On the Empire’s border, deep within the Abandoned Silver Mine.
This place was once a thriving Mithril Mine, but after the veins ran dry thirty years ago, it was abandoned.
Now, it has become one of the secret bases for the Dark Beast Legion. In the space carved out at the end of the mine shaft, flickering Magic Lamps cast a dim light, and the air is thick with a strange blend of herbs, blood, and beastly odors.
In the center of the room, a Crystal Ball the size of a fist floats in midair, its surface swirling with a deep blue glow.
A lone figure stands quietly in front of the Crystal Ball.
She appears to be about thirteen or fourteen years old, dressed in a plain gray robe, with long dark brown hair tied simply at the back. Her face is pale, her features delicate, but in her gray eyes lies a near-obsessive focus.
The Stitcher, founder and leader of the Dark Beast Legion, once Krolova’s most prized apprentice.
A frost-blurred face appears within the Crystal Ball, the voice distorted and cold from magical tampering.
“Leader, the base near the academy has been confirmed destroyed. All stationed members were captured, the transformation equipment and experiment records completely seized, and Mistra Magic Academy’s alert level has been raised to maximum.”
The Stitcher listened in silence. But from the slight furrow in her brow, it was clear she was in a foul mood.
“Useless fools! I said that base wasn’t safe—those old men at the academy have noses sharp as hounds!”
The speaker was a burly man with a scar on his face—Evil Trainer, one of the Dark Beast Legion’s officers.
“Hmph, good thing I had Parasitic Beasts prepared on those idiots for silencing, or else even our headquarters’ coordinates might’ve been exposed… By the way, who sent that Anonymized Letter? Eye of Truth, Black Sun Cult, All-Magic Society… Their bases in the magic capital have all been wiped out!”
A tall, thin man with a hoarse voice spoke up next, dressed in an alchemist’s robe stained with every manner of grime, fiddling with a few small vials in his hand—Forbidden Alchemist.
“A traitor, or…some third party we don’t know about?”
A cloaked figure standing farther away chimed in casually, several empty summoning beast balls hanging at his waist—Plunderer.
If Camilla were here, she would recognize them at a glance as the Three Beastmasters, the core officers of the Dark Beast Legion, each one at the eighth tier, all notorious on the Imperial Wanted List.
The frost within the Crystal Ball continued to report.
“According to internal council sources, the letter was delivered via the Cain Chamber of Commerce’s urgent channel. The sender’s information was fully confidential. The intelligence in the letter was extremely precise, even including the aliases and activity patterns of the low-level members.”
The Stitcher listened quietly all the while. Only now did she gently touch the surface of the Crystal Ball, deep blue light flowing beneath her fingertips.
“I don’t care about the losses on the colleagues’ side. What about the Dark Chimera?”
She asked, her voice calm and unreadable.
“Still under heavy surveillance in the academy’s Seal Zone behind the mountain. At least three professors are on duty in shifts, and Headmaster Krolova herself has been seen in the area frequently lately. The odds of a successful forced rescue… are extremely low.”
“Low or not, we have to go!”
Evil Trainer slapped the table and stood.
“Leader, the Dark Chimera’s abilities are too important for us! It can produce a steady supply of low-tier beasts—if we save it, our army can grow tenfold, even ninefold, in three months!”
“But the risk is too great. Mistra is a dragon’s den right now. That old witch is sitting there in person—no matter how many people we send, it’s suicide.”
Forbidden Alchemist shook his head in objection.
“Then we find a way to lure her away!”
Evil Trainer roared.
The moment those words fell, the room fell into a brief silence. Even Evil Trainer and the other Beastmasters glanced at each other—none dared claim they could go.
After all, even at their level, if they faced Krolova, their odds were basically fifty-fifty… as in, they’d be killed five times in five seconds.
But at that moment, the Stitcher spoke.
“No matter. I will take action personally.”
“Leader?”
The Three Beastmasters gasped in unison, clearly startled by her words.
“No! Leader, you’re our core—you mustn’t take such a risk! That old witch must have laid out a net just waiting for you!”
Evil Trainer was first to react, shaking his head vigorously.
“Besides, Mistra’s Barrier System is very attuned to your magical signature. The moment you get close, you’ll be detected. Why don’t we… think this over again?”
Forbidden Alchemist quickly tried to persuade her, cold sweat breaking out on his back.
Plunderer stayed silent, but his clenched fists under his cloak betrayed his worry.
The reason for their concern wasn’t just loyalty. The main point was, the Dark Beast Legion only had this one ninth-tier “boss”—as long as she sat at the helm, the Imperial Royalty wouldn’t dare make a move. Without the Stitcher, the “friendly” Colleague Organizations would devour them in no time.
If she was gone, the Imperial Royalty wouldn’t even need to move first—those “kind and friendly” Colleagues would tear them apart on their own.
There was a pause from the frost in the Crystal Ball before it spoke up as well.
“Leader, from my observations, Headmaster Krolova has barely left the Core Area of the academy lately. If you act personally, the risk is indeed…”
“Enough.”
The Stitcher’s voice was still calm, but carried an undeniable authority.
She withdrew her hand from the Crystal Ball, gray eyes sweeping over everyone present.
Though she looked like just a thirteen- or fourteen-year-old girl, her gaze made the Three Beastmasters—fearsome eighth-tier criminals—feel pressured.
“The Dark Chimera’s abilities are critical to our plans moving forward.”
She spoke slowly, her voice cutting through the dim room.
“Krolova—no, the Headmaster—is indeed formidable. But that’s precisely why I must be the one to go.”
The Stitcher raised her left hand, staring at a gruesome scar on the back, her expression flickering for a moment.
“Some things must be done by me personally.”
She murmured, then looked toward Forbidden Alchemist.
“You will lead an elite squad. While I draw Krolova’s attention, infiltrate the back mountain and rescue the Dark Chimera. Remember, the objective is rescue, not a fight. Get it out and withdraw immediately—do not linger for battle.”
“But Leader, you—”
“I’ll be fine.”
The Stitcher cut him off, a complicated look flickering in her gray eyes.
“I know the Teacher’s habits… well enough.”
The room fell silent once more.
“That settles it.”
The Stitcher turned, her back to the Crystal Ball and the Three Beastmasters.
“Frost, maintain contact. Also, pass along my regards to that person. Evil Trainer, prepare enough Battle Beasts. Plunderer…”
She paused.
“You’ll come with me.”
“Yes.”
Plunderer bowed.
The Crystal Ball’s light gradually faded, Frost’s image disappeared, and the Three Beastmasters filed out one by one, leaving only the Stitcher standing alone in the dim light.
She walked to the wall, where a worn Portrait hung.
In the painting, Krolova still looked so young, holding her rabbit plush, smiling as brightly as the sun. Beside her stood a timid-looking little girl with dark brown hair and a nervous gaze—that was the Stitcher from many years ago, back when she was still called “Eleanor”.
“Teacher…”
The Stitcher reached out to gently touch the Portrait, her fingertips trembling.
“You said once that I lost my way. But look—I made it this far, and… I’ll keep moving forward.”
She withdrew her hand and left the room. The hem of her gray robe brushed the floor, her footsteps echoing through the empty mine tunnels, fading into the distance.
Meanwhile, hundreds of kilometers away at Mistra Academy, Camilla had just returned to her dorm room and sneezed.
“Tch, why do I have a bad feeling all of a sudden?”