An identification number was engraved on the back.
Ian raised the Token, examining it carefully in the moonlight.
The number sequence was old, belonging to the family’s internally supported "Dark Department" roster.
He traced the edge of the number with his fingertip, feeling a faint fluctuation of Magic Power.
The fluctuation’s frequency was unusual, like some kind of "Cancellation Mark."
’A deactivated serial number, then.’
Ian muttered to himself, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.
Someone had exploited a loophole in the family’s internal authority to deploy Death Warriors who should have been "dead" or "retired."
This way, even if the mission failed, the source could not be traced.
Because these people, according to family records, no longer existed.
’They act fast, and they’re willing to pay the price. Level Two Wizards don’t grow on trees.’
Losing even one would be a painful blow.
He put away the Token and stood up.
His gaze fell upon the half-withered old Golden Oak Tree in the corner of the courtyard.
On the surface of the trunk were several extremely faint carved marks.
The marks were fresh, left unintentionally by the three assassins as they snuck in.
The style of the marks... Ian narrowed his eyes.
’Why... does this look like a common cypher used by Edwin’s "Thunder Eagle Guard"?’
’Another useless fool, the first to lose his composure.’
Ian turned and walked back to the Laboratory. The Metal door slowly closed behind him, completely sealing off the bloody scene in the courtyard.
This skirmish served as a small test of his recent progress.
’The results... weren’t half bad.’
After all, it was his Talent Witchcraft from his promotion to Level Two, further enhanced by the Seed of the Stars. Its power was now on par with that of an average Level Two Late Stage Wizard.
On the laboratory table, Gaga was still deep in slumber.
The black mist around its body had grown so dense it seemed solid, like a writhing, living shadow.
As the mist churned, it occasionally revealed the changes in the feathers beneath.
The once pure black feathers now had edges that shimmered with a Dark Silver luster.
The shadow patterns and silver patterns had fused completely, outlining a design as complex as a Star Map.
Most striking was the center of its back.
There, two slender silver lines extended slowly, finally converging at the base of its tail feathers.
At their junction, the faint phantom of a tiny, rotating nebula had appeared.
Ian reached out, gently placing his palm on Gaga’s back.
His Spiritual Power seeped into their Soul Link.
From the other end of the Link, a wave of consciousness as deep as the ocean washed over him.
The fluctuation was steady, but deep within it hid an ancient, cold Power that was in the process of Awakening.
It felt as if something was about to break out of its shell.
"Ian..."
A final, blurry thought came through the Link, much clearer than before.
"Wait for me..."
As the thought faded, the black mist around Gaga suddenly retracted!
All the mist receded into its body like a tide, and the Dark Silver patterns on its feathers lit up simultaneously.
The light flickered three times, then slowly faded.
Then, all fell silent.
Gaga’s breathing became extremely slow and deep, with a full thirty seconds passing between the rise and fall of its chest.
It was as if it had entered some deep, transformative hibernation.
Ian withdrew his hand, the corner of his mouth curving into a slight smile.
"I’ll be waiting."
He turned, walked to the other side of the laboratory table, and opened the Metal box containing the remains of the Star Crystals.
Inside the box, all thirty-seven crystals had turned into grayish-white rubble.
Their Energy was completely drained.
’20.5%... It’s still not nearly enough.’
Ian closed the box and looked out the Laboratory window.
The night was at its darkest.
In the center of East City, the Crystal Ball atop the Time Trace Tower was still lit, illuminating nearly half the city’s night sky.
It also illuminated the eyes stirring restlessly in the shadows.
’The suppression... has escalated.’
He muttered to himself, his fingertips tapping unconsciously on the edge of the laboratory table.
The rhythm was steady, yet it carried a certain cold cadence.
Ian closed his eyes and re-entered a state of Meditation.
In his Sea of Spirit, the Crystal Core rotated slowly.
The Star Orbit patterns on its surface were a fraction clearer than the night before.
...
In the front hall of the Workshop, Old Finn startled awake from a light sleep.
He sat up, his cloudy eyes looking toward the courtyard.
’Just now... did I hear something?’
It was very faint, very brief, like something being crushed.
He threw on a coat, picked up his pipe, and walked out of the front hall with a stooped back.
The courtyard was empty. Moonlight spilled onto the Stone Slabs, casting a cold, clear light.
The shadow cast by the old Golden Oak Tree swayed slightly in the night breeze.
Everything seemed normal.
But Old Finn’s nose twitched twice.
In the air... there was an extremely faint, rust-like, bloody scent mixed with the night breeze, almost imperceptible.
He stood silently for a few seconds, then turned and walked back to the front hall.
As he closed the door, his fingers pressed lightly against the doorframe.
There was a fresh scratch there. It was shallow, but its edges were frighteningly clean.
As if it had been cut in an instant by something incredibly sharp.
Old Finn pulled his hand back, slowly exhaling a turbid breath.
Smoke rose in the dim yellow light, obscuring the grave expression in his eyes.
’When did this happen... It seems I’m really getting old.’
He muttered to himself and sat back down on the low stool behind the counter, picking up the yellowed Magic Potion Notes.
But this time, he didn’t open it.
He just sat there quietly, listening to the faint sound of the wind from deep within the night.
As if waiting for something.
Perhaps for the dawn.
Or perhaps... for the next storm.