Cytortia frowned.

She silently thanked her experience with the Sicilian Ghost Dragon. Months of trying to utilize that sample was a chore. But that task did hone her ability to separate solutions into different phases. She also adapted a method similar to Earth’s centrifuge, adding centripetal force to her set-up to speed the process.

Finally, they got the separated component of the shattered Ghost Detecting Crystal.

“We will assume the crush Angel Tear Stone is not important,” Rem looked at the processed sample. “That left two parts in the broken crystal: black and red.”

“Red is an unreacted Ghost Detecting Crystal,” Melody concluded from her observation with [Heavenly Eyes]. “But the black phase, it hurt my eyes.”

“What is it?” Luxinna asked, worriedly nursing her hot chocolate.

“The Mana signatures are weird even for ghosts,” replied the demoness. “It is like someone replaced the spirit with raw bloodlust.”

Upon hearing that, Hikma consulted the translated ritual. One chapter detailed a method to reprogram the dead with spell-formula design to create an artificial soul with Mana and bloodlust. Something inside the boy crawled. His very link to the Astral Consciousness flagged up with alarms.

“That coincides with the use of undead,” Rem marked the spot Luxinna found the reaction. “I assume this is the place they began the first five sacrifices.”

Rem’s word suddenly reminded Scathach of something she almost forgot.

“Kiddo, I don’t know if this is the best time to tell you,” Scathach nervously said. “But Venistalis is built on top of a massive catacomb.”

That bombshell got attention from everyone.

“Can you please repeat that?” Luxinna said.

“Venistalis is built on top of a massive underground mausoleum. It is there ever since the arrival of the Grand Empire. There must be at least ten-million corpses down there.”

Everyone groaned.

“Great,” Melody said. “Our enemies have an unlimited number of shock troop to throw our way.”

“Not if we stop the ritual first,” Rem bit on his nail. “The sad thing is we do not have the resource to create another Ghost Detecting Crystal. All of this means we need to do this the hard way. I want to know about these serial murders and the royal-mages. We are closing in on our culprit. Cy, if worse come to worse, we need to find a way to kill these things effectively. Can you handle that?”

Cytortia licked her lips.

Seeing that, Melody and Luxinna glanced at each other with fright. Oh god, were they looking at the return of Anarchist Pill Goddess?

“No problem,” Cytortia suddenly acted all jittery. “I already have several theories. It will be awesome.”

The demoness’ and the elf’s heart sank.

…

Up the high-rise garden of Water-quarter hosted the party of Duke Lamington. The structure loomed over Venistalis like a Pheonix proudly perching above the mass of ants.

The grand crystal column supported several islands of polish granites suspended by spells and the Grand Empire’s metalwork. A bridge of gold and granite linked the island platform together as they climbed to the highest point of Venistalis.

On the 5th platform, featuring the banquet, Shyme Enma and Lancaster Waiter was waiting for the group to arrive. Waiter was in his usual butler uniform, while Shyme wore a sparkling blue evening gown embroiled with a tiger-face encircled by a heavenly dragon--the symbol of Enma clan.

“Are you sure they will come, Miss?” Waiter asked.

“I am,” Shyme said. “That man isn’t the type who wastes an opportunity.”

Then they saw the duo heading their way.

Rem came to the party in an emasculate suit, bold red tie, and a black mask. Cytortia arrived in a green sundress with yellow embroidery. She even braided her hair, especially for this occasion.

“You finally arrive,” Shyme said.

“Yes,” Rem greeted and handed her a black folder.

“What is this?” Shyme said, looking at the folder as if it might explode.

“The translation to your missing property,” Rem dangled the file in front of her. “I believe in trading favors. You scratch my back, and I scratch yours. Don’t you want it?”

Shyme looked incredulous.

“Are you claiming you succeed where Enma clan failed in such a short time?” Shyme glared at Rem. “You are acting too familiar with me, mortal?”

Rem sighed and-- in a move the sent Shyme into a mild panic--retracted the file. Rem glanced at Cytortia and procured a lighter. Cytortia looked like she was holding back tears as she nodded.

“What are you doing?” Shyme asked.

“Burning it,” Rem said liked it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Your book is goddamn dangerous. The only reason I am handing it back is that Cytortia wants you to have it. Do you know how hard our egg-heads worked on this paper? The goddess here had to run around over time with a tray of drink for days. The book is two-hundred pages long, you know? I know you are mean, but is it fine to look down on your friend’s hard work this badly?”

Rem set the file on fire much to Shyme’s fright. Then a tear from Cytortia brought her back to reality.

“Why are you burning it then!?”

“Information worth more than lives in wartime,” Rem said, gesturing at Cytortia. “Are you fine?”

“No problem,” Cytortia watched as her friends’ effort went up in smoke. She looked like she was about to cry.

Shyme lost it. The young girl snatched the burning folder from Rem, scrambled to the nearest waiter handing out drink, grabbed a glass of white wine, and doused it on the envelope in a blind panic. Shyme ignored all the gapes and stares from the surrounding guest and huffed like she just ran a marathon as she opened the folder to find one line of text.

Come to Lovely Coffee Shop Earth-quarter 36 hours after receiving this. Please, remain calm next time.

Cytortia sneaked a glance at the text and craned her neck at Rem.

“You never told me you are playing pranks?”

“Cy, you have awful Pokerface,” Rem explained. “And I am not lying. The file does contain the location I am planning to give her the document.”

Shyme exploded into a string of curses. The surrounding guests looked at such spectacles in wonder and disbelief. None of them could believe what they were hearing. Did someone dare to piss off the Enma clan’s 33 Stars? But the daring part wasn’t shocking for most. It was the fact he succeeded that was flabbergasting.

Clap! Clap! Clap!

“Bravo, to think I live to see the day I see Xerset’s little girl finally acting her age,” a plump woman in silk ballgown started clapping after she witnessed the entire routine from afar. “Your panic face is adorable, dear. You certainly take that from your mother.”

Shyme turned attention toward the older woman. Her mouth opened and closed as she struggled to form words. Beside her, Lancaster Waiter bowed down respectfully.

“Madam Marmel,” Waiter greeted the plump woman who looked around forty.

“It is Madam, dear Lancaster,” the Madam chastened Waiter. “Still taking care of a spoilt brat, I see. Did she give you any hard time?”

“None of your business!” Shyme roared. “What are you doing here, Madam!”

“Oh, you can call me Aunty Marmel, cheeky brat,” Marmel smiled, replying with a grandmotherly voice and showing Shyme a basket of cookies. “Xerset’s child is like my flesh and blood after what we have been through together. Here I baked you some cookies, Shrine-fox.”

“Don’t call me that!” Shyme turned bright red. All her graceful composure evaporated. “Only da- father can call me that!”

“Oh, someone is still crushing hard on her daddy.”

Shyme looked like she was about to explode.

Rem walked toward the Madam and studied at the cookies.

“Cy, are they poisoned?”

The Madam looked offended.

“Poisoning cookies?” the plump lady voiced her disapproval. “Boy, only a brute would poison good food.”

“Those cookies are perfectly safe, Lord Evil,” Cytortia agreed as she eyed Rem. (AKA the true believer of cheating)

“Thank you,” Rem said. “Can I have one?”

“No!” Shyme answered out of frustration.

“Go ahead, young one,” the Madam ignored the fox-girl. “Foods are meant to be eaten together. It was what my old mother used to teach me.”

Rem’s fingers flinched for a second before he reached for a cookie and took a bite.

“Thank you,” Rem nodded depressively. “It is a very delicious cookie.”

Shyme and Cytortia looked at Rem strangely. Right now, the ruthless mastermind who plotted to stop the 33 Stars and the warrior who held his own against elite assassins disappeared, standing in his place was a boy who never experience a familial warmth.

The Madam gazed understandingly at the boy and sighed.

“You look like you are shouldering some heavy burden for a long time,” the Madam spoke. “Take this advice from an old woman: it won’t hurt to lie down and rest. You are still a young boy, and part of being young is about enjoying life.”

“I know.”

The Madam’s gaze sharpened.

“Oh dear, a pretty intense workaholic here,” the Madam said. “I am arranging a dinner next week. I am asking you to join in.”

Rem knew that wasn’t a request. Strange, he never knew this feeling.

“Yeah, I will be there,” Rem said without thinking about it much.

“How shameless, baiting kids to do your dirty work again?” Shyme said.

“Oh my, your father still refused to teach you about basic human qualities,” the Madam tiredly answered. “Do you believe everyone in the world needs an ulterior motive?”

“Not everyone,” Shyme admitted. “But nobility like us? Certainly. Your action puzzles me to end, Madam. What is the point of trying to court the weakling?”

“Now, you sound like a true Enma,” the Madam chided. “Take this from your elders; you don’t want to follow your clan expectations. Blind loyalty to your clan will only walk you toward ignorance and misery.”

Shyme sneered.

“Of course, you will say that!” Shyme Enma retorted. “Enma Enterprise has been your competitor for ages. You are mad that you are losing. I have no idea what dirty trick you are using, Madam. But we both know your industry shouldn’t last this long much less be on the same level as my father.”

“Quite a proud one, aren’t you?” the Madam clicked her tongue. “The men you sent to snoop around my businesses tell a different story. You believed fifteen exhausted men have a chance when even your daddy fail? Speaking of which, I must voice my disappointment. The spies you rotated in a week ago looked scared out of their mind, and the pros you moved out were on their last leg. You should treat your employees like people, not machines. Moreover, I recommend you drop out of the so-called 33 Stars. Empty title with a high burden and no benefit like that won’t save you and yours in the long run.”

The word hit Cytortia pretty hard, but Shyme was more outrage on multiple fronts.

“That is impossible,” Shyme murmured. “Why don’t you do anything about my spies, if you already know I am sending them?”

“I could, but what would you do with the newbies once they come back to report their failure?”

Shyme couldn’t answer that blow.

Then the group noticed several people in blue-robe walking toward them.

“Greetings, Marchioness Marmel, Princess Shyme Enma,” said a pale man with red-hair. “And Princess Cytortia is here as well.” Then, he finally noticed Rem. “Strange, I never expect Princess Cytortia to bring an escort here. I must ask who might you be?”

“I am a man of many names,” Rem said. “But tonight, you can call me Hal Jordan.”

Shyme twitched, while the Madam looked amused.

“Well, our Emerald Knight sure loves his dramas,” the Madam winked at Rem. “But let us focus with the current guest. What brings the Captain of the royal-mages here? Shouldn’t you be dealing with the serial-murders?”

Rem and Cytortia perked up. The Captain sighed toward the Madam.

“I need to ask what serial-murders you are talking about?” the Captain replied.

“I have to say I am worried, lord Wayward,” the Madam replied, her grandmotherly voice suddenly turned steely. “Not that I expect much from the bureaucratic body, but my ears on the ground are panicking. People disappearing every day in the Earth, and Water-quarter, are found in the ditch next morning as a charred corpse. I don’t know how you think, but serial-murderer running loose in the capital isn’t good for my business, lord Wayward.”

A red-hair, tanned, royal-mage with a winged tattoo around his right eye gritted his teeth. The man looked like he should be in a gang over being a mage.

“Are you underestimate us, grandma?” said the tattooed mage. “We are the royal-mage. Civilian’s case wasn’t in our jurisdiction.”

Madam nodded.

“True, but you must also realize the reason the Civilian’s division is getting their hands full is that your boss Wayward is diverting their budget into the royal-knight and royal-mage division.”

“Are you accusing us of corruption, Marchioness Marmel?” another blue-robed mage with glasses and black hair spoke out. “I must remind you we are dealing with the Heaven Daughters activity and the rising power of the Liberator. We simply do not have the resource to fund the civilian law-enforcement.”

“That is also true,” the Madam admitted. “But aren’t those problems arise from your attitude toward hardworking men and women who don’t have ‘lord’ or ‘lady’ in front of their names? Marley the Magpie join the Liberator, because of the simple fact that you couldn’t sustain world peace. And Tai Hua Tianshang rise to international-threat is fuel by your mistreatment of the working class.”

“Heh,” Shyme suddenly poked her head into the conversation. “I am ashamed to call myself a noble like you, Madam. Should a member of the nobility be concerned about the fate of those traitors? Our responsibility is to maintain the pride, position, and dignity of our family. Not look after the best interest of low-lives and criminals.”

The Madam glared at the skies as if blaming it’s for her job.

“Is that what the Enma clan tasked you, dear?”

“Of course,” Shyme replied, her head held high in arrogance. “It is my pride and duty. I am the strongest Princess in Enma clan and a 33 Stars! The future leaders of Phantasia!”

“My dear, task by definition is a work to be done,” Madam began her lecture. “Meanwhile, duty is a legal and moral obligation which came with responsibility. Any machine can perform a task, but duty is a burden of the sentient species, and with it, comes dignity. The obsession of Enma clan over their power costs your duty as a nobility. And by being such a blind tool to your clan, you lower your dignity. Isn’t that right, Lancaster?”

“What does Lancaster have to do with this?” Shyme yelled

“Shyme, my dear, if one day the Marohi Enma order you to kill your dear butler, what would you do?”

“The patriarch will never do that!”

“If you trust him so much, why fear to call him grandfather?” the Madam sent Shyme into silence before aiming her words at Wayward. “Although, the same can be said about you as well, Wayward.”

“May you clarify?” Wayward said.

“Like the Enma clan, your order already forgot its duties and values,” the Madam said. “You are nothing but a dying tree with a rotten root. Sooner or later, Tia Hua will arrive here. When that time comes, no one will be able to stop her from butchering the royal family and your little princess.”

The tattooed man lit up with rage.

“ARE YOU LOOKING DOWN ON US!? YOU HAG! WE ARE THE STRONGEST UNIT IN THIS DAMN-“

Bang!

Without turning back, Wayward backhanded the tattooed man in the gut. The man spat out a huge about of saliva as he collapsed on the floor.

The black-hair mage looked at his superior in relief.

“Captain?”

“Third Wave Sol,” Wayward commanded. “Please take Vice-Captain Kruger out of the party. I believe he drinks too tonight.”

“Yes, Milord,” the black-hair mage looked down pitifully at Kruger. “Are you sure you can handle the meeting alone?”

“Of course,” Wayward nodded. “Our guest is quite an amiable person. I believe tonight would be even more productive than our squad expected.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

And the black-hair man left with Kruger.

“I thank you for your warning, Madam,” Wayward bowed respectfully. “I will take your words to heart and dispense my men to help investigate the incident. I hope they will satisfy your demand.”

“Thank you, Wayward,” the Madam said. “But there is a rumor about a royal-mage being behind this incident. Do you have anything to say about that?”

Wayward clenched his fist.

“I find it unbelievable my men will turn their blade to the civilian,” Wayward said with a cold, vengeful smile. “But if that rumor is true, I will do my duty and dispatch the traitor myself.”