Northern Shore of the Conquest Sea, Telva.

At night, in the outskirts of Telva city, within the basement of a certain house.

It was a storage basement, dimly lit by a flickering gas lamp. Surrounded by piles of weeds and scattered wooden crates, three figures currently occupied the room.

One of the three, dressed in black, was bound tightly with coarse hemp rope and suspended from the ceiling beam. His feet hung in the air, gently swaying, and his eyes were shut tight—he appeared to be unconscious.

The other two men, dressed in casual attire, were stationed nearby—one standing, one sitting. They watched both the suspended man and the surroundings with cautious expressions, clearly on guard for something.

As time passed by the second, the bound man’s eyes twitched slightly, and then slowly opened. Groggy and disoriented at first, his brows furrowed as memories began to flood back.

The man gradually recalled what had happened before he lost consciousness. He remembered that he was a subordinate of the clandestine group known as the Dark Gold Society, and that something had gone terribly wrong during their operation tonight. Not only had he and his partner failed to complete their mission—seizing all of the target’s mystical resources and capturing them—they’d instead been ambushed and subdued.

He thought back carefully. He remembered walking right into a trap. The target had somehow known they were coming and had preemptively hidden allies in the room. Caught off guard, his partner was restrained while he attempted a rescue. But the target possessed some strange ability to regenerate rapidly, and he failed. Outnumbered and overpowered, he was knocked out cold.

“Tch… Damn it. I can’t believe we took such a massive hit this time. That target isn’t ordinary at all—not only did they know we were coming, they even set an ambush. They saw through everything. Just who the hell are they…”

Now fully conscious, the man assessed his surroundings. He saw the two guards a short distance away and took note of his situation—suspended mid-air, bound tightly.

“Looks like I’ve been captured. Those two must be my wardens. They probably already searched me and took everything. Suspending me like this is to prevent me from touching the ground—so I can’t use my ability to escape. They’ve really thought this through…

“I wonder what happened to Rock… Maybe he’s being held somewhere else… or worse. No matter what, I need to get back and report this to Mr. Gochelle immediately…”

Feigning unconsciousness, the man kept his eyes nearly closed while subtly observing the room and his captors. He analyzed the rhythm of the guards’ movements and studied the rope binding him.

“They used coarse hemp rope… Good. It seems they’re aware of my abilities but not deeply familiar. They think hanging me like this is enough to seal them off. But that’s a big mistake.”

Once he’d finished scanning his environment, the man mentally celebrated.

They had tried to apply the same tactic used during his capture—preventing contact with floors and walls to block his powers—but they’d overlooked one crucial detail. Suspending a Wall Walker could be effective, yes, but only if done properly. And hemp rope, while thick, wasn’t the right material.

According to spiritual theory, living, thriving plants belong to the Chalice domain, while long-dead plant remnants lose that nature and gradually shift into the Stone domain.

Thus, a living forest is of the Chalice, while a cabin made from felled timber becomes of the Stone. Similarly, hemp plants growing in a field are Chalice, but after being harvested and woven into rope, they transition into Stone.

The essence of the Wall Walker’s power isn’t just phasing through stone walls or sinking into the ground—it’s the ability to move freely through anything possessing the Stone nature. That includes wooden walls and hemp rope.

The reason he was subdued earlier was largely due to being restrained by human bodies. Living humans strongly belong to the Chalice—they’re impossible for a Wall Walker to phase through.

Once he confirmed that neither guard was watching him closely, the man shut his eyes and began to activate his ability.

While Wall Walkers could phase through nearly any Stone-nature material, the difficulty varied. Regular stone was the easiest—activation was instantaneous and movement swift. But other materials took longer and slowed movement. The more stone-like the composition, the easier the traversal.

Focusing his mind, the man spent several moments preparing. Finally, he activated his ability and phased right through the coarse hemp ropes. He dropped to the ground with a thud, startling the two guards.

They turned instantly, drawing their pistols and shouting.

“Freeze!”

“How the hell did you get down?!”

But before they could level their weapons, the man activated his ability once again. His body sank into the rocky floor and vanished. Without hesitation, he burrowed away beneath the earth. The guards aimed at empty air and were left staring in astonishment.

The dim basement fell silent.

The frayed hemp rope that once bound the man now dangled, swaying gently in the air.

After a few beats of silence, the two guards exchanged glances—then broke into eerie smiles.

…

Late at night, somewhere on the outskirts of the vast city of Telva.

Amid sparsely placed buildings and quiet, empty streets, a large compound stood solemnly. Within its tall courtyard walls was a stately residence, and despite the late hour, lights still glowed warmly inside.

Inside the residence, in a room by the window, a group of figures had gathered. Among them was the black-clad man who had only just escaped from confinement in the basement.

The man knelt on the wooden floor. Before him sat a richly dressed elderly man in his fifties, graying at the temples, wearing a formal suit and gripping a cane. His expression was grim. Standing to the left was a young male servant in a butler’s uniform, upright and attentive. To the right stood a middle-aged man around forty, wearing casual clothes, bearded and visibly worried. Along the edges of the room, several figures stood respectfully in silence.

“Hah… Hah… I apologize, Mr. Gochelle. Our mission failed. The target knew we were coming and set a trap in advance. Both Rock and I fell into the ambush and were captured. I managed to escape thanks to their carelessness… but Rock’s fate may already be sealed.”

Panting heavily, the man addressed the elderly gentleman—Gochelle—who listened in silence, then slowly spoke in a heavy tone.

“A trap… Seems the marking on the merchandise was discovered after all. We anticipated someone able to buy three mystical texts at once wouldn’t be ordinary, which is why I sent both you and Rock. But it seems… we still underestimated them…”

“Tell me the details, Bana. What abilities did they have? How were you captured?”

Gochelle’s voice was calm and deliberate. Bana nodded and recounted the encounter: how they were ambushed, the abilities of their opponents, and how he ultimately managed to escape.

As Gochelle listened, his expression grew darker still.

“Rapid regeneration, immense physical strength, and sudden bursts of bodily pain… These are all traits of Chalice’s power. I assumed someone purchasing so many Stone mystical texts would be of the Stone path, but they turned out to be Chalice?”

Gochelle muttered, brows deeply furrowed. He thought through all the Chalice-based organizations they might have offended recently, but came up empty. Shifting his focus, he looked back at Bana.

“You said you escaped while they were distracted? If they were strong enough to subdue both of you, would they really let you get away so easily?”

There was a note of suspicion in his voice. Bana, however, replied firmly.

“Yes, sir. They only managed to subdue us because of the ambush. In a head-on fight, we wouldn’t necessarily have lost. While they did catch us off-guard, they didn’t understand our abilities well. They tied me up with hemp rope and hung me up, thinking it would seal my powers—but that’s what gave me the chance to escape. They underestimated us. I only stayed as long as I did because I was trying to save Rock.”

Bana’s tone was resolute. But Gochelle’s suspicion hadn’t dissipated—in fact, he eyed Bana even more warily now.

“Bana… do you remember when you first started working under me?”

“Of course, sir. It was March, four years ago. In Yaz…”

Bana answered confidently. Gochelle continued to probe with more personal questions, all of which Bana answered correctly, point for point.

Finally, satisfied that the man before him was indeed Bana and mentally sound, Gochelle turned to the servant standing beside him and gave a new command.

“Alaulo, bring the Illuminating Beacon. A strong one. Shine it on Bana.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Alaulo with a bow, then quickly exited the room.

In the meantime, Gochelle looked back at Bana.

“When you’re under the light, don’t use Shadow to resist.”

“Y-yes, sir…” Bana replied nervously.

Moments later, Alaulo returned carrying a peculiar gas lamp.

The young attendant brought the Illuminating Beacon in front of Bana and then activated it. A warm orange-yellow glow lit up the surroundings and shone directly onto Bana, who offered no resistance—he simply allowed the light to shine on him.

Finally, after quite a long period of exposure, and after consuming several Lantern spiritual storage items, the Illuminating Beacon still failed to reveal any unusual mystical traces on Bana. Seeing this, Gochelle nodded slightly, then continued speaking.

“All right, that’s enough. You can go and rest for now, Bana. But it’s best if you don’t sleep—we’ll need to finish preparing through the night. We leave Telva first thing tomorrow morning.”

“We’re leaving tomorrow morning… Understood, sir. I’ll go make preparations now.”

With that, Bana withdrew. After he left, the middle-aged man with the worried expression—standing beside Gochelle—spoke up.

“Sir, isn’t it a bit hasty to leave first thing in the morning? There should still be plenty of resources left in Telva that we haven’t harvested. That Chalice group that ambushed Bana doesn’t seem particularly strong either, if they let someone slip through their fingers. We don’t really need to be afraid of them, do we?”

“It’s not about fear,” Gochelle replied.

“It’s about how little we know about them. The unknown often brings unpredictable danger. We were only ever meant to be temporarily stationed in this city—we don’t have the time to dig into their background.

“Whoever they are, the fact that they’ve noticed something wrong with the Telva branch of the Craftsmen’s Guild already poses a risk to us. Our mission is to destroy that branch and harvest as much of Telva’s mystical resources as we can. It’s not to waste energy fighting an unknown group to the death.

“Now that the local guild remnants are eliminated and the objective is basically complete, there’s no point in taking more risks staying here. We’ll head back and report. We can settle the score later if needed.

“We finish preparations tonight. First train out tomorrow. You go get ready too, Falor. No need to stay here and let the night drag on.”

So said Gochelle. When faced with a mysterious group’s strike, he chose caution and withdrawal over brute force. Hearing this, the man named Falor nodded and exited the room. Gochelle, after surveying the room once more, also rose from his seat to begin preparations for departure.

…

Under the night sky, on a rooftop not far from Gochelle’s mansion, a small black figure watched the distant estate.

“Ah… preparing tonight and leaving first thing in the morning, huh? Just as Beverly said. These people really are cautious to a fault…”

Cloaked in black, hood drawn low, Dorothy muttered to herself as she gazed into the distance.

“Still… staying up all night without sleep is a bit of a problem for me. But… good thing I’ve got a workaround.”

As she spoke, Dorothy sat down on the rooftop. Bowing her head, she began using the lucid slumber method—putting herself into a sleep state while keeping her consciousness active in the dream space.

Then, within the dream, Dorothy activated her ability to manipulate her own body, raising herself to her feet. She reached into her cloak and pulled out a small iron flask.

This flask was one of the spoils she’d taken from Bana and the others. After appraisal, Dorothy had confirmed that it contained a Shadow-aligned sleeping gas—designed to plunge those who inhale it into a deep slumber. The gas was produced from a Deep Sleep Sigil, a charm rolled up inside the bottle that, once burned, released sleep-inducing smoke. Captured in a container like this, it could be measured and targeted more precisely.

Dorothy uncorked the bottle and brought it to her nose, inhaling the contents to deepen her already-sleeping state.

Then, within the dream space, she manipulated her spiritual threads, channeling the deep sleep effect created by the sigil into Bana, who was not far away in the mansion and had a Marionette Mark engraved with a universal language pattern.

Inside the mansion, while making preparations for departure, Bana was suddenly overcome by a wave of irresistible drowsiness and collapsed into sleep. Immediately, Dorothy activated the Marionette Mark to take control of his sleeping body.

Bana, now sleepwalking, checked to ensure no one was nearby, then moved to a window in one of the side rooms. He opened it to reveal a large hawk perched on the windowsill. Beside the hawk sat a cloth bag.

Opening the bag, Bana saw what lay inside—rows of yellow-colored sticks of dynamite.