Chapter 946: By Himself
Constantine Estate, Uptown Quarter.
In his underground laboratory, Adam sat at the potion-brewing station and patiently waited for the serpent he had sent to secretly follow the spy.
He rested his head on the table, and before him lay an empty bottle of wine.
What a hectic day, he thought to himself, his eyes blankly staring at the wall in front of him, lined with shelves containing all kinds of magical herbs and ingredients in sealed, transparent containers.
After returning from the gathering, he ca straight to the underground laboratory. This was the safest place inside his manor, after all.
Ever since coming face to face with the Master, whom he learned was one of the Elders of the Inner Council, Adam grew paranoid about his safety within the city.
However, this underground chamber was personally carved with high-grade runes that could ideally defend against the attack of even a Mana Core Magus!
However, the rune magic could only defend against one or two attacks before it broke apart. But that was all the ti he would need to teleport to his personal vault underneath Saratoga Castle.
The ans to teleport there had been carefully hidden within these very walls.
Adam’s eyes glazed over, his thoughts drifting to the most concerning matter at hand..
Anna… where are you?
Are you safe?
Because of how the events had unfolded, Ives Ballard had now left Ravenfell with a group of powerful Magi in pursuit of Anna.
The Master had deliberately spread this information throughout the city, openly provoking Adam to make a mistake, just like how he had provoked the man before.
Now, no matter what the raven-haired youth did, it would result in negative consequences overall.
If he went after Ives Ballard, he was sure he’d get ambushed by the cultists, most likely waiting for him outside.
If he decided to stay in the city, the unknown status of Anna’s safety would eat him from the inside.
He sat straight on the chair and conjured another gourd of wine. After taking a large sip from it, he sighed, his shoulders slouching in defeat.
“…I lost.”
Right at that mont, the space beside him on the table trembled. Soon, a small portal leading to the Spirit World materialized.
Adam had a blank look on his face as he saw the shadowy serpent slither out of the portal. However, there was an unmistakable look of anticipation in his dark eyes.
The serpent coiled around his arm. It slithered up to his shoulder and then whispered in his ear.
Adam closed his eyes as he listened to the serpent’s report. A mont later, a dark scowl appeared on his face.
After the serpent had delivered its ssage, it slid down Adam’s hand and returned to the Coil.
Veins began to throb on the side of Adam’s forehead. He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning red. He gnashed his teeth, the sound of gritting practically audible.
His eyes were bloodshot from anger and frustration.
“Damn it!”
The one lead that he had in tracing the Cult’s movents had been snuffed out in an instant by that mysterious, robed figure.
It was almost as if the man knew Adam’s every move before he even made it.
What was even worse was that the Master had even allowed his serpent to return to him and report everything that it saw.
Naturally, such an act displayed the Master’s utter confidence in himself, but at the sa ti, it was also a slap in Adam’s face.
The Master’s action practically scread: I killed the spy in front of your eyes. What are you going to do about it?
Adam had never confronted an enemy of this level before. Not only was the Master extrely powerful, but he was also ruthlessly cunning.
And to think that he was rely an Elder of the Inner Council…
Just thinking about what level the Cult Leader himself was at, Adam couldn’t help but feel a dark foreboding feeling claw at his heart.
He had this premonition from a long, long ti that he would eventually have to face off against the Cult Leader if he wanted to leave Tron.
As the wielder of the Eternal Soul Lotus, Adam had an affinity for the spiritual aspect of magic, which included the School of Divination.
As such, he took his premonitions very seriously.
If I can’t even deal with one of the Elders, how the hell am I going to defeat the Cult Leader?
He thought to himself in utter dismay.
For the next several monts, he was lost in thought. In the end, he heaved a dejected and helpless sigh. He then conjured a piece of parchnt and a quill and began writing a letter.
He was tired of doing everything by himself.
Now, just for a single instant, he needed a mont of respite. He truly needed it.
After sealing the letter, he summoned the white owl and dispatched it through the Spirit World.
Adam rose to his feet and walked to a quiet corner of his laboratory. There, a warm bed was waiting for him.
He left all his worries behind, and the mont he lay down, he was already asleep almost instantly.
***
In the dark of the night, three Twilight Brotherhood mbers circled a particular building in the heart of the Northern Quarter, ensuring that the place they were about to enter wasn’t a trap.
About an hour ago, Elrod Firvele had received a letter from Adam, stating the discovery of the Cult spy and the events that took place subsequently.
The raven-haired youth had warned him not to go alone, because there was a chance that the Elder from the Inner Circle was still at the location.
Although it was unlikely for such an intense battle to take place inside the city—since it would create a lot of commotion—Elrod still thought it wise to take two more fellow Wardens with him.
They were Krummor Grimriver and Kenelm Bowman.
After ensuring the nearby places didn’t have any enemies lying in ambush, the three of them silently and cautiously made their way to the residence of that Cult spy.
In the letter, Adam had described in great detail everything his serpent had witnessed, preparing the three Wardens for what awaited them in the spy’s bedroom.
Yet, even with that forewarning, the sight that t them caused their faces to darken.
The man’s body had been crucified against the stone wall, his arms stretched wide, each palm nailed through with thick iron spikes.
Blood had long since dried in streaks down his arms, forming dark, rust-colored trails along the wall.
His face was a grotesque horror. The skin was entirely flayed, leaving behind only the skull, with traces of gore, the empty eye sockets blankly staring into nothing.
On the man’s bare chest, flesh had been carved away, letter by letter, to reveal a chilling ssage written in bloody gouges:
“Hell Opens Its Gates For Ravenfell.”
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