Dorothy’s Forbidden Grimoire

Inside the dimly lit carriage on the side of the street, Dorothy sat analyzing the intelligence she had gathered from the distant hotel.

“Based on the intel, I can deduce that these guys are not local Beyonders of Igwynt, but outsiders who have come here. Their objective is to follow the orders of someone named Deer Skull and find his great enemy in this city. That enemy is a master of Stone, skilled in the art of Spiritual Sculpting."

“While gathering intelligence in the city, they learned that Anna had suddenly woken up from the influence of the Chalice’s recognition poison. Because of this, they suspected she might be connected to the Beyonder of Stone and sought her out. That’s how they ran into me, leading to the battle just now.”

“Although they hit a dead end with Anna, they made a breakthrough on another investigative path—tracing the stone supply, which led them to pinpoint their target’s location at Saint Amanda School. There’s no doubt that this so-called great enemy of Deer Skull must be Aldrich.”

“Heh… Who would’ve thought that someone who claims to be absolutely neutral would have enemies as well…”

Dorothy pondered this as she pieced together the motives and objectives of these unexpected visitors in Igwynt, as well as the reason why Anna had unwittingly become their target. Now, the only question remaining was how to deal with them.

“Report to the Serenity Bureau again? No, that won’t work. The guy I fought earlier was already at the Black-rank, and from their conversation, the other one held an almost equal status. That means the other guy is likely Black-rank as well.”

“If I hadn’t intervened secretly, just one of them would have nearly wiped out Gregor’s squad—what happens when there are two? Gregor’s squad has already suffered heavy losses, and their combat strength has dropped significantly. Even if we rally all of Igwynt’s Serenity Bureau’s forces, it would still be a tough battle against those two. Even if we win, there’s no guarantee we can capture or kill them, and we would likely suffer severe casualties ourselves.’

Dorothy knew that not every situation warranted calling the authorities. These two individuals alone were already beyond what the Igwynt’s Serenity Bureau could handle. Even if they managed to subdue them, capturing or eliminating them would be another issue entirely.

“So, it seems the only choice left is to visit the Headmaster.”

The fact that this enemy organization could afford to use two Black-ranks just for reconnaissance and tracking proved that they were far more powerful than the Crimson Eucharist. Being targeted by such an organization was, in itself, proof of Aldrich’s own strength.

With her mind made up, Dorothy planned to seek out Aldrich. However, she didn’t do so immediately—there were other matters she needed to take care of first.

“But before I go to him, I might as well make some extra cash and replenish my gear.”

Muttering to herself, Dorothy looked toward the east.

…

Nightfall, in Eastern part of Igwynt, at the Flooded Dockyard.

The nighttime wind blew through this smuggler’s dock, a chaotic mess of makeshift structures. In the warehouse district, bullet holes riddled the abandoned buildings, silent witnesses to past battles.

At the edge of a crumbling wooden pier, a rusted ferry bobbed up and down in the water. Under the dim flickering lights, a dozen figures stood on the pier—one of them was Harold.

Dressed in a suit and wearing a tall top hat, Harold smoked a cigarette while surrounded by his subordinates. His mood was impatient as he waited for the gangsters he had hired to return from their mission.

“It's been so long already. Why aren’t they back yet? So many of them just to take out one brat—how could it take this long?”

Standing between his two bodyguards under the yellowish light, Harold grumbled, already growing dissatisfied with the gang he had hired.

“Hmph… Go ahead and stall for time. The longer you stall, the longer you live. But once you all get on the boat, not a single one of you is leaving alive…”

As he thought to himself, Harold glanced at the ferry floating on the water nearby. Hidden inside, he had already planted explosives, set to detonate along with everyone aboard.

To eliminate Anna, Harold had collaborated with other contenders for Viscount Field’s inheritance to hire local Igwynt gangsters to kill her.

Harold promised these thugs that after completing the job, they would receive their first payment here at the Flooded Dockyard. To evade the police, he also offered them a ferry, claiming it would help them escape Igwynt overnight via the Ironclay River. The second payment, he said, would be made at their final destination.

In reality, Harold never intended to let them live long enough to become liabilities. The ferry was already rigged with explosives, connected to a simple mechanical timer. The moment the gangsters boarded, he would activate the timer, ensuring that once the boat reached the middle of the river, it would explode—erasing all traces of his hired killers while saving him the trouble of paying them.

Harold resided in Cragrock Town, part of Igwynt County, where mining was the dominant industry. He owned two mines there, and since explosives were commonly used for mining, he had easy access to them. The explosives packed inside the boat had been smuggled into Igwynt through his own network—enough to send the entire vessel and its passengers sky-high.

Now, all he had to do was wait—for his bloodstained pawns to arrive at the designated place, so he could devour them in turn.

“Mr. Harold! They’re here! But strangely, there’s only one of them.”

At that moment, a sentry rushed over, reporting to Harold. Hearing this, Harold was momentarily stunned before responding,

“Only one? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. He says their operation failed—the target’s bodyguard was too strong. He was the only one who managed to escape!”

“An unexpected enemy…? Just a brat who hasn’t even inherited the properties yet—what kind of powerful protection could they possibly have?! And yet, they still failed? Bring him here!”

Harold fumed as he listened, then ordered his men to bring the survivor over.

A small, dark-skinned man with wiry limbs and sharp features approached. Harold recognized him—one of the gangsters he had hired, supposedly a well-known thief in the lower city.

“What happened?! Why are you the only one here? Where’s everyone else? Is that brat dead or not?!”

Harold spat his words at the thief, who responded with visible trembling,

“I’m sorry, sir! We ran into some terrifying people—we weren’t their match at all! They all had guns—real guns! Even better than the cops’! Oh, Holy Son, I’ve never seen so many guns in my life! We were completely…”

The thief’s words painted a vivid picture of the scene as Harold listened closely. Then, in an instant, the thief’s expression changed. From his waist, he swiftly drew a small knife and, before anyone could react, stabbed it into Harold’s throat.

Harold’s eyes widened. Clutching his bleeding neck, he made guttural sounds before collapsing to the ground.

“What are you doing?!”

Harold’s bodyguards were stunned. One of them immediately drew a blade and slashed toward the thief.

Bang!

A gunshot echoed through the air. The guard who had drawn his blade had his head blown apart. In his final moments, he turned toward the source of the gunfire—only to see Harold, standing upright and expressionless, pointing his pistol at him. Smoke still curled from the barrel.

The remaining bodyguard, shocked, turned to Harold in disbelief.

“Lord Harold, why did you… Ugh!”

Before he could finish, a cold sensation spread through his chest. Looking down, he saw a blade embedded in him—wielded by the very guard who had just been shot.

As he fell, he too became a marionette, just like his fellow guards, joining in a nightmarish chain reaction of mutual slaughter among Harold’s own men.

Like a row of falling dominoes, Harold’s entire force was wiped out in a gruesome cycle of betrayal and bloodshed.

And at a distance, in her carriage, Dorothy sat in silence, watching the carnage unfold through the eyes of her corpse marionettes.