Chapter 86: The Witch King’s Things?

As soon as Felix laid eyes on the strange parchment, a sharp pain stabbed through his vision—it felt as though his very sanity was being gnawed away.

[Spiritual Judgment: Successful]

The system flashed a prompt. Felix frowned, muttering to himself, Is this cursed? Why do I have to pass a sanity check just to look at a piece of paper?

"What are you staring at?" Carnelian appeared beside him in a breeze of fragrance, her blood-red eyes shifting from his face to the paper in his hand.

"The map," Felix said, squinting. "It must've been important to them."

He handed it over. "Don't stare at it too long. My eyes started hurting just looking at it. There's probably some kind of Arts on it."

Carnelian licked her lips, accepting the map. Her brows drew together as a subtle frown formed, her gaze glowing faintly as she studied it.

"…There are traces of Originium Arts. Looks like the Witch King's remnants were trying to decipher something."

"Wait—this isn't their doing" Felix blinked.

Carnelian gave a dry chuckle and shrugged. "If the remnants of the Witch King were capable of this level of Arts, they wouldn't be hiding like rats. They could move in broad daylight, and not even the Gesatzswächters would be able to stop them."

Felix narrowed his eyes. "Openly… and in broad daylight, huh?"

Before he could finish his thought, footsteps echoed from the entrance.

Voices followed—low, hushed, but clear enough.

"—Someone's been here. Another team, maybe?"

"Didn't those idiots piss off the military police? Or did they actually manage to get away?"

"Fools. Couldn't even find the key before picking a fight at the post station…"

Felix and Carnelian exchanged a quick glance, then slipped into cover near the corner, waiting for the interlopers to approach.

There was one critical problem with the remnants of the Witch King—they were fanatics. If it were anyone else, Felix could have used a pistol to torture some information out of them. But in this case, killing them outright was far more efficient.

"Wait—!"

A voice, hoarse and ancient, rang out—too late.

Felix reacted instantly, raising his pistol and unloading a flurry of shots through the wooden door. Sawdust exploded into the air.

Carnelian charged in with a flickering orb of orange-yellow Arts forming in her palm, her scarlet eyes flaring with killing intent. Her magic blade slashed through the throat of the first Caster. The moment it struck, khaki-colored energy burst outward, detonating in a small blast that swallowed the other two.

Carnelian spat on the ground. "fanatics."

Felix walked over the now-yellowed sand to the corpses, crouching to inspect them. Aside from their staffs, there wasn't anything useful. He had hoped to track them back to their hideout, but with Carnelian at his side, the stealth mission had quickly turned into a direct assault.

With no one left alive to interrogate, Felix tried removing one of the masks—only to find it wouldn't come off.

"What now?"

Carnelian knew that Felix was the backbone of their operation, so she asked directly.

Felix tucked the map into his coat pocket. "We've avenged the last attack, but there may be more of the Witch King's remnants lurking in this city. Their deaths will be discovered soon enough…"

He turned and strode quickly back into the warehouse, resuming his search. Carnelian stood nearby, watching patiently. She wasn't sure what he was looking for, but trusted him enough not to interrupt.

"No..." Felix muttered.

"What are you searching for?" Carnelian asked.

"Other possible hideouts or branches of the Witch King's remnants."

Carnelian scowled. "That's not the kind of thing they'd just write down."

Felix nodded. If there were no other clues here, then only one path remained.

"Carnelian, let's return to the post station. I have a feeling we've missed something." He pulled the map from his coat. "They mentioned the 'key' and the post station. Judging from their conversation, something bigger is in motion."

He pointed to a location on the map. "Their goal is clearly this map. The Witch King's remnants won't give up on deciphering it. They'll send more people to secure it—and others to the post station to search for the key."

Carnelian placed her hands on her hips. "So… you want to wait and see? That's your plan?"

Felix explained clearly, and just as he finished speaking, a prompt from the system appeared.

[Mission Details: You've gathered your thoughts and determined that observing from the shadows is the best course of action. Tracking the Witch King's remnants may yield valuable rewards.]

[Quest Objective: Monitor the movements of the Witch King's remnants.]

[Reward: 11,000 Experience Points]

Carnelian didn't object. Her goal was to travel, after all—and she was still intrigued by the treasure map. Thwarting the Witch King's plans while traveling with Felix sounded both meaningful and entertaining.

Felix folded the treasure map carefully and pressed it against the same spot it had been concealed before. Then, he and Carnelian exited through the back door and made their way to a nearby slum rooftop. They didn't head straight to the post station. Instead, they chose to guard the map—knowing that both the map and the key were essential. It was better to lie in wait.

During their stakeout, they sustained themselves on energy bars Felix had packed. Though those energy bars didn't taste great, Carnelian was used to them and accepted them without complaint—they did the job.

As the pink hues of sunset faded, night descended fully over Terra. Unlike the glittering districts of the rich and noble, the slums were swallowed in darkness, with only a few kerosene lamps flickering weakly in the streets below.

After nightfall, Felix deployed the Patrol to circle above. The drone flew high, its sound inaudible to anyone on the ground.

In the deep of night, thermal imaging from the drone picked up several figures clad in black approaching Grocery Store No. 27. Felix nudged Carnelian awake. She mumbled groggily before opening her glowing scarlet eyes.

She glanced at his arm, noticing he was operating something.

"What's that?"

"A drone. For reconnaissance," Felix replied flatly.

Her eyes lit up. "That looks fun. Can I try it later?"

Felix grunted, "After this is over, you can play with it all you want. For now—quiet."

The slums were rowdy and noisy through the night, but that didn't mean they could afford to raise their voices. Felix narrowed his eyes, watching as several dark figures moved toward the store. The drone soared higher, silently monitoring the scene below from a godlike vantage point.

---

The man behind the mask wore a gloomy expression. He stepped over a corpse, crouched to inspect the wound, and then made his way toward the warehouse.

"Casters… and gunshot wounds. That's the configuration of the military police," he muttered.

"But the military police don't carry firearms, do they?" another man frowned. "Could it be a third force?"

"You're right," the masked leader replied coldly. "Whoever they are, we will not forgive them for defiling our Lord."

The Caster leader entered the warehouse. As he examined the chaos left behind, his mood darkened. Only when his hand touched the ancient map, still hidden in its familiar spot, did he seem to breathe easier.

"What secret are you hiding?" he whispered.

The eyes behind the mask narrowed with a strange fascination as he gazed at the fog-covered map. "Could it be… the lost Güldenesgesatz? Or something even greater…"

After lingering in thought for a moment, he turned to the others. "Destroy the bodies. Then we move to the post station."

Black ink spread slowly across the warehouse floor. The corpses of the fallen began to sink into it, vanishing into the dark void as if they had never existed.

---

During their time in Graufield, these "ambitious ones" had already studied the city's defense patterns and patrol schedules. Taking advantage of the cover of night, they moved swiftly toward the post station.

Though a cordon still surrounded the area, the gendarmerie had long since retreated—no one dared block a post station's operation for too long. Doing so would disrupt the flow of information and goods into a mobile city.

After extinguishing a nearby light with ink, the group arrived at the post station's perimeter, where they rendezvoused with another team—figures in black robes, each face hidden behind a black mask.

"Where's the item?" asked one of the newcomers.

"We found it. And the map?" the other replied.

"In my possession."

The two were silent for a moment before the first one said, "Then let's begin."

The rest of the robed figures stepped aside, forming a respectful circle.

One Man in Black took out the ancient map from inside his cloak. Another retrieved the "key"—an object resembling a musical reed, delicate and narrow in shape.

With care, the man placed the reed upon the surface of the map. Instantly, a faint black mist seeped out, slithering across the ground like liquid shadow, pulling itself toward their feet.

"This… this is the Arts of our Lord!" one of the black-robed men gasped. His hands trembled as he held the map, his voice thick with ecstasy and tears. "Our Lord has not abandoned us. This is proof!"

All around, the robed followers fell to their knees, facing the map. Their reverence was absolute.

"…."

A faint sigh echoed from the map.

"I am silent as the night, and the music resounds in my heart.

I am silent as the morning light, and the notes are the buds of light sprouting in my heart.

I am silent as a tomb, and the sound is a shadow dancing on the wall of my soul.

I am silent, and the sound waves are the solo of my turbulent thoughts."

The man holding the map looked stunned. "Are… are those the words of our Lord?"

Another black-robed follower stood frozen in disbelief, slowly shaking his head, eyes wide with confusion.

No one had ever seen the Witch King in person. Those who had lived during the same era had long since withdrawn into obscurity, too afraid to speak. All that remained were admirers—followers raised on tales of the Witch King, who revered him as their master.

"…Is this truly the Arts of my Lord?" whispered one of the robed men.

As the black fog slowly dispersed, the full image of the map revealed itself. The man in the black robe exhaled deeply. The once obscured map was now clear, its darkness vanishing the moment the reed had touched its surface.

The key—the reed—had fulfilled its purpose. It crumbled into a small pile of black ash.

The marked location was not far from the mobile city of Graufield. With steady travel, they could reach it within just a few days.

As they gathered around the map, their breath collectively eased. But before they could take their next step, the leader abruptly looked up—only to be met with a surge of pitch-black ink, flung toward him with violent force.

"Get out!"

A voice, teasing and sharp, rang through the night.

"Haha~ Good evening, everyone. Let's skip the formalities and get right to it."

Descending in a blaze of wild laughter was a Caprinae woman, cloaked in golden light. Her confident smile was unwavering as the wind tousled her short hair, revealing sun-kissed brown skin. Without even moving, she raised a magical barrier to block the incoming corrosive ink.

"Kill her," the Caster from the Witch King's remnants commanded coldly with a flick of his hand.

The surrounding Casters lifted their staffs, unleashing torrents of black and red ink toward Caprinae.

But she dropped like a meteor. Upon landing, the earth around her erupted—golden and earthen hues forming a dome of jagged stone and dust that trapped the surrounding Casters. Her magic sword gleamed as she raised it with a grin.

"Try not to let me tear you apart too quickly."

Dust and rocks exploded outward from her position. Several Casters, unable to free themselves in time, were buried where they stood.

"Were you the ones who took down No. 27?" the leading black-robed man asked, his voice icy. He had already investigated the previous scene and recognized traces of magic—along with residual dust scattered across the floor.

"Number 27? Oh… you mean those weaklings?"

Caprinae laughed. Though she had already dispatched five of the Witch King's remnants with ease, the number of Casters gathered here tonight was overwhelming. Could she truly take on all of them? Perhaps in a few more years—but for now, she was still only a young woman in her twenties.

The black-robed leader seemed to share that thought.

"Kill her, then retreat."

The Casters began chanting. Black and red light returned to the tips of their staffs.

But something tugged at the edge of the leader's thoughts—something he had overlooked. Then he caught the girl's smile, the sly curve of her lips. A chill ran down his spine.

He opened his mouth to shout a warning.

But in that silent night, another sound rose first.

It was soft, almost gentle—but filled with resonance that shook the soul. Before he could turn toward its source, he realized his body no longer obeyed him. Blood spurted from his mouth, staining the inside of his mask.

The black-robed man at the head collapsed with a heavy thud.

At the same time, the remaining Casters of the Witch King, who had been focused on channeling their spells, also crumpled to the ground. One by one, they fell—hoarse, choking, unable to utter a single word.

From the shadows, Felix stepped forward, tapping the screen on his arm. Silently, the rangers equipped with suppressed submachine guns—stationed strategically around the perimeter—rose into the open. The earth below lay scarred and devastated in their wake.

Felix quickly approached Carnelian's side. Upon seeing blood at the corner of her lips, his brow furrowed deeply.

"You're too impulsive," he said sharply. "You could've chosen to fight a guerrilla battle from the shadows instead of charging in recklessly and getting hurt!"

Carnelian chuckled softly. Though Felix's words were laced with reprimand and frustration, they carried a strange warmth. Was this, perhaps, what it would feel like to have a younger brother? Someone close enough to fight side by side, to exchange barbs without hesitation, yet still care deeply for one another.

"It hurts so much…" she murmured.

"Why do you always have to push yourself so hard? Just stay still. I'll patch you up."

"Okay~"