Roughly a week ago, a group of mutated monsters attacked Bati City.

“Were there significant losses or civilian casualties?” Alins asked.

“No. Fortunately, the local Inquisition Tribunal intervened in time. Casualties remained within a manageable range.”

“Mm.” Alins nodded, signaling Nia to continue.

Cultist-related incidents could be trivial or grave. Though the Empire had rarely suffered from cultist threats, many of their martial brothers had fallen battling them. Cultists remained a deep scar—especially with Sanlan Kingdom as a cautionary tale. Their danger demanded vigilance.

“What about Bati City’s garrison casualties?” Kaido asked.

“No losses among the guards.”

“Civilians injured, yet the garrison unharmed? Does that mean the guards let these cultists in?” Kaido’s voice sharpened with surprise. “So… negligence?”

“Not at all. Per the Inquisition Tribunal’s report, these mutated monsters were once city residents. Years ago, they contracted a strange, untreatable illness and gradually transformed.”

“These creatures possess terrifying resilience,” Nia added. “Local knights reported even Annihilation bolts failed to kill them instantly. Worse—the Research Institute’s autopsy noted their corpses remain ‘alive,’ constantly trying to reorganize tissue.”

“Such eerie phenomena?” Kaido slightly furrowed his brow.

“Hmm… Based on your account, this case remains unconfirmed. No clear link to cultists yet,” Alins analyzed.

“But this illness’s nature closely mirrors cultist methods.”

“True. Still, we shouldn’t jump to conclusions before full investigation,” Alins said, stroking his chin. “Were relief efforts and reconstruction properly arranged?”

“The Tribunal is handling it systematically.”

“Good. Civilian livelihoods must not be disrupted.” Alins nodded. “Still, this requires thorough inquiry. I’ll dispatch knights specializing in cultist research upon my return. Rest assured—we’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“…Thank you for your trouble,” Nia murmured.

“Junior sister? Between us? Don’t be so formal.”

Kaido watched Alins. A trace of surprise flickered in his calm gaze. *Was it just him?* Alins’ reaction felt oddly detached. Perhaps understandable—casualties were light, impact minimal. After all, as Alins noted, cultist involvement remained unproven. Could it simply be a natural plague? Cultists within the Empire had been nearly eradicated during their master’s tenure—the Dawnbreak Knight-Captain. Stragglers seemed unlikely.

Kaido trusted his senior brother deeply. They’d faced death together countless times—a bond forged in life-and-death loyalty. Trust wasn’t built overnight. Besides, Alins was now Grand Knight Commander of the entire Empire. As his subordinate, Kaido deferred to his judgment. After reflection, he too leaned toward this being an unexplained plague. Disease researchers could handle it. Survivors’ families would receive compensation from the Tribunal—but undergo observation to rule out infection.

Alins’ orders aligned with Kaido’s thoughts: comfort victims’ families, confirm no mutation virus exposure. All who contacted the monsters—wounded, security guards, even knights—would enter quarantine. The report claimed non-contagiousness, but caution was wise.

Nia opened her mouth, then closed it. No objection voiced. Subjectively, she felt the incident warranted deeper scrutiny—but her master had insisted she bring it to Alins. She’d sworn to Fate never to reveal she was alive. Not even to a fellow disciple. Since *she* raised it, Alins showed measured concern. Without the Empress’s special decree, as Royal Guard Captain, she held no authority over Tribunal procedures. Pressing further was impossible.

After parting with Alins, Nia headed to the Empress. Both had just returned to the capital—Alins to the imperial palace, she to report. She passed the palace gates unchallenged, entering the inner halls. Instead of the private quarters, she went straight to the Platinum Hall—where the Empress conducted state affairs. Rarely did Beatrice linger in her chambers; she spent most hours here, reviewing documents from cabinet ministers and noble lords while reading.

True to form, on the third floor, Beatrice sat upright at her desk—flipping a book with one hand, annotating scrolls with the other. Setting aside her eccentric quirks, the Empress was impeccably diligent. Nia might question her character, never her competence. If Beatrice set her mind to something, perfection followed. This work ethic—ingrained by their master, the former Dawnbreak Knight-Captain Fate—had long become second nature.

At home, Beatrice dressed casually. Raven-black hair cascaded down her back, loosely tied at the ends with a violet butterfly ribbon. Her legs, pale as frosted jade, were bare except for crystal sandals and milk-white silk ankle socks tracing delicate, elegant contours. A simple violet dress edged in black lace adorned her frame, rose embroidery echoing the violet of her eyes—deep as a starlit galaxy.

Nia halted ten paces away.

Beatrice didn’t glance up. Her star-bright eyes remained fixed on documents and texts, seemingly unaware.

Yet Nia knew—Beatrice had sensed her the moment she crossed the hall’s threshold.