" The third question," Mr. Dog said, leaning forward, his voice steady but probing. "You've found many books. Do they all have at least a trace of burning?"
Ithri's pulse quickened. 'How does he know that?'
He held Mr. Dog's gaze, masking his unease. " Yeah," Ithri replied, his tone cautious yet firm. "They had traces of burning."
The sharp crack of Mr. Dog's hand slamming the table jolted the dream space. The sound seemed to reverberate through the air, cutting through the stillness like a knife. Ithri flinched, his breath hitching as adrenaline surged.
Under the table, his fists clenched, nails digging into his palms. He forced himself to maintain composure, though disbelief flickered across his face before he quickly masked it. Both men knew the weight of the revelation.
What a man, Ithri thought, his mind racing. 'Even Dr. Varin spent three years and didn't uncover a tenth of this. And this man?' He pieces it all together in one meeting. ' Who are you, Mr. Dog? '
The thought gnawed at him.' He has no tools, no magic powers, yet he operates on another level entirely. S-tier at least ' Ithri mused.
Mr. Dog leaned back in his chair, the tension in his posture softening as his expression shifted to a calculated calm. His tone, almost conversational now, felt deliberate another move in a game only he seemed to fully understand.
" One day," Mr. Dog said, his voice a low rumble, " you'll tell me about that place. " The words weren't a suggestion they were a prophecy. " You're sharp. In time, we'll strike another deal. "
His intense gaze pinned Ithri in place, his words carrying an almost magnetic pull.
Ithri bristled, a mix of irritation and unease tightening in his chest. He tensed, his voice sharp as he demanded, "Now answer my question!"
He paused, weighing his next words carefully, every second feeling heavy with consequences. Finally, he asked, "What is the Silver Vanguard?"
A faint smile curled at Mr. Dog's lips. He adjusted his hat, then removed it entirely a subtle gesture of respect.
" They're the special forces of Akina, " he said, his tone casual yet deliberate. "Simple, precise, and fast. Much like you, in a way."
Ithri's eyes narrowed, reading between the lines.
Mr. Dog's expression deepened, the weight in his voice returning. "I asked my question first," he said, his words slow and measured, "to see if you'd spot the blind spot in the contract we made. " He tilted his head slightly, his smile sharpening. " And you did. Took full advantage of it, didn't you?"
The tension shifted again as Mr. Dog leaned forward, closing the space between them. His movements were deliberate, exuding control.
"To show you how I operate and how much you'll need me in the future I'll offer you a special treatment," Mr. Dog said, his tone calm but brimming with purpose. "I'll give you something that few in this world know." His voice lowered, each word measured and deliberate, carrying an air of secrecy. "Fewer than a thousand people, give or take, to be precise."
The dream space seemed to thrum with the gravity of his words, the air heavy with expectation.
" The Silver Vanguard " Mr. Dog repeated, his voice steady and deliberate. "As I mentioned earlier, they are Akina's elite forces. They've existed alongside Akina since the dawn of recorded history."
Ithri's thoughts churned, piecing together the fragments. ' Akina is a holy nation ruled by the Church. The oldest establishment, known by historians as The World Moderate. They had to establish governance, borders, and control. A structure that bridged faith and order. '
Mr. Dog's gaze locked on Ithri as he continued. "The Silver Vanguard has one purpose: to protect people from the dangers of artifacts."
Ithri nodded subtly, trying to maintain composure. He understood enough to grasp the weight of Mr. Dog's words but lacked the full depth of their implications.
Leaning closer, Mr. Dog's voice dropped to an almost conspiratorial whisper. "You see, these tools —these magical artifacts— aren't crafted by mortal hands. They are found in dungeons, remnants of an ancient age of chaos. And to claim one, you must conquer the dungeon that guards it. "
He leaned back slightly, his sharp eyes studying Ithri's reaction.
"The dungeons " he continued, his tone measured, "aren't just dangerous they're alive, in a way. Each one is a riddle, a labyrinth designed to test and punish intruders. Traps shift, creatures regenerate, and curses evolve. To clear one requires skill, resolve, and sometimes... sheer luck. The tools hidden within are immensely powerful but dangerously unstable. Their origins remain a mystery, but their effects? Devastating."
Mr. Dog's expression softened briefly, though his eyes stayed razor-sharp. "The Silver Vanguard exists to keep these artifacts from falling into the wrong hands. But " he paused, his tone darkening, "as you might suspect, they don't always succeed. "
His gaze grew distant as if recalling a memory not entirely his own. "The dungeons can appear anywhere deep in forgotten forests, beneath bustling cities, or within the ruins of temples thought long abandoned. They ignore borders and defy nations. One day, a forest may be quiet and serene; the next, it holds a gaping maw to a labyrinth of horrors."
He paused again, his voice sharpening. " Their arrival is as unpredictable as the chaos they bring. And no two dungeons are ever the same. "
Some believe the dungeons are scars of an ancient war, remnants of a time when the world was torn apart by reckless magic. Others whisper they are trials, divine warnings set by higher powers to test the limits of human greed and resolve.
"But one truth remains," Mr. Dog said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Wherever they appear, they leave nothing unchanged."
Entire towns have been abandoned in the wake of a dungeon's emergence, their people too terrified to remain. For those brave or foolish enough to enter, survival is never promised. And those who emerge... rarely come back unscathed.
"That's all I know," Mr. Dog concluded, his voice steady as he leaned back in his chair. "What is your next question?"
Ithri gave a slight nod, acknowledging the weight of the knowledge shared. "Thanks for this quaint knowledge," he said, his tone calm yet curious. Then he posed his next question. "What happened to the Silver Vanguard last month? Why are they suddenly jobless?"
But he added sarcastically to himself, 'So far I think I have acquaintances that you don't know about.'
Mr. Dog's expression darkened as he leaned back slightly, his posture exuding a quiet tension. "If the answer to your first question is known by thousands " he began, his voice deliberate, "this one? Perhaps only a hundred people in the world know the truth."
He paused, letting the gravity of his next words settle. " Throne of Horus. "
Ithri frowned. "Throne of Horus?"
Mr. Dog inclined his head, his sharp gaze meeting Ithri's. "The throne of Horus wasn't just any magical tool. It was an Artifact a tool of unparalleled power " he explained. "Artifacts vary greatly, from simple objects with minor effects to creations that can reshape reality itself. According to the Atlas method of classification, the double-zero-tier Artifacts are the most dangerous."
He leaned forward, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone. "The throne of Horus was one of those. It gave its wielder the ability to locate and monitor any magical tool in existence. Imagine every enchanted object, every cursed relic, every hidden Artifact. No matter where it was or who controlled it, the throne could find it."
Ithri's thoughts raced as he tried to grasp the implications. With such power, wars could be controlled, nations suppressed, and the use of magic itself dictated.
Mr. Dog's expression grew darker. "The Silver Vanguard depended on the throne of Horus. It was their keystone, their edge over chaos. With it, they could track dangerous tools and ensure they never fell into the wrong hands. They dictated the rules of war, controlled nations, and served as arbiters in the use of magic during conflicts. Without it, their authority was hollow."
He paused, his voice tightening. " And last month, the throne vanished. No explosion. No theft. It simply… disappeared ."
The words hung heavily in the air.
"Some claim it was destroyed, but an Artifact like that doesn't just break. Others whisper of betrayal that someone within the Vanguard orchestrated its loss. Whatever the truth, its disappearance has left them blind. Their operations have ground to a halt, and now they're desperate. They're scrambling to clear the largest dungeons in the world, hoping to recover lost ground."
" A gold rush," Mr. Dog said, his words laced with irony.
Ithri's mind had already reached that conclusion, but hearing it aloud made the weight of the situation sink deeper.
His voice cut, sharp, and precise. "But the most devastating thing is this: without the Vanguard and the throne of Horus, individuals, organizations, and nations can wield their magical tools freely unchecked, without consequence."
Mr. Dog gave a small, grim nod, his gaze sharp and unwavering.
"Chaos," Ithri murmured, his mind already calculating. "The world has tipped into chaos."