Dorothy's Forbidden Grimoire

Chapter 1: Knowledge

The night was moonless, with a cold drizzle pattering down. Raindrops fell on the riverbank's soil and rocks, washing away bloodstains and spreading a faint metallic scent through the air.

This was the bottom of a deep gorge. A turbulent stream cut through the valley, its rushing waters echoing against the cliffs. On one side of the gorge stood a sheer cliff; on the other, a steep slope dotted with resilient shrubs and trees clawing their way out of the rocky soil. At the base of the slope, the incline eased, forming a slanted floodplain along the riverbank—a stage for a grim scene.

Several overturned wagons lay scattered across the riverbank. Corpses of people and horses were strewn about, blood oozing from ghastly wounds, only to be swept into the river by the rain. The faces of the deceased were frozen in terror, forever preserving their final moments.

The silence of death pervaded the rain-drenched battlefield. All seemed devoid of life—or so it appeared.

Near the riverbank, within an overturned carriage barely suspended by its reins from slipping into the rushing waters, a young girl leaned against an upturned seat, silent and still.

The girl looked to be about thirteen years old, dressed in a modest white-and-brown dress, with plain shoes and short socks—hardly the attire of someone wealthy. Her body was stained with blood in several places. Long, silver-white hair cascaded neatly down past her shoulders, glinting faintly even in the dim light. Her serene, closed face was marred by blood on one side, which had trickled down from a wound hidden beneath her right bangs.

Like the surrounding carnage, the girl seemed to be another part of the tragedy—until her brows twitched ever so slightly.

No one could tell how much time passed before faint breaths emerged from beneath her nose. Her chest began to rise and fall again, and the weak rhythm of life returned.

“Ugh...”

The girl's brows furrowed tightly, her expression revealing discomfort. She raised a hand to her throbbing temple.

‘It hurts... and it’s so cold... Was I having a nightmare? Did I fall off the bed?’

Her thoughts swirled chaotically as she tried to make sense of her situation. As the pain in her head gradually subsided, her mind cleared, and questions began to multiply.

‘Is it raining outside? Why do I hear running water? There’s no river near my house. Did someone turn on a faucet early in the morning?’

Amid her confusion, she slowly opened her eyes, revealing crimson irises. At first, the dark, cramped space disoriented her. As her vision adjusted, she could finally discern her surroundings—and froze.

Opposite her, in the overturned carriage, a woman's lifeless body slumped against an upright seat. Fragments of broken glass from the carriage window jutted from the woman’s throat, her blood-soaked dress a macabre canvas. Her eyes were wide open, terror etched in her final expression, sending a chill through the girl.

“Gah...”

The gruesome sight made the girl gasp, fear gripping her mind and washing away all other thoughts. Instinctively, she stood, only to slam her head against the carriage roof with a loud thud. Crouching and clutching her head, she frantically surveyed her surroundings, now fully aware of the cramped space she was trapped in.

Sharing such an enclosed space with a horrifying corpse made her shiver uncontrollably. Hastily, she groped around, searching for an escape route. Her fingers soon found the carriage door above her. She pushed it open with all her strength and clambered out into the rain-soaked riverbank.

‘What the hell is this? Where am I? Why are there corpses?! Did someone dump me in a haunted house as a prank? Who would go this far for a joke?!’

These frantic thoughts raced through her mind as she crawled out of the carriage. But when she finally emerged and took in the scene before her, she was struck dumb.

More bodies littered the area—not just humans but horses as well. The air reeked of blood, a stench the rain couldn’t wash away. Several wagons lay overturned, their flickering gas lanterns casting faint, eerie light over the carnage. Wagon wheels spun slowly, hinting that the chaos had unfolded not long ago.

‘This… This can’t just be some prank… The scale is insane… Who would go to such lengths?’

Standing in the rain, the girl muttered to herself, her voice tinged with fear and confusion. Terror clawed at her heart, but she forced herself to take a deep breath and calm down.

“Don’t panic… Stay calm… I need to assess the situation…”

Just as she steadied herself, a sudden sharp pain surged through her head. Groaning, she clutched her temple.

Her thoughts became a chaotic torrent as countless memories—foreign and unfamiliar—surged into her mind. The influx overwhelmed her, threatening to tear her consciousness apart.

“Ah... what... is this…”

Gritting her teeth, she leaned against the carriage, fighting to stay conscious. Gradually, the storm in her mind settled, the pain fading into the background. And with it came clarity—a realization as shocking as the scene around her.

“Haah... So… it’s not a prank... but... reincarnation?”

Panting heavily, she grasped the truth of her predicament.

The soul now inhabiting the girl's body was that of a traveler from another world, while the original owner of this body was named Dorothy.

According to Dorothy's memories, she was an ordinary girl living in a remote village. Her father, a hunter, had died in an accident during a hunt, and her mother disappeared shortly afterward. From a young age, Dorothy and her only remaining family member, her older brother, were taken in by Aunt Hannah, a kind relative of their father.

Dorothy stood out because of her striking silver-white hair and crimson eyes, but in every other way, she was an ordinary, albeit beautiful, girl. Under Aunt Hannah’s care, she grew up alongside her brother, a well-behaved and diligent child who often helped the adults with chores.

Due to her natural intelligence, Dorothy was sent to a church school in the nearby town to learn to read and write. By her early teens, she became one of the few literate people in the village, often helping others with letters and documents.

Dorothy's brother, six years older than her, left the village at sixteen to work in the city after local lands were fenced off for sheep pastures. After three years, he wrote back, saying he had found a decent job and could afford a proper place to live. He wanted Dorothy to join him in the city.

Overjoyed by the letter, Dorothy bade farewell to the villagers, packed her belongings, and boarded a carriage heading for the city. However, not long after setting out, their convoy was attacked by bandits.

Now sitting by the riverside at the gorge's base, rubbing her temples, Dorothy sifted through the memories while glancing at the steep slope nearby. The slope was littered with items that had spilled from overturned carriages. Her memories revealed that their convoy had been chased by bandits, causing the carriages to topple and tumble down the slope. Judging by the scene, it seemed no one had survived.

In her final moments, Dorothy remembered hearing the bandits’ shouts and the growls of beasts. Amid the terrified neighing of horses, her world flipped upside down, and the last thing she felt was a sharp pain in her forehead before everything went dark.

“Poor girl,” Dorothy sighed softly, feeling a pang of sympathy. “She finally had the chance to leave for a better life, only to face this…”

As she lamented, her expression suddenly froze.

“Wait… girl?!”

Realizing something crucial, Dorothy quickly extended a hand to examine her body. After a few probing attempts that yielded no results, her face twisted in disbelief.

“It’s gone… it’s really gone… I’m Dorothy… Dorothy’s a girl… I’ve turned into a girl?!”

For a moment, Dorothy stood in stunned silence, her face blank, letting the drizzle soak her.

But just then, a distant sound snapped her back to her senses.

“Hey! Found it! The carriages rolled down here!”

“Boss, we found them!”

Hearing the unfamiliar voices in a language she somehow understood, Dorothy’s heart skipped a beat. She turned toward the direction of the sound and saw faint flickering lights in the distance, gradually moving closer along the riverbank.

The bandits. They had come down to search and were heading straight in her direction.

Realizing the peril, Dorothy frowned deeply. She crouched down and hid behind one of the overturned carriages, her mind racing.

‘This is bad… They must be here to loot the place. Those guys are ruthless criminals—I have to escape…’

Scanning her surroundings, Dorothy looked for a way out. Unfortunately, the rising river due to the rain had submerged potential escape routes, and the steep slope was too slick and dangerous to climb.

The only path out was the direction of the approaching firelight, but that was precisely where the bandits were coming from. If she fled that way, she’d surely run straight into them.

‘Damn it… Is there no way out?’

Feeling the weight of the situation, Dorothy grew increasingly anxious. Just as she contemplated playing dead in hopes of fooling the bandits, a strange voice echoed in her mind.

It was emotionless, impossible to discern whether male or female, as though countless voices spoke in unison in a low chant.

“Soul integration complete… Link established…”

“Sacrifice knowledge… Bestow knowledge…”

“Huh?”

Startled, Dorothy’s eyes widened. She shook her head, trying to refocus her thoughts.

‘What the hell? Where’s that voice coming from? It’s directly in my head? Could this be… one of those systems people always talk about when they get isekai’d?!’

Though confused by the sudden voice, Dorothy quickly pushed aside her shock. With danger imminent, she forced herself to think clearly, determined to figure out how to use this mysterious phenomenon to her advantage.

Chapter 2: Dragon Shouts

The river at the bottom of the gorge continued its relentless rush into the night, its sound echoing through the narrow space. Along the riverbank, faint lights flickered as they moved forward.

Four men advanced along the dark, rain-soaked riverbank, lanterns in hand. Three of them led the way, clad in coarse, rain-drenched clothes, wielding knives and clubs. They were in their twenties or thirties, their burly arms adorned with tattoos visible beneath rolled-up sleeves.

Trailing behind them was a man dressed far more elegantly. He wore a dark red suit, black trousers, and a jacket beneath, his complexion pale, with a gaunt face, deep-set eyes, and a hooked nose. His short brown hair was damp, and his cold eyes betrayed a calculating demeanor. In one hand, he held an umbrella to shield himself from the rain.

Accompanying the man were two bizarre hunting dogs, one on either side. These creatures were almost hairless, with no visible ears, their dark red flesh grotesquely exposed. They were tall, reaching up to the man’s knees, but emaciated to the point of deformity, unlike any normal dog.

This man was Edrick, a bandit—or more accurately, the notorious gang leader of the nearby town of Vulcan, known as "Mad Dog Ed."

Edrick was a cunning and ruthless man, the undisputed overlord of Vulcan. Feared by all in the town, he had climbed the ranks of the gang world through brutal struggles, aided by his two monstrous hunting dogs. These creatures, as fierce as wild beasts, were said to be unkillable despite their injuries, instilling fear in both his enemies and his subordinates.

Typically, Edrick wouldn’t stoop to something as blatant as directly ambushing a caravan. However, this time was different—he needed something from that caravan.

“Boss, there’s light ahead! They’re overturned just up there!” one of the men in the lead reported after peering into the distance. Hearing this, Edrick nodded and replied coldly.

“Keep moving. Let’s hope the target didn’t fall into the river…”

Edrick, his three men, and his two hunting dogs followed the riverbank until they reached the site of the overturned caravan. The scene was grim: corpses of people and horses lay scattered along the riverbank amidst the wreckage of the carriages. It was the result of their relentless pursuit that had driven the caravan to such a fate.

Surveying the carnage, Edrick barked orders to his men.

“Spread out and search. Look for a white-haired girl, about thirteen years old. Dead or alive, bring her to me—preferably alive.”

“Yes, boss!” the men replied before dispersing to search the area. They began rifling through the corpses and wreckage for their target. Being gang members, they couldn’t resist pocketing valuables as they searched, stripping the dead of anything of worth.

Edrick’s sharp eyes noticed this and he snapped at them.

“Forget the loot! Find the target! If you don’t want to be dog food, get moving!”

The men, begrudgingly abandoning their pillaging, stole resentful glances at Edrick, only to recoil in fear upon seeing his hunting dogs. They knew all too well that Edrick, or more precisely, his dogs, were not to be defied.

These were no ordinary dogs—they were the devil’s hounds.

Amidst the tension, two gang members reached a carriage teetering on the sloped riverbank, barely held in place by a rope tied to a nearby horse’s corpse wedged between two rocks. Peering inside the overturned carriage, their eyes lit up—coins and jewelry lay scattered beneath the seats, a veritable fortune.

Overcome with greed, the men glanced at Edrick in the distance. Seeing him preoccupied, they eagerly reached into the carriage to grab the treasures. However, the valuables were in an awkward position, just out of reach. Frustrated, the two began climbing further into the narrow carriage to retrieve them.

Unbeknownst to them, a pair of crimson eyes watched from behind the nearby horse’s corpse.

The white-haired girl moved swiftly. Pulling out a knife she had found earlier, she sliced through the rope holding the carriage in place. The rope, already weakened beforehand, snapped easily under her blade.

“Ahhh!”

The carriage, now untethered, slid down the slope and plunged into the raging river. The two men inside screamed as they were swept away along with the carriage and the bait of treasures Dorothy had deliberately planted.

Humans die for wealth, Dorothy thought grimly. She didn’t believe for a second that bandits wouldn’t fall for such a trap.

“Baker! Wood!”

The other gang member, hearing the screams, rushed to the riverbank to check on his comrades. One leaned over the edge to see if they could be rescued.

Seizing the opportunity, Dorothy charged at the distracted man from behind, slamming into his lower back with all her strength. Though she has not fully grown, her surprise attack was enough to throw him off balance…

"Ah!"

With another startled cry, the gang member near the riverbank, thrown off balance by Dorothy's shove, toppled into the river. He was swept away by the rushing waters, joining his earlier comrades. Dorothy, stumbling slightly, barely managed to steady herself.

Three down… now, for the rest...

Suppressing the tumult of fear within her, Dorothy turned her gaze along the riverbank toward the distant figure of Edrick, who was glaring angrily at the sudden turn of events.

"Where did this little brat come from… daring to…"

Edrick, teeth clenched in fury, drew a revolver from his waist and aimed it at the girl standing no more than ten meters away. Just as he prepared to pull the trigger, the dim lamplight illuminated the figure before him.

"A white-haired girl…"

Edrick hesitated, his anger giving way to calculation. He lowered the gun slightly and barked a command to his hunting dogs.

"Subdue that brat for me!"

At Edrick's order, the grotesque dogs bolted forward, racing toward Dorothy at full speed, ready to pounce.

Facing the snarling beasts charging through the rain, Dorothy stood her ground. She took a deep breath, her focus razor-sharp. Slowly, she spoke.

What came from her lips was a low, ancient intonation, like the echoes of a language from a distant era.

"—fus—"

In that instant, the word Dorothy uttered reverberated through the air like a war drum struck with force. It rippled through the rain, whipped the wind, and triggered a strange phenomenon as though summoned by the primal language of another world.

An invisible, powerful shockwave surged from Dorothy. It scattered the rain and sent the two monstrous hunting dogs flying backward. Even Edrick, standing at a distance, was caught in its force. He lost his balance, slipped, and fell to the ground, his revolver knocked from his hand.

Seizing the opportunity, Dorothy sprinted forward, snatching up the fallen revolver. She gripped it tightly with both hands and aimed it at the struggling figure of Edrick as he tried to get back on his feet.

Looking up, Edrick found himself staring into the dark barrel of the gun. The cold, calculating expression he wore moments ago gave way to panic, and he hastily began to speak.

"Wait! I didn’t—"

Bang!

Dorothy pulled the trigger without hesitation. The cylinder rotated, the hammer struck down, and flames erupted from the barrel. The bullet flew straight into Edrick’s chest at close range, piercing through him.

The gang leader collapsed, his eyes wide open, meeting his end in a way he could never have imagined.

“Hah… hah…”

The recoil knocked Dorothy onto the ground. She stared at the man’s lifeless body, her breathing heavy and uneven. Her hands trembled uncontrollably as she clutched the revolver. Her heart churned violently. No matter the circumstances, taking a life for the first time was not something one could easily accept.

'They killed everyone in that caravan... they killed Dorothy… this is their just deserts...’

Clinging to this justification, Dorothy steadied her shaking body and slowly rose to her feet. She touched her throat with one hand, recalling the ancient word she had just spoken—a word that had triggered such a powerful phenomenon.

She understood now what it was.

It was the Thu’um—the "Voice," the Dragon Shout from the game The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. It was the language of dragons, imbued with immense power!

The shout she had uttered earlier was none other than the most iconic of them all—the first word of Unrelenting Force, "fus," meaning "Force."

The dragon’s Thu’um—words so potent that even a single syllable could cause devastation. In the world of Skyrim, dragons wielded this language as a weapon in battle, engaging in destructive "verbal duels" that could annihilate entire battlefields. Only dragons, gods, and a select few gifted mortals—Dragonborn—could master such power.

There was no doubt: this was a mystical ability. But such a powerful word, composed of just three letters, had cost Dorothy dearly. She had to exchange it for the knowledge she had painstakingly acquired over the years—a vocabulary of over 3,000 words in the Prittish language.

Now, Dorothy understood the nature of the ability she had gained after crossing into this world.

It was…

To exchange knowledge for knowledge.

Exchange the knowledge of this world for knowledge of another world…

Chapter 3: Letter

In the depths of the canyon, the chilling rain gradually subsided. At the site of the massacre, Dorothy sat on the ground, gasping for air as she faced Edrick's corpse. It took her quite some time to calm herself. When she finally stood, albeit shakily, a critical thought suddenly struck her.

‘Wait! What about his dogs?’

Remembering Edrick's two hunting dogs, Dorothy tightened her grip on the revolver and scanned her surroundings warily. From what she recalled, the grotesque creatures had only been thrown aside earlier and were unlikely to have died. If they got up to avenge their master, it would be disastrous. Earlier, overwhelmed by the emotions of firing a gun and killing someone for the first time, she had neglected to consider this.

Peering into the dim light, Dorothy located the two hunting dogs. They lay motionless on the riverbank, not far away. There wasn’t even the sound of breathing. They appeared as lifeless as corpses, leaving Dorothy momentarily stunned.

‘Dead? That can’t be… could just being thrown aside kill them? Could a single-word of Unrelenting Force shout really be this powerful?’

Although the sight of the dead dogs puzzled her, their grotesque and terrifying appearance deterred her from checking further. The lingering question, however, stayed in her mind.

‘Forget it for now. I need to figure out what to do next.’

Relieved that the dogs posed no threat, Dorothy exhaled deeply and sat back down. She picked up the fallen black umbrella beside her, opening it to shield herself from the drizzle. Thoughts of how to navigate this unfamiliar world began to crowd her mind.

Having only just crossed over into what seemed like a foreign world reminiscent of the 19th century, and reborn into the body of a girl who should have died in a carriage accident, Dorothy was utterly lost. The new world and new body left her bewildered and unsure of her next steps.

After much deliberation, she decided to continue following the original Dorothy’s plan.

‘I should go to the city to find Dorothy’s brother. He’s the closest blood relative I have in this world. Family can always be trusted and relied upon… This was also the girl’s final wish.’

Propping her chin on her hand as she sat on the cold, damp stone, Dorothy mulled over her situation. In the original Dorothy’s memories, her long-absent brother had been a doting figure during their childhood. Seeking his help seemed like the best course of action. After all, finding a “home” was the first step to stability, no matter where one was.

My clothes are soaked, and I’m freezing… I need to find a place to change.

According to the coachman’s words in Dorothy’s memories, there should be a town nearby. It was called Vulcan, and following the path the carriage had been traveling would lead there. Surely, if the bandits could find a way to the riverbank, there must be a route back to the main road ahead.

With this thought, Dorothy rested briefly before preparing to move. However, another pressing issue dawned on her: money.

‘I’ll need money for food and lodging… but I don’t have any!’

Dorothy’s trip to the city had been arranged by Aunt Hannah, who entrusted the journey to a familiar coach service. The money her brother had sent for the fare and her expenses had already been handed over to the coachman to take care of her. But now, after the tragedy, the other passengers’ and coachman’s belongings had been gathered as bait to lure the bandits and were now lost in the river along with the carriage.

Realizing this, Dorothy paused. She rubbed her chin and surveyed the scene before finally turning her gaze to Edrick’s lifeless body.

‘As the bandit leader, he must have some money on him…’

With this in mind, Dorothy grabbed a gas lamp from the ground and ran to the corpse without hesitation. Having already searched the bodies of the other bandits earlier, she was now somewhat accustomed to it and didn’t feel as frightened.

Slowly, she began pulling items from Edrick’s body: a dagger, a deck of cards, some banknotes, and a keyring.

Dorothy pocketed the useful items, then, feeling she hadn’t been thorough enough, meticulously searched him again. This yielded a few coins, some rolled cigarettes, and a matchbox. Just as she thought she was done and considered stripping Edrick’s decent-looking suit jacket to sell later, she noticed something unusual.

In the lining of his jacket, her fingers brushed against something. From the feel of it, it seemed to be a stiff paper-like object.

‘Something hidden in the lining? If it's hidden like this, it must be valuable! Judging by the feel, could it be a stash of money?’

Dorothy's eyes lit up. She immediately drew her knife and slit open Edrick's clothing, retrieving the object concealed within the lining. Upon examination, she discovered it was not money but two envelopes.

"Envelopes? Are these letters? What kind of letters are so important they need to be carried hidden in the lining of clothing?"

Disappointed that it wasn't money, Dorothy curiously opened one of the envelopes and pulled out a piece of paper. She brought it closer to the gas lamp and examined it under its dim glow.

The paper was filled with neatly written letters, and to her surprise, she realized she could read them.

"Wait a minute... Didn't I sacrifice the original Dorothy's language knowledge in exchange for Dragon Shouts? How can I still understand this?"

Dorothy pondered in astonishment. In her understanding, the knowledge she had sacrificed should have been permanently gone. Why, then, did she still retain it?

"Perhaps... it's because knowledge is fundamentally information, not a physical object. Information can be duplicated, whereas objects cannot. Sacrificing knowledge doesn't mean losing it, teaching someone else doesn't make you forget it. Maybe I didn't 'exchange' my language for Dragon language but rather 'shared' it."

This realization brought her a sense of relief. At least she didn’t have to worry about becoming illiterate in this new world.

Feeling much lighter in spirit, Dorothy focused on the letter again. It was written in Prittish, the common language of the Pritt Kingdom where Dorothy now resided. The script was a typical phonetic alphabet.

The letter’s contents, however, took her by surprise.

_________________

To the Esteemed Mr. Edrick,

We are honored to have received your correspondence. Based on the description in your letter, we can confirm that the mystic artifact you discovered is known as the Corpse Marionette Ring. It grants the ability to manipulate freshly deceased bodies. Using it to control animal corpses is indeed a wise choice, and we hope it will enable you to carve out even greater influence in Vulcan Town. Of course, we advise you to remain discreet to avoid drawing the attention of the Serenity Bureau or the Church.

Regarding your expressed desire to join our society, we are delighted. As a street leader in possession of an mystic artifact, you are certainly qualified to join us. We believe that your standing in Vulcan Town will allow our group’s influence to expand further.

We welcome your inclusion, but before formally admitting you, we have a small task for you to complete—a test of sorts, one that is quite unique.

On the evening of April 8th, a convoy traveling from Purple Hill to Vulcan will pass by. Among the passengers is a girl, approximately thirteen years old, with white hair. Capture her.

Please do not misunderstand. Normally, we do not involve newcomers in such abduction tasks. However, this is a special case. The girl is of particular importance to us. While we would typically handle this ourselves, the recent increase in Serenity Bureau activity and the presence of hunter squads in Vulcan makes it unwise for us to act directly.

For the sake of caution, we have decided to remain uninvolved, leaving the matter in your capable hands. As long as you handle this task like any ordinary kidnapping, it will remain outside the Bureau’s purview. We trust that, with your professionalism and skill, you can execute this operation flawlessly.

Naturally, we would not ask you to undertake this test without proper compensation. For this special assignment, we have prepared a reward that is exceptionally generous. It will allow you to make significant strides in the realm of beyond you aspire to and secure a prominent position within our society.

If you accept this task, please reply promptly. We believe you will not refuse such a rare opportunity. We look forward to the day when you join us at the same table, sharing the feast and experiencing the marvels granted by the Great Chalice of Blood.

Chapter 4: Ring

At the bottom of the dark valley, amidst the gruesome crime scene by the riverside, Dorothy sat on a cold, damp stone, carefully reading the letter in her hand. Her brows furrowed slightly as she analyzed its contents. Truth be told, the letter’s revelations astonished her.

From the letter, Dorothy discerned that the man she had just shot—a bandit leader, by the looks of him—was named Edrick. He seemed to be the head of some criminal organization in a place called Vulcan.

It appeared Edrick had been trying to join a certain organization and had even written an application. The letter in Dorothy's hand was their reply. This mysterious organization had set a special initiation test for Edrick, requiring him to abduct a 13-year-old white-haired girl at a specific time and place. Clearly, that girl was Dorothy herself!

So these bandits’ primary goal in attacking the carriage wasn’t money but Dorothy—a seemingly ordinary farm girl? What on earth was going on?

Dorothy pressed her fingers against her temple, once again sifting through the memories of this body’s original owner. She found nothing unusual. Dorothy had always been obedient, intelligent, diligent, and earnest. She had no wealth, no special abilities, no strange patterns in her eyes, nor was anything bizarre sealed inside her. Her hair and eye colors were just slightly uncommon... So why had a mysterious organization set its sights on her?

For a while, Dorothy couldn’t make sense of it. Unable to reach a conclusion, she shook her head and turned her attention to analyzing other details in the letter.

There was little concrete information about this mysterious organization, but it was clear they were up to no good. Collaborating with someone like Edrick, tasking him with kidnapping, and avoiding entities like the Serenity Bureau and the Church—nothing about them spelled innocence. The Church aside, the Serenity Bureau sounded like a government agency. If they were evading the authorities, this was probably a criminal organization. Otherwise, why would a bandit like Edrick want to join them?

The letter also mentioned the "realm of beyond" and "mystic artifact."

At this, Dorothy turned her gaze to the pile of “loot” she had just scavenged from Edrick’s corpse. She rummaged through the pile and pulled out a ring, which she had removed from Edrick’s finger earlier. Initially, she’d thought it might fetch a good price.

Holding the ring under the lamplight, she examined it carefully. It was made of bronze, with intricate designs faintly etched around its circumference. Upon closer inspection, the designs resembled tiny, eerie figures holding hands and dancing.

According to the letter, Edrick had possessed an mystic artifact called the Corpse Marionette Ring, capable of manipulating corpses. Could this be it?

With this thought, Dorothy slid the ring onto her index finger. As soon as the ring settled on her hand, she felt something unusual.

In that moment, Dorothy sensed her mind extending outward, forming two threads that reached into the distance. The threads ended at the two strange, motionless hunting dogs lying on the ground.

Seeing this, Dorothy took a deep breath. With a mental command, the two supposedly dead hunting dogs began to twitch. They stood up and slowly approached her. However, both dogs had sustained severe fractures from being thrown to the ground during the dragon shout, their movements were sluggish and halting.

So, these dogs had been corpses all along? Edrick must have been using the ring’s power to animate them. No wonder they had ceased moving after Edrick’s death. This bandit leader had actually possessed such an mystic artifact...

Watching the two reanimated hunting dogs stumble toward her, Dorothy felt a wave of surprise. In her original memories, there had been no phenomena like this. This mystical occurrence was entirely beyond her previous experience.

“It seems this world is not as simple as it appears,” Dorothy murmured to herself, touching the peculiar ring on her hand. Then her gaze shifted to another envelope in her possession.

Opening the second envelope, she began to read the letter within. Compared to the first, this one was much shorter.

_____________________

Dear Mr. Edrick,

We have received your reply and knew you wouldn’t miss this rare opportunity. We have already dispatched someone carrying your reward to Vulcan, they will arrive soon. Once you succeed, simply photograph the target and drop the picture into the mailbox at 24 North Street, Vulcan.

Our personnel will verify your success through the photo. Upon confirmation, they will meet you at midnight the following day in the central woods west of Vulcan. At that time, you will hand over the target, and we will present you with your generous reward.

Our agents will remain in Vulcan for three days, awaiting your response. Best wishes for a successful operation.

______________________

After reading, Dorothy stored both letters back into their envelopes. This was clearly a follow-up response from the mysterious organization to Edrick’s application. Dorothy had gleaned quite a bit of information from these letters.

It seemed the organization already had members in Vulcan—the very town Dorothy was headed to. She would need to be cautious when entering the town later. Though she didn’t know why this group was interested in her, nothing good could come from a criminal gang’s interest.

With this in mind, Dorothy used a knife to cut a piece of curtain fabric from the overturned carriage. She divided it in two, using one piece to wrap up her “loot” and the other as a headscarf to cover her hair when entering the town.

With everything prepared, Dorothy set out. For extra safety, she used the Corpse Marionette Ring to animate the two zombie dogs as bodyguards. Unfortunately, their fractures were so severe that they could barely walk.

“So the dragon shouts was that powerful... These dogs can still move, but they’re no longer combat-capable,” Dorothy mused, watching the two dogs struggle to stay upright. After some thought, she decided to release their control. The dogs collapsed once more, and Dorothy turned her attention to Edrick’s corpse.

Experimenting further, she managed to extend the ring’s “mental threads” to Edrick’s body, animating him. The bandit leader staggered to his feet, his eyes vacant and face pale.

“For now, you’ll do,” Dorothy muttered.

At her command, Edrick’s corpse silently picked up the gas lamp and unfurled a black umbrella, shielding Dorothy from the drizzling rain like a servant attending a noble lady.

After packing her belongings, Dorothy departed from the scene of the massacre, accompanied by her silent "servant."

Chapter 5: Town

Dorothy trudged through the rainy river valley, accompanied by her undead servant. Her journey was anything but smooth. The persistent drizzle and the slippery, uneven terrain made progress difficult. The old gas lamp provided limited illumination in the dim environment, leading to several challenges along the way.

The greatest challenge came when she needed to climb a steep and slippery slope to return to the main carriage road from the muddy trail. The incline was treacherous, and Dorothy nearly tumbled down multiple times during her attempts.

Luckily, she spotted the bodies of the bandits she had earlier driven into the river. Using the power of the Corpse Marionette Ring, she animated a second corpse. With the assistance of the two reanimated bodies, Dorothy finally managed to reach the main road. This experience also helped her realize that the ring's limit was controlling two corpses at a time.

Once on the road, the journey became much easier. Dorothy pressed on for about an hour before the distant glow of lights appeared in the darkness. Exhausted but relieved, she knew she had finally reached her temporary destination, Vulcan Town.

At the outskirts of the town, Dorothy hid her two corpse servants and donned a headscarf to conceal her distinctive features. She then opened her umbrella and stepped onto the streets of Vulcan.

The rain and the late hour left the streets sparsely populated. Wooden buildings, two or three stories high, lined either side of the road. The structures were modestly adorned, with only a few windows illuminated. Streetlamps were spaced far apart, their dim and flickering light casting faint glows over the muddy streets marked with footprints and carriage tracks. Occasionally, a carriage would rumble by.

"It's a bit desolate..." Dorothy murmured to herself before quickening her pace. She needed to find a place to rest. Near the town's center, close to a church, she found an inn that seemed decent enough.

Entering the inn, Dorothy was almost dismissed by the plump proprietress, who initially mistook her for a scruffy beggar child. However, the clinking sound of several coins slapped onto the counter quickly transformed the woman’s disdain into a warm, welcoming smile. Without asking for any identification, she promptly directed one of the staff to lead Dorothy to the best room in the inn.

Dorothy had found approximately five pounds in cash on Edrick's body. Based on the memories of her body’s original owner, Dorothy knew that the standard currency of the Pritt Kingdom was Pound, with one pound equal to one gold coin or one hundred iron pennies. In her rural village, Aunt Hannah earned only about nine pounds a year, and Dorothy herself rarely possessed more than five coins at a time. By comparison, the money Edrick carried was equivalent to half a year’s income for a typical farmer. Paying for a nice room at the inn was a trivial expense.

Dorothy’s room was on the upper floor, furnished with a lamp, carpet, and modest paintings. Most importantly, it was clean and included a private washroom with a bathtub for bathing.

Once inside, Dorothy shut the door and let out a deep sigh of relief. She nearly collapsed onto the carpet in exhaustion. After resting briefly, she quickly stripped off her clothes and took a long, soothing bath.

The bathing process wasn’t straightforward for Dorothy. As she faced her youthful body for the first time, a mixture of shyness and curiosity filled her. In the bath, she alternated between bashful hesitance and bold exploration, the splashing water echoing her inner turmoil.

Her curiosity extended the bathing time significantly. By the time she finished, her face was flushed a deep red.

After her bath, Dorothy climbed into bed, turned off the light, and prepared to sleep. But in the complete darkness of the room, she noticed something unusual.

Her finger emitted a faint silvery glow. At first, she thought the Corpse Marionette Ring might have a luminescent feature, but upon closer inspection, she realized the glow came from a different ring.

This ring, unlike the Corpse Marionette Ring, had been on her left index finger all along. It was a simple design, adorned with a crescent moon pattern on top, and it emitted a soft silver glow in the darkness.

Dorothy was not unfamiliar with this ring. In her memories, it had been with her since she was very young. Aunt Hannah once told her that this ring was the only possession left by her mother, who had cruelly abandoned Dorothy and her brother. The original Dorothy had treasured it, wearing it constantly.

"What a pitiful child..." Dorothy murmured as she gazed at the glowing ring on her finger. Without overthinking, she sighed, lay back, and drifted into sleep.

A dreamless night passed.

When Dorothy sat up in bed, yawning and rubbing her eyes, sunlight streamed through the gap in the curtains.

After stretching and letting out a deep yawn, she quickly got up, washed, and dressed in her still-damp clothes before heading downstairs. Breakfast consisted of the inn’s simple offering of bread and milk. Once done, she stepped out into the town.

Morning in Vulcan was far livelier than the previous night when Dorothy had arrived. The rain had stopped, though the ground remained damp. The streets bustled with people coming and going, and the number of carriages had noticeably increased. Along the roadside, beggars in tattered clothing could be seen pleading for alms, while in the distance, smoke rose intermittently from chimneys.

The activity in Vulcan surprised Dorothy somewhat, particularly the numerous carriages transporting goods and passengers.

From her memories, Dorothy recalled the now-dead coachman once mentioning that, despite its small size, Vulcan served as an important transportation hub. Many caravans traveling from the kingdom’s western coastline to Igwynt passed through this town. Igwynt was a key city in the southwestern region of the Pritt Kingdom—and the place where Dorothy’s brother resided.

Now, Dorothy could simply find a carriage heading to Igwynt to resume her original journey. But she didn’t.

The contents of the two letters she had found on Edrick’s body still lingered in her mind.

‘Under the seemingly ordinary surface of this world… there exists hidden realm of beyond. And within that hidden realm, someone has already set their sights on me. Although don’t know the reason, I can’t just sit idly by...’

As she walked through the bustling streets, Dorothy pondered this. After the events of last night, she couldn’t bring herself to just board a carriage and leave, ignoring the shadowy threat looming over her. Pretending nothing was wrong felt like burying her head in the sand.

If she didn’t uncover the identity of the mysterious organization targeting her, she doubted she’d ever sleep peacefully again.

‘I can’t just wait for them to come after me again—I need to come up with a plan’

Dorothy thought to herself. Being passive would only put her at a disadvantage. Though she didn’t know how they had obtained her travel details, if they could do so once, they could likely do so again. The next encounter might be even more perilous. After all, the original Dorothy had lost her life because of them, and she wasn’t eager to repeat that fate.

Rather than waiting for them to strike again, she decided it was better to take the initiative—even if only to gather some basic intelligence about them. Knowing something was better than knowing nothing.

Fortunately, according to the letters found on Edrick, some members of that group were currently in Vulcan. For Dorothy, this presented an opportunity.

‘But how can I take the initiative now? I’m just a thirteen-year-old girl...’

Dorothy frowned. A mysterious organization, possibly wielding mystical powers, was beyond what a mere teenager like her could confront. Even her limited knowledge of dragon shouts wouldn’t suffice.

Direct confrontation was out of the question. As their target, merely approaching them would be incredibly dangerous, let alone trying to gather information.

"Ha… I can’t just report this to the authorities, can I? Would the police even handle something like this? If the group really has mystical powers, the police might end up being overpowered themselves..."

As she walked, Dorothy wrestled with possible ways to deal with the mysterious organization. The vast disparity in power made it hard to come up with a viable plan.

Just as she was considering giving up on this opportunity and simply fleeing the town, her eyes caught sight of a shop by the street. She paused, her eyes lighting up.

The shop had a glass display window showcasing various black-and-white photographs. Looking up at the sign, she read the words.

Henry’s Photography Studio.

Chapter 6: Art of Deception

On the bustling morning streets of Vulcan, Dorothy stood by the roadside, her gaze fixed on the sign of a nearby shop. She appeared deeply engrossed in thought.

"A photography studio? Oh, right… In a world resembling the late modern era of my previous life, this era would still rely on dedicated studios for photography."

Dorothy mused to herself. In her original world, taking a photo was a casual act, but here, it was still a luxury. Dorothy had never had her picture taken in her entire life.

Now, as she looked at the studio before her, recalling the contents of the two letters she had seen, an idea began to take shape in her mind.

With this thought, Dorothy approached a nearby stall selling black bread and asked the owner, “Excuse me, how long has the photo studio next door been in business? Are their skills any good?”

“Ah, Henry’s? It’s been here nearly ten years. His skills are top-notch. If you’ve got spare cash, it’s worth it to have a photo taken there,” the bread vendor replied.

Dorothy nodded thoughtfully. “It seems I’ll need to have one taken…” she murmured to herself before stepping into the studio.

The light inside was dim. Behind a long table sat a balding man with glasses, intently tinkering with a large camera amidst an array of scattered parts.

When Dorothy entered, a flicker of doubt crossed the man’s face. Before he could decide whether the girl was a street urchin begging for alms, Dorothy confidently placed a few coins on the table before him.

“Mr. Henry, is it? The studio is open for photos now, right?” Dorothy smiled at the man, whose eyes gleamed as he responded with equal enthusiasm.

“Of course, young lady. We’re ready anytime.”

“Good. May I ask, do you have any props for photoshoots here?” Dorothy continued.

“Certainly! We have various costumes and backdrops to choose from. With your features and bearing, dressed in our outfits, you’d look just like the daughter of a count—no, a duke!” Henry said confidently.

Dorothy waved her hand dismissively and smiled. “No need for costumes. Do you have ropes and cloth strips?”

“Ropes… and cloth strips?”

Henry’s gaze filled with confusion as he stared at the smiling girl before him.

…

Unlike in Dorothy’s previous life, taking a photograph in this world was a cumbersome process. The exposure time was lengthy, and developing the photo could take days. However, thanks to Dorothy's application of a “pay more” strategy, the timeline was significantly expedited.

After the photo session, Dorothy strolled around the town, had lunch, and bought herself a change of clothes. By afternoon, she returned to the studio. Under Henry’s slightly peculiar gaze, she retrieved the photos taken that morning.

Walking along the street, Dorothy opened the envelope containing the photos and took one out. It depicted a girl tied to a chair with ropes, her mouth gagged with cloth strips. She stared at the camera with a face full of anger and frustration. The girl’s long hair was an extremely pale white, a color discernible even in the black-and-white photograph.

This was the photo Dorothy had taken that morning, where she pretended to bind herself with ropes and gag her mouth before sitting in the chair for the shot. Henry had watched the entire process with a bewildered expression.

Placing the photo back in the envelope, Dorothy continued walking through the town. After asking for directions multiple times, she wandered through Vulcan until she arrived at its outskirts, in a district known as "North Street."

At a street corner by a crossroads, she silently observed a charred and dilapidated house, its blackened remains suggesting it had been damaged by fire. Based on its position in the row of houses, it was precisely number 24.

Looking around, Dorothy spotted a beggar sitting by the roadside. Smiling, she approached him and tossed two coins into his battered bowl.

“Ah… hehe… May the Holy Mother bless you, kind young lady…” the scruffy beggar said with a gap-toothed grin as he looked up at Dorothy.

Dorothy smiled faintly and then took out two more coins, waving them in front of the beggar. His eyes lit up. Dorothy then handed him the envelope containing the photo.

“Take this and put it in the mailbox in front of house number 24. These coins will be yours afterward.”

The beggar eagerly nodded, grabbed the envelope, and sprinted toward the charred house. After slipping the envelope into the mailbox, he quickly ran back, only to find that the young girl had disappeared. His battered bowl now held two additional coins.

After leaving North Street, Dorothy wandered through town again. She eventually found a general store where she purchased a bottle of ink, a pen, several sheets of stationery, and an envelope. By the time she finished shopping, dusk had begun to fall.

Carrying her purchases, Dorothy walked through the sunset-lit streets. She entered a decent-looking restaurant, ordered a large steak dinner, and sat in a quiet corner.

As she waited for her meal, she placed the paper and pen on the table. Dipping the pen in ink, she began writing. Dissatisfied with her first attempt, she crumpled the sheet and started again, deliberately making her handwriting messier to deviate from her usual style.

After several drafts, Dorothy finally produced a version she was satisfied with. Holding the letter up to her eyes, she scrutinized it carefully.

______________________

Dear Mr. Edrick,

There has been a change in plans. However, the deal remains on. The time and location need to be adjusted.

The new meeting point is the central area of the western forest in Vulcan. The time is set for April 10th, tomorrow night at around midnight. We will bring the promised reward to you there, one that will allow you to take a significant leap into the realm of beyond.

A word of caution: it seems we are being watched. It is not the Serenity Bureau nor the Church. The origins and intentions of the party are unclear for now, but their methods are highly peculiar and extremely dangerous. This is the reason for our sudden change in plans. Therefore, please be vigilant when you come.

Lastly, may we one day sit together at the same table to enjoy the feast and share the wondrous blessings of the Great Chalice of Blood.

______________________

Dorothy read through the concise letter before her and nodded in satisfaction. She then sealed it in an envelope. At that moment, her ordered steak arrived.

After an awkward meal with a knife and fork, Dorothy left the restaurant with her belongings and headed straight for the outskirts of Vulcan.

In a secluded area, Dorothy first burned the drafts she had taken with her, using the matches she carried. She then made her way to the place where she had hidden the corpse marionette the previous night.

Looking at a cluster of overgrown weeds, Dorothy extended her hand. With the power of the Corpse Marionette Ring, a figure emerged from the weeds.

Dressed in damp, dark clothes, pale-faced, and with lifeless eyes, it was the body of one of Edrick's subordinates that Dorothy had reanimated the night before.

Standing before the corpse, Dorothy handed it the envelope. The corpse marionette reached out and took it.

…

As the sun set and the moon rose, night fell over Vulcan once again. The streets grew quiet and desolate.

Due to limited lighting resources, not all houses in the town were illuminated. Only a few places remained lit throughout the night, one of them being the police station near the center of Vulcan.

The police station was located at an intersection on the eastern side of the town center. Outside its entrance, a police officer wearing a helmet, dressed in a black uniform, and armed with a baton, stood guard under an electric lamp, scanning the deserted street and occasionally yawning.

"What time is it? It's about time for a shift change," the officer muttered, rubbing his tired eyes. As he did, he noticed a figure appearing on the dimly lit street in the distance.

At first, the officer didn’t think much of it, assuming it was a stray or a late-night worker heading home. But soon, he realized the figure was approaching him, faster and more deliberately.

The officer grew cautious. As the figure closed in, he gripped his baton tightly.

"Hey! Stop right there! Who are you? What do you want?"

Drawing his baton, the officer pointed it at the approaching figure, who was now close enough for him to see clearly.

It was a man—dressed in dark trousers and a shirt, robust and muscular, with tattoos on his hands. His face was pale, and his eyes were vacant.

Recognizing the man, the officer froze and blurted out in alarm.

"You—you're Wood, the enforcer for Mad Dog Ed! What are you doing here? Did that Mad Dog send you?"

Wood did not respond. His lifeless eyes stared blankly at the officer. Just as the officer began to sense something was wrong, Wood’s lips twitched into a stiff, unnatural smile.

Then, like a rigid plank, Wood collapsed face-first to the ground.

"Ah!"

The bizarre sight startled the officer, making him jump back in fear. Gathering his wits, he thought the man might have passed out drunk. Swallowing hard, the officer leaned down and reached out to check for signs of life, only to recoil in horror.

"Dead... He's dead!"

The officer’s legs gave out, and he fell to the ground, scrambling to distance himself from the eerie corpse. After catching his breath, he propped himself up with his baton and pushed open the door to the station behind him.

Chapter 7: Squad

The night shrouded Vulcan. At the police station entrance, a group of officers stood in a circle around the corpse lying on the ground. Their faces showed unease as they listened to the earlier sentry recounting the horrifying event in vivid detail. A faint sense of fear rippled through the gathered crowd.

From a corner some distance away on another street, Dorothy watched the scene at the police station from afar. Once satisfied, she quietly turned and left.

Everything was in place. Now, it was just a matter of waiting for all parties involved to make their respective moves.

From the letters found on Edrick, Dorothy had learned the contact method used by the mysterious organization’s operative stationed in Vulcan. According to their agreement detailed in the letters, Edrick only needed to place a photograph of Dorothy into the mailbox at 24 North Street in Vulcan after completing his task. The organization’s operative would then wait for Edrick the following night in the western forest of Vulcan to finalize the exchange.

The plan was straightforward: the mysterious organization would hand over their reward to Edrick, allowing him to step into the so-called "realm of beyond," while they would take possession of Dorothy.

But now, Edrick was dead—a fact known only to Dorothy. The locals of Vulcan had yet to realize that their local overlord had met his demise, let alone the operatives sent by the mysterious organization.

Using this to her advantage, Dorothy, originally the intended victim, took a photograph of herself and sent it to the designated address. Receiving the photograph would signal the mysterious operatives that Edrick had succeeded. They would then head to the agreed-upon location in the forest the next night to carry out the trade.

To ensure her actions went unnoticed, Dorothy spent most of the day wandering around Vulcan, casually inquiring about Edrick and confirming that no one knew of his untimely fate.

She also took precautions to avoid walking into a trap. Knowing the photo studio had been operating in Vulcan for nearly a decade, Dorothy deduced it was unlikely to be connected to the mysterious organization, which had no influence in the area before its dealings with Edrick. To be extra cautious, she even had someone else deliver the letter for her.

At this stage, Dorothy had executed every step with great care.

Once the photo was retrieved from the mailbox, the mysterious operatives lurking in Vulcan would be drawn out and head to the forest’s "exchange site" the following evening.

Of course, this didn’t mean Dorothy intended to confront them head-on. She had no idea how many there were or what mystical abilities they might possess. Facing them alone as a 13-year-old girl, even with two corpse marionettes and some traps, was far too risky.

Her solution was simple: let professionals handle it.

Dorothy’s plan was to exploit the information about Edrick and the mysterious organization’s correspondence, which repeatedly mentioned two other groups—the Serenity Bureau and the Church.

From the letters, it was clear the mysterious organization was wary of both entities, possibly even outright enemies.

The enemy of my enemy is my ally. If the mysterious organization feared the Serenity Bureau and the Church, Dorothy could leak critical information to one of them and let them fight it out.

Between the two, she chose the Serenity Bureau. The decision was based on mentions in the letters of hunter squads from the Bureau being active near Vulcan.

The next challenge was finding a way to contact this so-called Serenity Bureau. Dorothy had no prior knowledge of such an organization, let alone its contact information.

From its name, Dorothy deduced the Bureau was likely a government agency tasked with handling mystic-related incidents. If it was part of the government, she reasoned, there must be ways to reach them indirectly through other government departments.

To that end, Dorothy forged a reply from the mysterious organization to Edrick, detailing all the critical information. She then had a corpse marionette deliver the letter and "die" at the police station’s entrance.

Now, all Dorothy needed to do was wait for the Vulcan police to contact the Serenity Bureau and for the so-called hunter squad to find the letter on the corpse marionette.

"What is left is to wait for tomorrow night…"

Dorothy murmured to herself as she walked down the deserted street, glancing up at the bright moon in the sky.

“So next, there are just a few more preparations needed...”

Dorothy quickened her pace and disappeared into the darkness. For tomorrow’s grand show, she had no intention of remaining a mere spectator.

...

The night grew deeper. The lights in Vulcan gradually dimmed, and soon, apart from the scattered streetlights, there was almost no other flickering illumination. The dense darkness engulfed Vulcan’s streets.

At the police station, the lights still shone brightly. But unlike earlier, there were no longer any officers at the entrance.

A lifeless corpse lay cold on the ground, a strange, stiff smile frozen on its face. Standing beside the body were two figures, neither of whom were police officers.

In the cold night breeze, the uniformed figures stood upright at the station's entrance. They were all dressed in pitch-black, double-breasted, formal frock-style suits. Their upper bodies were tightly fitted, collars raised, and the coat tails extended to their knees. They all wore gloves and black bowler hats. Beneath the hats, their faces were covered with lifeless, expressionless iron masks.

These dark-clad individuals surrounded the corpse, carefully inspecting it.

Meanwhile, inside the police station, no officers were to be found. In the police chief’s office, a figure sat in the chair originally belonging to the chief.

This figure wore the same uniform as the individuals at the entrance. His feet were propped up on the chief’s desk, his mask set aside atop a cabinet, and his hat covered his face, giving the impression that he was napping.

On the other side of the office, another figure stood before a map of Vulcan. She, too, wore the same black uniform, her fitted outfit emphasizing her curves at the chest and waist, making it clear she was a woman.

The female officer scanned the map, occasionally flipping through the station’s files, as though searching or pondering something. Suddenly, she seemed to discover something and turned to her colleague sitting in the chief’s chair.

“Hey, Gregor, I found something here...”

Seeing the man’s relaxed posture, the female officer paused, then raised her voice sharply in reproach.

“Captain Gregorius! This is work time!”

Startled by the sudden volume, the man jolted awake, his entire body shaking, causing his hat to fall to the floor.

“Ugh... I say, Elena, keep your voice down—we’re working here...”

The man quickly lowered his feet from the desk and bent down to pick up the fallen hat, promptly putting it back on.

Now fully visible, the man seated in the chief’s chair, Gregor, was a young man with short chestnut hair, brown eyes, and sharp features. Despite the lingering fatigue in his expression, his determined aura was unmistakable.

“You know we’re working, do you? It looked like you were about to fall asleep. That’s no way for a captain to behave...”

Standing before the desk, still wearing her mask, Elena spoke with a hint of exasperation. Gregor scratched his head sheepishly in response.

“Ah... it couldn’t be helped. We were supposed to head back to Igwynt tomorrow, but then this case came up, forcing us to work overtime. I’m not exactly thrilled about it—I’ve got important matters to attend to back home...”

Gregor grumbled, his tone filled with complaint. Hearing this, Elena paused briefly before replying.

“Ah, right... I almost forgot. Captain Gregor’s sister is on her way, isn’t she? She’s supposed to arrive in Igwynt soon. If you’re not there to meet her, no one else will.”

Chapter 8: Ambush

Hearing Elena's words, Gregor let out a long sigh, leaning back in his chair as he spoke.

“Phew... Let’s just hope her convoy runs into some delays on the road and is held back for two days. Otherwise, if she arrives in Igwynt and doesn’t see me, she’s going to hate me to death...”

Gregor rubbed his temples with some exasperation, and after pondering for a moment, Elena responded.

“It seems like you and your sister have a good relationship.”

“Pretty much... Our parents passed away when we were very young, so she’s my only family. Now that I’ve managed to make a little name for myself in the city, I want to bring her here to enjoy a better life. Most importantly, I want her to go to school and get an education. Staying in the village for her whole life would lead nowhere...”

Leaning in his chair with a hint of reminiscence in his expression, Gregor spoke.

Elena then added.

“‘Making a little name for yourself,’ you say? Captain, you’re the youngest squad leader in the history of Igwynt's Hunters Division and the youngest at the apprentice rank. Even the bureau chief says you have a promising future. How could that be considered just ‘a little name’?”

“Oh, Elena, cut it out. Sure, I’ve done well in the bureau, but this profession of ours can’t be made public. To most people, I’m just an ordinary person...”

Still leaning back, Gregor crossed his legs and reached into the police chief’s desk drawer to pull out a cigarette. He lit it with a match from the desk and began exhaling puffs of smoke moments later.

“Hey, hey, smoking in front of a lady is quite rude, you know...” Elena said with some annoyance as she looked at Gregor. He glanced at her and retorted.

“Yes, yes... I’m just smoking a little because I’m in a bad mood. Besides, didn’t you say you’d consider yourself one of the guys when you’re in the squad?”

“Hah... I just hope this case is nothing more than those officers losing their minds. Hopefully, we can go back tomorrow...”

Exhaling a cloud of smoke, Gregor muttered. Just then, a series of hurried footsteps echoed outside. A Hunter squad member dressed in black pushed open the door and entered the office.

“Captain, we found this on the body!”

The Hunter quickly stepped to the desk and handed an envelope to Gregor. Seeing this, Gregor frowned slightly. He immediately stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, took the envelope, and opened it. Elena moved behind Gregor to read the letter over his shoulder.

As Gregor read, his frown deepened, and his expression grew increasingly solemn. Meanwhile, Elena's gaze, sharp even through her mask, locked onto the last two lines of the letter.

“Blood Chalice...” Gregor murmured as he read the contents. Elena, after a brief smile, calmly spoke.

“Looks like we won’t be heading back tomorrow.”

...

The night faded, and daylight arrived. Time flowed on, day giving way to night once more. Vulcan, after a bustling day, was again enveloped in the silence of evening.

To the west of Vulcan lay a sparse woodland. Once part of a larger forest, it had been significantly reduced due to the growing demand for timber caused by urban expansion. Now it was little more than a shrub-filled grove with scattered trees.

Though the woods were not dense or deep, rumors claimed it was a secret burial ground for Vulcan’s gangs, deterring most townsfolk from venturing near.

At this moment, deep within the grove, a small clearing held three or four figures standing in silence, seemingly waiting for something.

These individuals were dressed in varying styles—some looked like workers, others like gentlemen. Their numbers were small, fewer than five. Despite their disparate appearances, they formed a loose circle, standing apart and gazing in different directions as though keeping watch.

At the center of the group stood a middle-aged man in a trench coat, wearing a bowler hat and glasses, with a small mustache. He held a briefcase in one hand and raised the other to check his watch. His eyes were fixed intently on the watch’s face, where the hands had just aligned at twelve.

Seeing the appointed time had arrived, the man lifted his head and scanned his surroundings as if searching for something. But after looking around, he saw nothing, causing his brows to furrow in frustration.

“Sir, there’s still no sign of those guys. Were we stood up?”

A burly man dressed as a worker approached the man’s side and muttered in a low, angry tone. The bespectacled man responded slowly.

"A local thug, nothing more. He shouldn't have the guts. Something must have gone wrong. Withdraw immediately; there's no need to wait any longer..."

"Understood..."

Just as this group was preparing to retreat, several pairs of eyes hidden in the dense shrubs around them were fixed intently on their every move.

"They're leaving. Don't wait for the other group—act now."

From within the thick underbrush, a low voice issued a command. A hand tightened around the stock of a rifle, and the trigger was pulled. Fiery muzzle flashes burst forth.

Bang!

A bullet shot out from the concealed shrubs, aiming straight for the bespectacled man’s head from behind. At the critical moment, as if sensing danger, the man narrowly dodged, avoiding a direct headshot. Instead, the bullet grazed a piece of his skull, shattering it and sending his hat flying high into the air.

"An ambush!!"

Blood streaming from his forehead, the man shouted with bloodshot eyes and a wide-open mouth. But before his subordinates could react, several masked figures rose from the surrounding shrubs, rifles in hand, targeting the stunned group in the clearing.

Gunfire erupted in the woods, and the men in the clearing were shot down one after another. Within moments, only the bespectacled man remained standing in the clearing.

The man, in addition to the graze on his head, had also taken a bullet to his abdomen, yet he showed no sign of falling.

"Those damned dogs from the Serenity Bureau!"

Blood dripped from the corners of his mouth as the man roared, his eyes wide with fury. He threw the briefcase in his hand aside and freed his arms before sprinting with incredible speed toward one of the attackers. His injuries seemed to have no effect on his movements.

Seeing that the target was still on his feet and now charging at him, the Hunter being attacked chose not to reload. Instead, he discarded his rifle and drew a revolver from his waist, firing rapidly at the oncoming man. Two more bullets struck the man, but he still didn’t collapse, closing the distance and reaching the Hunter.

"Feed my hunger!"

At that moment, the man’s mouth opened unnaturally wide, like a ravenous beast ready to bite off half the Hunter's neck in a single chomp.

The man lunged at the Hunter, baring his bloodthirsty maw. But instead of flesh, his teeth sank into cold steel.

"Ugh... No matter how many times I see it, it's still disgusting. ‘Craver’ from Blood Chalice..."

Unbeknownst to anyone, Gregor, clad in his uniform and wearing an iron mask, appeared at the man’s side. The blade in Gregor’s hand had been thrust vertically into the man’s mouth. The man’s teeth scraped against the blade, spilling fresh blood.

The man glared sideways at Gregor, his expression one of utter shock. It was clear he hadn’t noticed Gregor’s approach or presence until now.

"Sha…der..."

Blood poured from his mouth as he mumbled the word, struggling to speak with the blade lodged inside.

...

While Gregor confronted the grotesque man, drawing everyone’s attention, a shadow darted out from the underbrush into the clearing unnoticed.

It was a large black dog.

The dog moved with agility, yet its lifelessness was unmistakable. Its body bore clear signs of fatal wounds.

Ignoring the chaos and tension on the scene, the undead hound seized the briefcase the man had discarded earlier and darted back into the shrubs without hesitation.