"Everyone, there's no need to panic."
The goblin secretary, Gibot, looked out at the restless crowd. He had anticipated this reaction and cleared his throat. The camp instantly fell silent, his voice cutting through the air like a knife.
Any mage with aspirations in politics would inevitably master sound magic. The ability to amplify one's voice—or suppress an opponent's—was essential to asserting authority.
"I understand your concerns, so I won't waste time with pleasantries," Gibot began coldly. "If we dragged every adventurer here out for execution, we'd certainly kill innocents. But if we executed every other person, there'd undoubtedly still be some who escaped justice."
As he surveyed the frightened adventurers, disgust flickered in Gibot's eyes. To him, they resembled little more than a pack of stray dogs.
The mayor's words echoed in his mind: Dogs are useful but never trustworthy. They could be lured away by the promise of meat and bones. Only wolves were worth working with—ruthless enough to tear flesh from the pack and grind it into their own strength.
There were too many dogs in the Blood Moon Nation and not enough wolves.
This was why the combat competitions needed to expand, Gibot thought as he pushed the memory aside. His tone turned colder.
"But rest assured," he continued, "this festival is of utmost importance. Compared to the offerings required by the Blood Moon deity, your past crimes are insignificant. Even if Captain Gerard here lost his mind, I would not allow him to harm such valuable assets."
"Of course, Secretary Gibot," Gerard said with a faint smile, his arms folded as he scanned the crowd. "No one values this festival more than I do."
The adventurers began to relax. That's right, they thought. The Inquisition and the War Zone had always maintained a "live and let live" understanding. Surely Gerard wouldn't break that over a festival.
Still, some couldn't shake their unease. Why had Gerard come here at all? This festival had nothing to do with the Inquisition's responsibilities. Was he just here for a leisurely stroll?
"But it's true that Captain Gerard has come to pursue fugitives," Gibot admitted. "However, this matter concerns only a few individuals and has nothing to do with the rest of you. In fact, it doesn't concern any genuine adventurers at all."
Ash and his group exchanged uneasy glances.
"The fugitives in question are Archibald 'The Corpse Lover' Harvey, Ronald 'The Rotten Crow' Wade, Igula 'The Deceiver' Borgin, Ronna 'The Death Eater' Kios, and Ash 'The Demon Saint' Heath," Gerard announced loudly. "These five recently escaped from Lakebreak Prison, removing their miracle chips in the process. They are not registered adventurers, so my jurisdiction here is not overstepping any boundaries."
The adventurers visibly relaxed.
Not only were these fugitives unrelated to them, but the announcement reinforced the line between the Inquisition and the War Zone. Gerard's actions didn't threaten the sanctuary the War Zone provided.
The thought brought collective relief. If Gerard had come to arrest adventurers, they wouldn't resist, but the camp would soon empty out. No one would remain in a War Zone that couldn't guarantee their safety—it would be political suicide for the Inquisition to cross that line.
Ash and his group exchanged tense, knowing glances. There was no need for words; they all understood that survival required genuine cooperation now.
Time to get serious.
"By the way," Gerard added nonchalantly, "while I'm officially pursuing five fugitives, I'm particularly interested in Ash. In addition to the Inquisition's bounty, I've placed a personal reward of 100 gold coins for any information leading to Ash Heath's capture. Furthermore, if the other four fugitives hand him over, I'll grant you a three-day head start."
Ash turned to his companions, who were all staring back at him.
"…You're not seriously considering selling me out, are you?"
Harvey scratched his head. "We're friends…?"
Ronald shrugged. "What's wrong with a little self-preservation?"
Igula sneered. "If you hadn't left behind that recording to provoke Gerard, we wouldn't even be in this mess. You made the mess—why shouldn't you clean it up?"
In just three sentences, Gerard had expertly dismantled their fragile alliance. Truly, the Blood Frenzy Hunter knew exactly how to exploit human nature.
As Ash began to edge away from the group of traitors, Ronna spoke calmly.
"We don't have chips. One way or another, we'll need to leave the Blood Moon. Unless Gerard is willing to let us pass, handing Ash over gains us nothing. Even with three days to escape, there's nowhere left for us to go."
Ash's face lit up with hope. "See? Ronna gets it! You should all follow his example instead of falling for Gerard's tricks so easily—"
"But," Ronna continued, "if we're truly out of options, giving Ash up to buy time might be the best move. Better one dead than five."
Igula slung an arm around Ash's shoulders. "Thanks, Ash. I never knew you'd be willing to sacrifice yourself for the team. You'll grant my wish, won't you?"
Ash's face fell behind his mask. He sighed, resigning himself to the situation. As much as he distrusted these people, he had to admit that sticking with them gave him the best odds.
At least they shared a common goal. And if he'd been stuck with strangers, his only hope would be a literal miracle.
Gerard waited, but no one stepped forward with information. He wasn't surprised. He gestured for Gibot to continue.
"Next, the priests will administer blessings," Gibot announced. "Please line up by team. The Blood Frenzy Captain will oversee the process and scan your chips for verification. Intelligence on the foreign realm beyond the passage has been sent to everyone's light screens—please review it promptly."
Ash and his companions mimed pulling up light screens, though, without chips, they couldn't access the message.
The priests approached, all of them with wolf-like features, including bushy tails swishing behind them. Ash glanced at Ronna, who silently pointed to the blood-red moon above.
Unlike the sanctified Moonshadow Clan, Ronna's abilities only activated in shadows. His lack of visible traits marked him as a heretic—a flaw that had landed him in Lakebreak Prison to die.
The adventurers began lining up for their blessings, and Ash got his first look at the process.
Each priest asked adventurers to extend their arms, locate a vein, and inject a dose of miracle serum via steel syringe. Meanwhile, a broadcast of sacred hymns played over the camp's speakers.
Moonlight shimmered over the adventurers, forming gauzy red veils that clung to their bodies like divine armor.
"WOOOOO!"
"I feel unstoppable!"
"Praise the Blood Moon!"
"Seriously?" Ash muttered. "It's just injections and mood music!"
"That's how blessings work," Ronald explained. "The priests pre-make the serum. The music activates its miracle effects. It's not as potent as direct casting, but it's quick, portable, and War Zones sell it as a premium commodity."
The other adventurers basked in their new power, clearly overjoyed. Ash, however, was dreading what this meant for his group.
With the glowing veils marking the blessed, any unmarked individuals would stand out like a sore thumb.
If his team tried to sneak away, their lack of blessings would be as obvious as a confession of guilt.
As the priests worked through the line, Ash's group fell silent. They were running out of time to come up with a plan.
"Maybe we should just hand him over now," Igula mused.
"Better to clean things up first," Ronald added.
"I can handle the body," Harvey offered.
Ash shuddered. "I'm starting to regret helping you all escape…"
"What are you talking about?" Igula teased. "We're discussing how to cook Rala Fei snacks!"
"Enough games," Ronna said. He turned to Harvey. "Can you disrupt the blessing process like you did at the prison?"
Harvey frowned. "I can try, but this isn't a prison. The only enforceable constraints here are the 'attack' and 'movement' bans."
"And Gerard?" Ronna pressed.
Harvey shook his head. "Don't even think about it. Not only is his power immune to most restrictions, but his authority likely overrides any processing node commands."
Ash sighed. "What if we cause a distraction and rush through? The passage limits power to two-winged mages, so Gerard shouldn't be able to follow us, right?"
"You really underestimate him," Igula said dryly. "No gambler would bet on a three-wing Saint leaving exploitable weaknesses. Wait—his priority is you, Ash. If we hand you over, we can slip through while he's distracted."
Ash raised an eyebrow. "And do you think I'd meekly surrender? Or would I drag Gerard down with me, ensuring no one escapes?"
"Tch, you're a real piece of work," Igula grumbled.
"Thank you," Ash replied.
Jokes aside, their options were grim. Gerard was an immovable wall blocking their escape. Unless they dealt with him, nothing else would matter.
"I agree with Igula," Ronna said suddenly.
Ash stared at him, betrayed.
But Igula's eyes gleamed with understanding. He clapped a hand on Ash's shoulder.
"You're right," he said. "Given the circumstances, it's the best plan."
"Ash Heath, we have to turn you in."