Crimson Fog Over Gransavil
A scarlet fog hung like storm clouds over the night air of Gransavil, a city already wrapped in light more dazzling than the sun.
The crimson mist sent a chill down the spine just to look at it, coiling endlessly through the skies above the city and spreading a grotesque, unnatural energy in its wake.
Raon clenched his teeth.
A sorcery formation...
That red fog was something he could barely perceive even using the Ring of Fire, the Requiem Sword's demonic energy, and the Demonic Eye of Wrath all at once. There was no way it had formed naturally. This was the work of the White Blood Cult — and not just any cultist. A high-ranking officer with genuine expertise in sorcery had constructed this array.
Do those blood-sucking bastards have no sense of restraint at all?
They'd completely lost their minds. Even if Gransavil wasn't that large, covering an entire city with a sorcery formation was something he never would have imagined. The only word for it was insane.
That blood aura I sensed earlier must have been leaking from here.
Without the Cult Leader or a top-tier Apostle present, maintaining a formation of this scale perfectly would be impossible. The faint blood aura he'd felt when he first arrived had probably seeped out through gaps in the array.
"So you've only just noticed? You're always so sluggish."
Wrath snorted, likening him to a maggot. Judging by that reaction, he'd known about this for quite some time.
The Requiem Sword, sensing the blood-aura sorcery, erupted in a sword-cry packed with rage and resentment. Raon stroked the howling blade and narrowed his eyes.
So then... what kind of formation is this?
The fact that they'd hidden an array this massive so thoroughly that even a Master couldn't properly detect it meant there was a special purpose behind it.
It's not blocking entry and exit...
People could come and go from Gransavil without issue, so it wasn't a simple containment array. Watching the blood aura continuously swell within the fog, it was highly likely this was an extremely dangerous form of sorcery.
I won't figure it out from here.
He'd seen the forest from a distance. Now it was time to go inside and identify the trees.
Raon settled the energies he'd drawn up and descended the hill. Concealing his presence just as he had on the way here, he crossed Molv Lake and returned to Gransavil.
Having seen it once already, he could now detect the blood-aura sorcery with the Ring of Fire alone, without needing the Requiem Sword's demonic energy or the Demonic Eye of Wrath.
"Hm?"
Raon frowned slightly as he examined the red fog.
They mixed something into the blood aura.
It was different from any blood aura he'd felt before. Within the crimson mist floating in the air, he sensed some kind of familiar energy. That power was likely one of the factors concealing the blood aura.
Raon exhaled a murky breath as he watched the red waves that seemed to crush down on his chest.
A range this size... they must have killed at least a hundred people.
Seen from directly below, the scale and scope of the formation was overwhelming. They'd clearly slaughtered indiscriminately — martial artists and civilians alike — to accumulate this blood sorcery.
The one silver lining is that the concentration is still thin.
But that was still a problem. If that enormous mass of blood aura condensed into a single point, it would become a force powerful enough to blow away half the city.
Tch. A dead end.
If he revealed that sorcery was being used here and tried to evacuate people, they'd detonate the formation and wipe out the city. If he left it alone, the completed sorcery would activate and something even worse would happen. Every path was blocked.
And there's another problem...
No matter how skilled a sorcerer was, operating a formation of this scale without anyone noticing was nearly impossible. That meant the number of White Blood Cultists in Gransavil could be more than twice what he'd expected. They might have infiltrated the black market. Or both.
This is infuriating.
The only people he could trust were the Light Wind Squad. Information was scarce. And this sorcery could go off at any moment. His chest felt tight, like he'd swallowed a stone.
"Pathetic."
Wrath clambered onto his shoulder, wriggling, and snorted.
"Seeing you unable to do a single thing on your own has utterly unknotted This King's stomach."
Do you know what that sorcery is?
"Hmph. This King has no knowledge of such inferior power."
You don't even know, and you're still acting superior.
"It is different! This is not showing off — there is simply no need to know such things!"
Wrath clicked his tongue, looking up at the skies over Gransavil.
"Had it been This King, that filthy energy would have been smashed to pieces head-on. As This King always says, before absolute power, all heretical arts are meaningless! Back when This King resided in the Demon Realm, there were plenty of pests who strutted about with their cheap little techniques, and This King smashed every last one of their skulls..."
Smash it to pieces head-on...
Raon rolled Wrath's words around, clicking his tongue.
To shatter the formation from the front...
Ah. I just need to unravel it.
That was it. The sorcery was being operated through a formation, so all he had to do was dispel the formation itself. That was how you smashed sorcery head-on.
It's entirely possible.
He knew a fair amount about sorcery, and he had genuine expertise in formations. With the Ring of Fire that could see the flow of energy, and the Requiem Sword that could shatter blood aura, destroying even a formation of this scale wasn't impossible.
If this goes well, I might even be able to turn this situation around.
The fact that there were minute gaps in the sorcery meant this definitely wasn't the work of a Grandmaster-level high Apostle. And if it wasn't a high Apostle, they wouldn't be able to remotely trigger a formation of this magnitude.
If he waited here and shattered the formation the moment the sorcerer came out to activate it, then took the man's head — he could end this entire situation in a single stroke.
As expected.
Raon grinned and patted Wrath on the back.
You're the only one who ever helps me.
"W-what are you talking about! What did This King even help with!"
There's something.
"What is it! Speak at once!"
Wrath swallowed dryly, looking uneasy.
"WHAT IS IIIIT!"
Squelch.
A middle-aged man wrapped from head to toe in a pure white robe walked down a dim corridor. The sound of his hard-soled shoes, which should have clicked against the floor, was swallowed by the sticky red moisture coating the ground.
He passed through the reeking corridor and entered a cavern from which a faint light spilled.
To the right of the cavern, a mountain of corpses had been piled — men and women, young and old, their limbs hanging limp. The floor was dyed scarlet with the blood that had drained from those bodies.
"Apostle."
The man in the robe dropped to one knee before a young man sitting beside the mountain of corpses.
"Hngh..."
The young man was shirtless, tearing into a child's shoulder with his teeth. A thin moan still leaked from the child's parched mouth — still alive.
"Tus. I believe I told you not to interrupt me during a meal."
The young man glared at the robed man with irritation. The sword scar carved into his chest writhed as if it were alive. The 7th Apostle. The man who still carried the wound Raon had given him was here.
"Raon Zieghart has appeared."
The middle-aged man called Tus bowed his head.
"Raon? Raon Zieghart?"
The 7th Apostle tore the child's throat out in a single bite and flung the body behind him. His blood-soaked lips twisted upward.
"He really came?"
"Yes. He entered Gransavil this afternoon."
"KHAHAHAHAHA!"
He swept his blood-soaked hand through his hair and burst into mad laughter.
"The Blood God has not abandoned me."
The 7th Apostle wiped the blood dripping from his chin with the back of his hand, drawing a chilling smile.
"How long until the sorcery is complete?"
"Thanks to feeding it Bhul, who was a Master, less than a week remains."
"Move it up to tomorrow night."
"B-but we haven't gathered enough blood aura to activate the sorcery yet! There's a chance the Blood Manifestation Aberration Formation could collapse!"
Tus bowed his head, asking him to reconsider.
"No. It's enough. The sacrifice came to us of its own accord."
The 7th Apostle snorted a laugh and shook his head.
"Th-then..."
"That's right. Raon Zieghart. I'll make his blood the final sacrifice for the Blood Manifestation Aberration Formation. That should be more than enough, don't you think?"
"Mmh, wouldn't it be better to deal with him after the sorcery is complete?"
"You don't know the one called Raon."
"Pardon?"
Tus swallowed dryly. The 7th Apostle's voice was excited, as if he'd just reunited with a long-awaited lover. He was so full of agitation that a single wrong word might get Tus's throat torn out.
"That bastard is a madman who shatters common sense. If we leave him alone, he might even find the Blood Manifestation Aberration Formation."
"S-surely not..."
The Blood Manifestation Aberration Formation had been created by the White Blood Cult Leader herself, and she had woven into the array a level of concealment so thorough that even a Grandmaster couldn't perceive it.
It was only natural that the Blood Manifestation Aberration Formation Tus had constructed couldn't compare to the Cult Leader's. But for Raon, a mere Master, to discover the sorcery formation was impossible.
"It's not that I don't trust you. It's that he's special. He was only an Expert, and he still broke through my Ganggi and left me this wound."
The 7th Apostle traced the sword scar the Requiem Sword had carved into his chest and grinned.
"Besides, a guest has come all this way. Making him wait too long would be rude. Shouldn't we give him a welcome befitting the name of the Frost-Flower Sword Hero?"
"But..."
Tus furrowed his brow slightly, looking worried.
"You don't trust me?"
"N-no, sir!"
Tus bowed his head, his shoulders trembling.
"Ah, well. The 4th Apostle did get stabbed in the back and die, so I suppose that's fair. But I am stronger now than the 4th Apostle ever was."
Composure and confidence filled the 7th Apostle's low voice. The faint anger rising at the edges of it only magnified his presence.
"You just focus on completing the sorcery. In two days, I'll wring the blood from the continent's youngest Master for you."
The 7th Apostle dragged over the neck of a person sitting right beside him.
"I could crush him with raw force, but I can't give him an end that easy. I'll offer him despair as a choice, and make him pick it himself."
His cold laughter echoed through the cavern.
Marta wandered Gransavil without a destination, drifting aimlessly.
She'd swept through the city in the guise of a moderately drunk mercenary, but all that caught her eye were the city's dazzling fireworks and the moths that threw themselves into that light.
"Squad leader. Let's call it here for today and head back."
A squad member walking with her as a combat pair sidled up and whispered.
"If we keep wandering around too much, we might draw suspicion."
"Tch. Fine."
Marta clicked her tongue and nodded. She wanted to keep searching even if she had to do it alone, but she couldn't afford to repeat her mistakes. She swallowed her impatience and turned her back.
"Let's head..."
She was about to say they should go back when she bumped into a somewhat scruffy-looking young girl.
"Ah, I'm sorry."
The girl immediately bowed her head and ran into the alley between two taverns.
"Annoyingly cute."
Marta snorted a laugh, watching the girl's back.
"Pardon?"
"Wait here."
She waved her squad members off and headed into the alley the girl had just entered. The girl was already gone; the alley was empty.
"Figured as much."
Marta nodded as if she'd expected it and crossed through the alley, turning right. In the inner alley, the girl from a moment ago was examining a familiar-looking wallet.
"Huk!"
The girl startled and tried to run, but Marta kicked off the wall in a single motion, moved behind her, and blocked the path.
"Hand it over while I'm still asking nicely."
"W-what!"
The girl bit her lip and hid the wallet behind her back.
Just like me. Just like I used to be.
Marta calmly studied the girl. A filthy appearance, bruises here and there. The sight of her younger self rose up, bringing a faint pang of nostalgia.
But that was that, and this was this. She couldn't just let a pickpocket walk.
"You wanna get beaten half to death and then hand it over, or are you gonna give it up nicely?"
Marta wriggled her fingers, using the gentlest words she could manage.
"Uh..."
The girl's chin trembled with fear, but she still couldn't easily give up the pouch. Marta knew exactly why.
She has to pay tribute.
Looking at the girl's condition, she was clearly handing money over to someone. The fact that she'd pickpocketed someone dressed as a mercenary meant she had no margin to spare.
"Huu..."
Marta flicked the girl's head and wriggled her fingers again.
"If you give it back now, I'll cover a meal. Hand it over."
Normally she would have gone and smashed whoever the girl was paying tribute to, but she was on a mission and didn't have that luxury. Old memories had surfaced, so she'd decided to give the girl a few silver coins and send her on her way.
"R-really?"
"If you don't like it, you can take the beating."
"No!"
The girl shook her head and held the wallet out with both hands.
"That's more like it... Hm?"
Marta was about to snort a laugh and take the pouch when she stopped. She swallowed dryly, staring at the wound on the girl's wrist.
"Y-you, what the hell is this!"
"Pardon?"
"Who gave you this wound!"
"W-why are you suddenly..."
"Because I need to know."
Marta ground her teeth and seized the girl's wrist.
No matter what, she had to know.
Because from this child's wrist, she could feel the faintest trace of blood aura.
Raon circled the entirety of hexagonal Gransavil, examining the flow of the formation. Even in the middle of the night, plenty of people were still out, and since he was carrying a liquor bottle and pretending to be drunk, no one found him suspicious.
"Hoo..."
He leaned his back against the city wall and let out a low breath.
My head's a little foggy.
The scale was so enormous that even examining it wasn't easy. But because the range was so wide, tiny gaps were visible here and there. They'd poured so much power into concealment that they apparently hadn't perfectly calibrated the durability.
It's entirely possible.
Having seen the entire sorcery formation covering Gransavil, he was certain. It would take some time, but using the Ring of Fire and the Requiem Sword's demonic energy, it was a formation he could unravel.
The first priority for dispelling it is finding that.
He needed to identify the other energy that had seeped into the blood aura. If he knew what it was, dispelling the formation would become far easier.
I'm sure it's an energy I know...
Raon clicked his tongue and lifted his head. Beside the fog covering Gransavil, a vivid moon approached with agonizing slowness.
"Unnecessarily bright... Huh?"
He was looking at the clear moonlight, so at odds with this grave situation, when damp, clammy blood auras began spreading stealthily from inside the city.
Blood aura?
Raon frowned and ran toward where he'd felt it. He stopped on the central avenue — the place in Gransavil with the most people — and his jaw trembled.
W-what is this...
He could feel blood aura from every single person in front of him.
The man coming out of a tavern. The courtesan seeing him off. The cart-hauler moving cargo. Even the young clerk greeting customers. Every living thing that drew breath in this place carried blood aura.
No one else could feel it, but having examined the sorcery until now, he was certain. It was so faint it couldn't even be called a White Blood Cultist's, and it vanished almost immediately — but what had taken root in these people's bodies was unmistakably blood aura.
The entire population are White Blood Cultists?
That was absolutely not it.
White Blood Cultists, like mages, cultivated the White Soul Aura that accumulated in the heart. The blood aura he'd felt from these people wasn't in their hearts — it was embedded throughout their bodies.
Those blood-sucking bastards would never violate their own doctrine, so these people were definitely not White Blood Cultists.
Raon swallowed dryly and lifted his head. Watching the fog of blood aura spreading like mist, he clenched his fist.
Don't tell me that formation is...