The five men lay shackled by stone, writhing against their restraints, but there was no escape. Their curses and groans filled the silence, but they faltered whenever Nessa got too close to them, as she checked their restraints.

Nessa eyed her runic weapon. Hers were special, even among the other runic weapons her friends forged for themselves—though the rest were stronger than hers. They had to be, considering her size and the weapon's size. She was shorter and physically weaker, yet her weapon complimented her skills greatly, and her specialization as a Conjuration Sorcerer only improved its effectiveness.

The runic weapon possessed a variety of spells capable of manipulating elements with a mere brush of a finger. It allowed for seamless transitions between the four common elements, as long as there was sufficient mana available. However, there was a caveat. The wielder had to be a sorcerer in order to utilize the runic weapon, and each use was not limitless.

When using a low-ranked spell, she could use it three times. For medium-ranked spells, she had two uses, and for high-ranked spells, only one use, until she needed to replenish that specific element. Although it sounded simple, crafting such a weapon was a monumental undertaking. It became even more challenging when considering the nature of runic weapons and the difficulty of managing mana and magical implements.

In her contemplation, Nessa walked to the nearest thug, a lanky man with bandages wrapped around the lower half of his face. Her boot landed firmly against his chest, silencing his string of curses. He glared at her through hateful eyes, spitting a tooth onto the floor.

“You think this’ll scare us? Sic’ll make you wish you’d never been born—”

His words were cut off as Nessa knelt, her blade resting lightly against his throat. The pressure wasn’t enough to draw blood, but it was close enough to make him freeze.

“Sic isn’t here to protect you,” she said, her tone devoid of its usual warmth. “And as for what I’ll make you wish—well, that depends on how useful you’re about to be."

"Only Yutar himself can make me talk," he snarled. Fuck you, girl—"

Nessa drove her boot into his mouth, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "How gross. That is no way to treat a young lady such as myself. See, this is the problem with your types. I bet you all lack friends and lovers because of that horrid personality of yours."

The big one scoffed. "What is this bitch rambling about? When I get out, I'll crush your head into red paste!"

"Oh, how scary!" Nessa snickered, digging her foot deeper. "You five seem to be in the mood to shout insults. However, I will need you four to quiet down while I ask some questions."

She activated the water rune, yet this time willed for a sheet of ice to form over their mouths and ears. The room fell into muffled silence as the icy spell took effect, sealing the mouths of four with thin, glistening sheets of frost. Their muffled protests and wide-eyed stares were met with a satisfied smirk from Nessa.

“There we go,” she said cheerfully, clapping her hands together. “Now it’s just us, and I can enjoy a moment of peace while you all think about your life choices.”

The lanky man squirmed beneath her foot, his eyes blazing with rage. His muffled attempts to shout insults only earned a chuckle from Nessa as she crouched down, resting her elbow casually on her knee.

“See, here’s the thing,” she began conversationally, tilting her head as she spoke. “I could drag this out. I could play a little game where I figure out which one of you breaks first. But I don’t have time for that, and I doubt you do either. Tell me the location of Sic and I'll be out of your hair."

The man squinted. "I recognize you... You're a royal knight! Did you think hiding your face underneath that hood will hide your identity, scum of Sthito—"

A roar erupted from his mouth as Nessa dug her blade into his shoulder. His face went pale, and his throat tightened as a strangled cry replaced his roar. Blood seeped through the thin fabric of his shirt, darkening the already grimy material. Nessa’s blade didn’t cut deep—it was more a warning than a fatal strike—but the pain was enough to drain the color from the man’s face and break the defiance in his eyes.

“That was rude,” Nessa said, her voice light, as though she hadn’t just stabbed someone. She tilted her head, studying him with a faint smile. "I'm short on time, so I won't ask again. Once you answer my question, I'll ask your buddies, and your answers better be the same."

Her threat proved effective; the man's confident demeanor crumbled, revealing his underlying fear. His chest heaved as he struggled to breathe through the pain, his wide eyes darting between Nessa and her blade, still hovering dangerously close to his flesh.

“Alright, alright... I’ll talk. Just... get that thing away from me!”

Nessa pulled the blade back ever so slightly, her expression softening into something that almost resembled encouragement. “Good. See? Cooperation makes this so much easier.”

The man swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tried to steady himself. “Sic took over Horoh's old base of operations near Naula's back gate: the Black Grit. You'll find him on the top floor!"

The Black Grit? That's a private tavern that only those under Horoh and Sic could frequent. I didn't think their base of operations would be there as it's not necessarily the best place for a hideout. Still, I should interrogate the others, to be sure.

Nessa filed the information away, her expression betraying none of her thoughts. She rose from her crouch, resting her blade lightly against her shoulder. The man sagged with relief, though his trembling hands betrayed his lingering fear.

“The Black Grit, huh?” she murmured. “Interesting choice. I’ll give you points for creativity.”

The man flinched, unsure whether she was mocking him or contemplating her next move. Nessa gave him a quick pat on the cheek, her smile returning in full force. “Don’t get too comfortable. If you’re lying, I’ll be back, and I’ll be far less polite.”

Nessa turned her attention to another and walked over to him. She drove her boot into his left ear, shattering the ice, and used her pommel to smash the ice over his mouth. Just for good measure, she drove the tip of her weapon straight into his knee, wanting to quell any disobedient thoughts swirling in that brain of his.

"I won't ask twice: Where is Sic—"

"The Black Grit!" he said hurriedly.

Satisfied with the answer, Nessa pulling it free with a sharp motion. Pain truly was an excellent motivator to keep one honest. No one favored extreme pain, as they are instinctively inclined to avoid it. They would do almost anything to prevent the path that they are not used to, so a little persuasion and intimidation can be all it takes. Of course, there were some exceptions, but that didn't matter here in the slightest.

Other than that, it seemed like the Black Grit was where Sic was currently at. There were no discrepancies in their answers, and they answered rather quickly. She didn't get the feeling they were lying. Their eyes told her it was the truth, or what they truly believed in those tiny brains of theirs. If it so happened to be that their answers were false, then she'd look elsewhere.

"We told you what you wanted!" the lanky man said. "It's only right you let us free!"

Nessa looked over her shoulder. "Let you free? I can do that with no problem. It's the least I can do, after all."

Hope flashed across the faces of those she interrogated. It was amusing to see a bunch of grown men who looked like on the verge of pissing their pants look at her with those hopeful, desperate eyes. It was a look she had seen so often that it seemed mundane to her. They really were just pathetic animals, frantic for any scrap of kindness, even after all their threats and actions.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

Oh, she would certainly allow them to go free, just not the way they were expecting.

***

Nessa watched Jaran approach an alley hesitantly. He looked back, fiddling with his fingers. She gave him a bright smile and waved, which seemed to soothe his nervous energy as he waved back before slipping into the shadowed alley.

"Is it okay for him to be moving on his own so soon?" Lithero asked from her shoulder.

"Don't underestimate the children of Naula, Lithy," Nessa replied. "Jaran knows how to keep his head down and stay out of trouble. Tonight was just one of those unlucky nights."

“Still feels risky. He’s shorter than you, master, and an unblessed."

“He's tougher than he looks,” Nessa countered. “Naula doesn’t give you much choice in the matter. He’ll be fine.”

The fairy gave a reluctant nod, though his expression remained skeptical. “If you say so.”

Nessa watched the boy’s retreating figure until he disappeared into the maze of alleys, her cheerful facade slipping for a moment. A pang of guilt flickered in her chest, but she pushed it aside. She would've loved leading him to safety, but there were more important matters to attend to. For now, all she could do was hope the kid would stay far away from criminals.

Turning away, she adjusted the hood of her cloak, pulling it lower over her face. The night was far from over, and there were far more dangerous players on the board than those five men she just fought.

In the corner of her eye, a blob from the residence's front entrance moved. A creature with no visible eyes and an inklike body that blended in with the darkness slithered toward her. To most, it would seem like tar in living form, and it would probably leave the same mark if one were to touch it. That would be an ill-advised move given the properties the creature held. That didn't matter to Nessa anyway, so she did as she pleased.

Nessa kneeled and reached over to the creature, stroking it lovingly. "That's a good black slime. There are no traces left, I assume?"

The slime's body jerked in what could only be interpreted as a nod, its gelatinous form rippling slightly under Nessa’s touch. A soft, wet sound escaped it as it emitted a low gurgle—a sign of its contentment, or perhaps its acknowledgment of her question. She let her fingers trail over the creature’s surface one last time before straightening. “I knew I could count on you.”

Lithero watched from her shoulder, his tiny arms crossed as he eyed the slime warily. “I’ll never understand how you’re so casual around those things,” he muttered. “They’re creepy.”

Nessa smirked, brushing her hands off on her cloak. “Creepy? Lithy, this little guy just cleaned up an entire scene for us. No blood, no bodies, no evidence. That’s not creepy—that’s efficient.”

The slime gave another gurgle, as if in agreement. It slithered back a few inches, its body flattening against the cobblestones until it seemed to melt into the shadows, becoming indistinguishable from the rest of the alley as it returned to her Sorcerer Plane.

Nessa turned toward the direction of the Black Grit. The streets were quieter now, the late hour thinning the usual crowds to a trickle of weary travelers and those with questionable intentions. The place wasn’t far, and the sooner she got there, the better.

"Sal, you know what to do," Nessa said, nodding toward a roof.

Salph understood immediately as Nessa leaped up. With the help of the air element, she was propelled upward, a soft gust of wind swirling around her boots. The cool night air brushed against her face, stinging her eyes slightly. She landed on the rooftop with a soft thud and a slight sway, but she remained balanced and still. After regaining her herself, Nessa hopped from one rooftop to another.

One of the many great joys of being a Conjuration Sorcerer were the spirits she befriended. They willingly give her aid whenever she calls upon them, offering to use their powers for whatever task Nessa asks of them. Thanks to them, Nessa rewards them with whatever they desire, within reason. Her spirits weren’t mere tools or slaves to abuse—they were allies, companions, and sometimes even confidants in whatever troubled her. Every night, she was thankful to Sthito that she was blessed to be a Conjuration Sorcerer.

After about ten minutes of roof-top hopping and resisting the biting wind, the Black Grit's meager appearance revealed itself. It was a simple tavern—the kind that served the best drinks Naula could offer—which meant it was usually packed at all hours of the day.

Lanterns were hung along the building's weathered facade, their warm glow casting uneven shadows across the cobblestones below. The faint hum of voices and occasional bursts of laughter seeped through the cracks in the tavern’s shuttered windows, mixing with the muffled clinking of mugs and the soft strains of a woman's voice.

Nessa eyed the entrance: four men patrolled the streets while two brutes manned the doors. Given Horoh's usual single guard, the scene was quite strange. Maybe Sic replaced the guards with bigger ones and increased the manpower to intimidate any would-be troublemakers. None of them possessed any mana hearts, let alone any mana.

Nessa shifted her gaze upward, her eyes tracing the building's tall exterior. At the top floor were two windows of stained glass. Beyond there, Sic should be there, plotting whatever nefarious scheme he was working on. To think it had been three months since he had taken over, right under her nose...

"Are you two ready?" Nessa asked the two spirits.

"Always," Lithero said, cracking his fingers.

Salph simply nodded, already conjuring forth a few whirlwinds underneath Nessa's feet. The air spirit had always been smart, knowing ahead of time Nessa's plans and acting with aplomb. Salph was much more suited for a mission like this, especially since she had the ability to throw anything into the air—whether it was a person, beast, or a table.

When it was go time, Nessa leaped off the roof. Salph waved her hands around, and in no time, Nessa's body became as light as a feather. Her body flew across the night air, straight as an arrow. The Black Grit grew larger while the thugs underneath took no notice of the flying sorcerer. The stained glass was just a mere inch from Nessa, so Salph stopped their flight and glided them to the roof that possessed the shape of a hat.

Lithero mimicked opening a stubborn door with a dramatic flourish of his arms. A hole, the same size as Nessa, opened in the roof; she jumped in as Lithero sealed it shut. Her heart pounded with each spell the spirits used, and she could sense her mana heart's reserves rapidly draining.

The instant she dropped, she saw a brightly lit room, half the size of a great hall, with a smooth table and chairs. In the background were all sorts of plants and gadgets, along with a large map of Naula hanging on the wall. Arched doors lined the opposite wall, leading to other parts of the tavern.

Nessa landed on the table with a loud thud, sweeping her gaze around. Seven people were around her, sitting down at the chairs with cigars hanging from their mouths. A deck of cards lay under her, messy piles of coins and chips scattered across the table. Gray puffs of smoke rose into the air as they stopped their game, wide eyed at the woman in front of them.

One of them, sitting at the head seat, abruptly rose with a cane in hand. He wore a black, fur coat that obscured most of his form, but the steely glint of the blade was clear as day. His eyes were dark, his face stern, his silver hair in a long, thin braid.

"Who—"

Lithero had already made his move. His tiny hands glowed green, and thick stone coiled around their ankles, wrists, and mouths. One of them still had a cigar in their mouths and were forced to swallow it. Their screams were muffled underneath the stone as they writhed from their throats and tongue being burned. Everyone was now immobile, unable and scream out for any assistance.

"Keep an eye on them," Nessa ordered as she strutted across the table. She stopped in front of the man with the cane glaring daggers and crouched. Slowly, she unfurled her hood and beamed.

"You must be Sic," Nessa said, flashing him a wide smile. Sic had a scarlet blush, his face burning with anger and humiliation. He tried to break free, but the stone wouldn't budge. "I'll cut to the chase. I heard you returned to Naula three months ago, this time with grander plans thanks to a certain backer. Correct me if I'm wrong, but this backer wouldn't happen to be Scourge, would it?"

For a moment, Sic's eyes flickered with surprise, but that was enough for Nessa. She knew her hunch and network were true, but to see it in his eyes was an added bonus. So far, everything was going according to His Majesty's plan.

Nessa's lips glistened as she licked them in anticipation. "If you truly cherish your life, then I kindly ask that you respond to each of my inquiries without a trace of hesitation. Should you dare to deceive or contemplate any sort of deceitful action, rest assured that I will not only end your miserable life, but also reduce all of your hard work to ashes. If you perceive my words as mere jest, I encourage you to put me to the test."

One look at his face, and Nessa knew she had him. His eyes were practically bulging out of his sockets, and he shook his head vigorously. What a good boy he was, so easily influenced by her words. It was quite sad, really, considering who sat before her.

It would be quite easy to figure out his plot of spreading his influence with Scourge's aid through him. Maybe she would finally be able to uncover Scourge's true objective and identify who was truly controlling everything. However, it seemed unlikely that she would be able to find all of that out through Sic. Scourge likely took more precautions to protect their secrets.

"Starting today, you work for me now. I am sure our partnership will be beneficial to the both of us."