At the police station, they were met by a furious director. "Damn it, Eren! Cut back on the drinking already; reaching you was a total nightmare. Did you see the body? Children passing by at dawn saw it and reported it. Shit... What do you think, is it the work of that serial killer as we feared?"

  In a calm voice, Eren said, "It looks that way."

  The director slammed his desk and continued: "You know the Last Queen of the Elves is visiting the Great Witch within a month. You realize how critical this is, don't you? That guy isn't just a killer; he's a terrorist! You were there too, at the Dwarf Mines... The damn bastard detonated a mana bomb there!"

  "Yes, I know."

  "You know! My ass... Look, the Great Witch's Minister of Internal Affairs personally asked about the status of the investigation. I gave you a mage and a knight; you need to bring me something concrete!"

  Eren nodded. "I thank you for that, sir. The mage detected a mana corridor leading from the corpse to the White Forest. Therefore, we need an urgent transit permit for the forest."

  The director frowned. "And?"

  "The knight and the mage are still very green. We need a hunter."

  "A hunter, huh? You'll need to hire someone from outside. I’ll allocate a fund for that."

  Eren smiled slightly. "The standard fund?"

  The director groaned, "Yes, of course... Oh, hell! Fine, we’re already giving you a bag for evidence collection. I’ll set aside an extra half-kilogram evidence bag for the hunter, alright?"

  Eren’s smile widened. "Ah, of course," he said.

  The director pointed to the door. "If there’s nothing else, you can leave."

  After leaving the director's office, he went to the inn where he was staying.

  He went up to his room and lay directly on the bed. In the middle of the night, he woke up with a start, drenched in sweat. "Ah... Was I dreaming?" he muttered. This time of autumn in Cadlend brought those famous, stifling heatwaves. The humid, heavy air held the entire city captive; moreover, staying in an attic room made the situation unbearable. Still, there was a reason he had specifically rented this room: its vast private terrace. In fact, the terrace was larger than the room itself.

  He stepped out onto the terrace and stretched until his bones cracked. He looked at the table and chair shimmering under the moonlight. He went back inside, grabbed a notebook, a pen, and a towel, and returned. After drying the table and chair—damp from the humidity—he sat down. His intention was to note down the day's events, but he struggled even to keep his eyes open.

  On the terrace, he noticed a bucket half-filled with rainwater. The inn he stayed in didn't have plumbing to carry water to every room. It was said that some luxury inns had this comfort, but he didn't feel the need to pay such exorbitant prices for water. Therefore, he always kept a spare bucket on his terrace. He washed his hands and face with the water in the bucket, then tried to dry himself with the same towel he used for the table.

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  "Ah, what a day... If only there were coffee," he sighed. He had his own stove, but he lacked the energy to prepare anything. He rummaged through the drawers of the table, found a piece of tobacco, and rolled himself a cigarette. The sharp, foul smell of the cheap tobacco grew even heavier in the humid air. After a puff or two, he began to cough due to the smoke burning his throat and stubbed the cigarette out on the edge of the table.

  He lifted his head and looked at the hazy sky, at the pale light of the moon. His mind was slowly disconnecting from the present, drifting toward the shadows of ten years ago.

  As Eren looked at the ash on the tip of his extinguished cigarette, he cracked open the door to the darkest corner of his mind. It was ten years ago. He was only in his seventh year of duty and, as a newly promoted inspector, he dared to dream of the future. However, a name that dropped into the precinct in those days had cast a shadow over all his dreams: General Count Phisobia.

  The legendary name of the Great War had requested his transfer to this small police station for reasons no one understood, despite his limitless power and influence. Moreover, he was coming not as a chief, but as an ordinary inspector. That morning, when he pointed his finger at Eren—who was walking down the hallway in his noisy new shoes—and said, "Let it be him," no one had dared to object. For Eren, the days spent carrying coffee for Phisobia—stressful but quiet—ended with a bulletin report from the Dwarf Kingdom.

  The scene they encountered when they arrived at the Temingo Mine was beyond even the most brutal crime scene a policeman could see. On the ground stretched a massive magic diagram that had charred the earth. As Phisobia crumbled the soil between his fingers, he immediately understood that this was a powerful trap used in the military. Scattered around were human fragments vaporized by the force of the blast, limbs left hanging from branches.

  When they entered the mine, the horror showed its true face. What caused Eren’s shoulders to slump and his face to pale wasn't just the death; it was the degradation of life. Dozens of children, the oldest around twelve years old, were nailed to the walls with mana chains. Those small bodies, their bones visible, were victims of dark experiments.

  Outside, they encountered a mage who had used himself as bait, his face completely burned. Despite being gravely injured, the man had tossed papers from his pocket into the air with surprising determination; with magic that transformed a paper into a bird and a wolf, he vanished before Phisobia's eyes.

  As Phisobia sat on a rock smoking his cigarette, he told Eren about the dark nature of witchcraft and power. He spoke of the terrifying trials a mage must pass to become a witch; the process of being burned alive and transcending death, and the knights who waited by them to ensure they didn't go mad during this process...

  "War smells of shit and piss, Eren," the General had said, blowing smoke into the sky. "I killed many of my comrades with my own hands as a final mercy. When the heart gets used to pain, the eyes become indifferent. Do not get used to pain."

  The Dwarf King, who took over the investigation, believing that dishonor must be cleansed with blood, had all five involved families executed, down to the infants in their cradles. The rescued children died one by one in orphanages from the damage caused by the experiments they were subjected to.

  Eren left the damp railings of the terrace and slipped back inside into the dim darkness of his room. His eye caught an object hanging on the wall right at the head of his bed, covered with an old cloak. He reached out and lightly lifted the cover; it was a short, gnarled mace, its silver engravings blinking with a pale shimmer in the moonlight. This mace was a gift from Phisobia.