Lucimia melted into shadow, like ink soaking into stone, and slipped through the wall. The shade surfaced beyond, a dark smear against the daylight.

Caution first, curiosity second. She didn’t rush out; she blinked, and two eyes opened on the shadow, like a Fuzzy Orb peering in from the dusk.

The alley felt empty, a quiet gully between the backs of houses, bare walls like blank cliffs. Few footsteps, few voices, only faint dust drifting.

She eased out half her head, like a turtle testing the river. Left glance, right glance—silence held. Only then did she seep free of the wall.

Her feet kissed the ground, and the air hit heavy, like wet wool and ash. Smoke pressed on her chest; outside the wall had breathed cleaner.

A small sigh rippled through her. Next, find Bevi—how? The question hung like mist, cold on the skin.

One gambit flickered: wear Rexi’s face, walk the main street, draw soldiers like hawks to bait, run and run—maybe Bevi would appear, a sheltering wind.

But if he didn’t, trouble would close like nets.

Another route glinted: the Adventurers’ Guild. Ask around for Bevi. He’s an information broker, a spider in the web; adventurers must know.

Yet the empire’s under lockdown, like a river dammed. No flow, no strangers—one fresh face would draw eyes like knives. The Guild might hold Ment’s watchers.

That path felt sour. Choose another.

Lucimia lifted her gaze; the wall loomed like a gray mountain. A city this size should have guardians, sharp spears behind stone.

Top-tier, yes—but in Ment’s eyes, top-tier is straw. Maybe already puppets, strings drowned in shadow.

She drifted down the alley, toward the light at its mouth. The wall marched beside her, tall and stern, and a thought snagged, oddly rough.

Strange… Rexi’s a killer, fled from Erwei City. These walls rise high, only two gates front and back, guards like iron thorns. She can’t use the Flight Spell—how did she get out? Through her ability?

Lucimia wrapped herself in Invisibility Magic and stepped into the street, a clear stream amid a crowding tide.

People flowed past with smiles like spring lanterns; no plague’s pall on their faces. Carriages rattled, coin for distance, road for destination.

Stone bricks lay flat underfoot, green strips cooled the eyes, and mana crystal lamps waited to bloom like stars at night.

Erwei City had grown well, like a tree layered with rings. The thought tasted bittersweet.

Pity—this bloom would soon be bruised. Prosperity falls quick, like petals in wind.

She wandered without aim, and noticed no wanted posters for herself, only Rexi’s face on walls. The absence rang hollow.

Odd. She’d thought Ment would plaster her name like storm flyers. Maybe he feared panic, feared the flock bolting from the city.

But driving them out would help—then the rat couldn’t drink the crowd’s breath. So why not?

Unless these people are tools in Ment’s hands, unless he wants a straight-on clash, blade to blade, shadow to shadow.

Lucimia tucked the thought away like a thorn wrapped in cloth. Note first, solve later.

She shelved the puzzle and hunted for the Adventurers’ Guild. Soon she found it, tall in a city corner, an oval husk of redwood and brick.

A sign showed a beast and a sword, emblem bright as a banner. Adventurers with gear streamed in and out, a restless tide with steel.

Invisible, she strolled inside. A wash of smell hit her, thick as a spilled barrel—strong wine braided with wood and leather. Her nose wrinkled despite herself.

The hall hummed like a beehive. At tables, men and women tilted tankards, malt beer foaming, laughter rising. In corners, whispers coiled around maps and dangers.

Ancient weapons and shields hung on walls, each piece a scar with a tale, iron gleam like old moons.

Lucimia’s gaze skimmed the room and settled on a wooden board, tall as a gate. Tasks, she knew, nailed like leaves in wind.

She stepped closer. The board stood high; her height made her tilt her chin, and the notices perched at the very top like roosting birds.

She rose on tiptoe, clouds just out of reach—then frowned; near-sighted blur smeared the words, fog over ink. Her head swam for a beat.

Tsk. She clicked her tongue, then let the Flight Spell lift her, light as a moth, up to the wood.

Most tasks called for monster hunts near the city, beast tides gnawing at the empire’s edges. Erwei City sent out clean-up teams like brooms, yet raids still spilled.

Sometimes the city held firm, stone against claw; sometimes towns and villages shattered like clay pots. Adventurers stepped in, and the turmoil dulled to a growl.

She skimmed the board—no wanted notice for her. Rexi, yes, pinned in the center like a leaf caught on a nail.

The portrait was neat and cute, a painter’s quiet knife: long hair in pale green gradients, pupils a vertical dark green, eyes like glass knives.

Lucimia read the lines out loud in a whisper, each word a pebble dropping:

“Killed Duke Eugene’s third son and fled. Informants: 5 gold coins. Capture alive: 1000 gold coins. Corpse: 200 gold coins… Warning: the girl’s combat power is likely extremely high. Details unknown. Proceed with caution.”

Extremely high? The phrase hung like a bell with no clapper.

She pictured Rexi and found no obvious blade-edge. Maybe it’s the Authority Power—no flashy effects, no Dark Deity stink, nothing for their senses to bite. So they stamped it: extremely high.

Fair enough. It’s Authority.

She let another whisper slip. She killed a duke’s son? That sharp?

Curiosity pricked like nettles, but she shook it off. A big event like this—everyone in the empire already knows. Asking in a borrowed face draws suspicion like crows.

Newspapers, perhaps, ink and dates like river stones—but she didn’t know which day to chase. And street talk had cooled; time had already taken its bite.

Forget it. The more I dig, the deeper I get stuck. Let the web stay a web.

She turned from the board and watched a cluster of adventurers clink mugs, beer flashing like amber in firelight.

That’s the thread to pull. Start with them, and draw out what they know of Bevi.