That's it? Jean had no intention of disobeying the Mother, yet the command was somewhat irksome. To serve a boy? One whose vortex was clearly beyond even the special class? Although she had evolved twice, Jean was still an advanced class and would likely perish in any battle surpassing that level. She sighed unconsciously.
Cornelia glanced at her and said, "The Mother must have a reason for instructing you to do this. Perhaps She has seen something within his vortex, maybe a significant event."
Could that really be possible? Jean wondered. But then again, the Mother was a deity; beings of such magnitude surely possessed abilities far beyond her comprehension. For a moment, Jean felt a deepened reverence for the Mother, not that she had ever lacked it.
Cornelia fell silent for a while, studying Jean before adding, "When this is done, you will be granted permission to fuse your components, and afterward, you'll receive the blood of a Lady of Bliss to evolve further."
Jean nearly stumbled. Did she really say that? Not only fusion but another evolution? The blood of a Lady of Bliss? What kind of powers does that hold? Amid these thoughts, Jean also speculated whether this evolution might allow her to break through to another class—perhaps even Desolation? After all, a succubus was naturally a special class creature.
Cornelia continued watching her. "I have something else for you," she said with a smile.
Jean straightened, curious if it was another gift.
"We have reason to believe that the Venture will be holding a ball in two months."
Jean's face hardened, her expression beginning to transform into a cold, murderous glare. No! Stay calm, stay calm. They aren't here, they can't harm you. Susan stirred within her, the familiar sensation offering a wave of tranquility. After a moment, Jean asked, "Do we have an invitation?"
"We will," Cornelia replied, her tone both firm and gentle.
Jean lowered her gaze, still wrestling with her emotions. Not in front of the Mistress.
"Anyway," Cornelia went on, "you need to be examined for any corruption that may have come from within the Astra."
"Yes, Mistress," Jean said quickly. She needed a moment to collect herself. Hearing the name of the family who had thrown her into a pit of spiders wasn't exactly a cherished memory.
_____________
Dust rained from the crimson skies. Dark clouds swirled aimlessly, unlike Karl, who had purpose now—a path to follow and a future to consider. He was no longer trapped on the farms, scheming to escape. He was free now. And while his freedom wasn't complete, it was far better than having bloodied hands every day from slaughtering pigs. _Now I just have to bloody them with humans._ The thought, meant to evoke some sadness or reflection, came out flat, cold, and dry.
Karl walked through the crowded streets, holding the umbrella Fredrick had given him. Carts draped with black tarps lined the streets, shielding against the dust. Lamp posts stood along both sides of the road, though many were broken or dim, likely due to poor-quality oil. Despite their name, eternal flames relied on special oil that never dried out. Karl had always wondered how profitable selling eternal oil would be—if it weren't, you know, eternal. Well, it wasn't exactly his own thought, but something his friend had once remarked on.
"Black you!" a man cursed from the side. He held a black-backed apple—onyx in color and round, with faint spots resembling water droplets. The man stood in front of a cart, visibly annoyed by the price.
"What do you mean, 10 ments?" he shouted. "It's an apple! An apple!" He pointed at the fruit as if trying to make his point clearer. Karl had never tasted an apple in this world; in fact, other than bone, corn, and cake, there was little else he knew the taste of. So, naturally, he was curious. He had money—Fredrick had given him a substantial amount. Though Karl hadn't counted it, the weight of the sack hanging by his side suggested he wouldn't need to worry about finances for a while.
He looked at the cart for a moment, considering.
"Move aside!" a voice called from behind.
Karl quickly stepped to the left, just in time to avoid a passing carriage. Strangely, it wasn't drawn by horses but by a 2-meter-long black-scaled lizard, its slim tongue permanently hanging from its mouth, tail swinging behind. The coachman, as they were called, held an iron cane. The lizard's back looked tough as steel, and the coachman used the cane to whip it whenever the creature veered off course, coming dangerously close to pedestrians. The streets were too narrow for comfort, with carts, carriages, and streetwalkers all sharing the limited space. It irritated many, evident in the curses they hurled at the passing carriages. Karl, however, remained unfazed, moving closer to the lamps.
As for the apple, he decided against buying it. Not for any particular reason—he simply no longer felt like eating it. Perhaps if he could feel anything, he'd have a reason, but since he didn't, there was none. He continued walking carefully, avoiding the cracks and gutters lining the streets. Red-colored water flowed through them, a reflection of the city's cleanliness. Perhaps it was because this city worshipped the Pure White God, and cleanliness had become part of daily life. *Regardless of how clean they are, the red cannot be removed*
Even in the streets, only a few wore colors other than white or, on occasion, black. Drawing his attention inward, Karl pondered his next move. _I'm looking for Harrison, but it doesn't make sense to find him on the first day. However, there might be clues to his whereabouts._ Fredrick had reluctantly mentioned that Harrison was part of a gang called the Poison Fang, most prevalent in Thales Market. That must be why the Cognizer had directed him there. _But why didn't she just say that outright? Does she want me to figure it out on my own? Test my cognitive skills, perhaps?_ Karl stepped into another street.
This one was wider than the last, with a road spacious enough for wandering merchants, their carts, and carriages drawn by lizards—and the occasional horse. The dust had permanently stained the ground red, but Karl still noticed several beastmen on the street sides, parking and cleaning the road. Despite the futility of their efforts, they carried on, likely due to the task enforcers standing nearby. By now, the pairing of beastmen and task enforcers had become a common sight.
Karl rounded a corner, and from there, he could see a towering statue looming over the city and its buildings. It depicted a bearded man with bronze skin and white hair—the Pure White God. There was no way Karl wouldn't recognize him. In fact, Karl had knowledge of all eleven gods, though he often wondered why each territory was confined to one religion. In Canen, for instance, only the Pure White God could be worshipped. Though not explicitly a law, those found worshipping other gods were likely to face stigma. These were just guesses, of course, as Karl didn't know the exact consequences of worshipping other gods in someone else's territory.
One thing he had gathered about this world was that there was a war between humans and every other sentient or major race. It was said to have begun after the Sovereign's declaration of the First Order, and since then, humans have been sending crusades into other dominions, seeking to conquer and subjugate them. Another thing he'd learned was that the cities and territories were managed by various ministries. While the Sovereign's power seemed focused on expanding territory with the legions, the ministries were responsible for managing the lands themselves. However, he'd also heard that while the ministries handled administration, they didn't actually rule. That power rested with the nobles, who made the laws and enforced them through the guardsmen. Among such nobles, the highest were the 12 High Lords of humanity; those said to convene and make laws in the golden hall. *Twelve high lords and the 12 noble families of the fallen empire? Are they the same? Perhaps the current one was built to imitate the past?* He thought.
Birds zipped through the air, while the lamps beside the room flickered with small dots of dark purple moths flitting about. Some pedestrians paused to observe, a few using glass tubes to try and catch the creatures. Karl knew what they were, though he had forgotten their name. What he did recall was that they fed on light, siphoning it away. They were said to be the reason why eternal lamps eventually died out—the finality of eternity.
_How do I find Harrison?_ Karl pondered. The ideal option would be to gather information about where his gang stayed, but that would mean relying on luck—and luck didn't exist. If anything, it was bad luck that prevailed. He wasn't being superstitious, just drawing from his experiences. Even before coming to this world, things weren't as simple as they should have been for a normal shut-in life. _Even if I do meet him, he's likely a Sanguine. And considering how easily Anette killed the others, what chance do I have?_ He wasn't as fast, skilled, or experienced as her. Fighting a drawn-out battle would be foolish. Planning an encounter could also be risky—humans with powers were unpredictable. Instead, the best strategy might be to half-plan and half-improvise.
He walked toward a cart by the side of the road. The driver had long, locked hair and wore rare brown suspenders with black trousers.
There wasn't a trace of white on him.
"To Thales Market," Karl said dryly.
The man greeted him in a language that sounded like an incantation. "Storm to you."
_Maw tongue?_ Karl recognized it. He knew the language only vaguely, remnants of foggy memories inherited from the original Karl. These memories were now revealing more than he had ever expected. But despite their potential, Karl was reluctant to dive into them, feeling a constant gnawing fear of losing himself. Perhaps he feared erasure, or perhaps not. In any case, he didn't want to wake up one day as someone else. Still, it struck him as odd that the man had said "Storm to you" instead of "Pure you." Maybe the Maw people still clung to their old religion before they were absorbed into the empire. Did they worship the storm?
Karl sighed. _I don't want to, but like many things, I need to._ He knew the memories were key to the strength he sought. It was either that or secretly evolved, but doing so would risk Fredrick and Anette turning on him. He could also lose whatever made him valuable to them.
In the end, he still needed their help.
Eventually, the carriage took a corner, bringing into view the stone statue that marked the city square. Canen was a large city, as Fredrick had told him, home to many clans like the Maw, Tudorsons, and Hornbreeds. Each had its own square scattered across the city—even in Upper Canen, across the Gae River.
The statue stood at the center of the road, dividing the two sides. Buildings lined both sides of the street, some wooden, others built from whitewashed stone. They stood two to three stories high, with some shaped like segmented towers. Behind the statue, two roads branched off—one leading to Thales Cathedral and the recently attacked White Bank.
Further behind the statue, a line of carts and carriages displayed a variety of goods: from simple cakes and clothing to exotic foods like the Blue Orange. The carts at the front of the line appeared more prosperous, as they were the first seen by customers before they ventured deeper into the market, searching for specific items.
Karl glanced back at the statue, marveling at the craftsmanship. It depicted a towering man, clad in interlocking armor plates, with long hair sculpted to appear as though it were billowing in the wind. His right hand held an incense lantern connected by a chain. According to Fredrick, Thales had been a chaplain who fought in the Annihilation Wars, a conflict that erupted when the demons of the northern continent declared extermination on humanity.
The cart came to a stop, parking behind a lamppost. Other carriages and carts were also parked nearby, their drivers disembarking to head into the market. Karl paid the driver and stepped casually into the dust-laden scene.