At that moment, on the other side of Bonn City.

Aerin stood beside a towering warehouse, her brows slightly furrowed as she observed merchants moving through its shadows. A man who appeared to be the caravan leader stood quietly beside her, casting nervous glances her way.

After a moment of silence, Aerin turned to him.

"You’re this caravan’s leader? Which Extraordinary Beings attacked you last night? Show me any recordings or remains you collected."

"Ah, Miss Aerin, please wait—I’ll check."

"Hmm."

Aerin nodded as the man hurried away.

In the quiet, she unsheathed her Holy Sword. Its faint trembling filled the air.

"Lulu," she murmured, "is Rayelle under attack?"

A translucent figure materialized beside Aerin. Lulu nodded gently.

"Rayelle clashed with two Adventurers Guild trackers. She defeated them easily, but as she moved to capture them, a third party intervened from the shadows and rescued the pair." Lulu paused. "That third person was clearly a Third Rank Extraordinary Being—stronger than the first two. But they vanished almost instantly. I suspect they sensed something."

"I see... Third Rank. Could it be Vera?" Aerin kept her voice low. To onlookers, she seemed to be talking to herself.

"Likely. The aura matches closely," Lulu whispered.

"Why would she partner with Adventurers instead of her Chaos Cultists?" Aerin mused, puzzled. Adventurers were skilled, but far less ruthless than cultists when capturing targets. "Lulu, can you identify those two Adventurers?"

"I..." Lulu hesitated, then nodded. "They disguised their faces, but I memorized their auras. I can trace them through the Adventurers Guild later."

"Good. I’ll question them myself."

"Master, one more thing." Lulu’s expression turned troubled.

"What is it?"

"Rayelle has reached Chloe’s estate. A large-scale shielding barrier blocks my spirit from entering..."

"Recall your avatar then." Aerin’s tone was calm. She trusted Chloe implicitly. Rayelle would be safe there.

Beneath Chloe’s icy exterior lay a heart as gentle as Chriss’s. To Aerin, Chloe was the kindest soul she’d ever met. Years ago, when Aerin was still poor and powerless, Chloe’s kindness had paved her path to becoming the Hero and awakening her Extraordinary Power. Despite her noble birth, Chloe roamed war-torn lands, sheltering orphaned children. If Chloe wasn’t good, Aerin thought, no one was. She merely wished to carry that goodness forward.

Lulu nodded just as the caravan leader rushed back, breathless.

"Miss Aerin! These are the fragments we gathered from the creatures last night. That’s all we could salvage—their assault was too fierce. We suffered heavy losses."

Aerin took the small box he offered and tucked it away. "Where are your wounded? Show me."

"Eh..." The leader hesitated, but under Aerin’s insistence, he led her to a large brown tent reeking of blood and antiseptic.

Aerin moved between cots, noting wound types in a small notebook. Then she froze. One man’s arm bore a strange, pulsating growth—soft and springy like an unhatched egg, as if something squirmed beneath the skin.

"What’s this?" Aerin stepped closer, but the man shuddered violently and recoiled, eyes wide with terror. The growth radiated a familiar aura: murky, thick, tainted with Extraordinary corruption.

"Why didn’t you take him to the Church?" Aerin’s voice turned icy as she faced the leader. Corruption wasn’t trivial. It devoured souls, minds, and flesh, twisting humans into unspeakable horrors. The deadliest plague in existence.

A nearby crew member rushed over, face pale. "H-he has an old mother... You know how the Holy Light Church treats the corrupted. They execute on sight. If he goes there, he’ll never see her again..."

Aerin fell silent. She understood the Church’s stance. From her two lifetimes of experience, corruption was incurable—a curse from dimensions beyond human reach. Even a Hero couldn’t save a soul destined to become a mindless monster. Better to end it swiftly.

"His corruption isn’t advanced yet. Let him rest here. But before it consumes him fully, take him to the Church for purification." She placed a small vial of medicine on his cot and turned to leave.

"Thank you! Thank you!" The man’s choked sobs followed her.

Suddenly, chaos erupted outside the tent.

Aerin’s sword flashed free.

A crimson blur—reeking of blood—slammed toward her. She barely raised her blade in time.

*Clang!*

The impact hurled her backward. The blur rebounded, crashing into the partition behind her.

*Squelch!*

Wood splintered. Flesh crunched wetly.

Aerin realized too late: the target wasn’t her. It was the corrupted man.

Through swirling dust and stench of blood, she gripped her Holy Sword, eyes locked on the figure emerging from the wreckage.

"Hehahaha! Corrupted flesh! The finest feast!"

A hulking man stood amid the debris. His armor hung in tatters, bulging tumors splitting the gaps in his metal plates. His face was a mask of twisted flesh, but his crimson eyes burned with fanatical hunger. Behind him lay the mangled bodies of city guards.

Aerin’s jaw tightened.

*Chaos Cultist? No—they wouldn’t be this reckless.*

A madman, then. A fugitive from another city, driven insane by corruption. With Bonn’s defenses stretched thin, such horrors could slip through.

She took a deep breath.

Sword raised.

*No matter. I’ll handle this.*