"Alas, I remain forever incapable of redeeming you, Puldo." Shaya uttered, bending with visible exertion to retrieve his cane, even as no peculiar disturbances marred the quiet around him.
This anomaly could only be explained by one truth: although their appearances might still bear a resemblance to that of men, their very essence had been so profoundly tainted. Moreover, Puldo still clutched an ancient spine of a sea demon—a relic saturated with a grievous sin—that was far from easily eradicated.
Such evidence implied a singular possibility: though grievously wounded, Puldo was not yet dead.
"Someone aided him. Investigate forthwith." Shaya's voice, marked by the strain of age as he pounded his aching back, recalled a bygone era when even the slightest transgression would have seen him tear every helper limb from their body—no, perhaps more appropriately, deliver them to a fate of forced redemption.
"It seems the one I least wish to confront within these walls is indeed you, Shaya." With that, Jin withdrew his gaze, the inky tendrils of his condensed gemstone-like smoke dispersing into the earthen heap nestled in the corner of the wall.
Shaya's mastery was indisputably supreme, and his combat acumen was frighteningly profound; even without invoking his divine state, he could sense the presence of half the Roaya City. Were his physical form any sturdier, none would dare linger at his presence—lest they be swept away by the formidable force he summoned in his divine mode.
"What purpose does this chest serve?" Jin inquired, his brow furrowing as he noticed an empty crate in Adam's quarters. Yet, he paid it little heed, extracting his provisions, toying with a stray cat on one hand while grooming the feathers of a small bird on the other, awaiting the conclusion of Adam's meditation.
At the cessation of his meditative practice, Adam perceived that he had reached a bottleneck in his training. Not that his strength had ceased to advance—the cultivation of both his disciplines continued steadily—rather, he sensed he had entered a phase of consolidation where no leap in progress would occur until the inner reserves of his spirit and life force overflowed spontaneously.
"You must continue fortifying your fundamentals, patiently awaiting the inevitable moment when your spiritual and vital energies will naturally brim over," Jin advised after appraising Adam's condition.
"So, in the short term, my battlefield prowess will remain essentially unaltered?" Adam mused, a notion he had long anticipated. Despite his meteoric progress over just a little more than a month in Roaya, the nature of cultivation demanded careful reformation of his mental and bodily systems—a process that, irrespective of talent, required time.
"Indeed, you now stand at the pinnacle of the Veil Stage, though practical combat remains secondary at this juncture. It is only upon ascending to the Overflow Stage that enriching battle experience shall truly prove its merit."
"At present, I am ill-suited for direct confrontation." Adam conceded. In comparison to ordinary cultivators, his skill was ample; yet against a genuine master, the outcome was anything but certain.
"Nather, understand this well: exercise caution in the days ahead. The matter is far from resolved, and Puldo's demise is by no means guaranteed. The stationed forces may well dispatch formidable warriors to reinforce their ranks." Jin disclosed the recent combat results to Adam.
Amid cultivators, formidable warriors did exist; however, in this border city, the majority of seasoned fighters were conscripted within the garrison, vigilantly guarding against the Kingdom of Rokan and seldom entangled in the nightly patrols or daily routines within the city itself.
"Look after yourself. You venture out each night—if caught, do not drag me down with you," Adam retorted sharply. "And did you observe that chest? When you depart, simply take it with you. The heap of earth tucked away in the corner, so easily mistaken for refuse, must be contained."
To the denizens of this world, such phenomena were hardly surprising. Rumor had it that even within the imperial palace of a certain realm, a corridor lay festooned with the excrement of all its inhabitants.
Thus, Adam had explicitly requested Aris to craft a wooden chest, ensuring that every time Jin departed, the residual mound of soil had its proper sanctuary.
"After all, I am your teacher, am I not?" Jin remarked, standing within the chest—his dignity as a mentor seemingly diminished in Adam's eyes, for the latter now dared to confine his master within his own creation.
"Care for me as you wish, but spare the talk of not wanting to implicate yourself further," Jin replied with a wry chuckle, scratching his face as he lifted the chest's lid. A myriad of obsidian vapors dispersed, transmuting his form into dust within the box, until at last the lid closed.
Within the loft, a solitary "good night" reverberated before an encompassing silence prevailed.
Few were privy to the tumult of that night's battle; the following day, most citizens rose early to resume their labors, utterly oblivious to the colossal war that would have irreversibly reshaped Roaya's destiny.
"Remarkable condition," Adam observed upon awakening, scrutinizing a stray cat whose vigor had been notably restored after two days of convalescence—a recovery that suggested surgery might soon be viable.
Inspecting the dried fruits procured the previous eve, Adam noted several missing pieces, arching an eyebrow in mild perplexity.
This time, his concealment had been executed with utmost precision; even Lina, that ever-curious feline, had managed to discover his secret—a testament to her innate perceptiveness. Regrettably, when it came to transcending into the realm of the extraordinary, mere talent was insufficient.
Adam would never actively steer Lina toward that perilous path; given his present circumstances, nudging her in that direction would only be to her detriment.
As he embarked upon the carriage, before Adam could articulate the day's destination, he heard Cro's subdued voice: "Mr. Adam, Lord Dorg wishes to see you."
Adam furrowed his brow. Only two days past had he met with Dorg to secure a batch of experimental animals destined for the Central Bell Tower; this summons, therefore, was unlikely related to that matter. Instead, within this brief interval something new had undeniably emerged.
"Then I shall pay Lord Dorg a visit," Adam acquiesced, his gaze attentively surveying the streets of Roaya from within the carriage. The city appeared unchanged from its prior state of heightened alert.
Upon arriving at the Rom residence, Adam encountered Dorg once more. Yet today, Dorg no longer bore the robust health of his former self—his visage had been thoroughly drained of color. Though he remained seated, it was evident to all that his condition was precarious.
"I have arranged for the experimental animals to be prepared overnight. However, Mr. Adam, you must understand my urgency; I demand results with all due haste," Dorg explained, clutching a handkerchief as a fit of coughs overtook him, as if his life might soon be extinguished.
"I shall attend to it promptly, Lord Dorg," Adam replied.
Dorg's deteriorated state sparked in Adam a burgeoning curiosity: what deeds had Dorg undertaken in recent days to so precipitously unravel his health?
"Surely it cannot be that the one who aided Puldo last night was none other than him," Adam mused, dismissing that possibility. The nobility's crest, meticulously recorded by the Church, would have exposed any such bold interference by Dorg.
Thus, today's meeting likely involved not Dorg himself, but rather emissaries of the Church's inquisitorial arm.
"While it is safe to discount his direct involvement, he remains inextricably linked to the events of last night," Adam reflected, recalling the enigmatic force lurking behind both Dorg and Mansra.
Roaya was a realm of many contradictions: its intricate realities could be spun with elaborate complexity or with stark simplicity. The mere concealment of a secretive organization evoked wonder; if such a cabal were indeed festering within Roaya, it could only be attributed to Shaya's lapses in vigilance.
"But how, then, does this mysterious organization elude detection so completely?" Adam pondered even after departing from the Rom household.
If his own organization of aberrant beings had slipped under the Church's radar solely due to its fragility, then how did the group—capable of intervening decisively to rescue Puldo—manage to remain clandestine?
"Or could it be that the organization is not even based in Roaya?" Adam countered his own hypothesis, though this too seemed unlikely; with known members such as Dorg and Mansra, any unusual movements among the nobility would inevitably draw the Church's scrutiny.
"The Floating City… Could it be that this organization literally drifts aloft?" Adam mused, casting his eyes skyward from the carriage window, where the heavens shone with pristine clarity.
Enshrining the mystique of the Floating City in his thoughts, Adam arrived at the Central Bell Tower. Trailing behind his carriage were numerous freight wagons laden with cages of animals. After dismissing Cro and his cohort of load-bearers, Adam wrinkled his nose at the pungent odor emanating from the animal cages. Just as he set about transferring these creatures into the Reflection Tower, the cages seemed to vanish as if swallowed by their own shadows.
With a light clap of his hands, Adam strode into the Reflection Tower.