In the room, Leon placed the camera on the table and sat shoulder-to-shoulder with Roswitha.

“One of the 27 covert sentry posts along the eastern border went missing, right?” Leon asked.

Roswitha nodded silently and waited for Leon to continue.

“And there were no signs of any struggle at the time, which means that particular sentry post was taken out without making a sound.”

Leon continued, “To accomplish something like that, it would have to be someone with top-tier assassination skills.”

“But no matter how elite they might be, it’s impossible to infiltrate so many patrol points along your border unnoticed. And whether the intruder decided to stay hidden and wait for another opportunity or retreat entirely, they couldn’t have left no trace at all.”

“Yet that’s exactly what happened. The sentry post has, for all intents and purposes, ‘vanished into thin air,’ leaving not a single clue.”

While speaking, Leon activated the camera’s magical projection preview.

Roswitha took the camera. The images were all taken by Leon during his reconnaissance in the forested area along the eastern border. Among them were shots of where the missing sentry post had once been.

In the image, it was a patch of underbrush. The sentry had partially buried himself underground, camouflaging with the shrubbery.

However, the bush on the surface showed no noticeable changes, but the sentry stationed there had mysteriously disappeared.

“Keep scrolling through the images,” Leon prompted.

Roswitha followed his instruction and moved to the next photo.

This one showed the underbrush after its camouflage had been removed, revealing a deep pit underneath. The sentry had used the pit as a hiding spot.

“The intruder took out the sentry without disturbing a single leaf or leaving any trace of a struggle,” Leon explained slowly. “Doesn’t that sound creepy?”

“It’s downright uncanny ...”

“What’s more, this wasn’t even a border sentry post - it was deeper in the forest’s central zone. Which means the infiltrator bypassed at least eight to ten covert posts before taking down the one hidden in this shrubbery,” Leon said.

“With such a high level of stealth, even the Dragon Clan—renowned for their mastery of disguises—would find it hard to pull off. Or rather… it’d be impossible.”

Roswitha had encountered cases of sentry posts being attacked before, but most incidents occurred at locations near the border itself, areas that were naturally more susceptible to assaults. Such attacks were usually driven by clear motives, be it provocation or misdirection.

But none of those attacks had ever been this strange.

Compared to incidents she’d handled in the past, this infiltrator resembled more of a… ghost.

Roswitha stared at the projection from the camera, her teeth unconsciously pressing into her lower lip. “Are there any other clues?”

“Of course.”

Leon nodded. “Do you remember a few days ago, when the two of us went to the border? I asked you to assign more personnel there.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“The reason I made that suggestion is because I noticed something very peculiar: there’s a starkly obvious and unnaturally clean demarcation line along your border.”

“A… demarcation line?”

“Yes.”

Leon scrolled through the images on the camera, flipping to another set, and then handed it back to Roswitha. “Here, take a look.”

Roswitha peered at the projection.

Indeed, there was a clean, razor-sharp demarcation line visible in the image.

Though it wasn’t particularly long, it stood out starkly when compared to the irregular, uneven terrain that surrounded it.

“Of course, the world is full of bizarre things. Such a line could hypothetically form naturally. So to determine whether or not this is a coincidence, I visited several other key chokepoints in the past few days.”

Leon toggled through the previewed images again. “As expected, I found similar markings at every location that would be prone to infiltration. That’s enough to conclude these sharp demarcation lines are no coincidence.”

“But does this clue connect to the missing sentry?” Roswitha asked.

“It does.”

Leon flipped the projection back to the image of the sentry post in the shrubbery, zooming in on a particular section. He pointed to the edge of the bush.

“Look here. Even though there’s no evidence of a fight, this section of the bush appears to have been neatly sliced off. The cut is so smooth, it couldn’t be natural or caused by decay.”

“And in the pit below the shrubbery, there are similarly sharp, precise cuts—almost like the walls were shaved clean.”

Leon set the camera down and looked at Roswitha.

“Earlier, I said that not even the Dragon Clan could accomplish something like this because it far exceeds normal assassination techniques. Rather than calling it an assassination, iit’s straight out of a ghost story.”

The phrase “supernatural event” was spoken with cheerful nonchalance, prompting a faint, ironic smile to cross Roswitha’s otherwise grave expression. Turning to Leon, she said, “So what you mean is, this infiltrator didn’t use any conventional methods of assassination we’re familiar with, but rather something entirely outside of our understanding?”

The joke was only a brief interlude to lighten the grim mood, yet Roswitha clearly grasped Leon’s underlying point.

Leon nodded. “Over the past few days, aside from investigating the traces left behind, I also did some research in the library. That copy of *A Brief History of the Dragon Clan* you have? It’s been tremendously helpful.”

Roswitha arched a delicate eyebrow. “How so?”

“It’s full of praise and admiration for the Dragon Clan—seems like the author didn’t want to offend any of the Dragon Kings.”

Leon smirked. “But one passage caught my eye:

‘The Astral Dragon King, Ravi, demonstrated unparalleled mastery in spatial magic, elevating it from a utility into an art form.

As Ravi’s expertise in spatial magic deepened, he began integrating this magic into everyday tasks, including… construction.

Every structure built by the Astral Dragon Clan is impeccably crafted and precise. It is said that they never required any tools for cutting, polishing, or demolition, as Ravi’s spatial magic could sever any excess material with absolute precision.’”

“After reading that, I researched spatial magic further. It turns out its applications go far beyond construction.”

“Silent kills, untraceable exits, razor-sharp cuts - spatial magic makes all this possible.”

“So let’s make a bold assumption: it was either Ravi or someone else adept in spatial magic who used it to eliminate your sentry.”

“And it’s also possible that this person is responsible for carving those sharp demarcation lines at your border and key chokepoints.”

Leon summed it up succinctly. “Roswitha, the person who attacked the sentry wasn’t a ghost or anything supernatural. It’s a technique we’ve never encountered before—spatial magic.”

Roswitha followed Leon’s train of thought. “That does make sense. If you account for spatial magic, it explains everything that happened.”

She paused, then added, “But there’s one thing I still don’t understand. If the attacker’s spatial magic is already so advanced, why did they only take out one sentry and carve a few lines?”

Leon helped her analyze further.

“In my view, there are two possibilities for why they acted this way.”

“The first is that spatial magic has significant limitations—be it range, power, or both. Within the confines of those limits, the best they could manage was to deal with the sentry post deeper in the forest.”

“The second possibility… is this: it’s a declaration of war.”

“...A declaration of war?”

“Precisely.”

Leon’s expression turned serious. “They’re warning us that the next battle - far greater than the Constantine Conflict - is about to begin.”