Lin entered the pub, and the mess was as she expected.

No services in the Four Seasons Court survived the [Flood of Evil] Disaster unharmed. Flooding the street with the condense jaw-numbing quantity of condense evil tended to be bad for business and interior decor. Several insurance companies had already gone bankrupt trying to cover the damage, and Lin herself cringed at the absurd insurance fraud that soon followed.

The seedy pub she entered was wrecked. The vengeful scent of rotten eggs haunted the room. The wallpapers were scorched with acid burns. Lin stepped on the floorboard, only to wince at how the brittle pieces fell under her heel.

Slowly making her way around the room that could have shattered like glasses, Lin approached the lone visitor to this place, seated on the only intact furnishing among a pile of rotten and crumbling splinters.

The erosion of Malrort worked like a burning acid-laced fungus accelerant. Anything coming into contact with it either went insane or decomposed at purgatorial paces. The fact that similar cases like this one had happened all over the planet was going to keep Nova up at night for a long time.

Lin checked the chair her host bought and sat down after it was clear there was no trap.

“Relax, Atsui,” said the hostess with canary yellow hair. “I am not the type to murder my guests.”

“Was Jehovah Atrum not a guest then, Miss Durin?” Lin replied.

Luvine Durin, the Head of Balperia’s Secret Service, chuckled, but the only thing Lin felt was dread.

Balperia was ranked as the most prosperous plane in the Astral Sea. They were the centers of culture and technology. From the grand libraries provided by the Grand Empire to the stately high-rises built by the Isle of Knowledge, Balperia was the jewel of the Astral Sea.

This stretched over to its military—the most advanced in both technological and mystical terms—which boasted ruthless efficiency and meritocracy.

In that environment, Luvine became a legend.

Born into an old military household, Luvine excelled under the best education Astral Sea could afford. She graduated from Balperia Central University with full honors at the age of fifteen, enrolled in Balperia's Logistic Division, and climbed the ladder to become the youngest Head of Secret Service in history at the age of 20.

If Tai was the king of Lin’s generation, then Luvine was the queen of hers. If not for the prodigious Boy-king of Elypt, Luvine’s position as the number one of this age would be undisputed.

“Jehovah is a guest?” Luvine chuckled. “After everything he did?”

“Bastard or not, you crossed the line by killing him in our territory,” Lin retorted. “Your accusation is quite bold. I suggest you bring me the proof to support your case,” Luvine said.

“How about the fact you had a meeting with Atrum before he turned up dead?" Lin argued. “And are you denying that a master of puppetry magecraft like yourself couldn’t pilot his corpses?”

“Those are mere conjectures,” Luvine said. “I have already come to an agreement with your foster mother about this misunderstanding. Do you want to raise a ruckus over a dead traitor?”

Unbeknownst to all, Luvine was incredibly lucky that she wasn’t talking to Rem. Had Remus Breaker been sitting opposite her, he would give a flat ‘yes’, punch her in the eye, and carry the Head of Balperia Secret Service away like a sack of potatoes. Consequences be damned.

Lin wasn’t Rem. She would compromise with the devil in front of her to maintain the air of civility. Like a person swimming in the deep darkness of the world, she didn't know how to emerge from the insurmountable water of lies and malevolence.

Again, the young girl capitulated to the flood of evil.

“No, I won’t,” Lin gave the traditional answer. “But let us assume you killed Atrum—then why?”

Luvine’s fingers tapped on her chin in contemplation.

“Hmm, so you want to ask me why the killer who has nothing to gain from killing a guest of Nova committed the deed? Maybe it is because he or she needed a piece protecting a certain king to be removed.”

Lin’s eyes widened in fright. She knew whatever being planned in the background wasn’t over by a long shot.

Luvine clapped her hand, dismissing the fear hanging in the air.

“But that is an issue for tomorrow,” the scheming woman declared. “We are here to talk about what you want—the Dramatica Codex.” Luvine smiled, knowing that she had the cat in the bag. “What if I tell you that you can have it?”

“What do you want?” Lin asked, failing to stifle the greed in her voice.

“I want you to relay to the Atsui’s divine emperor that the Isle of Knowledge will open the Hidden Region soon. He will know what to do next.”

…

While the spider tugged its net, reeling the tadpoles into the den of calamities, a bear was honing its newest cub.

“Keep going, Cytortia!” Symphony commanded, blowing her whistles. “Ten more laps of cardio training to go!”

“I-I can’t…” The girl stuttered with tears in her eyes. Her noodle-like leg struggled to trudge forward.

Symphony cheered with encouragement, but Cytortia wasn’t reciprocating the enthusiasm. 

The strain of channeling the output of True itself to rid Malrort’s influence in the Four Seasons Realm put her into a coma. For a week, Cytortia slumbered like a cursed princess, and in hindsight, she should have taken her time waking up.

The first day wasn’t bad. Her new co-workers and superior threw her a get-well party. Normally, Cytortia would reign in her inner glutton in light of her weight, but that restraint had rusted off after seven days of sleeping on the bed. She devoured every dish Symphony put on the table, from lamb to sauteed potatoes, like a famished barbarian.

Cytortia was so lost in her full cheek of happiness that she didn’t notice Hakeem and Rem giving her a wry smile of pity. She soon discovered the reason after Symphony took her on tour with her new training schedule—the marathon.

After losing her sense of time fighting against the endless legwork that didn’t seem to end, Cytortia finally understood Rem’s and Hakeem’s inability to be knocked down. Those two’s senses of pain must be fried after this endless cardio session. If Cytortia had to suffer this never-ending marathon, she was pretty sure minding your random, immature threats from Nova-at-Home would be the last thing on her mind.

Symphony kept jogging, ignoring Cytortia’s emptied tank of morale.

“This isn’t a time to faint. Another crisis can strike at any moment, and you must be in top shape to fight it off. As a Grand Saint, you are the lynchpin of any and all operations. Rem and Hakeem can go down, but you, who are responsible for bringing them back to the fight, cannot fall. At the very least, we need to make sure you can outrun the dangers.”

That was the second time in Cytortia’s life that someone heaped any expectation on her. Like the first time, the pure weight of responsibility powered her for a few more laps.

Under a shade, Hakeem watched in admiration.

“Wow, I think she is lasting longer than us,” Hakeem said to Rem, sitting on the opposite end of the table.

Between the two was a chess board. The game was slowly approaching the midpoint. Rem was down a bishop, but Hakeem’s king was exposed. Both sides were at each other's necks.

“She needs to do at least this much to be the Grand Saint,” Rem said, moving the rook to an open file. “Check.”

Hakeem blocked the open lane with his knight and continued the conversation.

“I know we need to get Cytortia up to standard, but what comes next?”

Rem carefully studies the board and the situation as a whole.

“I feel the case in Four Seasons Realm is just a start,” Rem replied after a while and moved his knight. “Malrort will only escalate from here on, and there is still this group that went after Atrum.”

“Aren’t they on our side? They also went after Malrort.” Hakeem asked, moving a pawn up.

“Maybe,” Rem answered, moving his own pawn. "Or, conversely, maybe they are allies, the way a dog catcher-run animal rights organization could be viewed as a friend of your pets."

Hakeem took Rem pawn and sighed.

“We really do need to step up our game.”

Knowing the troublesome pawn had moved away, Rem relocated his knight into a critical position.

Hakeem sulked at the board. Rem had put his queen and a knight into a fork. The knight cannot move because of the pin by the rook. Hakeem did the math and knew if the exchange went hand in hand, he would either lose a queen or get his king chased across the board.

Hakeem toppled his king in a sign of surrender.

“Good game." Rem offered him a handshake. “You have improved a lot.”

“Thank you,” Hakeem said, dryly shaking his opponent's hand. “Playing with you helps clear out much of my baggage.”

Rem knew exactly what kind of baggage Hakeem was carrying.

“Still have no clue how to use [Surtr]?”

Hakeem responded with a twitch in his eyelids.

Rem could share the pain. Unlike Allphort and its systems of magcraft and martialcraft, the thesis circuit from True didn’t exactly come with an instruction sheet. All of them were pretty much surfing by the seat of their pants in this trial by fire. Neither Hakeem nor Rem had a full grasp of what they were capable of.

“There is no use thinking about what is to come,” Rem said. He pointed toward their mentor and newbie, trudging along the horizon. “How about a run to help clear your head?"

Hakeem couldn’t believe the day had come when he voluntarily joined Symphony’s trek to hell.

“Well, got to set an example,” Hakeem said, walking alongside his best friend toward the death of his leg.