The dark-haired man in front of Lucille gave her a deep bow. “I will personally rectify this oversight with my own hands. I give you my sincerest apologies that such an incident occurred to a guest under your care.”

Lucy didn’t immediately reply to Count Ravimoux as he straightened up. Trisroa was standing behind Lucy’s couch to her right. It seemed she had taken it upon herself to act the part of an escorting mage.

Count Regulus Ravimoux sighed and straightened his ascot. “If there is anything more you would like me to do for you, I will take it upon myself to-”

“The intruder waited until I had left the building to trespass,” Lucille interrupted.

Count Ravimoux narrowed his dark green eyes and slowly nodded. “We have a traitor.”

“Yes, but that’s not the important part.” Lucy looked to the side, her face expressionless. “Ruling out the Counts and the others at our first meeting, I can count on my hands the number of people aware of my spiritual perception.”

“That-” The words died in his mouth as he realised that she meant that they entered when she couldn’t detect them with her perception, and he frowned as he held his chin. “…there is no possibility that they discovered it recently?”

Lucy sighed and shook her head as she rested it on the back of the couch. “My bond told me that the powdered substance the intruder carried on him prevents soul beasts from sensing him with their spiritual sense. As a spiritual being as well, Ashale’viaf wasn’t able to detect him. A Seven-Star Heaven-grade substance like that is costly and difficult to prepare as it requires months of refining. They were prepared.”

Count Ravimoux ran a hand through his hair. “And he killed himself when you caught him. Any recognisable features?”

Lucille pointed down. “A tattoo. Above his hip.”

That attracted his attention. He leaned forward, studying her seriously. “Please describe it.”

She traced a pattern in the air. “A pitch-black snake with the character for ‘Silence’ drawn on its head.”

The Count stared at her and then scowled. “Blighted cultivators-”

Lucy checked her pocket watch. “The most powerful hidden espionage Sect subordinated to the Heavenly Sects got put to this task, so it will be extremely difficult to track this back to its origin.”

“But not impossible.” Count Ravimoux narrowed his eyes as he gazed at the floor, then suddenly stood up. “Once my subordinates have reclaimed the body, we will do our best to track any and all clues. It’s one thing for it to be a spy from the Empire, but a powerful force of the Heavenly Realm… this could become a major diplomatic issue.”

She put away her pocket watch and stood up. “It won’t. Not until they attack me directly. As of yet, we still don’t know their full intentions.” Lucy looked over her shoulder at the door. “Nor why they would act so boldly when they know the high likelihood of getting caught…” She turned back to him. “I’ll take my leave. I have somewhere I need to go to check up on something related to this, and I’ll inform you of the information once I get it.”

Count Ravimoux raised an eyebrow. “Somewhere related to this? You don’t need guarding, do you?”

Lucille shot him a wry look. “Not a single guard of the Commission could protect me against the Wordless Observers, Count Ravimoux.”

He stiffened when he heard the unexpected name of the infamous organisation out of her mouth, and then hurriedly coughed as he stepped away. “Of course, of course. I will… leave you to your business.” He bowed and backed out of the room, leaving Lucy and Roa alone.

Lucille shook her head and walked out. “Let’s go back.”

“Wordless Observers?” Roa repeated, curiosity plain in her voice.

Lucy gave her a dismissive wave. “Their talents lie in martial prowess.”

“Ah.” When the elven mage heard that they weren’t related to magic, she nodded, all interest waning.

If there was one thing Lucille appreciated about most wielders of magic, it was their tendency to refrain from asking about subjects not related to magic.

…

A long-haired man with thick leather gloves and strange goggles above his eyes stared at Lucille, who was sheathing her two snake-swords. He nudged the silver-haired magical beast beside him. “She’s angry, isn’t she.”

Scytale slowly nodded. “Someone’s going to die this week,” he whispered back. “But it’s not going to be me and Hargrave is too strong so you’re the only option,” he added in a normal voice.

“Hang on, this whole thing is a problem because I was in danger of getting killed-”

“Is she really planning on going after the cultivators who intruded?” Hargrave asked with a frown.

“Hm? Oh. Nah.” Scytale glanced at him. “She’s just going out to meet a friend.”

Sedric, Hargrave and even Roa on the other side of the room turned to stare at him. “…friend?” Hargrave repeated.

“Lucille has friends?” Sedric asked, looking stunned. “I thought she only knew the people who stick around the Commission. Like us.”

Hargrave tilted his head, hesitating. “…where does she get the time to meet people when she’s always working?”

Scytale shrugged. “She makes the time. The real reason she’s meeting the guy is because he knows a bit about this whole cultivator thing though, so she wouldn’t have gone to meet him ordinarily.”

Lucy let out a long sigh. “Could all of you please stop commentating on my motivations as if I’m some spectacle?” She pointed at Hargrave. “Hargrave, I don’t have any authority to order you around, but if you could just make sure nothing happens to Sedric or the others while I’m gone, I’d be grateful.”

The blue and red-haired man nodded. “I planned on doing that even if you hadn’t asked.”

“Hey, am I really that weak in all of your eyes?” Sedric complained. He scowled when they all gave him sceptical looks. “Oi!”

Lucy ignored his question and walked towards the lift. “I’ll be back before dinner. Sedric, ensure that you brief Vincent on what happened when he asks where I’ve gone. Marellen, Efratel, Garthe and Larena will be back soon, so tell them they’re not to leave the Commission again until I get back.”

“Who are you to order us around?” Scytale argued.

“The person who pays for every aspect of each of your living expenses,” she retorted flatly. She glanced at her watch. “I’ll get going. I’ve wasted enough time as is.”

The others watched her take the lift and traded looks. The silence was broken soon after by Scytale gaining an evil grin. “So… I know of a certain spirit who’s just landed himself in a lot of trouble with this intruder business. Anyone up to interrogating him with me?”

…

In a flourishing peaceful garden, a man with dark wavy hair was humming as he clipped a bush with gardening shears. He stepped back and placed his hands on his hips as he observed his handiwork with satisfaction.

The vague form of a shadowy humanoid materialised behind him and a monotone, baritone voice spoke out, “My lord.”

Lucius didn’t immediately reply as he studied his sculpted bush, and then he turned to his subordinate. “Eidolon, what is your opinion of the artistic elements of this sculpture?”

No facial features could be seen on the misty figure’s head, but the slow turn of the head to face the bush, and then face Lucius again accurately portrayed the owner’s literal blank-faced reaction. “…what?”

Lucius held his chin as if he were pondering over a complex puzzle that had fooled sages throughout all of time. “Is the horn too pointy for a cerapter? Mortal books portray horned Pegasi as elegant, noble creatures in contrast to the fierce beasts of war the horse beast ruling race truly is, but I don’t want to ruin any of my children’s dreams. Should I make it less sharp in appearance?”

The figure remained silent. There were only three possibilities when it came to a question like this – it was a test, he was being messed with, or Lucius was sincerely asking a question to get another point of view.

Because two impossibly ancient creatures materialised from the energy of death didn’t have much affinity with living plants shaped into fantasy creatures for the joy of small mortal children.

“…I think if you removed the fanged teeth it may appeal to the children more, my lord,” Eidolon hesitantly suggested.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Hmm…” Lucius considered it deeply. “Perhaps. Even if it is anatomically correct, it may be too scary for them.” He blinked and turned to look at his subordinate with what looked like innocent curiosity on his face. “Eidolon, do you find this scary? Is that why you suggested I remove the fangs?”

“…no, my lord.”

“It’s alright. I understand.” Lucius patted Eidolon’s shoulder in comfort. “Pointy teeth can be scary for even a being of death such as yourself. Even when you’re capable of destroying this plane with just a mere thought, we all have something we’re ‘deathly’ afraid of. Like spiders. Or snakes.”

“…”

It was now clear that Lucius was just messing with him, but Eidolon couldn’t say anything to the ruler of his realm.

Lucius turned back to his bush sculpture and removed his gardening gloves with a calm smile on his face. “So, what did you come here for, my chief advisor?”

“The girl who negotiated a deal with us has come again. But I’m sure you’re aware of that.”

Lucius’s movements slowed, then hastened again. “Yes. I would say you can let her in, but…” He looked over his shoulder. “It seems my guest has let herself in already.”

Eidolon’s form disappeared as Lucille turned a corner of the rows of hedge bushes and then stopped when she saw Lucius. She approached him and then paused when she saw his life-sized topiary work.

“Do you like it? It’s a cerapter,” he asked pleasantly. “It’s taken the better part of the hour to complete this.”

Lucy stared at it for a moment longer. “That’s a helhest,” she stated.

Lucius looked between her and the bush. “Really?”

She pointed at the stub at the front, revealing a missing leg. “It’s three-legged and I can see through its ribs. This is an equine undead.”

Lucius tilted his head. “But it has wings and a horn.”

“The wings are skeletal and the horn is jagged and crooked, looking more like a deformity than any natural occurrence,” she told him with mild exasperation.

“Harsh. But accurate.” The bush crumbled into ashy dust which flew away in the breeze. Lucius dusted his palms and smiled. “I was always going to kill it. That species of magical plant is poisonous, and I can’t risk something like that being in the garden my children play in.”

“I see.” Lucy eyed the pile of ash and then slightly shook her head. “I’ll take it that I’m not interrupting anything important then?”

“Well, it was my scheduled day for gardening. I only get a chance to tend to my garden once a fortnight. But…” Lucius glanced behind him at what looked like nothing. He grabbed the gardening shears off the top of a flat hedge bush. “Eidolon.”

Lucy blinked when the shadowy figure appeared.

“…my lord.”

“Eidolon, use this chance to gain a hobby,” Lucius remarked cheerfully. He placed the gardening shears in his subordinate’s vague hands and stepped back. “I have one final bush that needs sculpting, but it seems I’ll be busy. I’m sure my favourite subordinate will meet his master’s expectations and surprise me with his topiary skills when I return.”

Lucius turned around and walked off with Lucy following after him, glancing back at the shadowy figure. The figure lifted the shears and snipped them, watching how they worked.

“When you said his name is Eidolon…” Lucille began slowly.

“Yes, he’s Eidolon, my chief advisor and ruling Regent of the Tartarus Realm,” Lucius replied brightly. “He’s always been obedient, but seems to make it his life’s work to be incapable of developing a sense of humour.”

Lucy glanced around her. There were signs of other bushes having been sculpted into mythical creatures, all of them expertly made. It seemed only that the so-called ‘cerapter’ was the exception. “So… gardening.”

“I thought I might try my hand at something I hadn’t done in a while,” Lucius commented offhandedly. “Perhaps I’ll attempt painting tomorrow.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “But while you know me as the master of the Tower’s most powerful information agency, I must say that not even I expected your visit today.”

“Really? Even though you were the one to warn me about the Heavenly Realm’s involvement in the first place?” she asked doubtfully.

He raised a finger. “Ah, then I must say that I did expect your visit. Just not necessarily today. Those ignorant ones have been trying all sorts of moves for a while, so it was going to happen eventually.”

Lucius led her inside to his quarters and they both sat down on the armchairs of his living room. He picked up a book on the table next to him and set about reading it.

Lucille, aware of the high mental faculties of a Paragon Anomaly and how they could do a million things while having a conversation, wasn’t offended. She was the one who arrived unannounced. Instead, she opened her dimensional bag and took out her brass jug and a mug to pour herself some coffee. Lucius didn’t comment on it.

“Hm. Why do mortal male authors consistently write such ill-conceived female characters?” he suddenly asked, making Lucy cough and swallow her drink before giving him an odd look. Lucius turned the book to show her the cover, revealing it to be some poor-quality fiction novel – the type where the main character ends up being surrounded by a preposterous quantity of wives, partners and concubines. “In all my time, I have never seen a woman such as these who has been born into prosperity willing to elope with an unfaithful, lower-class man.”

Lucius tilted his head. “Not to say that they don’t exist, but surely it’s an impossibility for so many of them to be born in one world that all happened to meet this one male mortal.”

“The simple answer would be that it’s wish fulfilment for the author,” Lucy answered with mild bemusement.

“Then how come these are being sold in bookstores if it was purely the author’s fantasy?”

Lucy rubbed her temples. “Because the author knows others have the same impossible daydreams and they will read his story.”

Lucius propped his chin up. “Then that would mean he has intelligence high enough to use his talents, and by that estimation, he would know how to write intelligent female characters.”

“But then his stories wouldn’t appeal to those who have those daydreams,” Lucy refuted. “Is there a particular reason why you’re asking me this? I’m sure it’s something simple enough for you to understand.”

Lucius smiled. “You see, I can draw quite a few parallels between this novel and your own situation.”

Lucy stared at him as he continued, “The main character of this novel, while martially talented, also shows greed in substantial amounts and continually travelled to ‘collect’ women of varying fame and aesthetics. This is very common among young masters of the Heavenly Realm.”

Her eyes widened when he pointed at her. “Imagine then, that a powerful young master of a Heavenly Sect heard rumours of an attractive young lady who has gained significant financial power in the Eternal Empire. A marriage between the Aurelian Commission and their Sect would certainly bring fortune and-”

“You have to be joking!” she interrupted, staring at him with horror. “Please tell me you’re not being serious, because if that is actually the reason why the Heavenly Realm is trying to involve itself with me then I…” Her words trailed off and she narrowed her eyes at him.

Lucius calmly gazed back. Then he smirked. “I’m not serious.”

She buried her head in her hands and tried very hard to focus on what the consequences of punching the Death Monarch in his smug face would be.

He chuckled and crossed one leg over the other, looking relaxed. “Suffice to say that none have yet to see you as a potential partner in an arranged marriage. That’s not to say that you don’t have an issue on your hands,” he continued seriously. “From what I’ve seen and heard, no concrete plans regarding you have been made. But I highly recommend you keep an eye on the relationship between the Archduke and the Heavenly Sects.”

She paused and looked up. “The… Archduke? I’ve never heard of there being an issue between them, though… the Emperor has been very pleased with how smoothly the peace treaties have been implemented.”

“Archduke and not Aethereal Duchy,” he stated, shaking his head. “Or should I say, Stolas Septamere Eterial. And I doubt that if you asked him, you’d get an answer – because he wouldn’t know this.”

Lucille frowned and rubbed her temples. Lucius eyed her and shrugged. “As I said, no concrete plans have been made. This means the people around you are in no immediate danger. You’ll become a scapegoat if you’re not careful, however.”

“Hm…” Lucy sighed. “Thank you for your help. You didn’t need to answer me when I turned up uninvited either.”

“Nonsense.” He waved her off. “Turn up whenever you wish. I enjoy your visits and our conversations.” Lucius paused and narrowed his eyes at her. “As a Realm Ruler, I order you to continue to visit me. You’re not allowed to cut off all contact if the Malediction Society is dealt with.”

She huffed a short laugh and crossed her arms. “Okay. I’ll keep visiting.”

He gave her a satisfied nod and stood up from his chair. “Right. Now, I wish to see how well my chief advisor has done sculpting my last hedge bush, so if you wish to stay longer to see the results, you may.”

“No, I won’t take up your time any longer.” She gave him a bow. “Thank you once again.”

“It is nothing,” Lucius said with a smile.

And for him, it probably was. Lucius walked her to the front door and they said their goodbyes. But just as Lucille reached the front gate, Lucius, who was standing on the top step in front of the front doors, said something.

“Lucille, how familiar are you with the Heavenly-Demonic War before the Heavenly Realm’s assimilation?”

Lucy glanced back and stared. Her expression began to twitch. “Unfortunately, more familiar than I want to be right now,” she stated stiffly.

Lucius chuckled. “You have my sympathy.”

She slowly nodded and shut the gate. Lucius went back inside, and Lucy stayed staring at the gate in silence.

Then she scowled and kicked the gate. Her foot was rebounded with immense force and she stumbled back and landed on the ground as an automatic protective dome over the estate formed. The burst of faint laughter she heard coming from inside the manor revealed that Lucius had seen her epic failure.

This blighted demon is causing me trouble even when it doesn’t involve me.

What am I supposed to think when he mentions ‘Archduke’ and Heavenly-Demonic War in the same conversation?!?

…

Instead of returning straight away to the Commission, she went to a café to cool her head for a bit. When she finally returned, she went straight to her room and lay down on her bed, staring at the roof.

He said the Archduke doesn’t know about… whatever the issue is yet and actual conflict hasn’t occurred, so it’s probably a situation of the Heavenly Realm having minor clues but not understanding anything yet.

It’s possible it may only be one Sect that’s the issue too. I can’t imagine Leng Xiuying would’ve given away information about me to the other Sect Leaders too easily.

She threw an arm over her face and sighed.

And Lucius helped me once again, even if it wasn’t as much as last time. I don’t like feeling indebted.

But it was quite possible that she’d never be able to rid herself of her debt to him for her entire life.

……………….

Thick, bitter mist. Gnarled burnt trees whipped at her cloak and robes as she flew past. She should’ve chosen a better place to hide, but it wasn’t worth regretting. The Hero had found her too fast for her to make use of her location anyway.

She landed behind the ruins of an ancient necropolis palace of some kind and pulled her black cloak further over her disguised hair – illusion mana that even the Hero couldn’t see past had giving her short auburn hair and emerald green eyes.

After she had faked her death on an expedition, she had never expected the Hero to be so relentless in finding her. She never believed he would truly think she had managed to die there, but one small misstep, and now he thought her current identity had clues to where ‘Adrianna Riftmire’ had gone.

But it was now far more dangerous for her to be someone else other than Adrianna Riftmire right now.

Her blood ran cold when a beam of light blasted through the necropolis’s rubble, generating a massive sinkhole that dragged everything within it, including her. Her mana was split between maintaining the illusion of her current appearance that had been damaged by the attack as well as pushing out the continuously damaging effects of the death mana in the environment, so she couldn’t fly right then.

She gripped onto the edge of the sinkhole’s cliff and began to haul herself up. Then a gleaming blade planted itself in the ground only inches away from her fingertips.

The Hero crouched and gave her a mocking smirk. “It seems I’ve caught you, little thief.”

She glared at him. “I’m no thief.”

“Yes, you are. You are if I say you are.” The Hero narrowed his piercing, cold gold eyes at her. “But that may change if I hear the words I need to from you.” He gripped her throat and pulled her up. “Where is Adrianna Riftmire?” he hissed.

“I don’t know who that is,” she retorted. She spat on him.

The Hero hoisted her up and threw her against the ground. He kneeled down on her back, the blade of his sword close enough to her neck that she could feel its coolness.

“That was the wrong answer,” he stated coldly. “I’ll only give you one more chance, otherwise I’ll throw you into this pit and you’ll never be seen again.” He leaned close and his voice gained a menacing, cruel tone. “And I won’t stop there. Rumours say you’re working to feed your family. Well, if word gets out of your ‘betrayal’… your family will have more worries to deal with over what food they can eat that night.”

She didn’t have a family, but that didn’t make his words any less sickening. The Hero tightened his grip on her neck. “So, what will you say?”

She stayed silent for a moment, then smiled widely. “Go to hell.”

He removed his hand from her neck with indifference. “So be it.” Instead of kicking her into the sinkhole like she expected, he plunged his blade into her. She coughed up blood as she stared at him.

The Hero smirked. “Just for that extra bit of pain on your way down to the bowels of death. This is what you get for lying to me.”

Then he kicked her off. Or… tried to.

Something else stopped her from rolling off the cliff. Wincing through the pain, she noticed the outline of a man cloaked in pitch-black robes from his shoulders down. The grey pallor of his skin and the bitter black mist coiling around him made it clear that he was a member of the strongest race of Tartarus. A wraith.

The Hero scowled. “Who are you?”

The robed figure didn’t answer and instead looked down. He glanced between the Hero and her.

“So… you’re the Distorter in the Tower,” the wraith said.

The Hero raised his sword and pointed it at the wraith. “Distorter? What… no, who are you? Why is a wraith, a member of the death race getting involved in mortal business?”

“Mortal business?” The wraith blinked and looked down at her, then chuckled. “This goes far beyond pure mortal business, boy.”

An immense force shoved the Hero back. The unidentified wraith flew above where the Hero was lying, breathing heavily as he glared at the wraith.

“As a price for your arrogance, I’ll be taking one of your lives,” the wraith stated cheerfully. “Don’t hate me too much, you have more than you ever should’ve had.”

The wraith only pointed one finger at the Hero, and then a jet-black spear shot into the Hero’s chest. He instantly burst into black mist, and his proud armour and weapons turned to mere particles.

With a snap of his fingers, she found herself in a new place, on a cold pale marble floor and in an open-roofed temple of sorts with stormy skies in shades of only white, black and grey. Clutching at her open, bleeding wound, she rolled onto her knees and looked up to see the wraith sitting on a throne of solid black metal above a staircase formed of ivory. Bronze pillars topped with black flames lined both sides of the throne room hallway.

“Now,” the wraith began calmly, his smile pleasant but his dark eyes unnervingly deep. “I will offer you one chance to explain why Adrianna Riftmire, who everyone thought was dead, entered my realm and led the Hero of Light to one of the bottommost layers of Tartarus. If you answer well, I’ll reward you with the opportunity to ask me a question of my own.”

She answered. After contemplating her answer, he nodded. “I see. I understand. I’ll grant you the opportunity to ask a question of your own.”

“I… okay.” She grimaced as she released her illusion, and placed a hand on her injured chest as she looked up at the oldest being in the Tower.

“Death Monarch Azaexabelath, do you have any idea… what I am?”