But inside, Mara wasn't sure. Caelix wasn't the type who surrendered easily. He would search for physical evidence. What are we missing? She called up [THE INTERFACE], a snapshot of her status that she rarely checked because those numbers were no longer relevant.
[ THE INTERFACE ]
Name: Nyxaria
Title: Demon Queen | Final Raid Boss
Level: 999 (MAX)
Authority Rank: Catastrophe
Territory: Obsidian Sanctuary (Bound)
Core Attributes:
STR 9,999
VIT 8,800
AGI 7,200
INT 12,500
CHA 9,500
LUK 3 (Cursed)
LUK 3. Always LUK 3. She ignored the other numbers that didn't change. But there was a new line at the bottom, almost unreadable.
Peripheral Note: Territorial Development – Twilight Garden expansion 2%.
Flora Aetheric mutation detected: [Chrono-sensitive Moss] identified.
Effect: Passive temporal resonance.
Chrono-sensitive Moss? That grew in Twilight Garden? Because of Essence of Eternity exposure? Mara suddenly perceived something was wrong. Essence of Eternity... we brought it from Lake of Stillness here. We poured it into a bowl, mixed it, put it into the Treaty Stone. But... were there drops that fell? Were there splashes?
She turned toward Aldric who was checking his equipment. "Aldric. During the ritual of merging Essence of Eternity with the Treaty Stone... was there any material spilled? Or scattered?"
Aldric froze. His face went pale. "I... I'm not certain, my lord. The process was intense. There's a very small possibility that splashes of Essence liquid escaped the bowl during mixing. But that would evaporate in seconds due to its instability..."
"Unless it fell onto a medium that could absorb and preserve it," Nyxaria cut in, her voice low and dangerous. "Like soil rich in life magic... or moss that's temporally sensitive."
They all fell silent. That sound echoed in the throne room that suddenly felt profoundly cramped.
Outside, on the seventh day, Caelix was checking Sanctuary's perimeter for the umpteenth time. His [Truth Seeker] was active, scanning every inch of ground, every rock, every blade of grass. Most only produced noise—Sanctuary's corruption energy was too strong.
But then, near the main gate, exactly where he had left the Sentinel Ward, the symbol on his palm vibrated hard. Not a Legendary artifact vibration. A subtler vibration, more... temporal. He knelt, touching the ground. That ground felt cold, different from its surroundings. He scooped a bit with his finger, bringing it to his nose. No scent. But in his eyes, behind the [Truth Seeker] skill, that ground glowed with a very faint pale blue light—traces of pure temporal energy.
Essence of Eternity.
Just a drop. Perhaps less. But that was sufficient. That was proof that a ritual with high-level chrono-active material had been performed here. And a ritual like that was only for one purpose: stabilizing or activating a chrono-sensitive artifact.
He stood, temporal dust still clinging to his fingers. His gray eyes stared at the obsidian gate, as if able to penetrate it and see the Demon Queen inside. "I found you," he whispered, his voice flat but full of satisfaction.
Inside Sanctuary, Nyxaria perceived something—a pressure change in the air, like wind before a storm. She strode to the hidden observation window, looking toward the gate.
In the distance, the white-robed figure stood upright, staring directly at her. Caelix no longer resembled a confused investigator. He looked like a hunter who had finally found a blood trail.
[System Feedback]
Threat Level: Escalated.
Investigation Status: Critical Evidence Acquired.
Estimated Time to Confrontation: 48-72 hours.
Nyxaria didn't move. But inside, Mara took a deep breath, filling lungs that didn't need air. The game had changed. And now, it's our turn to decide: keep hiding, or welcome him with fire?
That gaze stabbed.
Not a physical gaze, but a certainty that penetrated the obsidian layers, corruption fog, and [Mimicry Veil] illusion—a silent acknowledgment between two hunters measuring each other's shooting distance. Caelix stood in the distance, a dirty white figure contrasting with the thick darkness around Sanctuary. His hand, which had previously been digging the ground, was now clenched. Nyxaria didn't need detection skills to understand: that man had found the final puzzle piece. Essence of Eternity. Undeniable temporal traces.
Good. He found a drop. But he hasn't found the lake. Mara growled internally, while Nyxaria's body remained motionless behind the observation window. The problem is, now he knows there's a lake. And he'll dig until he finds it.
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The morning wind carrying the scent of wet moss and cold metal felt like a dull knife scraping the nape. Sanctuary hummed in a false calm rhythm. Below, refugees began wandering the courtyard, gathering wood, checking traps. Fragile normal life, like thin glass over fire. "We can't just wait," that voice emerged from Nyxaria's mouth, flat and without questioning intonation.
Seris appeared from the shadows in the room's corner, as if always present. "He won't attack alone. Truthseekers aren't fighters."
"But he'll bring fighters. And our time is almost up." Nyxaria turned her face from the window. Her red eyes caught Lazarus's shadow gliding from the infirmary corridor, his black robes fluttering. Aldric hadn't appeared yet—still in the workshop, perhaps. "We need to divert his attention. Make him question priorities."
"A more complicated deception?" Lazarus asked, his dark green voice vibrating softly. "We've already spread rumors, my lord. And that only made him more curious."
"Not deception." Nyxaria stepped away from the window, her footsteps leaving faint indentation impressions in the air, as if space was reluctant to let go. "We'll give him another truth. A more urgent truth, bloodier, and easier to comprehend."
Playing dirty. Mara felt a metallic taste on her tongue, like after drinking cheap potions. But if this is what's needed to protect Lumi and that stone...
"Attack the Church's supply line," Nyxaria said. "The convoy passing through Timberlain Route, ten kilometers from here. They're carrying food, medicine, building materials for the new outpost. Valuable enough to attract attention, ordinary enough not to be directly linked to us."
Seris narrowed her eyes. "The risk is high. If we're caught—"
"We won't be caught." Nyxaria raised one hand, her black nails reflecting dim light. "[Mimicry Veil] for the three of us. We'll become ordinary bandits—mid-level, crude tactics, no signs of demonic magic. We kill the guards swiftly, take what can be carried, leave clear traces toward the west—far from Sanctuary. Let Caelix decide: is this coincidence, or part of a grand design?"
Lazarus snorted, his voice like rubbed stone. "And the Treaty Stone?"
"Once he's diverted, we move it." Nyxaria stared at them alternately. "Eclipse Merchants have a neutral vault in Crossbell. They store artifacts for clients who want to avoid Church detection. We send the stone there. Temporarily."
Eclipse vault. Safe, but we have to trust their profit-based neutrality. And we have to pay. Mara sighed deeply—Nyxaria's body didn't need it, but that ritual helped organize thoughts. But better than keeping it here, in the middle of a target.
"When?" Seris asked.
"Tonight. The convoy passes Timberlain at midnight. They have six guards, level sixty to seventy. One NPC driver. We finish in five minutes." Nyxaria closed her eyes briefly, accessing [THE INTERFACE] quickly. A mental map of the area spread out, with the convoy route blinking red. "Get ready. We depart in two hours."
The moonless night sky was the perfect blanket for murder.
The three of them stood atop a cliff facing the wide dirt road cutting through the old forest. Below, the convoy moved slowly: two covered wagons pulled by armored horses, escorted by six riders with silver armor and white robes—Church symbols visible even in the darkness. Lanterns on the wagon sides threw strange shadows on the trees flanking the road. Nyxaria—or more precisely, the figure now appearing as a human in a wide hat with an ordinary face and worn leather clothes—observed calmly. [Mimicry Veil] worked perfectly, transforming her into a level 75 bandit with disguised statistics. Beside her, Seris became a thin elf with arrows on her back, while Lazarus transformed into a stout man with a large axe.
This is strange. It feels like wearing a premium skin in a game. But this skin is uncomfortable—too tight, like clothes that aren't our size. Mara moved her shoulders, feeling alien muscles that didn't match level 999 demonic physiology.
"Front guard, level 72, Paladin. Rear guard, level 68, Ranger. Four in the middle, mix of Fighter and Cleric." Seris whispered, her elven eyes now ordinary brown scanning with machine accuracy. "NPC driver level 5. No threat."
"Kill swiftly. Don't use recognizable skills. Just swords, arrows, and axes." Nyxaria drew a short sword from its sheath—an ordinary iron blade, without aura. "I'll handle the front Paladin and left Cleric. Seris, ranger and right fighter. Lazarus, the rest. Also the driver."
"The driver?" Lazarus sounded hesitant.
"He sees our faces. Even disguised, safer to eliminate witnesses." Nyxaria's voice was flat, without tone. This wasn't Mara speaking. This was system logic. This was value versus risk calculation. Mara tried not to think about that driver's face, perhaps an old father just trying to make a living.
But she had no choice. Caelix had to get a convincing show.
They descended from the cliff like three ghosts. Their feet didn't step on the ground, but glided over the night wind—a side effect of Nyxaria's AGI stat still working despite being disguised. Six seconds later, they landed in the middle of the road, thirty meters in front of the convoy.
The front horse neighed in fear. "Halt!" the front Paladin shouted, his hand already drawing his sword. Holy light began surrounding his blade. "Standing in the path of the Church of Light is—"
Nyxaria didn't grant him a chance to finish his sentence. She shot forward, not with [Shadow Step] speed, but with high-level human speed—still sufficient to be a blur to that guard. Her short sword penetrated the neck armor gap, cutting the artery and throat with terrifying precision. Blood spurted black in the lantern light.
His movements predictable. He relied on [Holy Shield] skill but didn't have time to activate it. Fatal mistake. Mara noted coldly, while her hand—that disguised hand—had already pulled the sword and stabbed left, penetrating the light armor of a female Cleric opening her mouth to scream. The blade entered below the ribs, piercing the heart.
Two bodies fell almost simultaneously.
Beside her, Seris had already released two arrows. The first stuck in the Ranger's eye, the second pierced the Fighter's helm. Both were thrown from their saddles. Lazarus, with his large axe, spun like a top—one slash cut the horse from its rider, another slash split the second Fighter's head from shoulder to chest.
That lasted eight seconds. The driver on the front wagon was visible, his face pale, hands trembling holding the reins. He opened his mouth, perhaps to beg.
Nyxaria threw a dagger taken from the Paladin's belt. The blade spun once before sticking in the driver's throat. The man choked, then tumbled from his seat.
Silence. The surviving horses stood trembling, their eyes white with fear. Blood flowed slowly on the dusty ground, absorbing into the darkness.
"Take the medicine boxes and food sacks from the rear wagon. Leave the rest." Nyxaria commanded, her voice rough as a bandit should be. She herself walked to the Paladin's body, bent down, and deliberately stepped on the corpse's arm until the bone crushed—as if searching for valuables. She took coins from his pocket, then threw them into the bushes. "Make footprints toward the west. Horse tracks too. Make sure it looks like a hasty escape."
Seris and Lazarus moved swiftly. In two minutes, they had taken two small wooden boxes and three large cloth sacks. Nyxaria approached one of the horses, hitting its rump until the animal neighed and ran into the forest toward the west, followed by other horses. Footprints and broken wagon wheel tracks would form an easily followed path.
"Enough." Nyxaria waved her hand. "[Shadow Step]."
They disappeared from the massacre location, leaving still-warm corpses and scattered goods. No demonic magic traces. No unique skill signs. Just brutal and efficient violence, like a bloodthirsty bandit attack.
Caelix received the report three hours later through an emergency bird message—a small parchment scroll with a Church seal burned at the tip. He sat in his camp, analyzing soil samples collected near Sanctuary's gate, when the bird landed on his shoulder with cold claws.
The contents were brief: Timberlain convoy attacked. Six guards and driver dead. Goods stolen. No magic traces. Suspected bandits.
He furrowed his brow. His pale fingers tapped the folding table. Bandits? In this area? Highly improbable. Nyxaria's Sanctuary had cleared the surrounding area of wild monsters—her level 999 aura acted like a natural repellent. Ordinary bandits wouldn't dare operate so close to a dangerous zone.
Unless... if they weren't ordinary bandits.
Or if this was a diversion.