One by one, the masked initiates began to shuffle toward the accounting booth. The line moved slowly—like a funeral march dressed in ambition. Each figure carried the unconscious child with one arm and a pouch of glittering wealth in the other.
With cold, methodical precision, the masked clerks at the booth inspected each payment.
Clink. Clink. Clink.
Three hundred Nazare Blade Empire gold coins per person—dropped like offerings into a metal trough. The coins gleamed, but there was no joy in the sound. Only the weight of corruption.
Once the payment was confirmed, a mage would mark their robe with a glowing sigil. They were then ushered silently through a stone passage into the inner sanctum of the Golden Toad.
Inside, the initiates were instructed to lay the child they had brought onto a raised dais, where black-robed attendants collected them wordlessly. Afterwards, the initiates were led to a waiting chamber, seated in eerie silence while awaiting their potion.
Josh observed it all, every movement, every shadow, calculating the timing, the guards' rotation, the distance between the accounting booth and the lab's gate.
> So that's where they're taking the children...
He felt his blood boil.
He had known this mission would be dark—but this was a pit carved straight from hell. There would be no mercy for those who stood in his way.
He glanced at the procession again. One of the initiates stepped forward after making payment, a crimson stamp now glowing faintly on his sleeve. Josh moved swiftly behind him, mimicking his movements perfectly.
Josh had a plan.
Not just a vague idea, but a calculated, time-woven strike of precision. Every second counted, every breath had to be measured.
Reaching deep into the Kingly System Interphase within him—a shimmering dimension laced with power—he summoned a rare item tucked away in the ether:
Vanishing Powder of Nevalis, once used by imperial assassins to walk through death without being seen.
He held the shimmering vial in his hand, its contents swirling like crushed moonlight and mist.
No hesitation.
No mistakes.
Thirty minutes. That's all I have.
He stepped into the shadow of a pillar near the checkpoint. The guards there were checking the glowing sigils stamped on each initiate—none entered without it.
Josh tilted the vial and poured the powder over himself.
It didn't scatter like dust. It melted into him—vanishing before it hit the ground. With a whisper of wind, his entire form blurred… and then disappeared.
Not just from sight.
Not just from hearing.
But from existence.
His aura, his scent, even the magical signature his presence gave off—all wiped clean. To the world around him, he was nothing.
He moved.
Silent. Swift.
Past the gate. Past the sigil readers. Past the prying eyes.
No one blinked. No one stirred. He had become a phantom—an echo with purpose.
He was inside.
Into the belly of the beast.
And what a beast it was.
The inner chamber was not what Josh expected.
It was worse.
A vast arcane laboratory sprawled before him like a twisted cathedral of science and sorcery. The air buzzed with low magical hums and stank of blood, sulfur, and rotting enchantments.
Crimson-glowing vats lined the walls—filled with thick, pulsating blood. Some had body parts suspended in arcane fluid—arms, eyes, spines, tongues—all floating like ingredients in a butcher's stew. Tables were stacked with magical instruments—some surgical, others infernal. There were sigils glowing on the floor, old and forbidden symbols drawn in ashes that had long dried from past sacrifices.
Josh's eyes widened as he took it in.
> What… is this?
A thigh bone still wrapped in child's cloth.
A necklace made from baby teeth.
Jars of human hearts—labelled by age.
And on one high shelf—a box marked "noble blood, twins", sealed with dark wax.
Some of the machinery here—complex arrays of glass tubes, glowing coils, and rotating soul-reactors—were far more advanced than anything even the imperial city in Region 1 possessed.
This wasn't just a ritual.
It was an industrial-scale horror factory.
Josh's stomach turned. He took a slow breath, grounding himself.
> This… this is how many they've killed? How many children? How many families shattered?
His fists clenched.
He could feel the rage burning under his skin, crawling into his veins. But now wasn't the time to unleash it.
He had to send the signal.
> The children must be saved.
The lab must be burned.
And the toad… must die.
Josh's eyes darted across the twisted hall of horrors, scanning—calculating.
He wasn't just looking for escape anymore.
He was looking for detonation. For a signal. For something that could unravel this vile temple from the inside out.
> A flare rune? No… too small.
A fire vat? Risky.
Volatile magical cores? Too unstable to control.
Then, it hit him.
An idea.
A dark, deadly, glorious idea.
Without hesitation, he reached into the Kingly System Interphase, fingers brushing through invisible code and sacred ether until he summoned a small portion of a deadly relic—The Sands of Aphrota.
A forbidden substance made from the combination of sand, and the blood of the beast Aphrota.
Silent. Merciless.
Dust so ancient it was said to once drain an entire army in one gust.
The had 1kg of the sands of Aphrota, gifted to him from the system rewards.
Josh stepped toward a group of arcane workers, hunched over bubbling vials and severed limbs, completely unaware of the invisible death standing inches away.
He lifted the pouch—
—and let the sands pour.
Like grey mist, the particles spread into the air.
They never saw it coming.
In mere seconds, the workers froze.
Their faces paled.
Eyes widened in confusion—then horror—as their veins darkened and their skin withered like scorched parchment.
Their bodies convulsed once.
Then collapsed—dry, brittle, hollow.
Empty shells, as if life had been vacuumed out of them.
Josh didn't pause.
Still invisible, he snatched a matchbox from a cluttered workstation. It floated unnaturally, drawing the attention of a nearby apprentice who froze at the sight—his lips parting but no words coming.
Josh turned the box slowly in the air—just enough for witnesses to see it—and then dropped it on a side.
Josh then moved forward towards where compressed gas was...
A hiss.
A whoosh.
Josh unleashed compressed suffocation gas from the vents lining the ceiling—directing it toward the shelves stacked with enchanted components and magical combustibles.
Then, without ceremony, he picked up the matchbox again, opened it and struck the match.
FWOOM!
The fire leapt like a beast finally freed.
Tables ignited.
Vats shattered.
The flames took to the air, feeding on the volatile gas, climbing the walls like a hungry god.
Josh sprinted through the inferno, still invisible, unlocking storage vents, smashing magical cores, and unleashing every hazardous reagent he could find.
This wasn't sabotage anymore.
This was judgment.
And it echoed. Loud.
Cries pierced the chamber. Screams from panicked workers who hadn't yet succumbed. Shouts of alarm. A bell tolled twice—and then silence was obliterated by chaos.
Far above, in his throne chamber, the Golden Toad stirred.
He felt it before he saw it.
A pulse in the magic field.
A shift in the air.
And then—smoke.
The stink of burning sigils.
The unmistakable sound of fire eating something sacred.
With a snarl that curdled the blood of every acolyte in earshot, he slithered toward the disturbance, transforming mid-movement into his humanoid form.
His golden robe flared behind him like wrath incarnate as he stormed into the arcane lab.
And there it was—
Flames licking every wall.
Dead workers littered like charred offerings.
No visible enemy. No attacker in sight.
Just smoke, ash, and a defiant emptiness.
The Golden Toad's fists trembled.
"WHO DARES!?"
His roar shattered a crate nearby.
His voice thundered through every corridor.
> But the perpetrator(s) was no where in sight.
One step ahead.
One fire richer.
And with a silent grin on his lips.