"Hmph, if Shadow truly wished, she could merely glance at this heavy door and tear it from its hinges. Regardless, I trust you all have some form of protection against viruses."
"Otherwise, I cannot be held accountable for your slow, agonizing demise," explained Venom, entering the room.
"Wow, how kind of you to show concern to us..." said Matt, sarcastically as he summoned the Mad King of Flames and donned his Alter form.
"Are you quite certain you should be utilizing your Guardian after the events of your previous battle?" quizzed Venom, raising an eyebrow.
"And since when did you know about my problem with my Guardian?!" asked Matt, shocked at the dragon man.
"Since your boss saw fit to mention it—though even if she hadn't, do you truly believe something so intriguing would escape my notice? Are you unaware that the other Divisions can send their minions to spy on one another?"
"Why else do you think Shadow is so well-informed about the rest of them?"
Venom's relentless barrage of questions left the poor rabbit tongue-tied, prompting Mavislin to sigh in exasperation. Zenos, meanwhile, remained silent, partially summoning his Alter form. His Guardian's scales emerged, wrapping around his mouth like a makeshift mask.
Mavislin, however, showed no such concern. The Gorgon within her thrived on toxic fumes, treating them like a feast for her powers.
"Please loosen up..."
The dragoness's voice faded into silence as her gaze fell upon the ten shrouded bodies, neatly arranged in two rows on the cold stone floor of Venom's basement. The white cloths covering them starkly contrasted with the dark, polished surface beneath.
Without a word, Mavislin lowered her eyes and slowly approached the bodies. She knelt beside the first, carefully lifting the cloth. It revealed the petite frame of a Felidae, a creature with delicate cat-like features.
Her pink tail was crushed beneath her body, poking out to one side. True to the reports, the Felidae had no head. Mavislin inhaled deeply, detecting an unusual scent in the air—spices and the tang of the sea—before closing her eyes and gently covering the body once more.
She moved on to the next. Seven males, and three females, each from a different species, lay before her. Their attire ranged from battle armor to casual wear, but every one of them shared the same grim fate: headless and carrying that same odd scent.
Mavislin hesitated, her mind turning over the details, wondering if the strange smell was simply her imagination—or a clue to something far darker.
"You are not mistaken, which is precisely why I've opted to conduct an autopsy—though, of course, I haven't done so yet. It would be an overstep of my respect for you, First Seat Shadow," asserted Venom, crossing his arms over his chest.
"But what would be your prediction, just by the appearance?" quizzed the Viceroy as he walked toward Mavislin.
Before he could catch a glimpse of the female's face, Matt swiftly stepped forward, grabbing the blonde's shoulder and pulling him back. The rabbit shook his head, hoping in silence that the Viceroy would understand the unspoken message. Fortunately, he did.
"I would surmise that half of them met their end by something tied to the sea—or at the very least, water—while the other half carries the unmistakable scent of spices."
"And no, before you ask, I haven't the faintest idea how one could be killed by the aroma of spices," explained Venom.
"Ever heard of those kids in the West inhaling cinnamon powder? They are all gone now," said Matt.
"Do you truly believe that Shadow's younglings could be so hopelessly daft?"
Everyone was silent for a split moment before Matt gasped, his eyes widened.
"I knew that scent was so familiar... It's from the 'Morning Glory Haven', an orphanage on the outskirts of Orchvale. If I'm not mistaken, the town would be Nairvale," said the rabbit as recalled his time as an adventurer.
"What are they even doing there? It doesn't fit their last location..." murmured Mavislin, confused.
"At least we have a semblance of direction to pursue. I possess some information of my own, though I would prefer not to divulge it in the company of an enemy," spat Venom, glaring at Zenos.
"Why not? Is he not joining us?" asked a confused rabbit.
"I can more or less predict your answer, but I must formally ask—would you be willing to participate in this next mission? It concerns only the Syndicate, not the Northern Cartel," asked the dragoness as she rose back to full height.
"Naturally, I shall agree to remain by your side, my dear trophy. To forgo this opportunity would be a grave mistake. The chance to face more formidable foes and to fortify my own strength is one I cannot resist," smiled the Viceroy, licking his lips with anticipation.