The unmarked carriage sped through the dimly lit streets of Aethelgardia, leaving the luxury of the Entertainment District behind and heading towards a forgotten narrow alley in the artisans' quarter. There were no goodbyes. No congratulations.
The coachman simply stopped the horses, and two figures disembarked in silence before the carriage vanished back into the night. With a few steps through the shadows, they arrived in front of a closed antique shop. The locked door opened silently before them, and they slipped inside into the darkness.
Inside, Kayze and Nyx returned to the back room, where the silver-framed mirror awaited. One by one, they stepped through its cold surface, returning to the sterile timelessness of the Invisible Sanctum.
With a barely perceptible sigh of relief, Kayze removed his porcelain mask, followed by Nyx who also shed her butterfly mask. For a few moments, they were just two figures in black cloaks, their disguises discarded like uncomfortable clothing. Here, in the heart of their operations, lies were unnecessary.
"Good work, Nyx," Kayze said, his voice returning to its calm baritone.
"You created the opportunity, Lord Kayze," Verina countered, her tone reverting to efficient reporting. She handed him the black leather-bound book. It felt cold to the touch, with an unsettling aura that seemed to cling to the skin.
Kayze accepted the book and brought it to the circular platform in the center of the room. He placed it on the main console, and the crystal surface beneath it glowed softly, beginning to scan the object.
This is where the narrator feels it necessary to interject and explain. This book you see, dear readers, is not merely a mundane accounting ledger. Oh, certainly, within it are numbers, dates, and names—the tedious records of profits and losses. But its method of inscription, that is what made it an abomination.
Viscount Marvolo, in his greedy genius, did not use ordinary ink. The ink he used was a complex concoction made from the mana he drained from the land and its people. Every letter written not only recorded a transaction but also sealed within it a pinch of the "echo" from its source. Echoes of lost soil fertility, echoes of a farmer's despair from a third failed harvest, echoes of the pain of those who fell ill as their living environment was slowly poisoned.
In short, this book was not just evidence of a crime; it was the crime itself. A dark artifact pulsing with suffering. Reading it normally would only give you numbers. But "reading" it correctly, by aligning one's mana with the echoes within, would unlock the entire horrifying story behind each transaction. It was an accountant's nightmare and a priest's curse, wrapped in a seemingly simple leather cover. And that is why KeyFreedom had to have it.
Back to our scene.
Kayze stood before the book, his gloves removed. He wouldn't open it. Not in the usual way. He placed both palms on the cold leather cover.
"I'm going in," he said simply. "Give me ten minutes. If I'm not back, pull me out."
"Understood," Verina replied. She stepped back a few paces, her posture alert. She was the failsafe, his anchor to reality if the ocean of suffering within the book threatened to drown her leader.
Kayze closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and began channeling his mana into the book. This was a dangerous process. He wasn't forcing his way in; he was listening. He opened his consciousness to the echoes trapped within the ink, letting the whispers enter his mind.
The world around him vanished.
He was no longer in the Sanctum. He was in a parched wheat field under a pale sun. He could feel the thirsty earth beneath his feet, whimpering for water that would never come. Echo from Tario District, failed harvest, mana crystal profit +15%.
The scene shifted. He was inside a small cottage, hearing the weak cries of a child and the dry cough of an old woman. The air felt heavy with despair. Echo from Riverside Village, unknown respiratory illness outbreak, fake 'purification' fees, profit +8%.
Images flashed by. Nameless faces, unspoken suffering, boundless greed. All recorded in cold numbers on the book's pages. This was the burden of being Kayze. To truly understand a problem, he had to feel it. He had to touch the world's wounds directly.
He continued to dig deeper, past Marvolo's layers of superficial greed, searching for a pattern, for something more. And then, he found it.
An anomaly.
Most of the profits from the illegal mana crystal sales were neatly recorded, flowing into the Viscount's personal coffers. But there was a second flow of funds, about 20% of the total production, diverted to an unnamed destination. This fund flow wasn't in the form of money, but in the highest quality raw mana crystals. These crystals weren't sold. They were shipped.
Kayze focused his entire consciousness on the lingering echoes of these hidden transactions. He followed the faint energy trail, past fake shipping records and secret codes. And he found a name. Not a name, more precisely a title, written in ink that felt colder and darker than the rest.
'The Ivory Tower Alchemist.'
The echoes associated with this name were different. No longer about the despair of farmers, but about cold ambition and cruel calculation. Kayze caught a glimpse of an underground laboratory, intricate glass apparatus, and a highly complex and forbidden magic diagram—an attempt to create an artificial Nexus Point, a fabricated mana well that could destabilize an entire region if it failed.
This was bigger than just Viscount Marvolo. The gaudy fat man was merely a supplier, a pawn in a far more dangerous game.
Suddenly, a mental bell rang in his mind. Ten minutes had passed. With a sharp intake of breath, Kayze pulled his consciousness back.
He stumbled backward, one hand pressing against the console for support. His face was pale beneath his black hair, and his breath came in ragged gasps. The chill of hundreds of people's suffering still clung to his skin like frost.
Verina was immediately at his side, placing a hand on his shoulder—a professional yet foundational gesture of support. "Lord Kayze?"
"I'm fine," Kayze said, his voice slightly hoarse. He needed a few seconds to compose himself, pushing the echoes to the back of his mind. "Marvolo is more than just a thief. He's a puppet."
He recounted what he had discovered: the diverted mana flow, the artificial Nexus Point project, and the mysterious title 'The Ivory Tower Alchemist.'
Verina's face hardened behind her calm expression. "An Alchemist with such capabilities and resources… they must have powerful protectors. Perhaps one of the Great Noble Houses."
"Exactly," Kayze said. His eyes fixed intensely on the cursed book on the console. Their mission had just evolved. This was no longer about punishing a single corrupt noble. This was about dismantling a conspiracy that threatened the stability of an entire region.
"Nyx," he commanded, his voice returning to its firm, authoritative tone. "Your focus shifts. Forget Marvolo for now; he can wait. Begin investigating the title 'The Ivory Tower Alchemist.' Look for records of exiled prominent alchemists, forbidden projects, or anyone with a 'Ivory Tower'-related moniker. Check academy archives, imperial records, the black market. Use all our resources."
"Understood," Verina replied without hesitation.
That night began with a simple mission: stealing a book. Now, it ended with the opening of a door to a far deeper, darker conspiracy.
Kayze looked at the book one last time, the coldness of the echoes still on his fingertips. For the first time that night, a thin, cold smile touched his lips.
"It seems," he said softly, more to himself.
"Playtime is about to end."