After Siles closed his eyes, Chendo quickly caught and supported his frame. Simultaneously, Chendo shot a dark, piercing glare toward Mary, making a sharp downward gesture with his hand: Close your eyes.
Mary wasn’t caught off guard by this. Perfectly matching the immense strength of the explorer Chendo Praia was his eccentric, arrogant temperament and his peculiar habits. Usually, before he resorted to utilizing his power, Chendo would signal other explorers to close their eyes.
Of course, if the other party refused to comply, Chendo didn’t particularly care either—though it was precisely through those non-compliant explorers, who witnessed his “bizarre” abilities and subsequently became raving lunatics, that the terrifying rumors of his powers had originally spread.
Mary had absolutely no desire to reduce herself to such a maddened state, and furthermore, she had no reason to provoke Chendo at a time like this. Thus, she obediently shut her eyes.
Satisfied, Chendo gave a brief nod. Holding the small volume he had been carrying with his other hand, he flicked it open, casually flipping to a random page. It looked to be a travelogue of sorts, containing simple sketches alongside handwritten entries.
However, many of the words were heavily fragmented, appearing as though they had been deliberately crossed out or smudged away.
Chendo glanced at Siles before proceeding with his actions. The travelogue hovered suspended in mid-air, and Chendo slid his fingers across the paper with casual familiarity before suddenly coming to a dead stop. He pinched a specific character on the page, “plucking” it right off the paper. It was the word 驱 (Qū – to drive away, dispel).
The full sentence before and after it had originally described a nomadic tribe needing to constantly drive wild beasts away from their temporary settlements. But Chendo simply plucked that single character away.
The moment he extracted the word, the surrounding text visibly dimmed, resembling ink that had begun to fade and run dry. Yet Chendo’s expression remained entirely impassive, ignoring the side effect completely.
With a casual flick of his wrist, he tossed the character upward. Instantly, a massive plume of ash-gray fog billowed outward, entirely blanketing the ceiling above them and shielding them from the descending shadow.
The two opposing forces locked in a tense, frozen stalemate for a brief moment. Then, as if an invisible hand had lightly flicked a switch, the clouds suddenly parted to reveal the sun. The stagnant, rigid atmospheric pressure dissolved completely.
“It’s taken care of,” Chendo said, casually tucking the booklet back into his pocket.
Mary was the first to open her eyes, asking with extreme caution, “Is it safe to look up now?”
“Yes,” Chendo replied.
Mary let out a massive sigh of relief.
It was only then that Siles sharply opened his eyes. He looked as though he wanted to speak, but he paused abruptly, murmuring in a daze, “It’s snowing.”
Fine, dense flakes of white snow began drifting down from the sky, landing softly upon Siles’s cheeks and shoulders. His inherently pale skin seemed to grow colder against the backdrop. Chendo gently wiped away the melting water droplets from his face and lightly brushed the snow off his shoulders.
Siles finally recovered his bearings completely. “I’m fine,” he murmured softly. Casting one final look toward the supernatural fog in the distance, he directed, “Let’s head back to the House of Hales first.”
By the time they finished dealing with the ordeal and trudged back to the encampment of the House of Hales, it was already past five in the evening.
Exhausted, parched, and starving, they quickly made a detour to the low stone houses to stable their feather-horses before rushing straight over to the communal tent to find food. Alva and Chester were nowhere to be found inside the stone houses; Siles suspected they had either gone to look for the landlady, Mrs. Audrey, or had headed ahead to the tent for dinner.
However, the moment they stepped into the central open clearing on the first floor of the communal tent, Siles realized with a shock that his imagination was occasionally still far too limited.
…Alva and Chester were actually sitting right beside the circus tent, playing cards with a massive crowd of other explorers!
They were clearly playing Fate Cards, utilizing the card-battling variant that Siles had personally suggested. The scene was unbelievably lively. Alva and Chester took turns acting as the dealers and active players, while the remaining explorers formed a long queue, pairing up in twos to challenge the table.
Some rounds concluded with extreme speed, prompting the next pair of explorers in line to eagerly rush the current players off the table. The losers could only shuffle away reluctantly under the intense, glaring scrutiny of the rest of the queue. Other matches progressed at a agonizingly slow pace, yet the waiting explorers didn’t grow impatient at all; instead, they watched the unfolding matches with relish, occasionally shouting out terrible tactical advice that thoroughly annoyed the active players.
The queue stretched incredibly long, with at least several dozen explorers waiting in line, crane-necked and eager.
The looks in their eyes bore a warmth that didn’t quite match the grim, desolate atmosphere of the Ashless Lands—it was filled with genuine joy, anticipation, and harmonious amusement. A few explorers who had already finished a round were actively huddled together, intensely debating card combinations and meta-strategies.
Suddenly, someone shouted loudly toward Alva and Chester’s direction, “Gentlemen, are we allowed to manufacture these cards ourselves?!”
In this era, the concept of copyright was virtually non-existent, but because these official Fate Cards were undeniably beautiful and expensive, the explorers still felt it best to ask the individuals who had introduced them first.
Alva was clearly thoroughly engrossed in the game, his face flushed red and his eyes flashing with excitement. Caught completely off guard by the sudden explosion of popularity for the game, he stammered in a daze for a brief moment before happily shouting back, “Of course you can! Have at it, everyone!”
A massive cheer erupted through the crowd. Many of the explorers who had grown irritable from waiting in the long queue found their frustrations entirely melting away. They began gathering in small groups, intensely discussing how to manufacture rudimentary decks of their own.
“It doesn’t need to look pretty, as long as it’s cardboard and text!”
“We need to use heavy cardstock! Otherwise, they’ll wear out in no time!”
“I’ll go look around, there’s bound to be some nearby!”
Before long, the explorers had successfully cobbled together enough stiff cardstock to create two brand-new decks, even managing to rope in a literate tavern owner to help write out the card details. As the tavern owner scribbled, he listened to the explorers explain the rules with rapt attention, his face frequently lighting up with sudden realization and deep intrigue. He was clearly fascinated by the gameplay.
Sure enough, the moment the two makeshift decks were completed, the tavern owner unhesitatingly claimed a spot as one of the active players.
The entire open clearing on the first floor of the communal tent had effectively transformed into a bustling, boisterous… card tournament hall.
Siles: “…”
Having already eaten their dinner before returning, Siles, Chendo, and Mary could only look at each other in sheer bewilderment upon witnessing such a raucous scene. Mary was incredibly intrigued by the card games as well; after giving the two men a brief heads-up, she eagerly went to join the queue.
More makeshift cards were already in the process of being manufactured as the crowd waited with bated breath.
Siles overheard the explorers referring to this specific card-battling system as “Noel’s Card Battles,” or simply “Noel Cards.” It appeared that while Alva and Chester were explaining the rules, they had openly credited the creative design to “Professor Noel.”
…Siles felt a slight twinge of guilt, wondering if he had accidentally introduced a rather addictive vice into this world.
Standing beside him, Chendo noted with great amusement, “It looks like… Alva’s prediction might actually come true. The card game you proposed is going to spread across the entire world.”
Right at that moment, the match on Alva and Chester’s table concluded. Shouting that they were absolutely starving to death, the duo quickly packed up their official deck and stepped down from the table. The explorers playing with them immediately migrated over to the new makeshift tables without a hint of hesitation.
Chester spotted Siles and Chendo standing in the corner and walked over alongside Alva.
Alva said with immense bravado, “How about it, Professor? Didn’t I tell you! This gameplay is guaranteed to become a hit! Next step is mass-producing these decks and launching the game worldwide…” As he spoke, he drifted back into his grand, idealistic daydreams.
Siles knew perfectly well that this so-called “Noël Cards” variant was merely a single way to utilize a 54-card deck. Down the line, simpler or far more complex formats would naturally emerge, and people across different regions would gradually develop their own cultural preferences.
…But regardless of how it evolved, the sight brought Siles a comforting sense of familiarity.
Chester chuckled, patting Alva on the shoulder before explaining to Siles why they had started playing cards with the other explorers in the first place.
After their afternoon rest had concluded, Chester and Alva had made their way to the communal tent. Because of the circus ringmaster’s sudden death, the troupe had naturally suspended all performances. The entire tent had been as silent as a tomb, thick with a volatile, suffocating tension that felt constantly on the verge of exploding into mindless violence. They had nearly walked right into a lethal confrontation.
A group of explorers had been attempting to leave while another group was just entering, and for reasons unknown, the two factions had locked horns in a dangerous standoff. Chester and Alva had found themselves trapped squarely in the middle of it.
Hearing this, Siles couldn’t help but break into a cold sweat on their behalf.
Chester pointed at Alva, offering a helpless smile. “At the time, I honestly thought we wouldn’t be able to escape a bloodbath. But right at that critical moment, Alva suddenly yanked the Fate Cards out of his pocket and loudly asked the hostile explorers if they wanted to play a match. …It was truly unbelievable. The entire crowd and I froze in sheer shock, yet Alva just stood there chatting and laughing as if nothing was wrong.”
“…No, no, no, Doctor, I was entirely scared out of my wits too!” Alva corrected hastily. “I just figured there was absolutely no other way out. When my hand brushed against the cards in my pocket, it suddenly occurred to me that maybe I could get them to settle their dispute over a card game instead.”
Chester nodded with a smile. “Indeed. Two factions, each putting forward a champion, plus Alva and myself—that was how the very first match began. Afterward, more and more explorers swarmed over to watch, eventually culminating in the scene you just witnessed.”
Siles nodded in understanding, then asked, “Alva, why did you have the deck on your person in the first place?”
“Because that sample card you showed me earlier thoroughly spooked me!” Alva admitted. “I never could have imagined that the very first test print of the deck would somehow end up here in the Ashless Lands. So, the moment I woke up from my nap, I decided I had to keep this deck on me at all times—what if it got stolen from the room! Keeping it on my person just gave me peace of mind.”
Siles secretly thought that leaving it back at the stone house would probably have been significantly safer. However, he could understand Alva’s mindset; people naturally felt more secure keeping their valuables within arm’s reach.
…And yet, this erratic chain of events had inadvertently led the desperate crowd into finding solace in card games, which could certainly be considered a stroke of cosmic luck. Given Siles’s current analysis of the highly volatile situation inside the House of Hales, he believed that keeping the explorers thoroughly distracted by the simple joys of a card game was by no means a bad thing. Perhaps it would allow many lethal conflicts and deep-seated tensions to quietly dissolve into nothingness.
Of course, it was entirely possible that such a thought was merely Siles being overly optimistic.
Once they finished recounting the card incident, Alva eagerly dragged Chester away to get some food.
Chester, being the more grounded of the two, lingered back for a moment to ask quietly, “How did your investigation go?”
Siles exchanged a brief look with Chendo before replying, “We’ve unearthed some answers, but… we still require more definitive evidence.”
Chester nodded understandingly. “We can discuss the details later then.” With that, he caught up to Alva to grab dinner.
Siles scanned the room for Mary, only to discover that the lady had already become deeply invested in a card game with several other explorers, looking thoroughly hooked. Siles and Chendo gave her a brief wave before heading back to their low stone house ahead of the others.
The raucous noise of the communal tent faded away completely, replaced by the profound, icy desolation of the snow-covered Withered Wasteland. The vast, withered-green earth was now blanketed under a layer of pristine white snow, appearing frozen in a state of absolute, quiet purity.
The moment they stepped back inside the stone house, Siles couldn’t help but let out a long, exhausted sigh.
“Are you tired?” Chendo asked softly.
Siles replied, “Don’t you think today has been incredibly hectic?”
“It certainly has,” Chendo agreed. “But as long as I am with you, I will always find enjoyment regardless of the circumstances.”
Siles shot him a highly peculiar look. “You’ve suddenly become rather sentimental, Chendo.”
Chendo let out a low chuckle. “I must constantly ensure that you can feel the absolute sincerity of my heart.”
Siles shook his head, shifting the topic. “Do as you please. I’m going to take a bath first.”
“…In reality, you secretly quite enjoy it, don’t you!” Chendo teased. “It’s fine if you don’t want to admit it. In any case, my mind is completely made up.”
Siles offered a wordless glance, neither confirming nor denying the accusation, before grabbing his towel and a change of clothes to head into the washroom. The scalding water effectively washed away his deep-seated fatigue and the lingering chill, helping him methodically organize his chaotic thoughts.
Chendo utilized the adjacent washroom to bathe. By the time he emerged, he saw Siles sitting on the edge of the bedroom bed, abstractedly drying his hair with a towel while staring down in deep, silent contemplation.
Chendo vigorously shook his damp hair out before striding over to Siles. “You’re neglecting to wear enough layers again,” he chided gently.
Siles snapped out of his thoughts, looking up. “I think I’ve grasped a highly critical detail.”
Chendo looked as though he wanted to say something, but ultimately he simply picked up a coat from nearby and draped it over Siles’s shoulders. “What detail?” he asked, continuing to dry his own hair while keeping his focus entirely locked on Siles.
He watched as a stray bead of water detached from the tips of Siles’s damp hair, landing squarely on his pale neck before slowly tracking its way down to his collarbone, eventually vanishing beneath the line of his collar. Chendo involuntarily swallowed hard, clearing his throat silently as he sat up straighter, trying to anchor his focus.
Siles remained completely oblivious to Chendo’s internal reaction. Rather, his mind was entirely consumed by his deductions.
He mused aloud, “The exact timeline of when Lila approached those workers versus when the workers actually began disappearing… it has always felt strangely vague and blurred.”
Chendo looked blank for a brief moment before recalling who Lila was. He answered without a second thought, “Naturally, Lila must have approached those workers first, and only afterward did the workers begin to disappear… wait.” He cut himself off, his eyes widening as the realization hit him.
Siles stated, “Exactly. If the workers had already gone missing, Lila would never have been able to locate them, let alone dare to seek them out. Therefore, the logical assumption has always been that Lila found the workers first. It’s an instinctive line of reasoning, and we all subconsciously accepted it as fact.”
“Yes,” Chendo nodded slowly. “And?”
“And…” Siles continued, “And then Lila was turned into a stone statue as well. This is the most glaring logical anomaly.”
“Indeed. The workers had virtually no direct connection to Hoodoka to begin with; their only link was to the Stardust Vein. And that was already an event from a full year ago…” As he spoke, Chendo caught the drift of Siles’s underlying deduction, trailing off to stare at him in shock.
“Keep drying your hair, it’s still damp,” Siles noted calmly.
“Oh… right,” Chendo answered dryly, automatically resuming the task of rubbing his shoulder-length hair with the towel. His ash-white hair possessed a natural wave, falling down to his shoulders—by the standard of a regular man of this era, it was undeniably considered long. However, the men of Kansas traditionally sported exceptionally long hair, so Chendo’s hair was actually on the shorter side by comparison.
Siles’s mind drifted briefly to the concept of “braids,” thinking back to that mysterious explorer from Kansas who had originally pointed out that “there are beautiful palaces floating up in the sky.”
Shaking off the brief tangent, he continued his explanation, “The connection between the workers and Hoodoka was already incredibly tenuous, yet Lila allegedly turned into a stone statue solely because of her interaction with those workers… It feels far too illogical. What if we have accidentally inverted cause and effect? If the sequence is reversed—if it wasn’t the workers who caused Lila’s death, but rather Lila who caused the deaths of the workers—then suddenly, every single piece of the puzzle falls perfectly into place.”
It wasn’t the workers’ experiences inside the Stardust Vein a year ago that had indirectly triggered Lila’s death. That would be far too “indirect,” to the point of making one question whether the “curse of the Stardust” could truly be that severe. If it was, why hadn’t the workers perished a year prior?
Instead, the true catalyst was… Lila. Joseph and Lila.
These two individuals had mysteriously surfaced in Biedel City a few years ago, completely unhinged and thoroughly ostracized by the local populace. No one knew why they had arrived in Biedel City, and no one knew what terrifying entity they had crossed.
Another detail that had consistently bothered Siles was their very first encounter with Joseph at the Biedel City flea market. At the time, Joseph’s face had been a mask of intense panic, terror, and profound unease. The locals claimed he was frantically searching for his missing wife, Lila, and hunting for her killer. Yet, that specific expression had felt entirely discordant with his actions. Shouldn’t he have looked more grief-stricken? Shouldn’t he have been burning with fury?
That expression had looked like a premonition of an absolute catastrophe.
Because he knew exactly why Lila had vanished, and he knew precisely what horrors were looming on the horizon—that was why he had been so utterly consumed by panic. The very horrors they had spent years running from had finally tracked them down.
Siles lapsed into a brief silence, letting the realization settle before sharing his complete deduction with Chendo.
“Logically, it holds up perfectly,” Chendo agreed. “But how did the mastermind uncover Lila’s existence in the first place?”
“Certain Old God followers are aware of the true nature of Stardust,” Siles stated. “Hmm… I suspect the specific faction we are currently investigating is definitely among those who possess this knowledge.”
Chendo nodded in firm agreement.
Siles continued, “Therefore, it’s highly likely they have been keeping a close watch on the merchants and workers involved in extracting the Stardust, simply biding their time like predators waiting for the perfect moment to strike. They probably wanted to exact their vengeance immediately, but they were in the middle of orchestrating a much larger plan. Around this time last year, or perhaps slightly earlier, they were likely fully consumed with plotting how to exploit the followers of Timiafa.
“Thus, they chose to delay their overt acts of retaliation to avoid drawing the premature attention of high-ranking figures. However, I strongly suspect that the cave-in that occurred at the mine last summer was entirely their doing.”
“That is highly probable,” Chendo murmured softly. “Just look at what they attempted to do to us moments ago. If it weren’t for your sharp intuition… we would have fallen victim to their madness.”
Siles nodded; this formed the core premise of his theory. Those Old God followers were already profoundly insane, appearing tolerant only because their attention was currently divided by grander schemes. Even so, the moment Siles and Chendo stepped out of the mining vein, the faction had unhesitatingly chosen to deploy the illusions of the Temple of Belan to wipe them out.
Perhaps it was because they realized Siles was actively probing into the matter of the workers. Since that matter was directly intertwined with Lila, it posed a severe threat of exposing their true machinations, prompting them to execute a lethal strike without a single moment of hesitation.
Siles summarized, “Therefore, they must have maintained constant surveillance over those workers. Even if they chose not to strike immediately, vengeance was inevitable, making continuous monitoring a necessity—that was their methodology. And during that process… they discovered Lila. They struck her down without a shred of hesitation, and perhaps to tie up loose ends, they systematically eliminated the workers at the exact same time.”
Chendo looked thoughtful. “So you believe what Joseph and Lila were truly terrified of was this specific faction of Old God followers?”
Siles clarified, “I believe…” He paused briefly before delivering his final hypothesis, “I believe that Joseph and Lila were originally members of that very same faction of Old God followers, but they ultimately chose to defect.”
Chendo let out a soft, intrigued gasp. “What brought you to that conclusion?”
“Defectors among Old God followers are by no means non-existent,” Siles noted. “The investigator Dominic Milner from the Church of the Past is a prime example.”
Dominic had originally been a devout follower of Brancani, the God of Asceticism and Silence. However, unable to stomach the horrific doctrines of the Torture Study Society, he had ultimately chosen to abandon the cult and defect to the Church of the Past instead. Human ideals and perspectives were constantly in a state of flux, meaning it was entirely possible for an individual to abandon their faith in a specific deity due to a fundamental shift in mindset—after all, during the Age of Mist, the followers of these Old Gods were essentially nothing more than a disorganized, volatile rabble.
Siles let out a slow sigh, tempering his words. “It is merely a hypothesis for now.” He paused, then added, “Do you remember the doctor’s story?”
“The individual he encountered at night who was half-human and half-statue?” Chendo asked.
“Exactly,” Siles said. “Don’t you find it incredibly anomalous? A half-human, half-statue entity is completely unheard of. The victims we’ve observed either instantly turn into solid stone statues or perish outright during the petrification process. Yet that individual managed to drag the immense, petrified weight of his lower body, crawling through the dirt for an unknown length of time. And the very next day, when the doctor went back to find him, his body had mysteriously vanished.”
Understanding instantly flashed through Chendo’s mind. “You mean to say his condition mirrors what happened to Joseph and Lila?”
Siles nodded. “A half-human, half-statue state… it defies the established mechanics of the curse. It’s as though his entire existence was violently fractured in two—one half susceptible to the petrification, while the other half resisted it. I suspect that such a unique anomaly could only ever manifest in a former cultist of Huddokar. It is the absolute contradiction between their past devotion and their current ideals that yields such a physically fractured, paradoxical result.
“Furthermore… someone cleaned up his corpse, or rather, someone had been tracking his movements the entire time. This perfectly mirrors the predicament of Joseph and Lila, who were forced to adopt aliases and hide away in Biedel City. When that half-human, half-statue individual dragged himself before the doctor, he was actively crying out for salvage and aid; Chester did not misinterpret his intent.”
“And Joseph and Lila successfully hid themselves away in Biedel City for several years,” Chendo’s voice grew increasingly low and solemn. “Until Lila noticed that Joseph’s mental state was finally improving, prompting her to secure a stable job for him—which led her straight to those specific workers.”
A heavy silence descended upon the room as they both contemplated the tragic chain of events.
“We don’t know the exact date Joseph and Lila first arrived in Biedel City. ‘A few years ago’… how many years exactly?” Siles mused. “However, the timeline of when the doctor encountered that half-shattered individual is absolute—it occurred precisely seven years ago. …Seven years ago. I am willing to wager that Joseph and Lila surfaced in Biedel City seven years ago as well.”
And seven years ago happened to be the exact moment Alfonso Carlyle publicly announced his monumental discovery of an ancient tribal ruin.
Siles was well aware that within the Kingdom of Konst, Alfonso had utilized a fountain pen constructed with manufacturing techniques far surpassing the current era to prove the validity of his claims, cementing the fact that he had indeed uncovered a tribal ruin.
What about here in the Ashless Lands? The explorers here had been equally skeptical; some viewed Alfonso as a grandstanding fraud, while others believed he was hoarding secrets or had monopolized the entirety of the ruin’s treasures for himself. Any of those theories were possible, but the collective consensus seemed to tacitly accept one core fact—there was indeed an individual who claimed to have found a tribal ruin.
The emergence of such a widespread collective memory naturally required a tangible piece of evidence, didn’t it? Alfonso must have brandished something undeniable to substantiate his claims. Perhaps it was that very same fountain pen.
Seven years ago, that fountain pen had triggered a violent schism within a faction of Old God followers; seven years later, that exact same fountain pen had driven Professor Cabel and Assistant Mervyn to journey deep into the Ashless Lands, where they had vanished without a trace.
Why? What did a simple fountain pen truly represent in the eyes of those who understood its significance? What could a fountain pen possibly signify? Aside from writing… what other purpose could a fountain pen serve?
Despite racking his brains for answers, Siles ultimately had to admit that he couldn’t formulate a definitive conclusion just yet. They had successfully disentangled a massive web of fragmented events, yet they remained agonizingly far from the absolute truth. Rather… up until this point, they had not managed to secure a single direct conversation with any of the primary actors directly involved in this affair.
Alfonso, Emmanuel, Professor Cabel, Assistant Mervyn, Joseph, Lila… not a single one. Not a soul who truly understood what the statues, the fountain pen, and the floating temples symbolized.
However, leaving all the missing links aside, one terrifying reality had become glaringly obvious—the House of Hales. This entire outpost was the grand stage and the sacrificial altar meticulously prepared by those Old God followers.
…Wait!
Siles froze, a sudden shock piercing through his mind as he abruptly stood up. “The communal tent!”
“What’s wrong?” Chendo asked, startled.
“They assassinated the circus ringmaster specifically to plunge the communal tent into a volatile, chaotic frenzy,” Siles explained, his voice tightly controlled as he rapidly pieced the danger together. “Yet against all expectations, the tent has completely regained its tranquility—it has even transformed into a place of revelry. And that is solely because Alva introduced the Fate Cards. Therefore, if Alva and the doctor continue to linger inside that tent, they are highly likely to walk straight into extreme peril!”
Chendo’s expression sharpened instantly into grim severity. “Do you believe they are mad enough to openly assassinate explorers right inside the communal tent?”
Assassinating the circus ringmaster, while disruptive, wouldn’t cause the explorers to instantly perceive a direct threat to their own lives; and those explorers who perished during the petrification process could, to some extent, be dismissed as victims of their own reckless greed.
Alva and Chester’s situation was entirely different. If they were to drop dead right inside the communal tent, it would trigger absolute panic and hysteria among the entire explorer populace, culminating in a catastrophic collapse of order.
Did that align with the mastermind’s objectives? Of course it did! They desperately required exactly that brand of chaotic frenzy and a horrific stage of crime to execute their plans.
“It’s highly possible,” Siles stated grimly. “Didn’t they just try to wipe us out on the wasteland moments ago? No matter the case, we have to head back and check on them immediately.”
They quickly threw on their coats, left the stone house, and sprinted back toward the communal tent. The outside temperature had dropped significantly; Siles felt his bones clicking with every stride, feeling entirely frozen through.
It was a bitter, snowy night. The time was nearing seven o’clock, and the landscape had plunged entirely into pitch-black darkness.
They reached the entrance of the communal tent ten minutes later. Before stepping through, Siles held Chendo back with a raised hand. After a moment of solemn deliberation, he slipped Akamara’s Eyeglass Frame onto his face. He was still within the active window of the ritual. Adopting a mindset of “there’s no harm in checking,” he cast his gaze over the massive tent structure.
…A split second later, the hand he was using to hold Chendo’s arm went completely rigid.
“What did you see?” Chendo asked in a low whisper.
Siles let out a long, weary sigh. “I get the feeling… I’m going to have to wear these glasses morning, noon, and night from now on.”
“Won’t that ruin your eyesight even further?” Chendo muttered.
Siles revealed, “The heavy canvas fabric of the communal tent is thoroughly laced with Stardust.” He paused, adding with chilling precision, “The exuviae of Hoodoka. That is the sole reason these fabrics are capable of casting off light.”
Chendo knit his brows, making no attempt to conceal his disgust. “How repulsive.”
“This merely validates our worst fears—this outpost is exactly the venue they prepared,” Siles said grimly. “But are they actively inside right now?”
Chendo countered, “Are we entirely certain they aren’t the actual administrators running the House of Hales?”
They continued their advance, the guards stationed at the entrance dutifully pulling open the heavy door flaps for them as usual.
Siles murmured, “That is a highly intricate web to untangle.” He paused briefly. “Hoodoka and Menavaca. Along with the structural evolution of this relay station over the years… I sincerely hope Lanmere manages to unearth something substantial on his end; it would go a long way toward helping us piece together the ultimate truth. But as I stated previously, our immediate priority is to ‘resolve’ the threat looming over us, not to passively solve the historical mystery.”
“You are entirely right,” Chendo agreed softly.
The explorers gathered in the central clearing were still intensely engrossed in their card games. Many looked thoroughly hooked; Siles noticed several individuals with flushed faces engaged in heated arguments over tactics. On the whole, however, the atmosphere remained remarkably lighthearted, and more importantly, no currency was being gambled.
…Naturally, in the Ashless Lands where a unified currency didn’t exist, gambling with money was an easy trigger for lethal disputes. Siles suspected that darker, more illicit corners of the outpost might harbor gambling dens, but the surface levels of the House of Hales were entirely clear of it.
Mary was still in the thick of the crowd. However, she appeared to be in the process of stepping away from the tables. Catching sight of Siles and Chendo, she quickly walked over, asking, “Why are you two back so soon?”
“We’re looking for Chester and Alva,” Siles explained. “They mentioned heading back to the quarters right after dinner, but it’s already past seven o’clock. I’m worried something might have happened to them.”
He chose not to reveal his deeper suspicions to Mary; at this stage, he was only willing to extend absolute trust to Chendo, Alva, and Chester. But his words weren’t a lie either; he was genuinely terrified for the safety of the duo.
A look of realization dawned on Mary’s face. “They might still be at the second-floor dining area. Let’s go check together.”
They quickly scaled the stairs. Moments later, they located Alva inside one of the dining establishments. He was sitting alone at a table, looking thoroughly bored as he attempted to replicate Siles’s fluid card-shuffling techniques, though his attempts continuously failed to yield a seamless shuffle.
Siles swept a rapid, calculating gaze over his frame. Finding nothing out of the ordinary—at the very least, Akamara’s Eyeglass Frame picked up no anomalies—he let out a small sigh of relief.
But a heartbeat later, his brows knit tightly together. “Alva, where is the doctor?”
“The doctor said he needed to use the washroom,” Alva answered automatically, only realizing after the fact to ask, “Wait, why are you guys back?”
“Ms. Mary, please remain here and keep Alva company,” Siles commanded without a single moment of hesitation. He spun on his heel and stormed out of the establishment, with Chendo following closely at his heels.
Alva was left standing there, completely lost as to what was happening.
Siles quickened his pace. The second-floor washroom was located at the absolute dead end of the long corridor. The moment Siles reached the threshold, he caught Dr. Chester right as the man was stepping out of the doorway.
Chester looked equally startled to see them. “What’s going on…”
“Stop right there!” Siles barked instantly. “Do not take another step forward!”
Startled by the sheer authority in Siles’s voice, Chester instinctively froze in place, standing a mere fraction of a step behind the washroom’s door sill.
Through the lens of his glasses, Siles witnessed a hazy, ash-black aura swirling tightly around Chester’s frame. It wasn’t a physical fog, but rather an ethereal “coloration” painted over Chester’s silhouette, operating entirely on a symbolic level.
And that dark aura was faintly, yet undeniably, tethered to the anomalous canvas fabrics lining the corridor outside. …To be absolutely precise, it was tethered directly to the Stardust woven into them.
What is the meaning of this? Siles rapidly analyzed the symbolic implications of the scene.
The Stardust here was explicitly the exuviae of Hoodoka, carrying the exact same rancorous, agonized screams Siles had “perceived” deep within the underground vein. Why was the doctor’s frame suddenly coated in that bizarre aura? It looked exactly like… a tracker. A marker.
What would happen the moment he stepped out of the washroom? What would happen if he attempted to leave the communal tent? What would happen… the moment he came into physical contact with Alva?
Siles pressed, “Doctor, did you cross paths with anyone while you were inside the washroom?”
Chester looked entirely bewildered and anxious. He fought to maintain his usual calm, composed demeanor, but his voice trembled slightly as he spoke. “I ran into a fellow explorer… we accidentally brushed shoulders. Aside from that, nothing out of the ordinary occurred.”
“Shoulders…” Siles murmured under his breath.
Chendo commanded sharply, “Strip off your coat.”
Both Siles and Chester shot a brief look toward him, but Chester chose to follow Chendo’s direction without delay. Slowly, his movements tight with an ambient dread as if terrified of triggering a latent trap, he awkwardly peeled out of his heavy coat and violently hurled it deep into the interior of the washroom.
Shaking, he gasped, “How… how does it look now?”
Siles meticulously scanned every inch of his frame, finding that the ash-black aura had vanished entirely. The malevolent mist had remained anchored to the coat, flying deep into the recesses of the washroom. He instructed, “Doctor, step out slowly.”
Chester carefully shifted his feet, successfully crossing the threshold without a single incident occurring. He was entirely safe.
He let out a massive, shuddering breath. His chest heaved violently as he fought to bring his soaring panic back under control. Despite having mentally prepared himself for the hazards of the frontier, actually staring down a lethal, invisible trap left him thoroughly terrified.
Once he regained his composure, Chester asked, “So, that explorer from moments ago… he was an enemy?”
“I suspect as much,” Siles replied. “But regardless of their intent…” He pondered the mechanics of the trap for a moment before noting, “The fact that they are still resorting to these indirect, proxy methods of execution means they aren’t prepared to openly tear down all pretenses just yet… Which implies their ultimate grand design has not reached absolute completion.”
Chendo nodded in firm agreement. “We still have a window of time.”
Chester could only look at the two men in complete, uncomprehending bewilderment.
Right then, Mary and Alva arrived at the scene. Once the situation was explicitly laid out for them, they were both left thoroughly shaken by the proximity of the danger.
Mary stated, “That coat needs to be disposed of immediately. I suggest you gentlemen return to your quarters ahead of schedule; that zone is absolutely secure, and no one would dare to execute a strike within those bounds. I’ll get in touch with Miles to handle this… Moving forward, I must insist on accompanying you at all times.” She offered an apologetic, guilt-ridden look. “Forgive me, I have been somewhat derelict in my duties as your guide.”
“Think nothing of it, Ms. Mary,” Siles comforted. “You are our guide, not our personal security detail. We simply need to heighten our own levels of vigilance.”
Chendo let out a soft, low chuckle.
Siles shot a sharp sideways glance toward him.
“Nothing, I have no objections whatsoever. I completely concur with your assessment, Professor,” Chendo coughed quickly, straightening his posture with absolute gravity.
Siles stared at him intensely for a long moment before finally averting his gaze. Alva couldn’t help but let out a sudden snort of laughter, and the brief amusement broke the suffocating tension that had gripped the group.
Before Mary departed to handle the situation, Siles asked, “Ms. Mary, if Lanmere manages to secure any intelligence on his end, how exactly will he transmit the message to us out here?”
“Most likely through a hired courier, or perhaps a beast-messenger,” Mary replied. “However, it has only been two days; I doubt he could have unearthed anything substantially definitive in such a short window.”
Siles nodded thoughtfully.
Subsequently, Mary set off to locate Miles to safely extract and destroy the contaminated coat, while Siles and the other three made their way back to the low stone houses. Both Alva and Chester were still visibly shaken by the brush with death, quickly retreating to their respective washrooms to bathe and change, wanting to soothe their frayed nerves.
Siles stood squarely by the window frame, silently staring out into the bleak, freezing night. Despite emerging from the encounter unscathed, Siles could clearly feel the oppressive weight of a gathering storm. The masterminds were actively moving to claim lives now, even if they were still utilizing covert, proxy methods to do so. The only reason everything appeared peaceful was because he had actively intervened to shatter their traps.
Chendo stepped up to his side, noting softly, “You are consumed by worry again.”
“…I am,” Siles let out a soft, low sigh.
Chendo said, “In reality, what you desperately require right now is the intelligence from Lanmere’s end.”
“Yes, I do,” Siles pondered the logistics for a moment before turning to face him. “Chendo, do you possess a method to rapidly travel back and forth between the House of Hales and Biedel City?”
Chendo hesitated for a brief instant before answering, “I do. As you know, I am a descendant of Ligadia; that deity’s domain is explicitly tied to long-distance travel and far journeys.” He paused, his emerald eyes turning soft. “But I truly do not wish to leave your side right now.”
Siles remained entirely unmoved by the sentiment, stating calmly, “But you are the only one who can aid me in this. I need you to secure the answers to three specific questions for me.”
“…Name them.”
Siles methodically laid out his requirements:
“First: What was the exact date Joseph and Lila first arrived in Biedel City, and did they ever mention anything relating to ‘statues,’ ‘Hoodoka,’ or ‘temples’ during their initial arrival?
“Second: What is the architectural and operational history of the communal tent at the House of Hales, and has that structure undergone any large-scale renovations or expansions over the years? If so, what were the exact dates of those renovations?
“Third: Regarding that specific Stardust Vein, who exactly did Lanmere sell the extracted Stardust to? Were there any high-volume buyers whose identities remained entirely anonymous?”
Reaching the end of his list, Siles lapsed into a brief, silent contemplation before solidifying his request: “Those are the three answers I require.”
Chendo gave a firm nod. “I have carved them into my memory. I will secure the answers you need. Perhaps… I should depart immediately?”
Siles simply stared at him, his gaze deep and unreadable.
Chendo tilted his head slightly, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “Won’t you say something comforting to—”
His voice cut off abruptly as Siles suddenly stepped forward and pulled him firmly into a tight embrace. He enveloped Chendo’s frame with a gentle, yet undeniable strength, catching the younger man so completely off guard that he didn’t even realize Siles had initiated the contact until they were already locked together.
Chendo went completely rigid for a fraction of a second before his entire posture melted against Siles’s chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around Siles’s waist, squeezing with an immense fervor as if wanting to fuse their frames together into a single entity. They remained locked in the quiet embrace for a long, peaceful moment.
Siles’s voice vibrated low and deep against Chendo’s ear: “Go swiftly, and return safely.”
