What Sven and the others found when they rushed over was a half-destroyed, abandoned shack, with a group of Hunters gathered around it.
Three Parties, including the familiar Alchemist Talia, welcomed Sven and the others.
For the time being, they looked around to confirm there were no Monsters or Phantoms in the area. The signal they'd heard didn't indicate a Monster attack—it was the signal for a discovery, but they checked just to be safe.
"Sorry about this. We found something that wasn't on the map, so..."
"Nah, don't worry about it. Right now, we need every lead we can get."
Sven replied in a light tone to the somewhat apologetic Hunter, then turned his gaze toward the half-destroyed shack.
It was a wooden structure. So small that a handful of people would fill it up, and clearly it had been sitting here for a very long time—walls and roof were corroded and partially collapsed in places, allowing a complete view of the interior from outside.
It was never large enough to serve as proper housing, and going by its state, it had probably been abandoned for quite some time.
He definitely didn't remember seeing it on the map.
When Gaark lightly touched the shack's wall, it let out a faint creak.
"Hmm... Could this be a remnant from before the White Wolf's Den became a Treasure Hall?"
The White Wolf's Den was a Treasure Hall. Its Level wasn't particularly high, but even so, civilians—hunters in the traditional sense, lumberjacks, and the like—wouldn't approach it.
Hunters wouldn't go out of their way to build a shack, so this structure must have been built back when the White Wolf's Den was still a bountiful hunting ground rather than a Treasure Hall.
Peering through the broken walls, they saw the room was almost entirely bare.
A table with broken legs and a large, lidless empty wooden box sat inside as a token gesture. Even those were stained and worn from exposure to the elements.
"At this rate, sleeping outdoors would be better... It can't even keep out the rain or wind."
"Whoever built it—I don't know who, but even the maps issued by the Empire aren't perfect, you know..."
One of the investigators replied to Sven's remark with a deflated expression.
This was technically within the Zebuldia Empire's territory, but the Empire didn't account for every random shack built deep in the forest.
Within a city, perhaps, but even a great power like the Empire couldn't afford to investigate in detail everything beyond its borders where Monsters and Phantoms roamed.
And right now, there was no time to be fussing over an empty shack.
The elderly investigator continued in an irritable tone.
"To think you actually found this in the middle of a forest with no roads... Well, it's probably unrelated to this case. More importantly, now that you've found a lead, you should pull back for now. This is a case the Knights should be handling. You've already fulfilled your duties."
The leader of the Party that had reported the shack's discovery momentarily looked displeased at the firm tone, but the investigator's serious expression kept him silent.
This time, the Hunters' objective was investigation. If the client deemed the job complete, there was nothing to argue about.
At that moment, Sven—who had been squinting, examining every corner of the shack's interior—turned around and asked.
"Wait... Did any of you go inside?"
"Huh? No, we didn't go in."
"That's... strange. There are footprints..."
Narrowing his eyes, and with everyone watching, Sven stepped into the shack with a serious expression.
You didn't even need to go inside to see it was an empty shack. Not only was there no proper furniture, the structure itself had barely retained any semblance of integrity.
Even the most adventurous of Hunters had things that interested them and things that didn't. Even if a Hunter had stumbled upon this spot by chance in the vast forest, they wouldn't think to go inside.
But Sven's enhanced vision could pick out the faint footprints left on the floor even in the darkness. And there wasn't just one set.
Sven wasn't a Thief, but he had confidence in his eyes. He wouldn't misread them even at night.
He carefully surveyed the room. Just as confirmed from outside, the shack was empty.
"Could they be old footprints?"
"It rained a few days ago, didn't it? Footprints from years ago would've been washed away long since."
For that matter, Sven's skills as a Thief weren't at a particularly high Level.
Among the gathered Hunters, there were several actual Thieves, but they all looked at Sven with uncertain expressions.
From the outside, Sven's behavior must have looked ridiculous. But years of instinct told him there was something here.
Most importantly—Krai had reportedly been flying through the sky with a Treasure Weapon when he visited the White Wolf's Den the other day.
Finding this shack in the middle of a dense forest would be nearly impossible from the ground. But this was just a hypothesis—what about from the air?
Sven had heard of the Dark Wings of the Night as well. Its absurd speed, its lack of brakes, its poor handling—it was a Treasure Weapon notorious for killing its users.
An average user couldn't possibly find a shack while moving at such high speeds, let alone spot the faint footprints inside.
But if it was that man who'd been certified at Level 8... he might just pull it off.
The floor, unlike the walls, hadn't degraded as badly, barely creaking under Sven's weight.
He wrinkled his nose at the musty smell drifting through the air. Truly abandoned to the elements. Valuables were obviously gone, and there wasn't enough space to create a hidden room anyway.
Crouching down, he examined the footprints. Human footprints. But that was all he could tell.
The table was faded, with no message written on it. Going by the way the shack had decayed, it didn't look like the work of any Slime-like creature either.
Sven sighed, then casually grabbed the randomly placed wooden box and lifted it.
"...!?"
Gaark and the others, watching from outside since they couldn't all fit in the small room, were struck speechless.
Gimmicks were sometimes hardest to see through when they were simple. Nobody would normally think there was something hidden in a tiny shack that wasn't even a Treasure Hall.
Underneath the lifted box was—a staircase leading underground.
§ They descended the stairs. There, stretching out from beneath the humble shack above, was a passage far more spacious than anyone could have believed.
The entrance was narrow, but a single step inside revealed enough width for several people to walk abreast.
The passage had no branches—it simply continued straight ahead. There was no end in sight.
The walls and floor were earth-colored but unnaturally sturdy, producing a sharp ringing sound when lightly tapped.
Talia ran her fingertip across the surface and looked up at Sven in a daze.
"It's... a type of alchemy. Similar to the potion commonly used when creating earth Golems—but to solidify a space this large... I've never heard of anything like it..."
"Just the fact that someone built an underground passage like this in the first place is abnormal. Bandits would at least pick a better spot for a hideout."
They advanced deeper, staying vigilant against any possible ambush.
The underground was quiet. Only the hard footfalls of Sven's group echoed through the enclosed space.
Unlike the surface, the interior was not in disrepair.
The glowing stones installed on the ceiling indicated that this passage had been used very recently.
The Thief from the other Party who had been on point duty furrowed his brow.
"There's no sound... There's a smell lingering, though..."
The passage extended straight ahead no matter how far they went—no branches, no rooms, just relentlessly long.
Simple in structure, but the labor required to dig a passage of this magnitude underground was beyond imagination. Even with magic, it would be difficult. At the very least, this wasn't something built on a whim.
The view was open, with no concern for ambushes. No—this passage hadn't been built for that purpose at all.
This was—could it be...
As they walked, Sven arrived at a conclusion and furrowed his brow.
Gaark's face had gone blank, apparently thinking the same thing.
He said nothing, simply pressing forward in silence.
And without once brandishing his drawn weapon, Sven and the others reached the innermost chamber.
A fine wooden door stood at the end. Beyond it was a completely unremarkable room.
About ten meters square. The ceiling was higher than the passage they'd traveled, and the walls and floor weren't bare earth.
Being underground, there were no windows, but if they brought in living essentials, it would serve perfectly well as a dwelling space.
The Thief who had been on reconnaissance duty entered the room, looking bewildered by the unexpected sight.
"What is this...?"
But there was nothing inside. No people, not a single piece of furniture.
No—more precisely, there were traces of something having been placed there. Signs that someone had been using this space until just a few hours ago.
But now, it was empty.
Sven, who had entered the room and scanned the entire space, let out a loud click of his tongue.
"Tch... damn it! I had a vague feeling about this, so that's what it was—!?"
"What—what do you mean?"
Sven's face twisted as though he were biting into something foul.
Gaark, who had entered from behind, had gone rigid upon seeing the room's interior.
The Thief was checking whether the room had any hidden passages, but he probably wouldn't find any. Whoever had been here was gone at least an hour ago.
Henrik looked up at him with concern. Sven let out a deep sigh and ran a hand through his hair, as if to mask his frustration.
"They got away! Damn it—this formation was never meant to kill that Slime bastard! The Slime-like creature was just a decoy! I don't get it, damn it! There are too few hints! Aaaargh!"
The anomaly at the White Wolf's Den. The Slime-like creature that appeared. Gaark Veltar, lured here as reinforcement. The collar and bracelet that were found. The hidden room connected to the abandoned shack. And the Thousand Trials, which had been considerably easier than usual.
All the pieces of information were connecting like puzzle pieces falling into place.
Nine times out of ten, the mastermind behind the Slime-like creature had been right here. And when Sven and the others first started fighting the Slime, that person had still been nearby.
The reinforcement Krai had sent this time wasn't meant to defeat the Slime-like creature. It was meant to capture the mastermind.
The Slime-like creature could have been handled with Gaark alone. It would have meant risking his life, but he could have held out for a while.
Gaark dealing with the Slime-like creature while the rest of the team searched the forest for the mastermind—that was probably Thousand Transformations' optimal strategy this time around.
He'd misjudged it. That Slime-like creature was a powerful enemy. There was no way the plan involved having a single retired Hunter fight it.
No wonder the Thousand Trials had been easier than usual. Those weren't even trials at all.
Driven by an indescribable impulse, Sven roared.
"Who the hell knows! Hey, what do we do now?! We let them slip away! And for starters, nobody told us there was a damn mastermind in the first place!"
"Sven, calm down!"
Marietta slapped him on the back to steady him.
The veins on Gaark's tattooed head were bulging. The fact that he hadn't lost his composure like Sven came down to the difference in experience.
"If that Slime-like creature was artificially created, we're dealing with a seriously dangerous opponent—someone we absolutely cannot let get away. Damn it, there are too few clues. Even if we chase now, we'll never catch up!"
Sven hadn't even conceived of a mastermind's existence.
Treasure Halls and Phantoms were natural laws unto themselves. Tampering with them was beyond even a Hunter who had obtained power beyond human comprehension.
The opponent was probably an amateur. Not a Hunter. They couldn't even erase their footprints. In a direct confrontation, apprehension shouldn't have been difficult.
But starting from a search operation raised the difficulty exponentially.
If someone had built a hidden room of this scale, they weren't acting alone—it had to be an organization. And Sven didn't have the slightest clue as to their identity.
This is insane. This isn't the kind of content you'd assign as a trial! I'm not you!
The members of the Thousand Trials following behind seemed to grasp the meaning of Sven's words, and murmurs rippled through the group.
At that moment, the room shook. Gaark had clenched his fist and struck the wall.
The roar silenced the murmuring. He pulled his fist from the dent it had made in the wall, took a slow, deep breath, and spoke.
"...Calm down. Now isn't the time to panic. We're going back to town and squeezing every last drop of information out of Krai. I don't know how much he knows, but we'll make him talk."
Right. It wasn't over yet.
That man would surely know about the one who got away. There'd be time for regret later.
"Akasha..."
Sven, who had been mentally hurling invective at Thousand Transformations, looked up at the small voice.
It was Talia who had spoken. Her face was pale, and she clutched her own shoulders as if to stop them from trembling, her gaze fixed on the center of the room—on the fist-sized hole in the floor.
"Akasha...?!"
Gaark's expression had visibly stiffened.
He stared down at the small Alchemist with a hostile look, as though facing an enemy.
The expressions of the two investigators had changed as well—just as grave as when they'd found the collar and bracelet.
Seeming to notice their stares for the first time, Talia spoke in a flustered, defensive manner. But her voice was shaking.
"C-Citry mentioned it once before... She said there was someone in the Imperial Capital committing 'taboos.' Someone who repeatedly conducts experiments manipulating Mana Materials—something banned throughout the world. She said they absolutely had to be stopped... that they were the Mourning Specter's greatest enemy."
§ It was shortly after joining the Clan that Talia Widmann had first gotten to know that Alchemist.
Alchemists were rare among Treasure Hunters.
Alchemy required vast knowledge and research, and compared to the effort and cost involved, it lacked direct offensive power.
Among Hunters, it was often mocked as a watered-down version of being a Mage, and the Alchemists with enough skill to shake off that mockery had better things to do—they could find more lucrative work that let them focus on research without becoming Hunters.
Talia had been a Hunter for years now, but she had never met another Hunter who studied alchemy.
The Beginning Footprint had resources and equipment for studying alchemy that rivaled specialized institutions.
That was one of the deciding factors for the young Party she belonged to joining the "Footprint."
The Footprint had facilities that exceeded even Talia's imagination. References, expensive instruments, rare catalysts—even the rooms to house them were prepared. Perhaps they were on par with the top research laboratories in the Empire.
And they had all been gathered and assembled for the single Alchemist belonging to the Clan.
Citry Smart.
That was the name of the Alchemist who had once been praised by everyone in the Imperial Capital, only to vanish without a trace.
She was an Alchemist, a Hunter belonging to a top-tier Party, yet a name that was rarely spoken, overshadowed by the fame of the other members.
The Citry Talia actually met was gentle, humble, and incredibly bright.
Her pink-blonde hair was unusually short for a Mage, cut neatly even, and she had explained with great regret that her "big sister wanted to grow hers out, so she cut it."
Her slightly downturned eyes were kind, and she always wore a plain gray robe—she didn't look like a formidable Hunter at all.
The research laboratory that had existed in name for anyone to use, but in practice had only been there for one person, welcomed the new Alchemist with open arms.
Citry was rarely at the Clan House due to her busy schedule, but Talia and Citry quickly became close.
She taught Talia all sorts of things when the nervous young woman came to visit. She even called her a friend.
Talia had heard of the vicious rumors that had spread years ago, but it quickly became clear they were false.
Citry was hardworking.
She pushed forward into every field of alchemy, and when experiments were so difficult and dangerous that even seasoned Mages avoided them (perfectly legal ones, of course), she didn't hesitate—she was a true Mage to the core.
Her passion for magic overwhelmed even Talia, who had pursued the path of an Alchemist in defiance of opposition from everyone around her. Ironically, it was that passion that helped Talia understand why Citry had been the subject of such terrible rumors.
Her intensity and tireless effort had probably been one of the major factors in tarnishing her name.
Citry was simply too exceptional.
Her enthusiasm and talent for alchemy were intimidating even to those in the same field. And despite that, Citry was humble and far too defenseless.
She was the kind of person who would smile and forgive anything done to her.
Citry attributed the bad reputation to her own immaturity. She accepted all the blame others had placed on her, and bore the greatest disgrace a Hunter could suffer—a Level reduction—without complaint.
Her personality was far too gentle for a Hunter, but if Talia had to name one true Alchemist without hesitation, she would point to Citry.
Talia was not Citry's apprentice. Citry refused to take on students, citing her own inadequacy.
But in practice, she was essentially an apprentice.
She had heard all kinds of things from her.
From the details of her current experiments to the research papers she'd read recently. From the contents of Treasure Halls she'd visited as a Hunter, to what Talia needed to know to make it as an Alchemist and a Hunter.
And on the rare occasions when Citry let something slip—the information about the "enemy" that she and the others were pursuing.
Skilled Hunters tended to have many enemies, but Citry, being an "Alchemist," had an especially large number of them.
The gentle Citry rarely spoke to Talia about her enemies, but Talia had committed every brief mention to memory—because she had secretly resolved to help Citry if anything ever happened.
Citry was always alone. The old bad reputation left her with no one she could rely on.
So Talia had decided that, at the very least, if something happened, she would be on Citry's side.
As a fellow Alchemist. And as a friend.
The underground room. The hole in the floor looked familiar. The identity of the Slime-like creature, the cause of the anomaly at the White Wolf's Den—she connected the dots all at once.
No—she had always had a feeling. The only reason she hadn't spoken up was her own weakness.
She was afraid. She didn't want to believe it. But now that they had come all this way, she had to say it out loud.
Because it might help Citry.
The hair-raising research that Citry had spoken of—the research once conducted by a man who had stood at the pinnacle of Mages in the Imperial Capital.
Forbidden magical devices documented in research materials sealed away in the deepest vaults of the Imperial Capital's Academy of Sciences, accessible only to a select few high-ranking practitioners.
This was undoubtedly the remains of a "Confluence Device" designed to intervene in the Mana Materials flowing through the Ley Lines and gather them at concentrations that should be impossible.
It was an attempt to seize control of the laws of the world.
The Tower of Akasha—a massive Arcane Society composed of deranged Mages who desired omniscience, even at the cost of the world's destruction.
The reason the traces had been left behind was probably the assumption that even if someone found them, no one would realize what they were.
Talia hadn't seen those research materials herself. She'd only been told about them through conversations with Citry.
But now, Citry—who knew far more about this than Talia—was off tackling a high-difficulty Treasure Hall.
Talia called to mind the names of the two Mages Citry had mentioned.
One was a name that came up easily with a bit of research, but the other was completely unknown. However, both were said to be equally dangerous.
Citry had been pursuing them for a long time, but had yet to catch a single thread of evidence.
She remembered the apologetic smile Citry had worn when she said that.
If even Citry was struggling with these enemies, Talia—who was still a low-Level Alchemist—was nowhere near capable of handling them.
Her throat was bone dry. Countless eyes were waiting for her words.
Most of them were skeptical—the failure of the anti-Slime agent still lingered.
Citry had once said it was something she was almost afraid to even speak aloud.
That man was the "Worst of the Worst" Mage—driven mad by his thirst for knowledge, capable of leading the world to destruction.
And so Talia clenched her trembling hands and raised her hoarse voice.
"Grand Mage Not Koclea, and Sofia. Those are the two names that the Mourning Specter has been pursuing."