She was moving quickly, the city below her scrolling past in a frenzied blur of rooftops. She stopped suddenly, her body jerking slightly from the inertia. Looking down, she spotted it—a two-story building engulfed in red-orange flames.

The man she’d been waiting for stood in front of it. Or, to be precise, the Invigilator she’d been waiting for. Vin didn’t know his name; Invigilators rarely gave them. He was dark-skinned—a Maw, most likely.

After their encounter in the interrogation room, suspicion had grown in her. What exactly had he prevented her from hearing? Of course, it could have been the weight of the knowledge spoken in that room. Ever since the Maw’s sudden outburst, Vin had tirelessly pursued leads and uncovered something fascinating: knowledge above a certain class carried a penalty when known by beings below that class.

Who would have thought?

But that revelation only brought more questions. The Invigilators seemed immune to this penalty. Did that mean he was of that class himself, or did he possess other means to bypass the restriction? Who could guess the extent of the Ministry’s abilities? Whatever the case, his casual nonchalance told Vin one thing: whatever he was hiding was worth knowing.

And so, she followed.

What do we have here?

Below, the Invigilator stood, accompanied by two Scribed Maidens and several pawns. His palm glowed with a calm white light. The Maidens flanked him, heads covered by white hoods while the rest of their bodies lay exposed, etched with glowing symbols. Just looking at them filled Vin with a deep weakness.

In front of them lay several charred, black-hooded corpses.

Vin paid little attention to the Maidens themselves. While the general public might revere these women, Vin knew better. They were walking corpses. Even a sealed Sanguine had more life in them than these poor souls. She understood the strain of using something like divination. Now imagine a body entirely inscribed with such symbols—an existence where death wasn’t just certain but a requirement.

And when they did die, they rarely left behind a soul. They simply ceased.

Vin felt a rare solemnity creep into her chest.

One of the two Maidens slowly raised her hand. The symbols along her wrist began to glow. Vin’s eyes narrowed. She recognized those markings—they were for a veil.

They’re trying to seal the area!

She stopped distorting. The air warped around her, and she plummeted downward, landing in a roll on the dust-streaked ground. Her white attire was smeared with red stains.

Puffy, curtain-like veils of purple began descending from the sky, though their origin was impossible to pinpoint. They fell in slow, deliberate waves before fading away, leaving the world seemingly untouched—but now isolated.

One of the pawns turned sharply, sensing her. His head snapped around, his wide eyes filled with fear as he raised his chain sword. He should fear her. She was Sanguine; he was merely human—a pawn.

But before he could act, a voice—no, voices, layered and thunderous—boomed from nowhere.

“Malice is prohibited here!”

Vin froze. Her emotions dulled abruptly as if smothered under a heavy blanket. What just happened? Alarm flickered in her mind.

Figures, shadowy and hooded in black robes, descended from the sky. They landed silently, surrounding the group. Where had they come from? She hadn’t seen them, hadn’t sensed them. And how had they broken the veil created by a Scribed Maiden?

But despite their palpable malice, Vin felt… nothing. Or rather, she lacked the desire to act against them. The intent to harm had been removed.

They’re powerful. That much was clear. To suppress emotion with a single word? That was no ordinary Soother’s trick. No, this was something else entirely. Soothers were subtle, silent. This was raw authority.

From the burning building stepped a figure. A man with brown hair that fell over one eye, his expression solemn. He wore a white kefna, buttoned to one side, and loose, flowing trousers. In his hand was a sleek, glass-like blade, its surface beaded with droplets of water.

In his other hand, he carried a black case. Even without her bizarre eyes, Vin felt what was inside.

Soul bombs!

She was about to move when a sharp, piercing ring filled the air. She staggered, clutching her ears, though it did little to muffle the sound. Avoiding the cry of an Invigilator wasn’t something as simple as covering your ears.

The robed figures staggered too, clearly unprepared for the assault. How had the Invigilator attacked them without malice?

He’s an Invigilator. That was the only explanation.

The Scribed Maidens began to glow—quiet, pale, and desperate. Their bodies radiated light, not the pure white of the Invigilator but something tinged with faint blue. Like mana.

They were burning their very souls to fuel their power.

As the glow intensified, Vin felt the dull weight on her emotions begin to lift. The absence of feeling was replaced with a sharp, furious desire—to kill these heretics.

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“Vin of the SS0!”

The voice rang in her mind, sharp and commanding.

The Invigilator.

She steadied herself and answered inwardly.

Yes.

“I suppose ‘no’ doesn’t always mean that to you,” the invigilator said.

I suppose. Vin almost flushed but caught herself.

“This will be dealt with later. For now, the Ministry and the Empire require you to end the heretic.”

Vin smiled. Suffer not life upon the heretic! It was something of a motto among the Pure White Invigilators.

There was no response. I wonder what kind of trouble I’ll be getting into now. She sighed.

Silence followed. Both sides stared at each other, unmoving. Who would be the first to act?

“Order-unrelated powers are prohibited here!”

Turns out it’s them!

The invigilator staggered slightly, the white light seeping from his body recoiling as though forced back into him.

The Order is working? Vin realized, then frowned. Something was odd. Her components were still very much active. Was the Order not working on me?

Could our branches be related? She dismissed the thought, dashing forward toward the nearest hooded figure. The strange Pitcher Branch was incomplete, but somewhere out there, there might exist a fully evolved version.

She closed the distance swiftly, drawing her rapier and slicing with a clean, precise slash. The heretic stepped back and then—shot into the air. Not leaped. Shot.

But something felt off. For some reason, Vin felt the ground beneath her had… distorted.

She frowned, then jumped. Like a stone hurled by a slingshot, she rocketed upward, the wind screaming against her face.

So we do follow the same branch! The realization unsettled her. She and a heretic… sharing the same branch.

The hooded man extended his hand, and the air around Vin thickened—solid, unyielding, like petrified stone. She was trapped.

The hooded man drifted closer, his dark robes flapping like torn banners in the wind.

“So, you were the one watching from above?” he said. “Do you enjoy spying or what?” He chuckled. “That’s not very orderly.”

So this must be the other group—the ones who hired the Thieving Guild.

It was a guess, but Vin felt it was likely correct. She smiled. Now she knew where to focus.

The hooded man froze, sensing something, and abruptly retreated. At that moment, the solid wind around her began to dissolve, as though ink was being washed from the air.

He distorted the wind to trap me… and I just reversed it.

“I see,” the man said, his voice calm. “You follow the same branch—though yours is likely incomplete.” He raised his hand. “What about joining the path of Order?”

Does that ever work on anyone?

Vin lunged at him, but before she could strike, a pillar of white light erupted from the ground below, illuminating the surroundings like a sudden sunrise.

Her momentum faltered. What?!

Her components weakened, as though forcibly cooled down—or perhaps… purified into one.

The ground rushed up to meet her, but just before impact, her components flared back to life. She bounced off the ground, light as air—because, in a way, she was air.

Rolling to her feet, her sharp eyes scanned the chaos. The invigilator was locked in combat with someone—a man in flowing white robes.

It was an odd battle: the heretic flickered between mist and flesh, while the invigilator’s blazing white light carved through the air like a blade.

He must be their leader, Vin thought. Him first.

Though she’d have preferred to aid the pawns first, they were, after all, just pawns. Meanwhile, the scribed maidens—had summoned massive chain swords and was swinging them in wide, destructive arcs at the hooded figures.

Vin sprinted forward, distorting an incoming blade meant for the invigilator’s arm. The weapon rebounded mid-air, as though striking an invisible wall. She reached the invigilator’s side, but the proximity to him caused her components to flare with agonizing heat.

“Support me!” the invigilator ordered, his voice firm and commanding.

He clenched his fist, summoning a gleaming sword of pure white light before charging at the robed heretic.

Fighting while my own components are breaking apart… Vin felt a thrill spark in her chest—the kind swordsmen often spoke of.

She ran after the invigilator, pushing her components to their limit and making her body nearly weightless. Her speed increased, her form blurring slightly as she moved.

The two of them charged together—Vin on the left, the invigilator on the right. The man in white stood motionless, reforming from mist, watching them approach with unsettling calm.

Why isn’t he attacking?

She cursed internally.

At the last moment, the man twisted his body, and the invigilator’s blade of light passed harmlessly through a swirling column of mist. The heretic reformed a few steps away, his footing slightly unsteady.

Vin saw her chance. She lunged, rapier flashing. The blade struck—but only air. The mist caved around the point of impact.

A glint of silvery light blinked just in front of her. Instinct roared in her mind, and she leaped backward.

She landed hard, just as a glassy blade hacked into the spot she’d been moments before. If she’d been a heartbeat slower, her head would have rolled on the stone floor.

“Move!” the invigilator barked, hurling radiant spears of light toward the heretic.

The heretic launched himself into the sky, his legs dissolving into swirling white mist that blended seamlessly with the foggy surroundings. His torso remained solid, his head still visible amid the white smoke.

His legs solidified from the swirling mist, and he landed with a heavy thud, closing the distance between himself and Vin in a blink.

He hacked downward with his sword. Vin sidestepped, narrowly dodging the strike, but he twisted mid-motion and slammed a steel-like kick into her side.

The force of the blow sent her flying, her body flailing through the air like a ragdoll. She crashed onto the damp, dusty ground, rolling to a stop.

She tried to move—tried—but her legs were locked in place. Distortion.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a black-robed heretic charging her with a dagger. He was likely the one who had latched her to the floor.

I don’t have time for this!

With a sharp thrust of her rapier, Vin pierced the air. The heretic collapsed mid-stride, a clean, round hole bleeding from his forehead.

She hadn’t even touched him physically—she had distorted the distance between her weapon and the target.

But the maneuver came at a cost. Agony flared through her body, her components strained to their limits. The purification pressure, the instability caused by the Astra inscribed on the maidens, and the pain of mana usage piled onto her senses.

She gritted her teeth, barely holding in a scream.

Her legs were freed.

Vin launched herself back toward the invigilator, her movements sharp and precise despite the haze of pain clouding her focus. On her way, she felled another heretic with a deft slash.

A roar echoed through the chaos—a guttural, enraged scream from the invigilator.

“I need more!” he bellowed, his voice like cracking glass.

Needs what? Vin’s sharp eyes scanned the battlefield.

From what she could see, the invigilator was undeniably stronger than the white-robed man. The problem wasn’t strength—it was endurance. Despite the purification radiating from the invigilator, the heretic remained unaffected, almost… untouched.

Of course, if the invigilator unleashed his full power without regard for collateral damage, this fight would already be over.

A sharp cry pulled Vin’s attention.

One of the scribed maidens collapsed, a dagger lodged deep in her chest. Blood seeped into the dusty ground as her lifeless body slumped over.

Around them, most of the pawns lay dead. Predictable—they had no powers to defend themselves.

“Violence is prohibited here!”

The booming voice of a hooded figure rippled across the battlefield, and with it, Vin felt her body freeze.

Chains—illusory—wove themselves around her limbs and torso. They weren’t physical restraints, but each time she tried to move, to act with any intention of violence, her body seized up. Even her mana stuttered and froze.

This is bad!