Moray Territory. The surface. The main hall of the Earl's manor.

  Outside the windows the sky was overcast, the clouds hanging low, as though rain might fall at any moment.

  Allen Moray sat in the head seat, wearing a formal deep-blue outer robe, its silver collar buttons fastened without a single flaw. He was only seventeen. Sitting in the chair that had once belonged to his father, his spine was straight, his expression as calm as though he had occupied that seat for ten years.

  Four people stood in the hall.

  Two were the Moray family's longtime stewards, white-haired, standing to the left, something hidden in their expressions — impossible to say whether it was caution or probing. The other two were imperial resident officials, responsible for mining district tax affairs and production reporting, standing to the right, each holding a stack of documents.

  "Regarding the restoration progress of the northern mining tunnels," one of the officials began, courteous in tone but without warmth, "the Empire hopes to receive a detailed damage assessment report before the end of this month, along with projected output figures for the following three months."

  Allen did not answer immediately. He lowered his head and leafed through the register in front of him, found a page, and pressed his finger down to hold it.

  "The main tunnel of the northern mining road sustained severe damage in the accident," he said, raising his head, his tone even. "Full production capacity cannot be restored in the short term. However, the two branch tunnels on the eastern side are intact. I have already arranged for personnel to re-inventory the reserves. The end-of-month report will be submitted on time."

  The official nodded and made a note on his document. "Additionally, regarding the follow-up on the Church's side——"

  "The Church's Inquisitor and all accompanying personnel perished in the accident." Allen cut him off, his tone carrying no variation. "The Empire's official announcement stated this clearly. The Moray family expresses its deepest condolences, and has already dispatched a formal letter of mourning to the Holy Cross Church."

  The official was silent for a moment and asked nothing further.

  After all four had withdrawn, Allen was left alone in the hall.

  He lifted his hand from the register, leaned back in the chair, and slowly let out a breath.

  The Black Sand seed in his chest warmed slightly — a signal sent by Del through the spirit link. Not words. Just a sense — like someone watching from a distance, giving a slow nod.

  The corner of Allen's mouth moved. He sat up straight again.

  Footsteps approached outside. The old steward had returned, stopping at the doorway and knocking twice.

  "Young master, someone has come to the city asking to see you. No calling card — only a letter."

  "Who?"

  "By the look of him, a merchant caravan type — but no guild markings anywhere on him." The old steward paused. "He says he came alone."

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  Allen's gaze shifted slightly.

  "Have him wait in the side hall."

  The side hall was small. The window was half open, and the wind outside lifted the thin curtain and let it fall again.

  The visitor was a middle-aged man in a grey robe faded from washing, seated in the chair with the ease of someone in his own home. His face carried the lines left by years of weathering. He looked like a man who had spent his life on the road — but his eyes were clear, carrying the settled quality of someone who had seen too much and arrived at something like calm.

  Allen entered and sat across from him, skipping pleasantries entirely.

  "The letter."

  The man reached into his sleeve, produced a letter, placed it on the table, and slid it over.

  The envelope was plain brown paper, no seal or marking of any kind. Allen opened it. Inside was a single sheet with four words written on it.

  He turned the paper over, then back again, confirming the reverse was blank.

  Then he raised his eyes to the man across from him.

  "Who wrote this?"

  "My employer," the man said, his tone unhurried. "He is not in a position to give his name. But he wants you to know that he has been watching Moray Territory for some time. Everything that has happened recently — he has seen it."

  "What does he want?"

  "It is not a matter of wanting something." The man shook his head slightly. "He wishes to provide something — information."

  Allen said nothing. He waited.

  "On the Empire's side, the investigation into the northern accident has moved beyond procedure." The man's tone did not change — he might have been discussing something entirely inconsequential. "Someone within the Empire is pushing for a full re-examination, on the grounds that the scale of the accident and the ratio of Church casualties do not match."

  Allen's eyes darkened slightly, but his face showed nothing.

  "Who is pushing for it?"

  "The Imperial Audit Bureau. An official named Werner," the man said. "His ties to the Holy Cross Church are not deep — but he has a professional obsession with anything that does not add up."

  Allen refolded the paper and returned it to the envelope.

  "Why does your employer want to tell me this?"

  "Because he believes," the man rose and straightened his robe, "that what you intend to do next aligns with certain interests of his." He gave Allen a small nod. "When you are ready to talk, hang a lamp at the old mill on the east side of the city. I will come again."

  With that, he walked to the door, pushed it open, and left.

  Allen sat where he was and did not move.

  The Black Sand seed in his chest warmed again — more noticeably this time, carrying a hint of a question.

  He spoke under his breath, barely enough for himself to hear.

  "Master, someone is probing us."

  A moment later, the seed sent back a sense — brief, clear.

  ——Understood. Continue.

  Underground. Black Wind City. The quiet chamber.

  Del opened his eyes.

  He had sat in the chamber for two full hours without moving. Not cultivating. Only feeling.

  Of the three nodes initiated twenty-six days ago, the first had completed on the nineteenth day. There was no ceremony. The chip simply presented one line of text, then went quiet.

  [Gravity Refinement · Sinking Scale] Parse Complete. Black Buddha Core fusion successful. Energy meridian suppression effect within the domain has been activated.

  Del had only moved his fingers and taken stock of the change.

  The change was real, but subtle. Like a hand that had previously only pressed down on an opponent's chest — now that hand had a fine needle, capable of precise penetration rather than relying purely on weight.

  Nothing dramatic. But sufficient.

  He drew his attention inward and pulled up the chip's current data.

  [Siphon Extension · Dark Current] Parse Progress: 88.3% Estimated time remaining: approximately 1.8 days.

  [Core Reinforcement · Black Steel Bone] Parse Progress: 55.7% Estimated time remaining: approximately 15 days.

  Two days. Dark Current would finish in two days.

  Del stood, left the chamber, and walked deeper into Black Wind City. Mineral crystals were set into the stone walls at intervals along both sides of the corridor, bathing the entire passage in a faint, drifting blue.

  He walked and turned over in his mind what Allen had just transmitted through the seed.

  Werner. The Imperial Audit Bureau. An official with a professional obsession for things that do not add up.

  Del paused at the corner of the corridor. The corner of his mouth shifted slightly.

  Interesting. Compared to someone who simply came looking for trouble, a man who chased details and refused to let go was far harder to deal with.

  He walked on. His footsteps made no sound.