Several days after Lucretius command was given, Figar Raidbones one of the Four Horsemen of Abyss—arrived at the northen kingdom alongside Remini, both of them are the Regal Vanguard. The witch hailed from the Sorcerer faction and was a master of high-level polymorph techniques.

  At the front gates of the royal palace of Alvoria, Leroy welcomed their arrival. The cold wind from the northern seas swept through the courtyard as the three stood face to face.

  “So, what trouble you this time?” Raidbones asked, his deep voice echoing with impatience.

  “I’ve already spoken with the king about the relic dispute,” Leroy replied, his tone weighted. “But the matter is… more complicated than expected.”

  “Then?” Remini interjected, her expression calm yet sharp. “Did he refuse to pay the agreed tribute that set by the Council?”

  The kingdom they had come to was ruled by King Dayrand, a commonfolk sovereign whose health had long been failing. Two decades earlier, he had been entrusted with the throne by the First Council, tasked with maintaining order in this remote land. Unlike the major realms, smaller kingdoms such as this were largely left to govern themselves—so long as they upheld the Council’s mandate. The Council’s attention remained fixed upon restoring war-torn territories elsewhere.

  This kingdom, however, stood apart. Nestled in a bleak and frigid region, most of its people survived as fishermen and hunters. Poverty clung to its streets, and whispers of discontent spread among its folk.

  Leroy explain "according to the Cryptic Associate information, an ideology of rebellion sparks here."

  Raidbones tightened his grip on the War Hammer of Proxia, its weight a promise of destruction. His eyes gleamed as he asked, “So are we here to crush this misguided ideology or to crush who spread it?”

  “Neither,” Leroy snapped, raising his voice in defiance. “We are not here to spill unecessary blood.”

  Raidbones gave a rumbling laugh and threw an arm around Leroy’s shoulders. “Forgive me, Chief, but if I go too long without battle, my strength become dulls. You wouldn’t want your warhound to lose his fangs, would you?”

  Remini, who had been silent until now, slowly opened the Librum Mutare—her enchanted book, an ancient tome crafted by the Sorcerer faction itself. Its pages whispered faintly, alive with hidden power. She regarded Leroy with measured eyes. “You seem determined to protect this peacetime at any cost.”

  “I have only two days,” Leroy said, handing her a folded slip of parchment. “So do nothing unnecessary. This is the location we must reach.”

  Five council soldiers approached then, carrying with them three relics wrapped in cloth. They bowed and presented the Wandering Capes to Leroy, Raidbones, and Remini. These relics, crafted by the Sorcerer faction and ranked as Grade-C, concealed the wearer’s face and attire, allowing them to pass unnoticed among friend and foe alike.

  The northern plains were mercilessly cold, the kind of chill that gnawed at the bones even moments after the sun had sunk below the horizon. The three of them walked through a narrow, desolate alley where only a handful of townsfolk shuffled past in silence.

  Despite his massive, muscular frame—standing nearly three meters tall—Raidbones rubbed his hands together desperately, trying to summon warmth.

  “Chief, I think this giant is about to catch frostbite. Perhaps we should leave him at the castle,” Remini quipped with a sly smile.

  “Silence, bookworm,” Raidbones growled in protest. “I was born by volcanoes fire—I was never meant for this frozen wasteland. And why did Luce send me? This should’ve been Dryskull duty… or that wretched woman.”

  Leroy and Remini chuckled at his grumbling until they reached their destination—a tavern known as the Dancing Glacier. The place brimmed with fishermen and hunters, their laughter and dice games filling the smoky air. Yet, the instant the trio stepped inside, the room fell quiet, wary eyes trailing their movements.

  They sat and ordered drinks. Leroy and Remini each took a mug of ale, while Raidbones demanded nothing less than a whole cask. At one of the tables, several men of colossal body were drinking heartily—figures nearly as large as Raidbones himself, their frames unmistakably of Abyssal origin.

  “See? Even they aren’t shivering,” Leroy teased, smirking over his mug.

  “They’re likely from the Frozen Wasteland,” Raidbones muttered, forcing himself to stay calm. “We’re close to its borders after all.”

  The Abyssal tribes of the north and south shared a common ancestry, descendants of a once-primal race. Raidbones himself belonged to the Mega Simians, a people of towering, primeval humans believed extinct throughout the All Realm. Yet some had survived, adapting to the harsh Abyss and thriving there long before the age when black sorcerers were cast into exile.

  While Raidbones remained at his post, silently surveying the tavern, Leroy and Remini drifted among the patrons, seeking whispers, clues, any trace of what they sought. Leroy, however, was ill-suited for strong drink. Out of boredom—and the numbing chill—he had already downed seven mugs, his head heavy though he stubbornly fought to remain alert.

  At the bar, Remini began to work her craft. She whispered the incantation: “Gemino Manus.” Tugging lightly at her right ear, she conjured a perfect duplicate of it into her palm. Piece by piece, she could replicate portions of her own body, scattering them throughout the tavern. With a second spell—“Enavo!”—the conjured parts faded from sight, invisible to all. One she placed slyly upon the back of Leroy’s shoulder, where he sat half-dazed.

  Settling at a table before the bartender, Remini folded her hands over the book and waited. If anything interesting was to unfold, her eyes—and her conjured ears—would be ready to catch it.

  Leroy’s head grew heavier with each passing moment until, stumbling on unsteady legs, he collapsed into a chair that belonged to a band of fishermen, he drank too much ale. The men started in surprise, for as he fell his cloak slipped halfway from his shoulders, revealing a glimpse of his true form beneath.

  From across the room, Raidbones and Remini froze. To approach him now would only risk exposing their disguises as well.

  At first, the fishermen assumed he was just another drunk superhuman, judging by his attire. They propped him up at their table with good humor—until one sharp-eyed sailor noticed the gilded badge on his belt. It bore the sigil of a golden sword piercing the heavenly cloud, the unmistakable emblem of the High Council.

  The tavern fell into stunned silence.

  “The dark-skinned man with the sigil,” one fisherman whispered.

  “And he wears green gloves,” added the barmaid as she polished a glass, her voice trembling.

  “There can be no doubt,” declared another. “This is the Green Wraith himself, Leroy Livingstone, The Council leader.”

  Fear rippled through the hall. Why would a figure of such power come to this forgotten northern kingdom?

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  Still swaying in his chair, Leroy offered no answer. Remini cursed under her breath. We are truly damned. Meanwhile, Raidbones’ hand tightened on his warhammer, eyes tracking every patron who dared step closer.

  Then Remini caught sight of a small group slipping out of the tavern in haste, using the distraction to vanish into the night. Her instincts flared. She snapped her fingers to Leroy and whispered, “Illusio Fuga.”

  A surge of clarity jolted through Leroy as the spell shook the haze of alcohol from his mind. Quickly, Remini retrieved a small case of enchanted powder, flicked it open, and blew the contents into the air. A cloud of black mist exploded outward, swallowing the tavern in darkness.

  Amid the chaos, Leroy staggered to his feet and slipped away with Raidbones at his side. By the time the smoke cleared, the tavern-goers were left bewildered—the Council’s Green Wraith had vanished without a trace.

  Outside, the trio regrouped in the chill night.

  “My apologies,” Leroy muttered, rubbing his temple. “My body still cannot deal with strong drink.”

  “It’s fine,” Raidbones replied gruffly. “But we’ve lost those who slipped away.”

  Remini stretched her hand forward, eyes narrowing in focus.

  “Oculus: Viscio.”

  Light shimmered faintly across the cobblestones, revealing glowing tracks pressed into the earth. The footprints clustered together, leading them beneath a bridge. The trail ended abruptly at the river’s edge.

  “Don’t tell me they dove in,” Raidbones said, frowning at the dark current. “The water is freezing, and the stream too strong.”

  Remini let the spell fade, the prints dissolving into nothing. “And there are no tracks on the opposite either.”

  The three of them stood in silence, the river whispering cold secrets at their feet.

  “There must be a hidden chamber beneath the river,” Leroy mused. “Or perhaps one among them is superhuman.”

  Raidbones crossed his arms over his massive chest. “Actually, Chief, you’ve been exposed. Will be the better for you to dismissed from this operation.” Remini touched her chin thoughtfully and nodded in agreement.

  “You want me to leave?” Leroy asked in surprise. “I understand what you guys mean but are you okay with that?”

  Seating herself on a stone, Remini replied matter-of-factly, “With a Council member showing up in public, they’ll stay in hiding for a long while. It will only slow us down.”

  “Do you think we are amateur after all we’ve been through?” Remini added firmly. “You’ve other matters right? This is a small business—two of us can handle it.”

  “Don’t underestimate the Vanguard,” Raidbones warned.

  Leroy exhaled heavily. This time, he had little choice but to concede. “Very well. But see to it that there are no casualties—and ensure this kingdom does not separate from the Council.”

  As he turned to go, he cast a final grin over his shoulder. “If you disobey, I’ll report directly to Lucretius and Cygnus.”

  “Snitch,” Raidbones and Remini muttered in unison.

  A green radiance flared from Leroy’s chest, enveloping his whole form. In the next heartbeat, he soared skyward, leaving the kingdom behind.

  Raidbones chuckled, shaking his head. “He can be a bit reckless sometimes, even though he's the council leader”

  “Indeed,” Remini admitted softly, rising to resume her search. “Unlike Cygnus and Lucretius, he carries an aura all his own.”

  The two walked in calm silence beneath the canopy, the forest whispering around them. Raidbones, his eyes turned upward in a vacant stare, seemed lost in thought. It was the other side of his kind’s nature: for all the abyssal faction’s unmatched strength of body, their minds were slow to stir.

  “What troubles your thoughts?” asked Remini, suspicion rising in her voice.

  “Wait… I’ve forgotten,” Raidbones replied flatly. “But there was something we were meant to do.”

  Remini chuckled, mocking him lightly. “Take your time as long as you need, at least you haven’t forgotten why we came here at all,” she said with a small laugh.

  They continued along the riverbank for ten minutes in search of signs, when suddenly Raidbones stopped short, his memory snapping back.

  “You forgot to erase every visitor memory in the tavern!” he bellowed, his voice breaking the stillness like a thunderclap.

  Remini flinched, half-ready to scold him for such recklessness, but the words died on her lips. Her expression froze in silence.

  The duty of a Regal Vanguard was not only to execute commands, but to guarantee safeguard of the Council itself. At times, that meant preserving their image from scandal. A drunken councilor, discovered in some distant kingdom’s tavern, would surely ignite whispers and discord by morning.

  “By the ancients… guide me,” Remini muttered, pressing her palm to her brow. “Why did you not say this sooner?” With a flash of panic, she turned and sprinted back toward the tavern.

  Raidbones merely stood, watching her with unreadable eyes.

  “Hmph. I thought you had remembered,” he said at last, before breaking into a heavy stride to follow after her.

  Meanwhile, far above the realms, Leroy had been in flight for a days. He had long since passed the northern reaches, the piercing chill giving way as he veered westward. The winds screamed against him as he soared at great speed. Soon, the gleaming lights of Mainland shimmered beneath the veil of night, visible even from above the clouds.

  Lowering his course, Leroy skimmed past the Council stronghold. Below, many commonfolk even their children alike caught sight of him, their hands raised in awe and greeting. With a steady grace, Leroy returned their gesture with a solemn salute before pressing onward.

  His destination was District Five—Barreltown. Flanked by District Six, the intergalactic harbor of commerce, and District Three, the famed district of entertainment, Barreltown stood apart. It was a district of warehouses and supply depots, but more importantly, it housed the Unus Bank.

  He had promised to meet Starmist there.

  The Unus Bank rose like a fortress of finance—its rectangular structure built of granite and limestone, with two monumental pillars guarding the entrance. Encircling the building was a single massive chain of black iron, bound with a golden lock that gleamed beneath the lanterns.

  As Leroy descended, three Tallymasters awaited him at the front. Clad in long white coats, each wore a golden chain about the neck and carried a tome so thick it seemed to defy gravity.

  “Has my guest arrived?” Leroy asked.

  The eldest of the three inclined his head. “She is already waiting in the private chamber, Commander.”

  “Would you care to review this month’s report, Chief?” asked the youngest of the Tallymasters.

  “Yes, bring it to chamber,” Leroy replied curtly, striding inside in haste.

  The great hall of the Unus Bank stretched before him, adorned with a massive golden coin statue and an immense black-iron scale. The right pan symbolized wealth gained, the left wealth diminished. Tonight, the scale leaned heavily to the right, tilted at nearly ten o’clock, signifying growth and surplus. Beneath it, polished marble floors gleamed, lined with rows of long wooden benches for petitioners and merchants alike.

  Leroy slipped behind the scale and opened a discreet door concealed at its rear. Within the private chamber, Starmist reclined comfortably, leafing through a magazine titled Realm Odyssey, a publication of the Cognisource Network. She looked up in mild surprise as Leroy burst in, short of breath.

  “You kept me waiting long enough,” she said dryly.

  “My apologies,” Leroy replied, collapsing into a seat with a weary grin.

  “I’m not surprise,” Starmist continued with a sigh, closing the magazine, “you’ve always been like this.”

  She reached into her satchel and produced a sealed plastic pouch, sliding it across the table. Inside lay a iron fragment from her journey. Leroy studied it for a long while, his brow furrowed.

  “This should be turned over to Cygnus. His team could track this things,” Leroy murmured.

  “You told me you could help,” Starmist reminded him, her tone sharp as she recalled his words over the transmitter.

  “I… did say that,” Leroy admitted, stammering. “But after seeing it, I’m not so sure.”

  Starmist rolled her eyes in exasperation. The Green Wraith apologized again and again, his voice quick and contrite, until the door opened once more. A Tallymaster entered with grave politeness, set down a heavy ledger before them, and departed without a word.

  “Well,” Leroy said brightly, seizing the opportunity, “since you’re here, perhaps you could help me review these documents?”

  Starmist narrowed her eyes. “This is a trick, isn’t it?”

  “Please,” Leroy pleaded, clasping his hands with exaggerated desperation. “A little bit of nostalgia, we used to be helped each other out.”

  With a reluctant sigh, Starmist yielded. Together they flipped through the sprawling figures of the monthly accounts—and soon, despite herself, she was impressed.

  “It’s not only the intergalactic trade,” she observed. “Mining, agriculture, even the fuel sector are beginning to thrive.”

  “Yes,” Leroy agreed, his expression warming with genuine pride. “What Amaterasu and Bjorn have accomplished is worthy of recognition.”

  For a moment, they shared quiet satisfaction over the realm’s prosperity. Yet beneath it lingered the same uncertainty: what step should they take next?

  “It isn’t wise to let wealth sit idle when it could be put to better use,” Leroy murmured under his breath.

  “I’ve had the same thought,” Starmist replied. “In fact, I intend to raise an idea at the next council session.”

  “Perhaps it’s also time I met your elder brother,” Leroy suggested.

  “Very well,” she said with a nod. “I’ll tell him, after the colosseum finished.”

  The two spoke for a while longer, recalling fragments of old adventures, laughter softening the edges of duty. Yet before they could part, the transmitter at Leroy’s side flickered to life. Elysius voice rang through.

  “The intergalactic harbor under Susanoo inspection has been destroyed” the boy said it openly.

  Leroy closed his eyes and exhaled, resignation heavy in his tone. “I should have expected as much.”

  Starmist, saying nothing, reached out and patted the Green Wraith’s back, a silent gesture of solidarity in the face of yet.