Chapter 507 115.5 - First Mission
Chapter 507 115.5 – First Mission
As I made my way deeper into the southern districts, the atmosphere grew heavier, as did the ‘scent’ in the mana.
‘Indeed, this veil of darkness, it gets thicker around some places.’
I thought. With my eyes now developing a lot more, I could see more intricate details of the mana around me.
After several more minutes of walking, I reached the location marked on Lira’s map—the first hotspot. It was an entrance to a slightly old shopping bazaar, its once vibrant exterior now faded and worn.
The large archway leading into the bazaar was cracked and weathered, with signs of neglect visible in the chipped paint and the creeping vines that had begun to reclaim the stone.
I stood at the entrance, taking in the scene before me. The bazaar itself was partially covered, with a series of narrow alleyways branching out from the main thoroughfare. Stalls lined the sides, filled with various goods, though the activity within the bazaar was indeed less than what one would expect.
‘Still, it seems like the locals still need to follow their daily lives.’ Not that it was desolate or anything. At least, in daylight, they seem to be a little more relaxed.
As I walked further into the bazaar, I focused on the mana around me, allowing my [Eyes] to filter out the noise and reveal the intricate details hidden within the energy that flowed through this place.
The ambient mana was thick, almost cloying, and as I honed my perception, I noticed something unusual—a subtle yet distinct flow of energy moving through the air.
‘This isn’t natural.’
The flow was faint, almost imperceptible to anyone, even to me, if I was not paying attention. Or, if it was me before the training, I would have missed it most likely. But now, to me, it stood out like a thin thread woven into the fabric of the bazaar’s atmosphere.
I followed the flow with my eyes, tracing it as it wound through the narrow alleyways and around the stalls, eventually converging toward a small group of people gathered near the back of the bazaar.
I approached cautiously, my gaze fixed on the individuals in the group. The energy emanating from them was odd—twisted and tainted, as if something was siphoning their life force. They looked rough and worn down; their postures slumped as if they carried a heavy burden on their shoulders. Their clothes were dirty and frayed, their skin pallid, with dark circles under their eyes that spoke of sleepless nights and constant anxiety.
‘What happened to these people?’ I wondered, observing them closely. There were small clues, subtle details that hinted at their occupations and recent activities. The rough calluses on their hands, the faint traces of dirt under their nails, the worn-out boots caked with dust and grime—all pointed to manual labor, likely in harsh conditions.
‘Miners… or perhaps they work in the quarries nearby,’ I deduced, noting the fine particles of dust on their clothes, which were indicative of stone or earth. But it wasn’t just their physical state that concerned me. The flow of energy I had detected earlier seemed to be seeping from them, drawn out by some unseen force, leaving them drained and listless.
I moved closer, careful not to draw attention to myself, and listened to their conversation. It was fragmented, filled with half-spoken sentences and muttered complaints, but one thing was clear—they were afraid. They spoke of strange occurrences, of whispers that followed them even into their homes, of shadows that seemed to move on their own.
“… it’s getting worse,” one of them mumbled, his voice shaking. “Every night, the voices get louder… I can’t take it anymore.”
Another nodded, his expression grim. “I tried to tell the foreman, but he just shrugged it off. Said it was nothing, just our minds playing tricks… but I know what I heard.”
I continued to listen, piecing together the fragments of their conversation. It was clear that these people were deeply affected by whatever was happening in Veilcroft. The flow of energy that surrounded them was evidence enough that something was feeding on their fear, their despair.
‘Feeding on despair. In a way, negative emotions.’ I needed to know more, and the best way to do that was to find out where these people had come from and what they had been working on that might have exposed them to this insidious force. I looked for more clues—traces of mud on their boots suggested they had been working in a damp environment, possibly underground.
The fine dust on their clothes was typical of stone, confirming my earlier suspicion that they were likely miners or quarry workers.
‘They must have been working somewhere near the old mines… or perhaps in one of the quarries that dot the outskirts of the city,’ I speculated.
As I continued to observe, I noticed that the group of miners wasn’t the only cluster of people affected by this strange energy. A little further down the narrow alleyway, I saw another small group, their faces just as drawn and pale, but these people were different. Their attire, posture, and the subtle signs of their professions set them apart from the miners.
Intrigued, I moved closer to this new group, careful to remain inconspicuous. These individuals weren’t covered in dust or grime, nor did they have the rough, calloused hands of manual laborers. Instead, their clothes were slightly more refined, though still showing signs of wear.
A woman in the group had ink stains on her fingers, likely from handling paperwork or writing, while a man beside her had the faint scent of chemicals clinging to his clothes—perhaps a pharmacist or someone who worked with cleaning agents.
I scanned the rest of the group, taking in the details that told their stories. One man had a few stray threads stuck to his sleeves, his hands showing the dexterity of someone who worked with fine materials—likely a tailor. Another woman had faint marks of sun exposure on her neck and arms, though her hands were clean, suggesting she worked outdoors, possibly as a gardener or vendor.
‘These people are from the surface, from normal jobs. And yet, they share the same pallor, the same haunted expressions as the miners.’
It was a curious development. The miners could easily have been exposed to something underground, perhaps in the old mines or quarries, but these surface workers? They should have been far removed from whatever was causing the disturbances. Yet here they were, displaying the same signs of weariness, the same aura of fear and despair.
I listened to their conversation, which, like the miners’, was filled with unease. They spoke of the same strange occurrences—whispers in the dark, shadows that seemed to follow them, a constant sense of being watched.
“Last night, I heard them again,” the tailor murmured, his voice tinged with fear. “They were right outside my window… but when I looked, there was nothing there. Just darkness.”
The pharmacist nodded, his eyes hollow. “It’s like the air is thick with it… you can’t escape it, no matter where you go.”
The gardener, her voice trembling, added, “My plants… they’re withering. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s as if something is draining the life out of them.”
As I listened, I began to piece together the common thread that connected all of these people—regardless of their profession, their location, or their daily routines, they were all being affected by the same malevolent force. The flow of energy that I had seen earlier wasn’t just limited to the miners or those working underground; it was permeating the entire city, targeting anyone and everyone.
‘Feeding on despair… negative emotions,’ I mused once again, confirming it a little more. ‘This force isn’t just isolated to specific locations. It’s spreading, seeping into the lives of everyone in Veilcroft, regardless of who they are or where they work.’
The implications were clear. This wasn’t just a random series of events; it was a calculated effort to sow discord and fear throughout the city. The more fear and despair it created, the stronger this force became, feeding off the negative emotions of the people.
I took a step back, my mind thinking.
The city was already on edge, and the people were tense and afraid. If this continued, it wouldn’t just be a matter of a few strange occurrences—it would spiral into full-blown panic, with the city tearing itself apart from within.
‘Interesting.’
The more I looked at the things, the more interesting they were starting to become.
Intrigued by the growing complexity of the situation, I took a moment to steady myself. The implications of what I had uncovered were both alarming and fascinating. This was no mere disturbance; it was a deliberate attack on the city’s very soul, an insidious force that thrived on the fear and despair of its inhabitants.
‘Interesting… very interesting.’
But understanding the situation was only the first step. Now, I needed to trace the source of this malevolent energy. My eyes narrowed as I focused on the flow of mana once more, honing in on the faint threads that seemed to weave through the air, linking the affected individuals to something deeper within the city.
I followed the trail, my senses attuned to the subtle shifts in the energy around me. The flow was erratic, twisting and turning through the narrow alleys of the southern district, almost as if it were trying to evade detection.
But I was persistent, and soon, I found myself standing in front of a small, unassuming store at the edge of the bazaar.
The energy converged here, drawing me to the back of the building. I moved quietly, activating [Shadowborne] and erasing my presence.
I slipped into the narrow space between the store and the adjacent wall, my eyes scanning for anything out of the ordinary.
It didn’t take long to find it—a small symbol etched into the stone, almost hidden beneath layers of grime and age.
‘There it is.’
The symbol was simple yet precise, carved with a steady hand. It pulsed faintly with the same twisted energy I had been following as if it were a conduit for the force that was spreading throughout the city.
I crouched down, examining the symbol more closely. The lines were sharp and clean despite the wear of time. But as I tried to focus on the mana surrounding it, I encountered something unexpected—a disturbance in the flow, a kind of interference that prevented me from seeing beyond the surface.
‘Ah… I see. Clever, but not clever enough.’
The interference was deliberate, designed to obscure the true nature of the symbol and what lay behind it. But it was also clumsy, not because of the design but because of the lack of caution.
I nodded to myself, recognizing the intent behind the interference. Whoever had carved this symbol had tried to hide it, but their attempt was far from perfect.
I could still sense the underlying energy and could still feel the faint traces of mana seeping through the cracks in the barrier.
Reaching out, I touched the surface of the symbol, feeling the rough texture of the stone beneath my fingers. The carving was fresh, the edges still sharp, indicating that it had been made recently.
The depth of the cuts and the smoothness of the lines suggested that the person who had carved it was skilled but not a master.
The strokes were confident, yet there was a subtle unevenness in the pressure, a sign that the carver had been right-handed.
‘Recent… within the last two months, perhaps.’ It aligned with the time when the rumors started.
‘Hmm….I see….’
However, there was something that needed to be seen more. Something that I must look for more details.
Thus, it was better to investigate more before making the conclusions.
However, I doubted that it would take too long since I feel like the investigation has already been finished.
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