Chapter 86: Infiltrating The Swampy Base 2!

""Lino, Miko, Naze—you three stay here. Guard the horses. If anything breathes too close, and smells even slightly off…"

Josh paused, his voice dipping into something cold.

"…kill first. Ask questions later... when their limbs stop twitching."

The three bowed without hesitation. Naze's blind eyes didn't waver. Miko was already checking the balance of his blades, and Lino simply nodded, his eyes sharp like an unsheathed sword.

Josh turned to the others, drawing them closer beneath the curling shadows of a crumbling archway. Ruma district lay just ahead—a swamp-twisted base teeming with twisted mages and a rotting hierarchy built atop kidnapped souls.

"The rest of us, we split into twos. Blend into the procession. Each of those masked mages is carrying an unconscious child. Kill one. Quietly. Take the child. Take the mask. And most importantly…"

He looked each of them dead in the eyes.

"…become the mage."

A breathless hush. Even the swamp around them seemed to pause.

Josh continued,

"They won't notice the difference if you walk like you belong. If you think like you belong. But if your hands tremble, if your steps betray you… they'll burn you alive before your body hits the ground."

He began to walk away, but turned once more.

"I'll go first. The next time we meet would be when we are inside. When it is time to meet, I will give you a signal. When the signal comes, you follow it to meet up with me within the base."

Conrad stepped forward, his brow furrowed.

"And what's the signal, my Lord?"

Josh's lips curled into a smile that had too much shadow in it to be warm.

"A tower of burning smoke… and the screams of dying men."

His generals flinched, not because they doubted him, but because they knew he meant it.

With no further word, Josh turned and vanished into the foliage—his cloak whispering behind him like a ghost eager for blood.

"Alright, good luck, and don't do anything foolish to reveal yourself, remain hidden at all times...and cover for each other if the need arises." Josh spoke as he moved, and without even so much as a glance back, he rushed off and meandered his way to join a procession that was entering the swampy Ruma district.

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Each masked mages held a child in their hand as they moved to enter the district, passing through a supervising mage that stands at the entrance to the base.

The procession was a surreal nightmare—twenty cloaked figures in threadbare robes, each bearing an unconscious child as they trudged through blackened mud and twisted vines. And more would join them from behind, from time to time.

Their masks were crude—stitched from leather, animal skin, and bone—but they hid all humanity. Eyes were hollow slits, mouths jagged with sewn fabric.

Josh tracked them from the shadows, his breathing silent, movements liquid.

Then, like wind becoming blade, he struck.

The last mage never even turned. Josh's palm smashed into his throat, silencing him instantly. In one motion, he caught the child before it hit the ground, slipped the mask off the dying mage's face, and placed it over his own. He could feel the dried blood still on the inner lining. A foul stench clung to it like regret.

The mage gurgled.

Josh slit his throat.

Not out of mercy—but necessity.

Josh quickly acted to avoid suspicions. He carried the dead body off before anyone could notice, he then took some of the Sands of Aphrota from the kingly system interphase. Using the sands of Aphrota, he reduced the body to nothing but clothes and empty skin.

The mage's body crumbled into sand and skin—clothes left limp like a deflated scarecrow. Josh shoved the remains beneath a thicket of creeping weedvine, pulled off the corpse's robe and tore off the part containing the number. His Kingly System had already replicated the fabric's details—he only needed the identifier: the initiation number.

He tore the hem.

There it was. A blood-marked patch: AR-1345. He sewed it onto his copied robe with lightning speed.

All the while, the line moved.

Josh slipped in seamlessly.

David Stormborn has still not showed himself, but Josh Aratat has gotten around to learning a little on how to operate his interphase without the avatar who seemed to have suddenly disappeared.

He was also able to give his men their own clothes to blend in. The only thing he didn't get them was the mask. The mask the evil mages wore were too low level, and crudely done that Josh felt the standard was just too low for the interphase, so the plan was to kill anyone of the evil mages, one by one and take their masks.

The mage in front turned slightly, sensing motion—but froze when he met Josh's unnervingly calm stare. Josh held the child like it was his birthright. His gait was practiced. His breathing steady. His aura, though muted, was wrong—too composed. Too royal.

The mage said nothing and turned away.

He let go of any suspicious thoughts that arose in his mind —only for now...

Behind him, his generals began their own replacements. Quiet deaths. Quick skin swaps. Dead men stripped and erased with surgical efficiency. Josh's training paid off—none of them fumbled. All had the number-bearing hem. All moved like they belonged.

The gates to the inner district loomed.

At the edges was a barrier. It was no mere barrier—it was alive. Veins of glowing fungus pulsated along the stones. A single masked mage stood in front of it, arms crossed, robe sagging, reeking of sweat and dried herbs.

As they matched towards the gate, the mage at the gate would ask for a number, and they will give it, before he allowed them to enter.

Luckily, Josh has discovered this early and he was able to decipher what the number stands for. This was a number that each mage was given on their initiation day. This was to prevent against infiltration from others, like Josh and his men were doing.

Unfortunately for the mages, Josh had the kingly system interphase, which helped him a lot, and with the powerful skill, the kingly awareness, he was able to pick out what the numbers meant.

The number was written on the hem of the clothes of the mages. That is why they had to kill the mages that they were representing, tear that portion of the robe containing the number and fix it with their fresh robe.

This was done by Josh and his generals.

When it got to Josh's turn at the gate, the gatekeeper/ mage, looked Josh in the mask and surveilled him for a few seconds. This made the procession to pause its usual speed.

Although Josh was masked he seems different. There was a kind of scary aura that radiates around him. He had this aura that made those who come close enough to him, to desire to bow or be respectful, like standing before a king.

He eyed Josh as he stepped forward. The line slowed.

The gatekeeper's gaze was sharp, unblinking. He looked straight at Josh's mask again… and paused.

The procession froze this time.

A complete stop.

The air went thick.

There was something wrong about this one. He radiated something different. His posture was too straight. His breathing too steady. And the aura—gods—it pulled at something primal in the gatekeeper's chest. Like the need to kneel.

The gatekeeper stepped closer.

His hand twitched, as if he would lift the veil. But Xerm's command was iron:

"Never unveil a mask. Not unless they betray the Order."

Still… this one felt wrong.

Fine.... Let's see...

The gatekeeper spoke,

"Your number?"

Josh's voice was flat. Cold. Devoid of fear.

"AR-1345."

The number slid through the air like a blade.

A pause.

Then the gatekeeper stepped aside.

"Proceed."

Josh passed through without another word.