Days had passed since Victor arrived in Twin Amber City.

  He now sat alone in a private room on the upper floor of a quiet inn, one hand swirling a cup of lukewarm tea while his other hand rested on a stack of notes, maps, and scattered reports. The room had been modified with soundproofing and anti-divination spells — just enough to discourage idle eavesdropping without drawing attention.

  Outside the window, the city was lively, unaware of the silent currents moving beneath its surface.

  Victor’s gaze was fixed on a single point in the air, but his mind was far from idle. Wyne’s group has already taken action a couple of days ago, heading toward a specific location, but there’s no sign of a breakthrough yet. Good. The longer they take, the more time I have.

  While waiting for Wyne’s group to uncover the vault or trigger some hidden mechanism, Victor wasn’t doing nothing. Using proxies, low-tier agents he could find in the city, and a few enchantments placed discreetly around the region, he’d gathered a sizable amount of intelligence. And from that, a pattern had begun to emerge.

  Disappearing villagers in remote areas. Mysterious buyers acquiring ancient relics inscribed with otherworldly symbols. And the most telling sign — a symbol of a circle surrounded by nine stars, with one larger star positioned at the center; he recognized it from the footage when the players raided the aetherite mine. As a result, Victor was able to pinpoint something important.

  “There’s no doubt about it now,” he muttered. “The Cult is active in this region.”

  Their movements were subtle, operating beneath layers of clandestine networks. But to someone like Victor, who had encountered them more than once, the signs were undeniable. The question now wasn’t whether the Cult was involved. It was how deeply their claws were sunk into the coming events.

  And more importantly…

  Would they interfere with the vault Wyne’s group was about to find? Or were they the ones who planted the bait?

  Either way, Victor intended to take full advantage.

  “It’s likely that the vault is real, though…” Victor mumbled.

  He could sense a series of subtle, distorted mana pulses emanating from deep within the wildlands. But whether it truly belonged to an ancient empire’s vault or was something entirely different, that was something that he could not figure out.

  For now, he would let Wyne’s group open the path. That way, he wouldn’t have to deal with the hassle himself later.

  The wildlands stretched out before Wyne’s group, but instead of lush forests, it was a harsh, barren expanse. Cracked earth split underfoot, scattered with jagged stones and dry, withered grass that had long since lost the will to grow. The sky overhead was casting a dull gray pall over the land, while dry winds howled through the ravines like whispers of something long forgotten.

  Wyne walked at the front, his boots crunching against the brittle ground, confidence radiating from every step. Behind him, the blonde-haired acolyte kept her eyes on a compass-like magic tool glowing with mysterious light. At the rear, Fernando followed in silence, watchful of the surroundings.

  “This is it, isn’t it?” Wyne asked, stopping near a jagged outcrop of stone. At its base stood a strange structure — a cracked stone arch, weathered by time and half-buried in dust. Its shape was clearly artificial. “This is where the map led.”

  Fernando took a few steps forward, gazing at the terrain. The elemental particles here were unnaturally dense, thick enough to tingle on the skin, like static before a storm. Though there was no visible entrance beyond the stone arch, the concentrated mana here made it clear that something lay hidden behind it.

  “It’s here,” he said at last, though there was a hint of doubt in his voice. “The energy signature is ancient but not inactive… It matches what we were looking for. But… something feels wrong.”

  But no matter what, they had to push forward to get what they wanted. Otherwise, all of this would all have been for naught.

  “What do we do now?” Wyne asked.

  “Prepare the seal breakers,” Fernando commanded. “Whatever’s hidden here, we’ll find it.”

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  At his words, the blonde-haired acolyte retrieved a superior-grade magic tool from her interspatial ring. It was a crystalline obelisk that pulsed with golden light. This was a “Sealbreaker Stone,” a powerful tool capable of disrupting any ancient magic locks that had been withered through time. She placed the artifact on the cracked stone arch, and at once, golden runes spread outward, weaving through the air like flowing threads of energy.

  Fernando raised his hands, infused mana surging around him as he began casting a Bet-tier spell to further weaken the seal.

  “{Seal Disjunction},” he chanted. A wave of distortion rippled outward, causing the very air to tremble as the seal started to break. The ground beneath them cracked as dormant elemental energy was forcefully drawn out. The stone arch quaked violently, resisting, before finally shattering with a deep, resounding boom.

  Then, silence.

  As the dust settled, a pathway was revealed, stretching deeper beyond the broken arch.

  Just as Wyne’s group prepared to step inside, a shrill whistle sliced through the air. Before anyone could react, an attack was launched — a lance of dark-red mana tore toward them like a spear, its force splitting the air.

  “Who are you? How dare yo—” Wyne barely had time to shout before he was forced to dodge. The attack grazed past him, striking a nearby rock with a thunderous explosion.

  Figures emerged from the surrounding barren landscape, cloaked in dark robes and their faces obscured with masks. All of them were radiating killing intent. In fact, two of them were emitting Elemental Adept mana fluctuations!

  Fernando’s expression darkened instantly. “Stop spouting nonsense and prepare your spells! These people are hostile!”

  The blonde acolyte quickly cast a defensive spell, summoning a thick ice wall in front of their group. Meanwhile, Wyne, though visibly shaken, began chanting a spell of his own, determination replacing his earlier arrogance.

  One thing was certain: these people had been waiting for them. And if their intent wasn’t clear before, it was now; they were most likely aiming for the ancient vault just like them, and they weren’t here to negotiate. They were here to kill.

  In the not-so-far distance from the battle, Victor stood atop a jagged rock formation. His eyes shimmered with an esoteric purplish glow as he observed the unfolding chaos through the spell {Eyes of Space-Time}.

  From his vantage point, he could see everything — Wyne’s group struggling against their ambushers, the cultist pressing their advantage, and Fernando barely holding the front line against the two Elemental Adept Magi. Victor watched in silence as he cautiously scanned the area for any other hidden parties that might be lurking nearby.

  “So, the Cult really was waiting for them… but was it for the vault, or were they simply after intruders?” Victor murmured.

  He turned his gaze around, carefully sweeping the surroundings once more, but was unable to find anything. As Victor was confident of the power of his spell, this could only mean that there were no more members of the Armageddon Cult who were present. He couldn’t help but think that he was the oriole watching the mantis stalking the cicada.

  The real question is when to strike… Victor thought, holding his chin.

  Beyond the shattered arch, he could sense thick elemental energy converging. Through his vision spell, he realized that this was likely not an ancient vault brimming with the treasures of a long-lost empire, as he had initially assumed. Instead, it seemed to be a place where elemental particles gathered — a dragon vein of sorts — an ideal location for meditation. For an Elemental Adept Magus like him, such a place was far more valuable than any mere hoard of artifacts.

  It had to be mentioned that his comprehension had improved significantly after his adventure in the Dreamscape. What he lacked now to form his sixth sigil was simply accumulation. If Victor could cultivate here, he was bound to benefit immensely. I have to grab this opportunity at all costs!

  Still, he remained patient, continuing to observe as Fernando unleashed another Bet-tier spell that was powered up by a sigil. A massive, fiery explosion engulfed one of the Elemental Adept cultists, the shockwave rippling outward in a wave of searing heat. Yet, despite the overwhelming force, the masked figure endured, standing tall amidst the smoldering remnants of his robe.

  Seeing this, Victor raised an eyebrow. “They’re not just ordinary cultist. They’re trained for battle.”

  Individually, they were not on par with Fernando, who was a peak Elemental Adept Magus, but together, their coordination was enough to push him back. It was only a matter of time before Fernando was forced to flee with his tail between his legs unless he revealed a trump card.

  On the other hand, Wyne was barely holding his ground against the weaker cultists, with his spells growing sloppier and weaker with each exchange. The blonde-haired acolyte’s defensive barriers were already cracking, flickering under relentless assault. They were clearly losing.

  “Well… if they croaked, so be it. I can use that chance to eliminate the weakened cultists and reap the benefits myself.”

  As he waited a bit more, Fernando reached his limit. Unable to hold out any longer, he grabbed Wyne and retreated into the newly revealed pathway. With a wave of his hand, he summoned a towering flaming wall, sealing off the entrance behind him, leaving the blonde-haired acolyte to fend for herself.

  She froze, eyes widening in shock as realization dawned on her, but that expression didn’t last long. In an instant, one of the cultists struck her down, ending her life in a swift, merciless blow before the group quickly moved to pursue Fernando.

  Typical betrayal, heh. Victor squinted his eyes.

  This kind of behavior was nothing new among Magi. Loyalty was often dictated by necessity rather than principle. Fernando had simply made the pragmatic choice, which was his own survival over that of a mere acolyte. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice either, not with two nearly equal opponents pressing him into a corner.

  With that, Victor declared, “All right, it’s time for action.”

  The Stub has come!

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