“If I were with the Crimson Eucharist, all of you would already share the fate of the corpses in the study below.”
Under the overcast sky on the spire of the Buck Mansion, a man in a gray-black trench coat stood silently, uttering these dangerous words. Hearing them, Gregor and his team grew even more vigilant, gripping their weapons tighter.
"Are you threatening us?"
Turner shouted in response to Edrick’s words, his tone loud and accusing. Edrick, however, replied calmly.
"Threaten? No, no, I have no need to threaten you. I’m merely stating facts."
"You..." Turner, unable to restrain himself, was about to act but was immediately stopped by Gregor.
"Hold it. Don’t be rash."
After restraining Turner, Gregor carefully observed the man not far away. Then, he turned to Elena and whispered, "Elena, do you have enough spirituality? Check his status."
After a moment of intense focus, Elena furrowed her brows slightly.
"I can’t. I can’t see anything. There’s no trace of spirituality. I can’t determine what type of Beyonder being he is. He’s either a Shader, or he possesses a mystical artifact related to the Shadow. His spirituality is beyond my current capacity to perceive."
Elena’s serious tone made Gregor and Turner even more grave.
If Elena’s detection failed, it meant the opponent’s counter-detection ability was exceptionally strong, far beyond what Elena could penetrate with her current spiritual reserves. In such a situation, every decision had to be made with extreme caution.
"Heh... you don’t need to be so tense. I’m not your enemy. Put down your guns. An accidental misfire would be troublesome."
Edrick chuckled lightly and glanced around. Though it seemed like a casual look, he managed to identify every sniper position that the hunters had secretly set up to target him. The captains who had orchestrated the setup felt a chill run through them.
“He knows our defensive layout. He’s completely aware of the current situation. But how?”
This realization made the hunter captains even more apprehensive. The imbalance of information—him knowing them while they knew nothing about him—heightened their caution. They reevaluated Edrick, raising his threat level in their minds, which only deepened their reluctance to act rashly.
After a brief but heavy silence, Gregor broke it.
"The people in the study downstairs... did you kill them?"
"A simple cleanup. There was a minor mishap," Edrick responded calmly. Gregor pressed further.
"Are you specifically targeting the Crimson Eucharist? Was the Burton case your doing too? Were you behind the two messages sent to the Bureau?"
"Correct. Are you satisfied with the information from me?" Edrick spread his hands slightly, smiling. Gregor and the others exchanged glances before Gregor asked gravely, "Are you—or is your group—using us as pawns?"
"Pawns? Hardly. We just believe that, since we’ve come to Igwynt, it’s necessary to show the proper respect to its secret rulers. Those flowers were merely a gesture of goodwill. After all, conducting operations here without notifying the local authorities would be quite rude, wouldn’t it?"
As he spoke, Edrick fixed his gaze on Gregor, his tone sharp yet measured.
"Don’t misinterpret our goodwill. Otherwise, we can’t guarantee who will pay the price for such a misunderstanding. Believe me, we’ve always been more than willing to cooperate with official forces. Haven’t the flowers helped you avoid significant losses this time, Mr. Mayschoss?"
Though Edrick’s words were initially cryptic, his final direct address caused Gregor and his team to shudder inwardly.
“He knows our true identities. This organization knows far more than we imagined.”
This thought heightened their tension, pushing their alertness to its peak. Yet, it also made them more hesitant to act.
"What is your purpose here in Igwynt?!" Gregor demanded, his face taut with seriousness.
"Our purpose... Hmm. Telling you wouldn’t be impossible, but only if you’re unafraid of losing control on the spot."
Edrick’s calm words left Gregor and his team momentarily stunned before they deciphered his meaning.
The organization’s purpose involved immense secrets, containing forbidden knowledge. Merely hearing it spoken aloud would constitute a transmission of mystical knowledge, which could lead to mental corruption and loss of control for those unprepared.
“Secrets with potential contamination... What exactly are they dealing with?” This realization instilled both fear and curiosity in the hunters.
"Hmph... It’s just a minor organization. What’s so secretive about it?" Turner retorted dismissively. The Crimson Eucharist, though troublesome, was not considered an ancient or highly influential organization. It was hard to imagine anything profoundly secret tied to them.
Edrick’s expression remained unchanged as he replied.
"The tip of the iceberg, the glimmer of a morning star. Ships never suspect that what they see above the surface is only a fraction of the lurking danger. Acting solely on appearances can lead to disaster. As a squad captain, you should understand this better, Mr. Turner."
Turner fell silent, unable to retort. He had initially intended to provoke Edrick into revealing more, but the possibility of contamination made him hesitate.
Though Edrick hadn’t made a single move, his words alone exerted immense pressure on Gregor, Turner, and Elena. Even Turner, the most impulsive of the group, refrained from acting recklessly.
“The tip of the iceberg... Does he mean the Crimson Eucharist runs deeper than we thought? Is it connected to even more hidden and dangerous forces?” Elena pondered, dissecting Edrick’s words.
Edrick, sensing their silence, smiled faintly before speaking again.
"Take my words as a warning. That’s the reason I waited for you here. Now, I must take my leave. Until we meet again..."
With that, Edrick turned to leave. Gregor quickly called out, "Wait! What’s the name of your organization?"
Edrick paused, then, with his back to them, answered slowly,
"You can call us... Rose Cross Order."
With those words, Edrick leaped from the spire, vanishing into the distance toward the churning Ironclay River below.
Elsewhere, near the White River, a hidden riverside location obscured by dense underbrush concealed the entrance to a dried-up sewer pipe. The faint sound of rusted metal groaning echoed as a small hand pushed aside the corroded iron bars covering the entrance.
Dorothy crawled out of the pipe with difficulty, dusting herself off before exhaling deeply. She glanced toward the distant silhouette of the Buck Mansion.
"Phew... talking in riddles is exhausting. I’d better scram."
She grabbed her suitcase and dashed away from the mansion. Moments later, Brandon emerged from the sewer pipe, trailing close behind her.