Nilo von Edgar, one of the most outstanding graduates in the history of Pasca Military Academy.
Farusiel’s Master, and also the person who gave her the most help and encouragement during her most confused and helpless times.
She remembered how he had accompanied her late into the night analyzing battle reports, and how, for her casual wish to ‘see the snow’, he had used magic to create a private snowfall just for her on the training ground.
The guilt in his eyes looked so sincere that she almost wanted to comfort him, to tell him it wasn’t his fault.
But the rational part of her mind sounded a warning.
The piece of parchment hidden inside her breastplate seemed to emit a cold chill through her clothes.
Five names were written clearly on it, and the name ‘Nilo’ was among them.
As a tactical theory instructor at the military academy, he also had the authority to access the highest-level military plans.
His vast knowledge, at this moment, was both a treasure and a potential threat in her eyes.
He was too smart—smart enough to plan a perfect betrayal and find himself an impeccable reason for it.
‘Insufficient research,’ what a perfect excuse.
It could express regret, limit his responsibility to negligence rather than betrayal, and cleverly shift attention from why the information was leaked to the technical issue of why the artifact failed, thus removing himself from the vortex of suspicion.
At this moment, Farusiel deeply experienced the loneliness of being the Supreme Commander.
She could not rely on emotion, nor indulge in wishful thinking.
Any misjudgment on her part would come at the cost of countless young soldiers’ lives.
So she did not expose him.
“Master, we learn from mistakes to avoid repeating them in the future. As for the Prophecy Stone, I will discuss with the Church how to handle it properly.
My excessive trust in it was also a failure on my part. But right now, our task is to find a flawless new location for the Gate of Dolos.”
Her voice was calm and clear, precisely cutting off all possible threads leading to personal emotion, and forcefully pulling the conversation back to pure business.
A trace of undisguisable disappointment flashed in Nilo’s eyes.
Perhaps he had been expecting her questioning, or even anger—at least it would prove she still cared.
But what Farusiel gave him was a professionalism colder than anger, and a more hurtful, absolute sense of distance.
But he quickly concealed his emotions, returning to the role of instructor and nodding.
“You’re right. Then, let’s look at the second candidate plan. The giant stone highland on the west side of the Crimson Marsh…”
The command baton moved across the sand table once more.
The discussion continued.
The atmosphere in the room remained solemn and professional.
In Farusiel’s heart, she still wanted to believe that the gentle Master who conjured an ice rose for her in the snow was not her enemy.
But as the Divine’s Chosen of the Kingdom of Arslan, before the truth came to light, she had to judge everyone—including those once closest to her—with absolute reason.
Farusiel’s gaze swept again over the map of the Forbidden Marshlands.
The real enemy might not even be in that marsh.
They were hidden within the prosperity and shadows of the royal capital, manipulating everyone’s fate with invisible hands.
And she had to find the manipulator behind the chessboard before the next game began.
For that, she was willing to pay any price—even if it meant standing alone.
—
“So you’re saying there’s no absolute magical mark or spiritual signature that can immediately identify you players at first sight?”
Outside the carved wooden windows of the private room on the second floor of the Jinx Iris Restaurant, Farusiel’s voice was like a piece of unpolished cold jade, clear and chill.
She sat upright at the table, a cup of clear red tea steaming before her in a bone china cup.
Yet from beginning to end, she never touched the tea—she only watched the man across from her, whose every gesture radiated a devil-may-care attitude, with those icy blue eyes.
[Shadowfang Warbreaker] leaned lazily against the back of his chair, hands clasped behind his head.
Hearing Farusiel’s question, he let out a light laugh, a habitual, playful curve at the corner of his mouth.
“Oh dear, Divine’s Chosen, you’re making things hard for me with that question.”
He blinked, tone like joking with an old friend.
“We players aren’t some rare breed of magical beast. What kind of magical marks could we possibly have? To be honest, the method’s pretty simple—among our crowd, one look and we just know.”
As he spoke, he pointed at his black combat suit, obviously not the standard of any nation on the Tingmoon Continent, with its strange fabric and tight fit.
“Just look at my outfit, and those guys in bizarre costumes on the Linxing Tower plaza, then listen to us occasionally spit out words like ‘quest’, ‘experience points’, or ‘dungeon instance’—that’s the best way to tell.
Compared to you NPCs… ahem, natives, we’re like oil and water—just different at a glance.”
Farusiel’s brows knit slightly, clearly dissatisfied with the answer.
“I don’t need a feeling or a guess,” she spoke again, voice brooking no argument.
“I need a conclusive standard of identification. For example, do you react to any specific detection magic?”
Looking at the frost on Farusiel’s serious face, [Shadowfang Warbreaker] finally toned down the joking.
He sat up straight, fingers tapping unconsciously on the smooth tabletop, lost in brief thought.
“Hmm… detection magic, I’ve never tried, but I doubt it would work,” [Shadowfang Warbreaker] muttered.
“But as for the gold standard you mentioned… there is indeed one.”
“That is—you know, resurrection.”
Farusiel was speechless.
She did know that, but… I can’t just stab someone on suspicion, can I?
“There really isn’t a better way. The system doesn’t give us any player halos, and we can’t see them ourselves. Honestly, we’re just a bunch of outsiders whose behavior patterns are a bit different from yours.”
“But that said, Divine’s Chosen, why are you asking so thoroughly? Is there some kind of foreigner registration law being passed in the capital? If so, I’d better hurry and get myself a good citizen certificate.”
“There’s no such thing as a good citizen certificate.”
Farusiel spat out the words stiffly.
“To be able to help the Divine’s Chosen is my honor.”
[Shadowfang Warbreaker] resumed his relaxed tone.
“So, since we’ve talked so much tonight, you must have… a new plan, right?”
Farusiel’s gaze refocused on [Shadowfang Warbreaker]’s face, so sharp that it made him feel a chill.
One by one, those around her were added to the list of suspects.
The sense of isolation, like a giant hand, pressed against her so she could barely breathe.
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t break through the web of surveillance surrounding her.
The devil-may-care dual-blade player before her… he had saved her life, and as a player, had no reason or motive to be an internal traitor.
She could only gamble once.
“If I said… there’s a single-player mission that requires absolute secrecy, one you can’t reveal to anyone else—including players—would you be trustworthy?”