Chapter : 1461

  The funeral for Captain Zafer and his men was a somber affair. Rain fell on the capital, washing the soot from the cobblestones but not the grief from the faces of the families. Lloyd stood in the back, watching. He felt the weight of every life lost.

  "They were good men," a voice said beside him.

  It was Headmaster Valerius. He looked older today. The weight of his own failure with Rubaiya hung heavy on him.

  "They were," Lloyd agreed. "They didn't deserve this."

  "None of us do," Valerius said. "But war does not care about what we deserve."

  "This wasn't war," Lloyd said. "This was a snatch and grab. Bael took her back. He wanted to make a point."

  "And the point is?"

  "That no one escapes," Lloyd said. "That his reach is infinite."

  "Is it?" Valerius asked. "Or is he just... loud?"

  Lloyd looked at the Headmaster. "What do you mean?"

  "Devils thrive on fear," Valerius said. "They project power to hide their limits. If Bael was truly omnipotent, he would have killed you, me, and the King by now. Instead, he steals a broken girl and kills a few guards. Why?"

  "Because he can't touch us yet," Lloyd realized. "He's still establishing his foothold. He's still building his anchor."

  "Exactly," Valerius nodded. "He is strong, but he is not here. Not fully. He is projecting through cracks in the world. If we seal the cracks... we cut off the hand."

  "The Crimson Caravan," Lloyd said. "That's the crack."

  "Find it," Valerius said. "Close it."

  Lloyd left the funeral. He went to the Royal Intelligence headquarters. He needed to talk to the new Captain of the Police. A man named Gerrick.

  Gerrick was younger than Zafer, sharper, more bureaucratic. He sat behind a desk piled high with files.

  "Lord Ferrum," Gerrick said, not rising. "I read your report. Demons. Soul eating. Smiley faces. It reads like a penny dreadful."

  "It's the truth," Lloyd said. "And we need to find the woman who sold the cursed items to Daniel. The one in the Midnight Market."

  "We've been looking for her for months," Gerrick sighed. "She's a phantom. 'The Crone', they call her. She sells a cursed amulet, waits for the buyer to die, then vanishes."

  "She's not a Crone," Lloyd said. "She's an illusion. Rubaiya's spirit, Legion, projected a glamour. That's why you couldn't catch her. You were looking for a person. You should have been looking for a mana signature."

  Gerrick frowned. "A spirit projection? Capable of independent commerce? That's... advanced."

  "Rubaiya was a genius," Lloyd said. "Evil, but a genius. She used the spirit to distance herself from the crimes. Daniel never saw her face. He saw the Crone."

  "So the Crone is gone," Gerrick said. "Rubaiya is gone. The trail is dead."

  "Not completely," Lloyd said. "The Crone had a supplier. Someone gave Rubaiya the raw materials. The cursed ingots. The obsidian."

  He leaned over the desk. "I need you to check the port logs. Look for shipments from the East. Look for crates marked with a red target symbol."

  Gerrick hesitated. "That's a lot of paperwork, Lord Ferrum."

  "Do it," Lloyd ordered. "Or the next time a convoy burns, it might be yours."

  Gerrick paled. "I'll put my best men on it."

  Lloyd left the station. He felt restless. He was chasing ghosts.

  He walked to the Midnight Market. It was empty by day, just a collection of tattered tents and seagulls fighting over fish guts.

  He found the spot where Daniel had met the Crone. He activated his [All-Seeing Eye].

  The residue was faint, but it was there. The black sludge of the parasite. But underneath it... something else.

  A trace of red dust.

  Lloyd touched it. He rubbed it between his fingers. It was gritty. It smelled of spice and dry earth.

  "Red sand," Lloyd whispered. "From the Eastern Deserts."

  It confirmed Roy's theory. The Crimson Caravan. They were bringing the corruption from the desert.

  "Bael is operating out of the East," Lloyd deduced. "He's using the trade routes to infect the kingdom. It's a biological attack disguised as commerce."

  He needed to tell Ken. He needed to warn him.

  He pulled out a communication crystal. "Ken. Come in."

  Static.

  "Ken?"

  Nothing.

  The signal was blocked. Or Ken was out of range. Or...

  "No," Lloyd thought. "He's fine. He's Ken."

  But the silence was heavy.

  "They're in the desert," Lloyd realized. "The Red Sand Desert. Magic is wonky there. That's why Bael chose it. It's a blind spot."

  Chapter : 1462

  He put the crystal away. He couldn't help Ken now. Ken was on his own.

  Lloyd stood in the empty market. He felt the wind blowing from the East. It felt hot. Unnatural.

  "You're out there," Lloyd said to the horizon. "Building your army. Eating souls. Well, guess what? I'm building an army too."

  He turned and walked away. He had a manufactory to run. He had a robot to finish.

  The Hunter had his quarry. Now he just needed a bigger gun.

  Lloyd returned to the Old Tower. It was quiet. The students were in class. Mina was organizing the library.

  "Did you find anything?" Mina asked, looking up from a scroll.

  "Red sand," Lloyd said. "It confirms the Eastern connection."

  He sat down heavily. "And Zafer is dead. Bael took Rubaiya back."

  Mina gasped. "Took her back? To... Hell?"

  "Or his pocket dimension," Lloyd said. "Same difference."

  He looked at the Golem Heart on the table. It was pulsing steadily. It was calm.

  "We need to speed up," Lloyd said. "The Aegis. The weapons. We're running out of time. Bael isn't waiting. He's accelerating."

  "We are at 45%," Mina said. "The neural link is stable. The chassis is reinforced. But we still need a power source for the flight thrusters. The Lilith Stones can't handle the output."

  "I'll figure it out," Lloyd said. "I'll invent a new engine if I have to."

  He walked over to the suit. It looked formidable. A giant metal knight. But it was still hollow.

  "It needs a soul," Lloyd thought. "Not a human soul. A pilot's soul."

  He touched the cold metal. "Soon, buddy. Soon you'll fly."

  Just then, a runner arrived. A young boy, out of breath.

  "Lord Ferrum!" the boy panted. "Message! From the estate!"

  Lloyd took the letter. It was from his father.

  Lloyd,

  Rubaiya is dead. Official report says suicide. She jumped from the wagon before the fire started. Found her body in the river. Case closed.

  Lloyd stared at the letter.

  "Lies," he whispered.

  "What?" Mina asked.

  "The official story," Lloyd said, handing her the letter. "They're covering it up. They're saying she killed herself. To prevent panic. To hide the fact that a Devil King just reached down and plucked her out of custody."

  "It is... convenient," Mina said.

  "It's a whitewash," Lloyd said. "The King doesn't want people to know we are losing."

  He crumpled the letter. "Fine. Let them lie. Let the people sleep. It makes my job easier if they aren't screaming."

  He looked at Mina. "But we know the truth. We know what we're fighting."

  "We do," Mina said. She stood up and walked over to him. She put her hand on his arm. "And we will fight it."

  "Yeah," Lloyd said. "We will."

  He felt a new resolve hardening in his gut. Bael had won this round. He had reclaimed his pawn. He had killed the guards. He had shown his power.

  "He thinks he's untouchable," Lloyd thought. "He thinks we're ants."

  He looked at the Aegis suit. He looked at the Golem Heart. He looked at the rifle blueprints on the wall.

  "Ants can bite," Lloyd whispered. "And ants can build."

  He picked up his wrench.

  "Back to work," Lloyd said. "We have a devil to kill."

  The investigation was over. The truth was known. Now, it was just a matter of preparation.

  Lloyd Ferrum was done playing detective. He was done playing professor.

  He was the Major General again. And he was going to war.

  Two days later, Lloyd returned to the Ferrum mansion. He needed to check on his base. He needed to see his family.

  The estate was quiet. The elephants were still on the lawn, eating the prize-winning roses. Lord Hakim was still drinking all the tea.

  "Home sweet home," Lloyd muttered.

  He walked into the Grand Hall. Rosa was there. She was directing the servants. She looked perfect. Ice cold. Beautiful.

  She saw him. She stopped.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  "You're back," she said.

  "I am," Lloyd said. "Briefly. I have to go back to the Academy. The work..."

  "The work," Rosa repeated. "Is she there?"

  "Mina is my assistant," Lloyd said, keeping his voice neutral. "Yes."

  Rosa nodded. She didn't scream. She didn't freeze him. She just looked... tired.

  "The capital is buzzing," Rosa said. "About the convoy. About the suicide."

  "It's a tragedy," Lloyd said.

  "Is it?" Rosa asked. She walked closer to him. "Or is it a cover-up?"

  Lloyd looked at her. She was sharp. She always had been.

  "What do you think?" Lloyd asked.

  Chapter : 1463

  "I think," Rosa whispered, "that suicide is a messy way to go for a woman who loved control. I think she was silenced."

  "You're right," Lloyd said. "But don't say it loud. The walls have ears. And the elephants probably have spies."

  Rosa almost smiled. almost. "Bael?"

  "Yes," Lloyd confirmed.

  Rosa shivered. "He is cleaning house. That means he is preparing to move in."

  "We're ready," Lloyd lied. "We have a plan."

  "Do you?" Rosa asked. She looked at him with a strange intensity. "Or do you just have a hammer and a lot of anger?"

  "Both," Lloyd said. "Both are useful."

  "Lloyd," Rosa said. She reached out, as if to touch his arm, then pulled back. "Be careful. Bael... he broke me once. He can break anyone."

  "He won't break me," Lloyd said. "I'm already broken. It's hard to break dust."

  "You are not dust," Rosa said fiercely. "You are steel. Cold, hard steel."

  "Thanks," Lloyd said. "I think."

  She stepped back. The mask returned. "Dinner is at seven. Try to be on time. Hakim wants to discuss the wedding seating chart."

  "I can't wait," Lloyd deadpanned.

  He watched her walk away. It was a strange interaction. No fighting. No threats. Just... acknowledgment. A shared fear of a common enemy.

  "Maybe there's hope for us yet," Lloyd thought. "As allies. Maybe."

  He went to his study. He checked his messages. There was a note from Ken.

  Made contact. The sand is red. The wind is howling. We found the door.

  Lloyd's heart leaped. Ken had found the base. The anchor.

  "Good man," Lloyd whispered.

  He burned the note.

  The pieces were moving. Bael was in the East. Rubaiya was gone. The Academy was secure.

  But Lloyd couldn't shake the feeling of dread. The suicide story... it was too clean. Too simple.

  "Why kill her?" Lloyd wondered. "Why not just erase her memory? Or use her again?"

  Unless... unless she wasn't dead.

  Unless the body in the river was a fake. An illusion. A final trick by the master of lies.

  "If she's alive," Lloyd thought, "then she's being tortured. Or re-educated."

  He clenched his fists. The thought made him sick.

  "I have to end this," he decided. "I have to cut the head off the snake."

  He looked at the map on his wall. The Eastern Desert. The Crimson Caravan.

  "Soon," Lloyd promised. "Soon we come for you."

  That night, Lloyd couldn't sleep. He sat on his balcony, looking at the moon.

  He thought about his life. Two lives, actually.

  In his first life, he fought corporations. He fought for resources. He fought for survival.

  In this life, he was fighting devils. He was fighting for souls.

  "It never changes," Lloyd sighed. "War is war. The weapons change, but the enemy is always the same. Greed. Power. Cruelty."

  He lit a cigarette—a habit he had picked up in his old life and recreated here with alchemical herbs. He watched the smoke curl up.

  "The Devil's Due," he muttered. "Rubaiya paid hers. Wilfred paid his. Now Bael wants to collect from the whole kingdom."

  He flicked the ash.

  "Well, he's going to find out that this kingdom has a very high interest rate."

  He stood up. He felt resolved. The grief for Rubaiya, the pity for Elara, the fear for Mina and Airin... he pushed it all down. He compressed it into a ball of cold, hard fuel.

  He was the Major General. He didn't mourn. He planned.

  "Tomorrow," Lloyd said. "We start Phase Two. We weaponize the salt. We mass-produce the rifles. We finish the Aegis."

  He looked at the stars. Somewhere out there, Bael was watching. Somewhere out there, the Red Eye was blinking.

  "I see you," Lloyd whispered. "And I'm coming."

  He turned and went back inside. The balcony was empty. The smoke drifted away, disappearing into the night.

  But the fire... the fire was just beginning to burn.

  Chapter : 1464

  The morning sun filtered through the small, high window of the servants' quarters, casting dusty beams of light onto the stone floor. It was a quiet day in the Ferrum estate, or at least as quiet as it could be given the recent chaos of weddings, assassins, and sudden business expansions. For Jasmin, however, quiet was a relative term. Her mind was usually a bustling marketplace of tasks, schedules, and worries about her master, Lloyd.

  Jasmin hummed a soft tune as she moved around her small, tidy room. It was her day off, theoretically. But for Jasmin, a day off simply meant she had time to clean her own space instead of Lloyd’s. She didn't mind. Cleaning was therapeutic. It was simple. Dirt existed, you scrubbed it, and then it didn't exist. If only the problems facing her master were so easily solved with a bucket of soapy water and a stiff brush.

  She paused, holding a feather duster like a scepter. "Master Lloyd is truly amazing," she whispered to the empty room. It was a daily affirmation. She thought back to the ballroom, the singing, the way he had commanded the room with his voice. And then there was the way he fought, the way he built things, the way he saved people. He was like a character out of a storybook, except he was real, and he was usually complaining about paperwork or salt prices.

  She moved to the corner of her room where she kept her storage. She needed to reorganize her winter clothes. As she pulled out a wooden crate, her hand brushed against something leather and dusty tucked far in the back. She frowned. She didn't own anything made of that particular cracked, brown leather.

  She pulled it out. It was a travel bag. Old, worn, and covered in patches. A wave of cold recognition washed over her. It wasn't hers. It belonged to Pia.

  Pia. The name still caused a sharp, physical ache in Jasmin's chest. Pia had been her friend, her colleague, and for a brief, hopeful time, a part of their strange little family. And then she had been revealed as a traitor, and then she had died. Murdered by a curse before she could even start her path to redemption.

  Jasmin sat down heavily on the floor, the bag resting on her lap. She hadn't touched it since the day Ken Park had cleared out Pia's things after the incident. He had given the bag to Jasmin, saying she should decide what to do with it. In her grief, she had shoved it into the corner and tried to forget.

  "Oh, Pia," Jasmin whispered, tracing a scratch on the leather handle.

  She felt a sudden urge to open it. Maybe it was morbid curiosity. Maybe it was a need for closure. Or maybe, just maybe, she felt like she owed it to the girl who had been forced into treason to remember her as a person, not just a casualty of Lloyd’s war.

  With trembling fingers, she undid the buckles. The leather was stiff with age. The bag opened with a creak. Inside, it smelled of lavender and old paper. There were clothes—simple tunics and dresses, neatly folded. There was a hairbrush with a few strands of dark hair still caught in the bristles. There was a small, cheap wooden carving of a bird.

  Jasmin lifted the clothes out one by one, placing them reverently on the floor. It felt like an invasion of privacy, digging through the remnants of a dead girl's life. But she couldn't stop. She reached the bottom of the bag. It seemed empty.

  She went to close it, but her finger caught on something. The lining at the bottom of the bag was loose. It wasn't torn; it looked like the stitching had been carefully undone and then redone.

  Jasmin frowned. She pressed her hand against the bottom. There was something flat and crinkly underneath the fabric. Her heart began to beat a little faster. This was exactly the sort of thing Master Lloyd would notice instantly, but for Jasmin, it felt like she was in a detective novel.

  She fetched a small pair of sewing scissors from her table. Carefully, biting her lip, she snipped the thread. She peeled back the lining.

  There, hidden between the leather and the cloth, was a piece of parchment. It was folded into a tiny square.