"Heart extraction..."

Celicia gazed at the ghastly hole in the corpse's chest, her expression growing darker by the second.

"Is this the direct cause of death?"

"Probably, but we can't be one hundred percent certain."

The middle-aged bald man replied:

"We conducted a cursory examination of the body. Apart from the hole in the chest, there are no other external injuries on the corpse. So the preliminary judgment is that the cause of death was having the heart ripped out. However, since the body hasn't been thoroughly dissected yet, we can't rule out the possibility that the victim was first killed by poisoning or a curse."

"There are far too many ways to kill without external injuries, so it's pointless to dwell on this. What I want to know is how the heart was extracted."

Celicia put on her gloves and gently tugged at the shattered clothing on the chest of the deceased, peering into the sinister hole.

"Judging from these markings, it doesn't look like it was done using a sharp weapon, does it?"

"It wasn't…"

The middle-aged man hesitated for a moment, a trace of fear creeping into his voice.

"Preliminary judgment suggests it was done barehanded. Someone forcibly and directly tore the heart out with their bare hands."

"A beast?"

"A person."

The middle-aged man replied:

"And based on the markings, the initial judgment indicates it might have been a woman."

"A woman…" Celicia's gaze grew more severe.

"I recall hearing a rumor from the Lower City District about a 'heart-extracting banshee'—a mysterious figure said to seduce men on full moon nights and then rip out their hearts to consume them."

Celicia glanced at the pitch-black sky. "The weather is terrible, but judging by the calendar, tonight happens to be a full moon. Could this rumor be true?"

"Y-yes… There is such a rumor."

The balding middle-aged man wiped his forehead with increasing intensity, leaving one to worry whether he might accidentally pull out what was left of his pitiable hair.

"But the Lower City District is a chaotic mess, full of all sorts of characters. Bodies pulled from the alleys and gutters easily number in the double digits daily, so it's impossible to verify the authenticity of this rumor."

"Even if it's true or false, at the very least it's a lead."

"Yes, we'll investigate right away."

"Any other information?"

"N-none for now," the middle-aged man stammered.

"When we arrived, the heavy rain had already washed away almost all traces. The murder didn't involve any sort of weapon either, so finding additional clues is extremely difficult."

"So that means we'll have to start with the victim?"

Celicia lowered her eyelids, her gaze repeatedly sweeping across the corpse's body.

No wonder the middle-aged man appeared so frazzled and bald. Rainy nights, murder, heart extraction, a count's son—paired with the horrors of urban legends—any single misstep could cost him his position, and perhaps his life along with it.

"You should leave for now."

But at that moment, Celicia seemed to have spotted something, suddenly speaking.

"Huh? Wh-what about the investigation?"

The middle-aged man was taken aback.

"This is no longer within your jurisdiction."

Celicia focused on the victim's hand.

Because of the post-mortem rigor mortis, the bloodless hand twisted like the frozen claws of a dying bird, seemingly desperate to grasp at something in its final moments.

And within the twisted, faintly blood-stained fingernails, Celicia spotted something unusual.

Scales.

Black, dense scales.

Like serpent scales.

"Serpentfolk…"

As if recalling something, a glint of icy determination flashed in Celicia's eyes as she murmured softly.

…

…

"What… is this?"

Mela did not actually bring out a hammer and drill to modify Moen like a deranged scientist from a crazy story. Instead, she led Moen to the edge of a large body of liquid that gleamed like mercury.

No, rather than calling it a lake, it was more akin to an unfathomably large well.

"This is the Silver Well."

Mela extended her hand and motioned toward it, speaking.

"It is both the foundation of this academy and the prison that seals 'that entity.'"

"That entity?"

"I know your curiosity runs deep, but regarding 'that entity,' I'd advise you not to ask too many questions until you attain the rank of The Crowned."

Mela coldly shot Moen a warning glare, silencing him.

"If it's not a sightseeing tour of a prison, then why are we here?"

"To strengthen you, of course."

"Strengthen?"

"In order to become the vessel for the Clock of Eternity, what's most crucial—above all—is that your own foundation is sufficiently solid."

Mela explained:

"So I plan to perform a certain degree of enhancement on you, making you capable of resisting the complexities of temporal laws."

"Resistance?"

"Put simply, making you more… durable."

"Durable?"

Moen was increasingly perplexed.

"Why do you have to question everything?" Mela rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Because I don't know anything!"

"Ugh."

Mela let out a deep sigh, wearing a look of disdain that seemed to say, "How on earth did I end up with such a clueless disciple?" She pointed at the Silver Well.

"Forget it. Stop overthinking and just jump in."

"Ohhh, so I just need to jump in—jump in what?! Are you insane?!"

Moen shouted in horror, his face twisting in disbelief.

"This place clearly screams 'Do not jump in!' That's mercury—it's toxic!"

"Though I don't know what your understanding of mercury entails, in alchemy, pure mercury is one of the fundamental building blocks of all matter."

"Ah, I see."

Moen let out a breath of relief.

Thank goodness it wasn't the mercury he understood.

"Though, it is indeed highly poisonous. Hopefully, you won't die too quickly from it."

"Wait, what?!"

Moen barely had time to react as he turned his head, only to see Mela's delicate, pale foot rapidly expanding in his line of sight.

"What's with all the 'waits'? Just get in there already!"

Clearly fed up, Mela leaped into action, delivering a swift jump-kick that sent Moen hurtling into the well.

"Damn it!"

Feeling the searing pain of her strike on his cheek and the unsettling sensation of freefall, Moen couldn't help but let out a howl of despair.

"Why does the real world have to include ridiculous anti-gravity skirt mechanics like this?!"

…

Moen plunged into the Silver Well.

It was like falling into a thick sludge; in an instant, the dense, flowing liquid enveloped his entire body.

Instinctively, Moen held his breath.

But the endless mercury seemed alive, infiltrating his body relentlessly through his nostrils, ear canals, pores—any tiny opening it could find.

A wave of excruciating pain struck like a lightning bolt, followed by the vivid sensation of his body being rapidly corroded by the mercury. It spread like ink in clear water—rapidly, unstoppably.

Every part of him that succumbed to the invasive mercury seemed to age and decay instantaneously, disintegrating into dust like the toll of countless years.

"Use your flame."

Mela's voice echoed near his ears.

Without hesitation, Moen opened his eyes.

In those bright blue irises, a spark ignited.

The Flame of the King of Wither—an uncanny fire embodying both destruction and revitalization.

It was the very flame which had allowed him to survive a direct strike from a Crowned entity.

As the flame burned, the parts of Moen's body that were destroyed began rapidly regenerating. And the newly formed flesh carried an eerie metallic sheen, like the shimmer of liquid mercury.

But this brought him no reprieve.

The mercury's corrosion continued unabated, an eternal onslaught.

The pain of decayed flesh, the itching of regeneration haunting every nerve—two conflicting yet equally torturous sensations tore ruthlessly at his consciousness.

Had it been anyone else, they already would have descended into madness.

But—

"Do you—*think*—I'm—afraid—of you?!"

Surrounded by the unyielding mercury, Moen's face contorted in fury, and through clenched teeth, he roared like a beast.

"I've faced—*death*—far too many times! You cannot—break me!"

And so, Moen opened his mouth wide, swallowing huge gulps of mercury directly.

It was like pouring cold water into steaming hot oil—two immense, irreconcilable forces colliding violently within him.

—If you're going to test me, then let's go all the way!

…

…

"Yes, yes, that's it!"

Mela's bright red irises sparkled with excitement as she watched Moen be consumed by the boundless mercury, witnessing the profound changes it brought to him.

"The Flame of the King of Wither doesn't shield him; all it does is accelerate the process and increase his survival odds by a mere ten percent."

"The real reliance—comes solely from within you! Moen Campbell!"

"Only someone with such formidable will can one day hold mastery over the ultimate sovereign authority!"

"Only then—you can fulfill my final purpose."