A foundation was the key to success. Survival required a firm footing to stand on. The only way to ensure his survival and successful revenge on the New Dawn was to have that foundation. Like the roots of the forest beneath him, he needed firm ground to set his roots so he could try for vengeance as many times as he needed. Soaring across the forest, he followed a large river that divided the great land in two, a murky stretch of water that shrouded its inhabitants in darkness. Indeed, like the New Dawn, he needed to fall into obscurity and pounce with all of his gathered might at the opportune moments.

Glancing around the vast forest and glimpsing the mountainous horizon of snowy peaks, Demon felt something was amiss, a strange intuition that heightened his wariness, further amplified by Ignyres' stirring earlier. He pulled out a map of the Lunate Continent, not the one Santen laid out but one of Saul's personal maps. It had been preserved in pristine condition except for the creases of its folds. The oddity was in the lack of notes or marks on the map. All the other maps he found in Saul's greater space pocket detailed the locations of New Dawn bases and notes on personnel.

Utilizing that information, he hunted down the weaker bases, freeing the people following him now. However, the Lunate Continent and the other continents around it were unique. Demon tried every method, believing a hidden message existed. But after exhausting all of his methods, he could only conclude that the New Dawn, which had bases or at least an outpost on every other continent, never spread their influence into this region. Why did Saul, the cautious and meticulous Exalt, back away?

The Lunate Continent, in particular, was especially weak, a region far worse than his home, the Farsky Continent. No Middle Marshal Exalts lived here, and the clans and factions that occupied and split the control of the continent were of lesser blood that never produced high-grade Exolsias, doomed to rely on the chance of a mutation. A single noble family with a Greater Marshal Exalt could control the land with an iron fist, yet none did because the conditions were far better on the other continents. It was the perfect place for him to place his roots and the best place for Saul to exploit. So why did he not do it?

"My Lord, we're nearing Aeon Peak. Shall we descend?" Interjecting, Marcus suggested from the side, scanning their surroundings with a blue gaze. With a swift wave of his hand, he crushed a group of bandits who lived near the forest's borders, greedy and idiotic souls who preyed on travelers. His hand had carved its shape into the earth, the trees flattened before his might, and the bandits were naught but splotches of reddened mud. He killed very quickly and mercilessly, a trait Demon approved of.

Descending to the newly reshaped land, Demon walked toward the greatest mountain in the distance. Flat grassless plains surrounded the mountain as it stood alone, separated from the rest of its shorter kind. Its peak reached and pierced into the sky. Clouds rumbled thunderous booms and churned, shrouding the upper half of the mountain, the rumors saying that even Marshal Exalts could die traveling up its peak. At its base, a city shaped like a ring circled the great mountain, the towers and palaces barely reaching a fifth of its height.

"Marcus, enter first. I can't be seen with you." Demon ordered, sitting under the cover of the tree and resting in the shade. To keep track of time, he turned over an hourglass, the sand beginning its descent to the bottom in slow tricklings. Marcus bowed and waltzed toward the city, his white suit catching the eyes of the onlookers journeying to the same destination. Many steered away from him, some even scampering, clearly afraid. The rumors of the strange ones who subdued the entire continent must have reached their ears.

"I remember this particular mountain. It hasn't changed in the slightest." Ignyres laughed. The Ancient of Fire's orb eyes flared from within. "My old friend, Tectones, the Ancient of Earth, accidentally fell. The mountain sprouted up from his hand. Oh! That's why there's that strange gulf. The big oaf sank part of the continent. What a clumsy idiot."

"That seems rather reckless." Erden expressed his disapproval, his small form hiding in Demon's cloak.

"For sure! But those were when the world was young, before life even began. We ran freely. Nowadays, I believe he's sleeping deep in the crust of Talos. I would like to meet him one day, but Metures comes first. That hardheaded bastard better explain everything." Ignyres said, turning silent. "The boy deserved a better outcome."

Demon ignored the conversation, meditating silently. In truth, he agreed with Ignyres' disdain for Metures. The Ancient of Metal clearly had an idea of Saul since he once considered him a candidate and knew about everything through the Threads, a fact that fed into the only emotion he felt. Clenching his fists in anger, he watched the sand flow in a soft stream, pitter-pattering on the growing mound in the hourglass. It had a calming effect on him, bringing him back to his emotionless state.

'Emotions are quite inconvenient.' But Demon still felt a heat in his chest, a boiling sensation that might never be quenched until he could confront Metures. All of the sand finished and rested on the bottom of the hourglass. The day was short, and he needed to make the most of the remaining time. He strode across the grassless plains in which only rock and dirt scrunched under his feet. Everyone avoided him. Their fears paled their cheeks, and none dared to move alongside him, staying far back.

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"Halt! Any entrants must…." The guards, clad in simple uniforms and helmets, a far cry from the guards of Convecia City, approached. Their captain, an old woman in the Greater Knight Exalt realm, halted, sweat covering her brow as her speech stopped short. One by one, each of them plopped to their knees. She bowed, uncaring of her long hair touching the dirt, and stammered out, "W-welcome, great one. It may be rude, but we ask for your mercy. May we get some identification?"

"If it is that you seek, then here." Demon tossed over a fabricator's badge, not Oscar's, but a new one he obtained through some backdoor means. On its metal surface was engraved the name Draven. The captain received the badge and nodded in confirmation, ordering her guards to clear the way while apologizing for the delay. Stopping before the trembling captain, who winced as his tall figure cast a large shadow over her, Demon asked, "Where is the most prominent auction house here?"

"If it's luxury and reputation, then the Cassidy Auction is the most prominent and respected. They host monthly auctions, but at the end of every season, they have a grand event where great treasures are auctioned off." The captain spoke quickly, leaving no word out, her hands still clenched and shaking uncontrollably. She didn't dare to meet his gaze, so he scoffed and entered past the gate without a word.

'Why are we going to an auction?' Ignyres whispered. 'Auctions are so pointless. Just go in and grab what you need.'

Demon ignored the Ancient of Fire's inquiry and roamed into the large crowd, many avoiding him, but sharp gazes focused on him, mere gnats flying around his face. The city was a strange structure. Squarish buildings of uniform shape and sizes, assembled like blocks, lining the streets. Another large wall circled the mountain, separating it from the city. Great platforms extended out from the city walls. Stairs led to their top, where gardens rested in tranquility as buildings stood before the mass roaming crowd.

Everyone avoided him. Children screamed and rushed away as adults backed off slowly, keeping an eye out for his movements. Good. He hated pushing into others. Walking through the parted crowd, he found the route to the Cassidy Auction and ascended the steps to one of the larger platforms. A great mansion shone brightly from the sunlight reflected off its golden pillars and sparkling crystal stairs. On its gate was the symbol of a white feather curling into a spiral, every strand of the feather intricately outlined. There was no auction today, so few people crowded nearby.

Stomping on the crystal steps, which wailed in high screeches, Demon reached the entrance and told the nervous attendant, "Let me speak with the owner. I have some business to bring them."

"N-naturally, sir. I will inform the owner. Please, come in, and we will accommodate your needs." The attendant gulped.

"I only need your owner to speak to me. Other than that, I have no use for your hospitality." Demon peered past the entrance, the guards shrinking back, unable to muster a single defiance against his glare. The attendant bowed multiple times and rushed inside before returning a few minutes later, saying the owner would meet with him and apologizing for making him wait. Nodding, Demon followed the attendant inside the gilded halls of the Cassidy Auction, the floor shining like the sunlight while the roof sparkled like the stars in the night sky.

Led into a private room, Demon sat on the armchair, his hands clenching the ends of the armrests. The attendant poured out a cup of high-quality wine, but Demon could not smell the scent that intoxicated the attendant, who stared longingly at the cup. Did they hope to appease him with good wine? How useless. The door brushed open, and a woman in a white dress strode into the room, her white heels clicking on the floor.

Was she beautiful? Demon had not a clue. He compared her features to the others Oscar considered beautiful and concluded she was by the standards. Her curly black hair was tied into a large bun behind her head, and her mature black eyes shone brightly on her narrow face. At least her strength was not bad in the Lower Marshal Exalt realm, and an air of confidence emanated from her, perhaps from her years of being the owner or being one of the more powerful Exalts in this continent.

"I greet the special guest. I am Charlotte Cassidy, the owner of the Cassidy Auction. Please forgive my rudeness in being late." Charlotte bowed, maintaining a casual smile. She was better than her workers in hiding her emotions, making her a useful person for him. She lifted her dress slightly and sat on her chair, crossing her legs. Was wearing the revealing dress a part of her plan to charm him?

"I have an item for your auction at the end of the summer. But first, what is the split?" Demon already knew the split between the auction and the person was 70:30, but he wondered if Charlotte would want to offer him a better deal.

"For this special guest, I, Charlotte, guarantee a 95:5 split." Charlotte didn't disappoint, but the degree of the shift toward his favor was intriguing.

"Is there a condition for this split?" Demon asked, knowing the cunning of those who worked in business. She wanted something from him.

"Initially, I wished to have an 85:15 split, but I raised it hoping you could help me. If you listen to my request and fulfill it, it will be 95:5. Reject it, and I will still accommodate you to 85:15," Charlotte explained. Her words and pleasing tone were carefully structured so that many would express their agreement instantly, her appearance a clear factor in obtaining their consent. But Demon scoffed inwardly, unmoved by her antics.

"And what is your request?" Demon entertained her.

"Please kill someone for me." Cassidy's eyes grew cold.