Heretic Order

At Raven's Nest, the headquarters of Fravikveidimadr, the air always feels cold and sterile, a sharp contrast to the chaos they manage. I stand in the middle of Captain Dales Verneth's workspace, a room that looks more like a museum of dangerous artifacts than an officer's office.

"Welcome back to the tiger's den, Welt," Dales greets, his deep voice echoing off polished stone walls. He does not lift his head from the stack of documents on his desk.

"Yes, Captain. What is it?" I ask. I have no time for small talk. Every visit here is a risk and there is always the potential to get entangled deeper in their web.

"Your company. Doyle Acquisition," he says, finally looking at me. "I have someone who would fit."

"Captain, with all due respect, I don't need anyone. My network is more than enough to handle operations right now," I answer coldly. I will not let them plant another spy inside my organization.

"I believe efficiency can always be improved, Welt," Dales says with an unpleasant thin smile. "I will introduce you to someone you can trust. Maybe you will feel a little overwhelmed at first. Perceval Farnsworth, come here."

From behind a bookshelf, which turns out to be another hidden door, a young man steps out with a gait far too cheerful for this place. He is short, maybe around 170 centimeters, with messy dark hair and blue eyes that radiate an almost impossible naivety. He looks at me with a dumb expression, like a puppy seeing the world for the first time.

"Captain, who is this?" he asks, his voice cheerful.

"Percy, this is the person I told you about. His name is Welt Rothes. You will work with him."

"Captain," I cut in, my tone sharp. "I do not need physical strength. I need intelligence. Please understand that."

"This kid doesn't use his body," Dales replies patiently. "He is one of the best financial managers we have ever recruited. Top of his class at the Royal Institute of Finance at the age of just twenty. You can trust your books to him."

I stare at Perceval 'Percy' Farnsworth. Behind that foolish grin, I can see a flicker of quick intelligence. This is no puppy, maybe this is a fox disguised as a puppy. Or maybe another test from Dales. He wants to see how I handle an eccentric genius.

"Not now, Captain," I say, refusing firmly. "I already have people I trust. Sorry."

I turn around, intending to leave. I will not let them dictate who enters my inner circle.

"Welt, wait," Dales calls, his voice now losing its patience. "I did not summon you here to talk about your staff."

"Then for what, Captain? I do not have time for trivial things."

The atmosphere in the room becomes heavy. "I want to inform you that 'The Ghoul Affection,' an Archetype 1 artifact belonging to the city of Clockthon, has been stolen."

I stop. Archetype 1. A power level equivalent to a 'god.' An artifact at that level should be untouchable, let alone stolen.

And, in this world, every Channel is divided into ten Archetype Orders that define how deeply an individual internalizes and stabilizes the Channel's core traits. Order 10 marks an Awakened, someone who has just activated the basic aspects of the Channel, with minimal control and resilience. Order 9, the Adherent, gains consistent use of minor abilities. Order 8, the Proficient, can apply Channel traits in limited practical ways. Order 7, the Master, shows clear proficiency and can handle multiple opponents. Order 6, the Grandmaster, learns to strengthen and merge aspects of the Channel through rituals or pacts.

Order 5, the Extrapower, develops new applications or structures for expanding the Channel's influence. Order 4, the Great Being, breaks through internal or external limits, extending the Channel's reach. Order 3, the Paragon, becomes a living model of the Channel, shaping how others connect to it. Order 2, the Emperor, acts as a stabilizing force capable of preventing the Channel from collapsing. Finally, Order 1, the Origin, is a unique existence that fully embodies and sustains the Channel itself; approaching the Origin is considered impossible for most, as their mere presence can induce madness or instant death. There is even an unwritten rule: "Never approach 'Them' in any true sense."

"So? What is the danger of that thing?" I ask, genuine curiosity overcoming my annoyance.

"It is part of the Sepulcher Channel," Dales explains, his voice now serious. "I do not have the authority to discuss the details of that Channel. The point is, The Ghoul Affection is a peak item that can accelerate an Evolver on that path into something else entirely. Worse, the artifact itself is already at its highest power level, level ten."

"I am not asking you to fight it, Welt," says Dales. "I want you to conduct espionage. Use your informant network, use that persona of yours. Find out who stole it and where it is now. Report your findings directly to Fravikveidimadr's operations center at the Ministry of Defense. If you see anyone matching this description, a wide black beard, oval face, green eyes, dressed like a mage, and thin, report immediately."

This is no longer just a task. I can take this as a direct order, a mission of the highest priority. I understand why Dales is so tense. Losing such an artifact is a national security disaster.

"Understood. I will do what I can if any information surfaces," I say calmly.

Suddenly Percy cuts in. "Welt, I'm coming with you!"

I sigh inwardly and turn to look at him, annoyed. "For what exactly?"

"The Captain said I have to help you. No matter the risk," he says with that same silly smile.

This kid is infuriating. But then an idea comes to me. If Dales is so insistent on placing him near me, maybe I can use him. I can put him under Finch at Doyle Acquisition. That way I can keep him under close watch while giving him enough complex work to keep him busy and away from my 'W' operations. At the same time, it will be a gesture of compliance toward Dales.

"Fine if you insist," I say at last. I take my leave from Dales and walk out, with Percy following me like a puppy that has just found its master. This game has just gained a new piece I never asked for.

...…

At the marble pavilion overlooking the rose garden at the Salwors estate, a heated debate is taking place.

"The country's internal state is in chaos, and we are close to the Firenze Empire which is strengthening its military!" Duke Achment Salwors's heavy voice echoes throughout the room. He stands in front of a large map of the Kaiserthorn Continent, his elegant noble uniform contrasting sharply with his furious expression.

William Salwors wakes up from his sleep at his father's voice. He rises from his grand bed, his room filled with golden ornaments and paintings feels suffocating. After bathing and changing, he walks toward the pavilion, hiding behind a pillar, observing.

His father is speaking with his advisors. "The kingdom has lost its precious 'jewel,'" the Duke continues. "An Archetype 1 artifact. This is not an ordinary loss, we can be sure this is an invitation to war. Our enemies will see this as a sign of weakness. We must be ready."

William listens in silence. He is not interested in war politics. He is interested in one thing, the missing information. "Precious jewel." It is a vague description. But then he hears his father mention a name.

"... and Fravikveidimadr places all suspicion on a fugitive, a mage named Barthalzan. But I do not believe that because it is far too simple and neat."

Barthalzan. William notes the name. But what interests him more is the source of his father's information. One of the advisors mentions that the initial intel came from a new Consortium asset, someone operating under the code name 'W.'

'W.' The same name that appeared in the smuggling incident and the Augustine auction. William returns to his room and opens his notebook. On the page he usually dedicates to Welt Rothes, he draws a new line linking it to "Archetype 1 Artifact Theft." He writes below it: Subject "W" is now involved in a national-level operation. Is he a pawn of an underground organization or the Consortium, or is he moving for his own interests? His danger level is now beyond measure.

William stares at his notes. He knows he must get closer to Welt to solve this. Because this "W" is very different from William the analyst. "W" is too clean and even he cannot find a crack.

...…

I bring Percy to the headquarters of Doyle Acquisition. Finch, my lawyer who has now fully embraced his role as director, eyes Percy suspiciously as we walk in.

"Finch, it has been a while," I greet.

"Oh, Mr. Rothes? And... the young man beside you?" he asks, his sharp eyes sizing Percy up and down.

"Meet Perceval Farnsworth," I explain. "He will be your new assistant. He comes with a very strong recommendation. Feel free to test him if you do not trust him."

I emphasize the word "test." I want Finch to bury him in the most complicated, tedious accounting work.

As Finch leads Percy off for "orientation," I head into my private office. The task from Dales is extremely dangerous. Tracking down a mage capable of stealing an Archetype 1 artifact is a suicide mission. I will not do it directly. I will use my network.

I send a message to Milverton. "I need all information on a mage named Barthalzan. And on the 'Sepulcher Channel.'"

While waiting for a reply, I open my secret compartment and take out Chronos Salvation. After the incident with Silas, I realized that my power has potential not written in the Throne of Nothing. There might be another way to understand this artifact.

I do not try to channel Void Essence into it again. Instead, I try something different. I try to sense its history. I close my eyes, place the pocket watch on my forehead, and attempt to access any residual memories that might linger inside it. This is the only deep meditation technique I know, mentioned only in the most esoteric texts.

My mind sinks into silence. Then I see the blueprint of Chronos Salvation before I am thrown back. I see how time is a straight line yet at the same time something that can be bent, folded, even torn. I see how this artifact works.

I also see something else. A symbol etched at the subatomic level inside the artifact. The same symbol I saw at St. Saleem Church. A gear surrounded by twelve stars. The mark of the Primeval Forger.

My office door opens. Milverton enters cautiously, of course in disguise.

"James," he says. "I have preliminary information on Barthalzan. From what I found, he is not the kind of mage you usually know. He is the last Hierophant of the Order of Fallen Mist, basically an ancient cult that worships a cosmic entity they call the God of Dragon Usurper. They believe that by collecting enough powerful artifacts they can awaken their god and start a new era."

"And the Sepulcher Channel?" I ask.

"That is more complicated," says Milverton. "It is not an ordinary Channel. It is one of what are called 'Heretical Paths.' Power paths considered blasphemous by the major Churches because they do not originate from known gods but from older, darker sources. The Ghoul Affection is the key. Whoever possesses it can become an 'Avatar of the End' on that path."

An avatar of a dark god. This is far worse than Dales said.

"Where is Barthalzan now?"

"His last trace was near the ancient ruins in the Frostfang Mountains on the northern border," Milverton says. "But there is another problem. The Consortium also sent a team to hunt him. And our client, 'The Puppeteer,' seems very, very interested in the outcome of this hunt."

The chessboard is becoming more crowded. Me, Fravikveidimadr, The Consortium, and now an ancient cult, all chasing the same artifact.

I stand and walk to the map on my wall. I look at the vast, wild Frostfang Mountains. Going there is a huge gamble.

"Prepare a small expedition," I say to Milverton. "Three people. Me, you, and one other person you trust completely. We leave in three days. We are not going to track a few traces of Barthalzan. We will watch him. I want to know what he is really planning to do with that artifact."

"This is dangerous, James," says Milverton.

"Every game worth playing is dangerous," I reply.

When Milverton leaves, I return my gaze to the map. I feel like Cheon Donghwan again, planning an operation deep in enemy territory. But this time, the goal is not destruction.

What if the entity in my dreams, the one that gave me the Throne of Nothing, is one of these heretical gods? What if the 'He' it spoke of is the God of Dragon Usurper?

I push that thought away. It is speculation without data. But the seed of doubt has been planted. I do not know if I am a player in this game or just another piece in a far older, larger game.

And for the first time, the lack of an answer excites me.