Kaimon City, 'Upper District,' Great Cathedral Area, Silent Forest Villa #22.
Knock, knock.
The respectful sound of knuckles rapping on the door was followed by a cold voice from within, three seconds later.
"Come in."
The beastman, Gersas, pushed the door open and entered the expansive study. It was less a room and more a private library—7.7 meters high and 79 square meters wide. Every wall was adorned with intricately carved shelves crafted by goblin artisans, even the ceiling was lined with glass panels displaying ancient magical scrolls. Beneath their feet stretched a soft, lavender carpet woven from the rarest and most beautiful succubus fur.
Though Gersas had been here before, the sheer opulence of the space never failed to humble him.
Even setting aside the priceless knowledge stored here, that lavender carpet alone was enough to quash any rebellious thought. Everyone knew that such fur was incredibly rare. How many succubi must have been sacrificed to produce a carpet of this magnitude?
Of course, Gersas didn't think his master would resort to illegal means for such a display. Such a blatant exhibition was not the master's style. If this carpet was here, it was undoubtedly a legitimate piece of art—likely acquired from a research institute or gifted by a scholar of the Blood Saints.
After all, in Bloodmoon, anything derived from corpses fell under the strict monopoly of the research institutes, the only bodies authorized to create such "legal" works of art.
Walking across the carpet, Gersas made his way through towering bookshelves to the far end, where a desk resembling a tree trunk sat bathed in faint crimson moonlight spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Behind the desk, shrouded in shadow, sat a figure whose piercing emerald eyes were the only thing visible as they opened.
Gersas quickly dropped his gaze to his feet, unable to meet the elf's eyes directly.
"You don't seem to be bringing me good news, Gersas."
"We've located Ronald," Gersas reported swiftly. "We deployed two Golden Beaks and seven Silver Beaks, but 'Death Eater' proved too formidable, and they managed to escape. All black-market medics are now under woodpecker surveillance—if they seek treatment, we'll apprehend them."
"Hmm. Continue."
"Although we haven't had direct sightings, based on shopping patterns and waste collection reports, we're confident Igula Bogin is hiding in the apartment of Blood Hunter Amy Lexus. But Amy is a Moonshadow—searching her residence is beyond our reach."
"Even the Moonshadows are sheltering him?" The elf sounded surprised. "They must have been deceived. Moonshadows are usually such simple-minded creatures... what else?"
"Several 'Body Recovery' departments in affiliated hospitals reported going to coordinates provided by the Crimes Bureau but found no corpses at the scenes. An Upper District Crimes Bureau team responded to a 'death signal' within ten minutes but likewise found no remains or traces."
"There have been several sensational murders in the Lower District. Leaders of various black-market gangs under the Eternal Liquor Club suddenly went berserk and slaughtered their subordinates. The perpetrators' bodies showed clear signs of necromancy."
"Additionally, a former Eternal Liquor Club senator was found dead in his sleep, showing no signs of resistance."
"Such clean and efficient corpse disposal methods, combined with the controlling style of the attacks, strongly suggest the involvement of the necromancer Archibald Harvey."
Gersas added, "Based on his activity range, we've narrowed down his hideout to the Pig District. Give me three more days, and I will find him."
"I don't doubt your abilities, but you won't find him," the elf said, tapping his desk rhythmically with his fingers. "This necromancer has violated the Blood Saints' taboos. The Crimes Bureau will have thrown everything at tracking him down. Perhaps even as we speak, he's being bled dry by Blood Hunters, his memories stripped bare, his corpse dissected for parts. When it comes to their interests, the Blood Saints are thorough."
"While none of this brings us closer to our main target, these developments are… satisfactory. Now then…"
The elf's voice turned sharper.
"What of Ash Heath?"
Gersas's body trembled violently. Unable to stand any longer, he fell to his knees, pressing his forehead against the plush carpet. Despite the fear constricting his chest, his voice was steady.
"My deepest apologies. The Woodpeckers have found no trace of Ash Heath. There's not a single lead."
A soft laugh escaped the elf. "In the radiance of Bloodmoon, all are equal. Gersas, you're a Second-Wing Sorcerer, blessed by the Golden Rain. There's no need to kneel so easily."
Gersas remained motionless, his posture of submission unchanged. Despite their equal sorcerer ranks, Gersas knew his place. This was Bloodmoon.
In this society, laws were divine will, and rules were the desires of gods.
No matter how strong you were, unless you were willing to abandon civilization, forsake its games, and descend into barbarism, you had to follow the rules. And in this game, resources—not strength—ruled supreme.
Strength might open doors, but resources built empires.
The elf before him, with his network of influence, was untouchable. Beyond being Gersas's superior, he was the puppet master behind the Woodpeckers. A single command could obliterate Gersas's career and reputation.
"Keep an eye on Gerald," the elf said finally, breaking the tense silence.
After a pause, Gersas responded hesitantly, "You mean Gerald Westminster, the 'White-Haired Butcher,' captain of the Blood Hunters?"
"Ash Heath humiliated him. Gerald will hunt him down personally. If Gerald kills him outright, so be it. But if he chooses to capture him alive…"
The elf's lips curled into a faint smile.
"The Woodpeckers will clean up that loose end."
Gersas bowed deeply and retreated from the study.
Left alone, the elf turned to a file on his desk, detailing Ash Heath's life: his upbringing in an orphanage, his academic achievements, and his involvement in university activities.
A faint tapping echoed in the room as his long nails drummed against the desk.
"You're still here?"
The elf looked up sharply, focusing on a hooded figure who emerged from the shadows of the study.
The figure stepped into the crimson light, his voice tinged with amusement.
"It seems even among Second-Wing sorcerers, there's a difference in skill. I suppose I won't be fooling Gerald with my disguises…"
"You're not Gersas's subordinate," the elf said, narrowing his eyes. "Who are you?"
For a brief moment, the elf's mind raced. Gersas never brought anyone to these meetings.
"Disappointing, Professor. After all I went through to escape Fractured Lake, you don't recognize your star pupil?"
The figure pulled down his mask, revealing a bright, almost carefree smile.
"A pleasure to meet you at last, Shillin Dorr. I'm Ash Heath."