The agreed-upon meeting time arrived as scheduled.
Prior to that, the Deputy had personally contacted Sefina, but only informed her of the exact time and the mandatory attendance requirement.
The content of the meeting remained tightly under wraps.
Therefore, all the mysteries surrounding this sudden collective meeting could only be unveiled that night.
The night grew deeper.
Sefina stayed alone in her dormitory room.
She sat on the edge of the bed, raised her hand, and her gaze fell upon the mana ring on her left hand.
With a slight thought, a thread of mana infused into it, and the ring’s surface emitted a dark red glow.
The meeting had begun.
Sefina hesitated no longer, lying back onto the soft bed, relaxing her body and mind, and allowing her consciousness to sink and detach, following the guidance of the mana ring…
When she “opened her eyes” again, she found herself in that familiar and hazy Consciousness Space.
The only clear things were the massive black round table in the center and the nine azure blue candles on it.
Unlike the temporary meetings Sefina had attended before, this time almost every seat around the table was filled.
Besides the seats marked with numbers from “two” to “nine,” there were two larger seats at the table, occupied by two figures—the Deputy, and the rarely seen Chief of Black Utopia.
The cadres seemed to have already been there for a while.
In the hazy light and shadows, one could see their varied postures, and their low voices echoed through the space like the buzzing of a swarm of bees.
“Who knows? Suddenly calling everyone, even the Chief showed up—what’s going on?”
“The Deputy’s been acting secretive lately.”
“I’ve been a bit short on ‘materials’ lately. Might as well bring it up.”
“Could it be that ‘that plan’ has made a breakthrough?”
“Hmph, a breakthrough? More like another mess that we all need to clean up after.”
“Why hasn’t that Fourth Seat guy shown up? Is he the only one with airs?”
“Probably tinkering with his Shadow Art in some corner again.”
The truth or falsehood of these conversations was hard to discern.
In Black Utopia, a mix of truth and lies and mutual vigilance was the norm.
Everyone could be a source of information or a smoke screen to mislead others.
Sefina sat down in her seat.
Her wine-red “gaze” swept across the round table and finally fixed on the two silent figures—the Deputy and the Chief.
They sat there like a deep pool of water, indifferent to the noisy discussions around them, exuding a suffocating pressure that made one’s heart pound.
Sefina frowned slightly, trying to discern more information from those hazy outlines, but it was futile.
She still didn’t know the true identities and appearances of the Deputy and the Chief.
This was one of the organization’s most core secrets.
Yet, as she observed, it seemed she wasn’t the only one to notice the anomaly.
Around the round table, there should have been eleven figures seated, but now, upon careful count, there appeared to be only ten hazy silhouettes.
Sefina’s gaze quickly swept over the numbered seats.
Two, three, five, six, seven, eight, nine…
Where was four?
The seat marked with the number “four” was empty.
At first, the others might have noticed it too, but most assumed that the Fourth Seat, known for his weirdness and reclusiveness, was just habitually late.
After all, even in previous meetings, he hadn’t always been on time.
The noisy discussions continued, and the topic gradually shifted from guessing the meeting’s purpose back to the absent Fourth Seat, with tones of mockery and dissatisfaction.
Just then, the Chief, who had been as silent as a statue, suddenly moved.
A deep and authoritative voice sounded without warning, instantly overpowering all the noise: “Everyone is here. Let’s begin.”
Including Sefina, all the cadres’ consciousness forms visibly trembled, and their hazy outlines wavered unsteadily.
‘Everyone is here? But the Fourth Seat’s place is obviously empty!’
‘Could it be… Could the Fourth Seat have…?!’
Uncertainty and suspicion spread around the round table.
Even some of the originally indifferent cadres instantly tensed up.
The Deputy’s figure remained silent, as if expecting the Chief’s announcement and everyone’s reaction.
After a brief dead silence, even more intense uproar and speculation followed: “Everyone’s here? But the fourth seat…” “What’s going on?!” “Did that guy defect? Or…” “Could it be…”
Amidst the chaotic discussions, the Chief’s low voice rang out again, cutting off all speculation like an icy verdict: “The Fourth Seat is dead.”
In an instant, all the noisy chatter ceased.
Every hazy figure froze.
‘Dead? The Fourth Seat? That Fourth Seat whose strength reached the seventh tier mid-stage and who had a cautious personality?’
The Chief continued calmly, without any emotion: “His mana ring has gone dark.”
These words left no room for doubt in everyone’s minds.
They all knew that the mana ring issued by the organization for communication was no ordinary demon tool.
It was a special demon tool deeply bound to the wearer’s life mana and blood.
Once the wearer died completely, the mana ring would lose all its active light.
And as the controller of the mana ring source, the Chief must possess a higher-tier demon tool capable of sensing the state of all rings.
The silence lasted only a brief moment.
Then, various murmurs started again, but their content had changed: “Seventh tier mid-stage… Not many people can kill him.”
“Dead? How did he die?” “Hmph, probably offended someone he shouldn’t have, bit off more than he could chew.” “Who knows? Anyway… one less troublemaker isn’t bad.”
There was no grief, no remembrance.
Only cold, almost ruthless analysis, and a hint of detached indifference.
After all, this was Black Utopia, where everyone pursued their own interests.
At that moment, the Chief turned his “gaze” to the Deputy, who had been silent all along.
“Deputy, explain the situation.”
The Deputy’s figure gave a slight nod and responded concisely: “Yes.”
“Seven days ago, I dispatched the Fourth Seat to the western continent, to the capital city of the Sarkax Empire, to carry out a classified mission—infiltrate the local Church and steal an ancient text recording a specific ancient forbidden magic.”
The capital city of the Sarkax Empire… the Church…
When the word “Church” came out of the Deputy’s mouth, Sefina’s hazy consciousness form shook violently, and her pupils contracted sharply!
The Deputy’s voice continued: “The mission was set for one day. However, long after the agreed report time the next day, the Fourth Seat was still unheard from.”
“I attempted to contact him through the mana ring, but there was no response. It wasn’t until the Chief informed me… that I confirmed the Fourth Seat had died.”
“The location of his fall… is most likely in or near the Church.”
Hearing this, Sefina’s heart turned ice-cold.
The vague guesses from before now became crystal clear.
Sefina almost instantly understood what the Fourth Seat had encountered.
This definitely involved her past with the Church on the western continent when she was “Holmes.”
It also related to why “Holmes” was being hunted…