Chapter 836: The Informant

The head maid, clad in black hair and a dark dress, walked down the corridor bathed in soft light. The rhythmic tapping of her boots against the floor echoed steadily in Lord Bomayr’s ears. That crisp sound gradually cooled his frazzled mind. Realizing his mental state was indeed improving, the nobleman of the inner court couldn’t help but glance at her.

“Miss Diana, thank you for calming my nerves…”

“It’s nothing—just a small favor. After all, you weren’t in any condition to meet His Majesty earlier,” the maid replied coolly, then stopped at a door. “Go in. The Emperor is already waiting for you.”

Unconsciously, they had reached the end of the hallway.

Standing before the black wooden door trimmed with gold, Lord Bomayr swallowed hard. This reception room, located in the private quarters, was a rare place for someone of his rank to enter. Yet here he was, summoned by Emperor Rosetta herself, escorted by her head maid, and granted an audience…

His mind raced with all sorts of speculations.

Steeling himself, he gently knocked. After receiving permission, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The room was carpeted with thick, soft rugs. Bright light poured down from the ceiling, illuminating the furnishings. The sovereign sat in a high-backed chair by the window, turning his head to look at him.

“Close the door, Lord Bomayr,” Rosetta Augustus nodded to his late-night visitor. “Then sit in this chair and tell me why you chose to see me at such an hour.”

Bomayr quickly shut the door behind him, then took a few steps forward and sat opposite the Emperor. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his heart pounding wildly. He had finally reached the moment to speak, yet the great courage he had mustered before leaving home had been mostly drained on the way here. Each breath now seemed to sap his willpower, letting his fear of death creep in.

The Emperor’s deep eyes fixed on him silently. Under that gaze, Bomayr felt a sudden jolt of courage. Breaking the silence with a hoarse voice, he said, “Y-Your Majesty, I beg your forgiveness. I have committed acts of rebellion… I cannot guarantee I will finish what I have to say, so please remember every keyword I speak—

“Your Majesty, the Throat of Orlandel! Gawain Cecil’s interference! The cult’s nest! The Sleeper!”

A chilling coldness stabbed through his soul, creeping up his spine like icy needles. His neck prickled painfully, his mind buzzing. Death was coming. He had triggered an alarm. His brain was shutting down rapidly. He was about to pay the price for his years of greed for power and forbidden knowledge…

The only consolation was that the countless rehearsals in his mind before leaving home had paid off. He had managed to utter all the keywords in the shortest time possible, without leaving any fatal “unfinished business.” Even if the Emperor didn’t understand everything he meant to convey, at least the keywords could prompt an investigation—and then…

They could stop that terrible otherworldly wanderer from breaching the Empire’s gates.

Lord Bomayr leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes peacefully, and awaited death.

Seconds passed. He was still breathing. Death had not come.

His brain throbbed, his heart felt uneasy, but this was no sign of death—just pure nervousness.

Confused, Bomayr opened his eyes and looked down at his body. He muttered to himself, “I… I’m not dead?”

“Apparently not,” Emperor Rosetta’s calm voice answered, bringing the bewildered nobleman back to himself. Bomayr looked up to see the Emperor watching him with a faintly amused expression. “Lord Bomayr, you appear to be very much alive.”

Before the poor lord could ask why, Rosetta beckoned to the side. “Diana, bring the lord a glass of chilled wine to refresh him.”

The black-haired maid appeared from nowhere the next moment, holding a glass of wine steadily cooling. Bomayr took the cup, still trying to process what had just happened. He instinctively thanked her and took a sip. The cold liquid finally helped clear his mind a bit.

“Your Majesty, I…”

“Answer my question first,” Rosetta said, locking eyes with him. “Were you just overwhelmed by the fear of death? You carry some kind of curse that can kill you when you speak certain keywords? It’s linked to your mind, or some kind of spell that monitors thoughts and actions?”

“Y-yes, Your Majesty,” Bomayr answered honestly. “That’s how it was supposed to work, but why—”

“This room blocks all mental magic,” Rosetta said, adjusting her posture in the chair. “In fact, it nearly nullifies all magical effects, including curses rooted in the body, remote mental surveillance, suicidal suggestions, and any damage-dealing magic triggered over time.”

Bomayr’s eyes widened in disbelief.

Rosetta ignored him and turned to a corner of the room. “Ms. Windsor Mapel, thank you for your protection. Please maintain the ward—we can’t be sure if Lord Bomayr’s curse might have a delayed effect.”

Only then did Bomayr notice a fourth person in the room. The legendary head of the Mage Association had apparently been standing there all along. Now, a woman in a pale purple gown, elegant and dignified, stepped forward.

In her hands was a mysterious orb seemingly formed entirely of condensed magical energy. Runes flowed across its surface, emanating an invisible force that shielded the entire room.

Stunned, Bomayr muttered, “Why…”

“Since the day before yesterday, four people have died mysteriously while trying to ‘send a message,’” Windsor Mapel explained calmly, her arcane-filled eyes seeming to pierce all secrets. “The details are strikingly similar—they attempted to tell others something, either directly or through hints and riddles, but the moment they tried to act on their thoughts, their brains were burned out.”

“Two died in the Obsidian Palace, the others sought out Duke Pedinan and Duke Severn,” Rosetta added. “There may be more cases—some may not have been reported yet, or they died at home before reaching the person they wanted to warn, simply by uttering a certain keyword.”

Bomayr was dumbfounded, fear and dread washing over him.

So he might never have had the chance to say those carefully prepared keywords… Thankfully, he had only rehearsed them mentally at home, never daring to speak them aloud.

“After these incidents, the Royal Mage Association’s strategists quickly analyzed the cause,” Windsor continued. “We believe a crisis is underway, with many insiders trying to warn the royal family. But all are controlled by a spell that monitors their minds or cursed to activate upon certain keywords.”

“Currently, the Royal Mage Association and the Wanderer Corps’ spies are secretly monitoring Aldern, searching for potential ‘informants’ and trying to bring them here alive.”

“But you came here willingly, Lord Bomayr. That’s an unexpected boon.”

Rosetta nodded, meeting Bomayr’s gaze. “Fortunately, Ms. Windsor’s powerful ward blocked the curse, confirming part of our theory. Now, Lord Bomayr… prove the rest. Explain what your keywords mean. What crisis threatens my Empire?”

After fully grasping the situation, Bomayr finally calmed completely. With a serene detachment that transcended life and death, and a trace of relief, he smiled bitterly and said, “Your Majesty, I was seduced by power and knowledge, accepting a ‘gift’ I should not have. I… am a Sleeper.

“Your Majesty, in the Throat of Orlandel, there is a secret nest shrouded by a powerful mental suggestion field and a vast dreamscape barrier, long overlooked by all…”

…

Far to the north of Aldern, in the southern Shadow Marshes, a black-coated magitek train stood quietly at a newly built station.

This was the earliest completed magitek train station within the Typhon Empire and one of the key transport hubs connecting to the neighboring Cecil Empire.

Back in the Ansu era, when the Cecil Empire was still the “Duchy of Cecil,” construction had begun on this railway. The Duke of Cecil had signed a trade agreement with Typhon, linking the two through a rail line beneath the Dark Mountains. This marked the beginning of “modern trade” between the two empires. Today’s station was an extension of that original line and part of the “Cecil Railway Investment Company’s” projects in Typhon.

High-powered magic crystal lamps hung from the central lamppost, casting bright light that dispelled the darkness around the station and illuminated the massive mechanical serpent of steel. Under the night sky, the enormous, heavy machine resembled a dormant beast, its cold, hard lines outlined by artificial light. Station staff patrolled and inspected the machinery, their figures tiny as ants beside the giant.

For Typhon, where magitek trains and railways were still in their infancy, this advanced and costly technology was far from widespread civilian use. Mostly, it served as a transport line for industrial cities deep within the empire to move raw materials and as a freight route to Cecil. Since it was late at night, the only civilian train on this line had already stopped, leaving the large station sparsely populated.

Two station workers were exchanging duties in front of the train—the last train of the day was about to depart for Cecil, loaded with Typhon’s textiles and alchemical raw materials. Beyond that, no other trains were scheduled tonight, so the staff were growing lax.

A shadow flickered near the rear of the train, slipping inside the massive industrial machine.

The lights in that section seemed faulty, dimmer than usual, and no patrols were in sight.

Yuri, a refined gentleman wearing a single-lens eyeglass, strode briskly through the steel-constructed “corridor.” He passed through the freight car connecting the gate and the stacks of wooden crates. In the shadows near those crates, a few pairs of eyes briefly lifted from the darkness before quickly dropping back down.

Stepping into the last carriage, more gazes turned toward him from the side.

“All personnel are on board,” Yuri said quietly and succinctly. “We depart in fifteen minutes. To avoid checkpoint inspections and prevent any Typhon agents from boarding mid-route, we must keep noise to an absolute minimum until the train stops at Baisha Station. No one is to cross beyond the penultimate carriage. Prepare yourselves.”

“It’s all been relayed,” Wendy’s gentle voice came from nearby. “What’s the situation outside?”

“No need to worry,” Yuri replied softly. “Several key leaders and half of the frontline technicians are Cecilian. The technical handover and training period isn’t over yet. The Typhon still need Cecilians to guide them, hands-on, in operating these massive, complex machines and managing the railway system. So tonight, everyone with access to this train is trustworthy.”

Wendy exhaled softly, her gaze slowly sweeping the carriage. She recalled the awe she felt the first time she saw this magical machinery, and the station outside filled with incredible, almost unbelievable technology. She couldn’t help but whisper, “It’s truly an unimaginable creation…”

“Yeah,” Yuri sighed. “If circumstances allowed, I’d love to study how this thing actually works. Hopefully, once we get to ‘the other side,’ there’ll be a chance…”

“I’m more eager to meet that ‘Witch Gipri’ lady and see the magical network broadcast,” Wendy chuckled lightly. “I’ve heard they even have singing programs… and tens of thousands of people listen at the same time.”

Yuri immediately shook his head. “Better not. Your singing might just lull everyone into eternal sleep.”

Wendy shot back, “I can sing normally too, Archbishop Yuri.”

“Archbishop… let’s drop that title from now on,” Yuri said, settling onto a nearby crate with a low voice. “Just call me by my name, forget the past, or simply add ‘Mr.’ or ‘Ms.’—that’s fine too…”

“Good idea,” Wendy nodded softly. “But Mr. Yuri, you’re sitting on Mr. Magnum’s head. I’m pretty sure he’s cursing you out by now.”

“Doesn’t matter—I can’t hear him anyway,” Yuri patted the crate beneath him with a carefree expression. “Besides, he’s just a ‘corpse.’”

Wendy shook her head helplessly and opened her mouth as if to say something, but her expression shifted suddenly.

Almost at the same moment, Yuri’s face changed slightly as well.

At that instant, all archbishops and above among the Eversleepers received an urgent alert from Megal III—

A mind had gone rogue, severing from the Eversleepers’ network.

The “Informer” had appeared.

(End of chapter)