Just as Baron Stampler was about to re-enter his estate, a sudden commotion made him pause. The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the courtyard, and he turned just in time to see his butler, Sebastian, land face-first in the dirt beside him. Startled, the baron looked up to find the captain of the city guard, a formidable Tier 6 mage, marching into the courtyard with several soldiers in tow.

The captain, a tall and imposing figure with a stern expression, surveyed the chaotic scene before addressing the baron. "Baron Stampler," he began, his voice resonating with the authority of his rank, "we received word of a disturbance at your estate. What is the meaning of this?"

Baron Stampler, still reeling from the night's events and now the sudden appearance of the city guard, struggled to maintain his composure. He understood the precariousness of his situation and knew that any misstep could lead to disastrous consequences. With forced calm, he replied, "Captain, I assure you, everything is under control. There was an unfortunate incident, but it is being handled."

The captain's eyes narrowed as he glanced past the baron at the carnage that littered the courtyard. "This doesn't look like something that's under control, Baron," he said, gesturing to the bodies strewn across the ground. "These men—your guards, your staff, and these others—they didn't die from an unfortunate incident. This was an attack."

Baron Stampler clenched his fists, trying to keep his voice steady. "I understand how it appears, Captain, but I assure you, my men and I are investigating the matter."

The captain's gaze shifted to the groaning figure of Sebastian, who was still struggling to rise from the dirt. "Is that so?" the captain remarked, his skepticism evident. "It seems to me that this matter requires a more thorough investigation. By the authority vested in me, I will be conducting an inquiry into this incident."

Realizing that resistance would only raise further suspicion and potentially expose his more illicit activities, Baron Stampler had no choice but to agree. "Very well, Captain," he said, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You are welcome to conduct your investigation. I have nothing to hide."

The captain nodded and signaled to his soldiers, who immediately began spreading out to secure the area and gather evidence. As the baron watched them work, a cold dread settled in the pit of his stomach. His carefully constructed world, one that had taken years to build, was beginning to crumble around him.

As the captain examined the bodies, several peculiarities caught his attention. The corpses were divided into distinct groups. On one side lay the bodies of the estate's guards and staff, showing signs of a fierce battle. On the other side were several masked men, their bodies bearing various wounds. But what puzzled the captain most were the bodies of the attackers who bore no visible injuries—save for a single, precise wound to their throats.

The captain's brow furrowed as he knelt beside one of the masked bodies and carefully removed the mask, revealing the face of one of the Scorpion twins. His eyes narrowed as he noted the clean, precise cut across the man's throat. The other twin, found nearby, bore a similar injury. It was clear these men had not fallen in a conventional battle; someone had executed them with remarkable precision.

"Baron Stampler," the captain called out, his voice tinged with suspicion, "these men were killed in a way that suggests they didn't die fighting. They were executed. Who could have done this?"

The baron, still trying to maintain his composure, approached cautiously. "Captain, as I said, the situation is being handled. Perhaps these men turned on each other in the chaos of the night," he suggested, though he knew the excuse sounded weak even as he said it.

The captain shook his head, unconvinced. "No, Baron, these wounds are too precise. This was the work of someone highly skilled—an assassin or a mage of considerable power."

As the captain continued to scrutinize the scene, another realization struck him. The placement of the bodies and the manner of their deaths suggested an orchestrated effort—someone methodical and powerful enough to manipulate the scenario to their advantage.

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Turning back to the baron, the captain's eyes hardened. "I will need to speak with everyone present in this estate last night. There is more to this than meets the eye, and I intend to get to the bottom of it."

Baron Stampler felt a cold sweat forming on his brow. "Of course, Captain. I will provide you with any assistance you require."

As Baron Stapler mulled over the events, a perplexing thought nagged at him: How had the attackers managed to eliminate everyone without him or his trusted aide, Sebastian, hearing anything? It was a chilling realization, suggesting a level of stealth and strategic planning that went far beyond the baron's worst fears.

…

As the investigation deepened, Mr. F walked through the city streets with a satisfied smile on his face. In his right hand, he casually tossed a dimensional pouch into the air, catching it repeatedly. The events of the previous night had proven far more fruitful than he had anticipated. After visiting the Scorpion brothers' base, he had used his magic to transfer all their belongings to himself and sent their remaining men on a mission they would not return from. He had also uncovered the reason for Lily's death. Her parents had mysteriously disappeared six months ago, and the thugs, thinking they could easily intimidate her, had tried to coerce her into selling the tavern. When their threats failed, they killed her to seize the property, intending to use it to dig an underground tunnel close to the city walls.

Mr. F murmured to himself, "I would have loved to see the baron's face, hehe. But unfortunately, I can't take action against him. The death of a baron would alarm the royal family, and it's not the right time for that. After all, I wouldn't be able to obtain the life-extending elixir while on the run. Ah, forget it, forget it. I've done enough to avenge Lily's death," he thought as he strolled through the waking city.

As the city around him began to stir, with market vendors setting up their stalls and the scent of fresh bread wafting through the air, Mr. F's thoughts remained far removed from the morning hustle. He reveled in the chaos he had sown but knew he had to be careful about his next steps.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his body, and he felt a wave of weakness wash over him. His legs began to tremble, and he struggled to keep his balance. Leaning against a nearby wall, he coughed violently, spitting out a handful of blood. The realization hit him hard: his body was failing him. The exertion from the previous night had pushed him to his limits, and his connection to soul magic was waning.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the truth was undeniable—he was running out of time. Even the elixir he had recently obtained might not be enough if his body couldn't hold on long enough for it to take effect. His vision blurred, and he knew he needed to find a place to rest and recover, at least for a short while.

Scanning his surroundings, he spotted a small, inconspicuous inn at the end of the street. Summoning what little strength he had left, Mr. F made his way toward it, each step feeling like a monumental effort. The innkeeper, a kindly old woman, looked up as he entered, her eyes widening with concern.

"Sir, are you all right?" she asked, hurrying to his side.

"I need a room," Mr. F managed to say, his voice weak as he retrieved a silver coin from his pouch. "And some privacy."

The innkeeper nodded quickly, leading him to a quiet room at the back of the inn. She helped him to the bed, where he collapsed, his body shaking with exhaustion. She left him with a basin of water and a towel, closing the door softly behind her.

Mr. F lay there for a moment, catching his breath. He knew he had to act quickly. Reaching into his pouch, he retrieved a red healing potion of Tier 4 and drank it in one gulp. The potion began to work immediately, knitting together the damage within his body. He also pulled out several blue vials filled with restorative magic, their potent energy glowing faintly.

With great effort, Mr. F managed to sit up in a cross-legged position and began regulating the energies within his body. Hours passed as he worked to stabilize himself, and by the time he finally exhaled deeply, he felt more at peace. But he was also acutely aware of how close he had come to death. His age and the toll of the previous night had left him dangerously weakened, and he knew he couldn't afford to push himself like that again—at least, not without preparation.

After using the water to cleanse himself, Mr. F left his room and made his way to the bar area. The innkeeper, noticing him, approached with concern still etched on her face.

"Are you feeling better? Can I get you something?" she asked.

"A glass of water and some main and side dishes, please," he replied, pulling out another silver coin.

The woman's eyes lit up with a mix of greed and concern, but she quickly hurried into the kitchen. She soon returned with a cart laden with food: roasted chicken, fresh bread, grilled vegetables, and various cheeses. Small bowls of fruits, nuts, and olives accompanied the meal.

After paying the woman, Mr. F sat quietly at the counter, eating slowly as he listened to the conversations around him. His keen ears caught snippets of various discussions, but one in particular made him perk up and listen closely. Something about the auction tonight, the very one where he hoped to find the life-extending elixir, caught his attention.

Mr. F's eyes narrowed as he focused on the conversation, knowing that every piece of information could prove crucial in the hours to come.