasn’t sure what color it would take.

His eyes darted over the stars, but he couldn’t find it. Nor could he feel it. It was gone! He clenched his fists tightly. My power!

But then, he noticed something unusual—a strange, silver-colored star, almost like iron. It quivered violently. He focused on it, feeling hope rise in his chest.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Cogitation!

Cogitation? His mind opened up to a well of knowledge. Cogitation: a passive mystical component that allows the mind to process information faster than normal, with the speed corresponding to the amount of mana used. He closed his eyes, letting the knowledge sink in. When he opened them, he sighed. So this is all I got?

He had already experienced a taste of cogitation in that strange place, so why was this the power that manifested now, and not the one he truly craved? He grunted in frustration.

Suddenly, he caught movement in the corner of his eye. A woman, her hair ending in sharp spikes, was struggling to stand. Her clothes were charred and sizzling from burns. Vin. Karl recalled the golden radiance that had erupted from her earlier.

She looked at him with pain in her eyes. "Go!" she urged.

Go? Before Karl could respond, a piercing ringing sound filled his ears. His thoughts raced. Information, memories, and instincts merged. He remembered the hypnosis—the ringing sound used by the Bishop—the protectors of the city: the Invigilators.

The battle must have drawn Invigilators from the city. Vin had told him to leave, but she wasn’t making any attempt to escape herself. Does that mean she knows them? Or does she have another way out? No... it doesn’t look like she has any mana left. Maybe she has some connection to the Invigilators... Could she be one of them? No... not necessarily. But she’s clearly part of some organization within the Empire.

Karl gasped, realizing the urgency.

Without wasting any more time, he endured the violent ringing in his ears and pulled out the bloodied piece of the finger. He hesitated for a moment, feeling the warmth still pulsing from it. Damn it! He opened his mouth and tossed the finger inside.

Karl clamped down on the finger with his teeth, forcing the remaining blood to spew into his throat. He winced at the discomfort but swallowed it down.

Suddenly, bubbles of blood rose from the ground, swirling around him in a cocoon. The light around him vanished, replaced by a deep crimson. He felt a sudden shift, like he was being hoisted upward forcefully.

Soon, the sensation faded, and the dome of red began to melt away in trails. As the blood receded, Karl found himself standing inside a room. A man stood there, smiling. Fredrick tilted his head and said, "When I said chaos was the way to bring down the empire, I didn’t think you’d be so quick to create it."

Karl stared at him, the bloodied finger still in his mouth. Spitting it out would make me look weak—like someone who can’t handle it. Hesitantly, Karl chewed the finger. His enhanced physical abilities made the process easier than he expected. He kept his face as composed as possible and, when the finger was ground into a paste, he swallowed it.

Fredrick’s eyes perked up. "Son of the Fallen, did you just swallow my finger?"

How does he know? Karl wondered. Wait... a component? His finger must be a component of himself, so maybe he can sense it—like how an animal feels when part of it is cut off? He recalled the pigs he used to slaughter. Could there be a problem with eating it? Perhaps due to conflicting components? A mild headache suddenly throbbed in his skull.

"You shouldn’t have done that," Fredrick said, a frown tugging at his lips. His mouth didn’t move. "See, this shouldn’t be done so recklessly."

Karl flinched. Did he just speak without opening his mouth?

"Yes, I did, Son of the Fallen," Fredrick’s voice echoed close to Karl’s ears, as though he were whispering right beside him. "Eating a component-powered part of a Sanguine can be very dangerous. It establishes a connection between you and the Sanguine—especially if they’re still alive. That’s why Sanguines don’t evolve using blood from living creatures or share the same blood with one another. It creates a mystical connection that can be dangerous. It might allow you to hear their thoughts, feel what they feel, or even experience whatever happens to them."

"So eating your finger established this connection," Karl said. He decided to speak out loud now—if Fredrick could hear his thoughts, it was safer to limit his internal dialogue. But strangely, he did not feel any different...Was the connection a one way path?

Fredrick smiled, parting his lips this time. "Yes. Fortunately for you, it’s me, not someone else. And since you didn’t use grace, the component isn’t bonded to you, and it will fade after a while."

Karl summoned his Face of the Soul, scanning it. He spotted the blood-red component, but it didn’t provide him with any knowledge or sensation. It felt... hollow.

Maybe because I’m not actually a vampire? Or because I didn’t bond with it using grace? Karl quickly stopped, realizing his thoughts might still be accessible to Fredrick. He fought the urge to frown.

"So, what power did you gain this time?" Fredrick asked.

Karl remained silent, unsurprised that Fredrick had guessed. Anyone observing his gaze as he dazedly looked at the Face of the Soul could have deduced he was trying to figure something out. Fredrick merely voiced the obvious. Still, Karl didn’t answer immediately. He took a moment to survey the room, noticing that it had been cleaned—the blood was gone, and even the sheets had been changed. Who cleaned it?

Karl turned back to Fredrick. "Cogitation," he said flatly.

"Cogitation?" Fredrick tilted his head. "What’s that?"

"It lets me think faster," Karl replied, offering no further explanation. The less detail, the better.

Fredrick nodded, perhaps understanding the power or perhaps understanding Karl’s reluctance to share more.

Another sharp pang of the headache struck Karl, and without a word, he made his way to the neatly arranged bed and sat down. He didn’t sleep, though. Instead, he kept his eyes on Fredrick, who stood in the center of the room, smiling as usual.

"What exactly did you do?" Fredrick asked, his smile unwavering.

Considering the Invigilators were there and that divination exists, sharing what happened might reduce any risks of discovery, Karl thought. Then he said, "There was a woman named Vin. She said she’d divined about me. We fought a woman who kidnapped a driver to have him give birth."

Karl recounted the events but carefully omitted any mention of the strange new powers he had gained. He preferred to keep some cards close to his chest.

Fredrick listened, then said, "This could be a problem... I suppose I’ll need to investigate." He glanced at Karl one more time before turning to walk toward the door.

What about Anette? Karl thought.

Fredrick stopped, turned, and said, "Anette is on a mission for her faction. Supposedly, one of their special members has gone missing—a unique individual." He chuckled lightly. "Apparently, one of them was kidnapped, and Anette’s been sent to find him."

Special members? Karl’s mind raced, and the already pounding headache intensified as if iron were banging against a cauldron. But with so little information, he couldn’t make sense of it. He said nothing and simply nodded lightly.

Fredrick smiled, walked to the door, and opened it—allowing the mist to fall in, before stepping out, closing it behind him.

The room fell into silence.

What to do now? His thoughts raced, countless possibilities all wrapping up into a cacophony of ideas. He winced.

Why would all of canen being on fire be an idea? He frowned, eventually closing his eyes, allowing the fatigue to wash through his body.