Karn led them through twisting alleys and quiet rchant streets, navigating with the ease of soone who had morized Stoneveil’s skeleton. Eventually, they stopped at a half-shuttered stall. The wood was splintered, and the crates beside it lay cracked open like old bones.
“A caravan got hit here last night,” Karn said, crouching. “Client said the guards ran, but sothing doesn’t add up.”
Towan knelt beside the wreckage. “There’s… black gunk in the splinters.”
Elliot brushed his fingers along a sar on the stone wall. It shimred faintly, like ink soaked in Essentia.
“Corruption residue,” he muttered.
“Sharp eye,” Karn nodded. “That’s not normal bandit work. They’re either using cursed tools… or soone’s feeding them corrupted Essentia.”
Towan looked up. “Wait—is that even possible?”
Karn didn’t answer. He just smirked and nodded toward the alley. “Let’s find out.”
He pulled a folded paper from his belt and handed it over. “Here. rchant’s report.”
Elliot and Towan scanned it.
Three attacks in the last week. All traveling vendors. All cargo missing. All guards vanished.
“The commissioner wants to move his goods but is too scared he’ll be next,” Karn added.
“Why doesn’t he just hire bodyguards?” Towan asked.
“That’s the thing. The other vendors did. Guards vanished, crates gone.”
He stood. “No blood. No struggle. Just... silence.”
That wasn’t normal bandit behavior. Whenever there was a raid, there’d be sothing—a weapon left behind, a splash of blood, a dent in a wall. This? It was like the victims had vanished mid-step.
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They headed to the next attack site. Sa thing.
Sa quiet street.
Sa splintered crates.
Sa trail of black crust on the cobblestone.
Karn crouched and touched it. “This slls sketchy,” he muttered. “I’ve been in Stoneveil a while. I’ve never seen this kind of Essentia anywhere near here.”
Elliot and Towan froze.
They hadn’t recognized it at first.
But now?
Now it was obvious.
That corrupted pulse. That sharp, wrong shimr.
It was the sa as back in Heartwood.
The sa twisted Essentia that burned through the trees. That killed their ho.
“...It’s the sa,” Towan whispered.
Elliot clenched his jaw. (The bandits are backed by the corrupted zone…)
Even Towan could tell now—the incidents weren’t random.
They were branches from the sa rotting tree.
The thought of reporting to the guild lingered on their minds.
But so did anger.
For weeks, they’d tried not to think about Heartwood. Tried to bury it beneath training, missions, and long walks through cities that didn’t know their nas.
But here it was—again. The sa corruption. The sa Essentia. The sa scent of sothing twisted creeping in from the shadows.
Neither brother said it. But the decision settled between them like a blade drawn in silence:
They would handle this themselves.
They began questioning shopkeepers near the attack sites.
The first—a tired man behind a stall of dusty fruit—shrugged. “Didn’t see a thing.”
But Elliot caught it: her eyes flicked three tis toward a narrow alley to the east. Fast. Reflexive. Fearful.
The second shopkeeper—a cloth vendor—flat-out refused to speak. His hands trembled slightly as he folded a scarf for no one.
The third didn’t even let them finish the question.
The mont Elliot ntioned the missing vendors, she snapped:
“Get out. Now.”
They left, and only then did she breathe again.
“They’re definitely being threatened,” Elliot said as they stepped back into the street. His voice was low but tight.
“Well,” Towan muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets, “if I heard both people and crates were disappearing, I’d shut up too. What if I was next?”
Karn nodded slowly. “Yeah... makes sense.”
He paused. Then sothing flickered in his expression.
“What if…” he began, voice trailing off as he glanced at the alley, “we play bait?”
Towan raised a brow. “Wait—us?”
Karn’s smirk returned. “Two of us act as clueless rchants hauling sothing valuable. The third trails from a distance, hidden. If they’re watching, they’ll go for the easy target. And we catch them in the act.”
Elliot crossed his arms. “It’s risky.”
Karn’s voice lowered. “So is doing nothing. But this? This gives us a chance.”
Towan cracked his knuckles. “I call fake rchant.”
Elliot sighed. “Of course you do.”
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