In a luxurious hall, with marble walls covered in fine tapestries, inside what appeared to be a vast palace, two men were arguing face to face. Both radiated a magical aura of similar magnitude, which filled the air with a heavy tension.

  One of them, sitting in a tall chair with a carved back, was a man with light brown hair and a well-groomed mustache, dressed in opulent robes befitting the nobility. His expression reflected discomfort at his interlocutor's request. Standing before him was Connor, a member of the Oculus of the Frontier, with dark brown hair and wearing his signature white robes with red borders.

  "You're asking too much of me," the nobleman said, his voice grave. I may have some influence in the adventurers' guild, yes, but those woods you point out are too dangerous terrain.

  "Please, Count," Connor replied, forcing a smile. "Everyone knows you're the man who helped the guild flourish in this region… The director himself is your brother-in-law. Our organization needs this favor."

  The earl sighed, his tone hardening as he replied, “And I would be happy to help you, but the forests you mention are home to level seven, even eight guardians. You are not originally from this world, Connor, but you should know: if you or I venture into those places for too long, the territorial beasts will consider us a threat and attack without hesitation. Only the Church has individuals capable of traversing the forests safely. You should speak to Supreme Emmanuel, who is in the area.”

  Connor coughed, somewhat uncomfortably, before saying, “Let’s just say that right now I don’t think His Grace Emmanuel would be very willing to help me, not after the incident almost two years ago.”

  The earl raised an eyebrow in surprise. “So you were the one responsible for that incident, and for those three Supremes to appear?”

  Connor sighed in resignation. "I only sent the report I was required to write. If you'd seen what I saw that day, you'd understand... even more so when you consider that Emmanuel ended up beating up those three by himself. The last time I saw him, he used a spell that sent me flying almost to another kingdom. I'm lucky he didn't mean to hurt me."

  “Some already consider him the most powerful Supreme in Myrrial,” the earl said, narrowing his eyes. “However, the Church had to pay a high political price for that incident… So I’m not surprised there are still those who resent you.”

  Connor sat down in a chair opposite the noble, finally relaxing his posture, though his gaze was still heavy with weariness. “Besides, everyone is tense about the construction of the Great Cathedral. Apparently, several winged titans tend to fly over the Sacred Tree from time to time, which has forced the Church to negotiate with these beasts constantly… I just hope this doesn’t have too dire consequences. I’ve heard rumors that our campaign in the New World has been slowed by fierce resistance from new enemies. And the last thing we would want would be an internal conflict here, involving the Supremes and members of the Church of Myrrial, who have proven to be the most effective against the monsters that populate that place.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” the earl said confidently. “The Church is used to dealing with such things. This isn’t the first time such a natural treasure has appeared, and it always attracts titans or similar creatures.” He paused and looked at him seriously. “But back to your request… why this strange quest? I’ve helped your organization countless times, but this is the first time I’ve heard something like this. No one is capable of living in those forests for the amount of time you mention; the beasts simply won’t allow it.”

  “It’s not impossible, as long as you find the right shelter,” Connor replied calmly. “We have several reports of cursed cult bases that have managed to establish themselves in similar locations. The target I’m looking for is likely within one of the three forests surrounding the Duchy of Bresmitz, the Kingdom of Mitrohr, or the Kingdom of Dazirk.”

  The earl looked at him in disbelief, frowning. “All this for one man? How do you even know he’s still there?”

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  Connor grew serious, his eyes boring into the earl’s. “What I’m about to tell you is classified information, part of the investigation into the Musall Manor raid, compiled by our organization.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “We managed to catch some of those involved. And to our surprise, they weren’t members of the cursed cults, but of that new organization that emerged a few centuries ago: the Blessed Cults. Apparently, the attacks throughout that region were merely a diversion to cover up the assault on the mansion.”

  "Are you talking about those moralistic rebels who try to imitate the cursed cults?" the earl commented with a hint of mockery.

  “Those are the same ones,” Connor nodded gravely. “But they seem to be much more dangerous than we thought. Their leadership includes several Level 7 mages and dimension walkers. Enough to wipe out an entire duchy, or even a small kingdom, without much effort.”

  The earl's eyes widened, unable to hide his surprise. “That sounds terrifying… especially on this continent, which is riddled with small, vulnerable kingdoms.”

  Connor nodded gravely. “But that's not all. According to the information we obtained from the interrogations, the assault on the mansion was carried out by a single man, who infiltrated and eliminated almost all the mages there… including General Richard.”

  The earl pursed his lips in disbelief. “Only a Level 7 physical mage, well-trained and armed with an arsenal of magical artifacts, could accomplish that.”

  Connor, however, slowly shook his head. “That was what I thought at first. But the forensic results and statements revealed something else: he was a mage who hadn't even reached level six. He took advantage of the guards' carelessness to breach the barrier, and once trapped inside, he managed to kill almost everyone and accomplish his objective." Connor leaned forward, his eyes blazing with intensity. "The coordinates of the New World."

  The earl frowned in disbelief. "That sounds impossible."

  "What you think is irrelevant," Connor replied flatly. "The oracles were consulted, and they confirm that the target has remained in this region this entire time. I've searched for him for over two years and have been unable to find him. I've scoured every city, town, and village within the prediction radius, even the black markets, but there's no sign of anything. The only explanation is that he's holed up in one of those three forests." He straightened and gently tapped his leg with a finger. "That's why I need your help. The Adventurers' Guild must provide us with its best trackers and experts in the area to penetrate those areas in search of a possible hideout."

  Silence filled the room for several seconds, during which the earl seemed to think carefully about something, before saying in a deep voice, "I find it hard to believe your organization doesn't have the necessary personnel for this. You can perfectly well request an imperial division from the mainland capital. If you gather enough mages below level 7, you may be able to withstand the onslaught of the lesser beasts without attracting the stronger guardians.”

  Connor frowned, his grimace subdued. “Unfortunately,” he replied, “right now the Oculus of the Frontier is almost entirely focused on stemming the ravages of the Narakel cult in Dornath… And if I do as you propose and mobilize Imperial forces, the target will immediately realize this and flee. My mission is to catch him; that’s why I insist I need your help.”

  The earl showed a trace of annoyance on his face. “No matter what reasons you may give, your request is still a problem for me. I’ve spent over a century growing this branch of the guild; I’m not going to risk its best members by sending them to an uncertain fate in those woods. I risk losing too much if too many die. The best adventurers tend to steer clear of places with too many fatalities.”

  Connor narrowed his eyes, his tone sharpening, laced with barely contained threat. “Please, earl. Our organization does not look favorably on those who refuse to help us with causes like these.”

  The mention didn't sit well with the earl. His posture shifted; there was a hardness in his voice as he retorted, "You'll achieve nothing by intimidating me. I didn't inherit my title like most of the nobles you tend to intimidate with your white robes. I came to my position with merit. I served over twenty years in Gaea, on the front lines, and I earned the right not to be intimidated by the likes of you. I still retain the favor of Prince Milan, in case no one in your organization told you so. If you so desire the guild's help, publicize the offer yourself through regular channels. If you pay enough, more than one fool will volunteer."

  Connor remained motionless, weighing the earl's every word while the nobleman never averted his defiant gaze. The air between them was charged with interest and risk like hot metal.

  "What do you want for this favor?" Connor finally asked, his voice level.

  "I want guarantees," the earl replied without hesitation. "A letter written by your superior ensuring compensation for the families of those who die on the expedition; an official declaration that they did not perish in vain. In addition, I demand that every party entering those woods be equipped with at least one grade 6 artifact to maximize their chances of survival. And finally, I want ten grade 7 blood potions."

  Connor felt his muscles tense. He gritted his teeth and crossed his arms uncomfortably. "That's going to take time," he muttered. "Not all of those things are achieved with a snap."

  The earl smiled calmly, confident in his position. "I'm not worried about time," he said. "I have all the time in the world to wait. But I warn you: my collaboration with your organization will be greatly affected if you ruin the guild's reputation. Adventurers are independent for very important reasons, and the Myrrial Empire is well aware of this."

  Connor simply nodded at the earl's words, clearly debating whether it was a good idea to involve the man in front of him in such an important quest.