Upper city of Igwynt, Riverside of Ironclay River’s Upper-Middle Stream.
In the afternoon, the sun was obscured by gloomy clouds, casting the city below into a dull, oppressive haze.
Inside Buck’s mansion, the air was thick with the stench of blood. The strongest scent emanated from Buck’s study, now littered with corpses and chaos. Dorothy stood in silence, surveying the room before her gaze settled on the window through which Bill had escaped.
Dorothy murmured the title. The young man named Bill had claimed to be acting on his Mentor’s orders to take Buck and Clifford away. For Clifford, who was beyond saving, Bill had mercilessly drained him of all his Chalice and abandoned him.
“Mentor…” Dorothy pondered the word.
“If this “Mentor” is the teacher of Bill, Buck, and the others, it implies that the Crimson Eucharist’s hierarchy doesn’t end with Buck and his level. Above them lies this so-called Mentor—perhaps the true leader of the Crimson Eucharist.”
She contemplated this possibility, but soon more doubts arose.
“Who exactly is this Mentor? Why didn’t he appear earlier when I was fighting the Crimson Eucharist head-on and leaving them in this state? And now, why suddenly send someone to save them? More importantly, why drain someone into a Chalice before taking them away? Was the mission to rescue the Chalice or the person?”
Her priority now was to gather what she could and escape quickly.
Dorothy moved decisively into the secret chamber, searching for anything valuable. With the aid of her appraisal ability, she could easily discern items with spiritual trace, mystical properties, or mystical knowledge, making her search much easier.
She retrieved the suitcase previously used for the lime trap, emptied it, and began packing items. Most of the valuable possessions had already been taken by Buck, leaving her with only a few sigils, some spiritual relics, ritual materials, and two pieces of mystical knowledge. One was a novel she had already read: The Taste of Crimson.
While there was little of mysticism significance, the chamber held mundane treasures. Dorothy found several pieces of jewelry resembling precious metals and a stash of cash.
She continued scavenging the secret chamber for hidden treasures. As she packed the suitcase and prepared to leave, the sound of rapid hoofbeats suddenly echoed from the street.
Alerted by the noise, Dorothy activated her Corpse Marionette Ring, linking to the crow corpse stationed on the roof. Controlling the marionette, she sent it soaring into the sky to observe the situation below.
She saw several large black double-horse carriages approaching from the distant street, stopping at the gate of Buck’s mansion. From the carriages emerged a group of men in black uniforms, armed and masked. They began streaming into the mansion’s courtyard.
“Damn! Hunters? How did they find this place so quickly?”
Using her aerial vantage point, Dorothy was shocked to see the black-clad hunters moving in.
“It doesn’t make sense. The hunters shouldn’t have found this place so fast. Normally, they’d wait for the police to inform them. Weren’t they still at the Flooded Dockyard earlier?”
“Could Buck and his group have been tailed by the Bureau when they escaped, leading the hunters here? But that doesn’t explain how the hunters kept up with them. Buck and his people should’ve been skilled enough to shake any tail. Or could they have been tagged with a tracker?”
As Dorothy considered various possibilities, the hunters had already entered the mansion’s courtyard. They quickly spread out, securing positions, blocking exits, and stationing snipers on the second and third floors of nearby buildings. Within less than a minute, the entire mansion was completely sealed off.
Seeing the scene, Dorothy slumped against the wall, her face pale with despair.
After clearing out the remnants of the Crimson Eucharist at the Flooded Dockyard, the hunter squad had tracked their targets along the river to the White River Riverside. Their black carriages now stood firmly at the gates of Buck’s mansion as black-clad hunters moved swiftly to seal the premises.
From one of the carriages, a masked man, Gregor, stepped down into the courtyard. He glanced at the grand mansion before sneering.
“White River Riverside… Such a lavish home. Impressive, truly impressive. Who would’ve thought the leader of the Crimson Eucharist would live so grandly? I bet the combined value of the three houses we own in Igwynt doesn’t even match this.”
Gregor’s tone dripped with sarcasm. Next to him, Elena, who held a compass in her hand, responded coldly.
“Many upper-class figures within society have ties to cults and heretical groups. Their wealth is often the target of these groups, which go to great lengths to corrupt and recruit them. After all, the resources needed for mystical research are bottomless. And these so-called nobles, bored with their decadent lives, often seek out novelty,” she said with disdain.
“But judging by the Crimson Eucharist’s current behavior, they seem to be a relatively straightforward cult. Their heretical or deviant traits aren’t too pronounced. Otherwise, the Church would’ve had to intervene directly, and I wouldn’t have been merely assigned here,” Elena added thoughtfully.
Meanwhile, Turner, a towering figure, sniffed the air and directed his gaze toward the heavily damaged third-floor windows.
“There’s a strong scent of blood in this mansion, especially upstairs. There might’ve been an intense battle with significant casualties,” Turner remarked, his voice steady. Gregor frowned slightly at this.
“A battle? Are you saying those two returned here and fought someone else?” Gregor asked.
“It’s unclear. But something feels off inside. Be cautious when entering,” Turner warned with a serious tone. Hearing this, Gregor and Elena nodded in agreement.
Gregor drew his blade, Elena readied her pistol, and Turner clenched his iron fists. Leading the hunters, the three entered the grand mansion with heightened vigilance.