In the consciousness space, the Deputy’s low voice spread through the silence.
“The investigation into the Sarkax Church can officially begin.”
His words paused briefly, and the silhouette shrouded in shadow seemed to scan the three figures around the round table.
“Seventh Seat, Ninth Seat, you should have already arrived on the western continent. However, given the Fourth Seat’s fate as a cautionary tale, and our currently vague assessment of the danger level within the Church, actual execution will undoubtedly be fraught with difficulty and extreme risk.”
The Deputy’s voice carried no emotion, yet every word weighed heavy as stone.
“Before we proceed with concrete actions, I need to know whether any of you already have leads, or have any insights on how to approach the investigation.”
After a brief silence, the hazy figure seated at the “8” position spoke first.
The eighth seat’s voice seemed filtered through countless layers, so muffled that his words could barely be made out:
“I’ve mobilized some grassroots members on the western continent, attempting to approach the Church’s periphery from different angles, including supply procurement, the social circles of low-ranking clergy, and civilian rumors about the recent disappearances.”
“However, the results have been less than satisfactory. Most of the dispatched personnel couldn’t obtain useful information, nor could they reach the core, and we couldn’t even confirm whether the missing persons have a direct connection to the Church.”
“Those who tried to go deeper lost contact entirely—no word, no trace. The sporadic intel that managed to come back couldn’t be pieced together into anything valuable.”
“Now… the grassroots members have generally developed reluctance and resistance toward related tasks, and the available manpower is shrinking. Even peripheral reconnaissance suffered heavy losses—a testament to how deep the Church’s waters run and how tight their defenses are.”
The eighth seat’s report weighed the already oppressive atmosphere down further.
The Deputy showed no surprise, as if he had anticipated this. He spoke again, his voice steady but carrying undeniable pressure:
“It seems conventional methods yield little. Truly valuable leads may still require cadre-level members to personally go deeper before anything can be obtained.”
His gaze swept slowly across the Seventh Seat and the Ninth Seat.
“So, regarding the preliminary reconnaissance of the Church’s core area—which of you two is willing to take on the task?”
The Deputy’s voice echoed through the empty consciousness space, and the atmosphere suddenly grew tense.
The Fourth Seat’s death hung over the round table like an invisible curse.
Being able to silently eliminate a seventh-tier mage skilled in concealment and escape meant the killer’s strength and methods defied conventional understanding.
Voluntarily accepting this task was no different from throwing oneself into the most dangerous heart of darkness, becoming the next likely sacrifice.
Among the cadres of Black Utopia, who hadn’t survived countless brushes with death and schemed their way to the present?
Passion and self-sacrifice were scarce commodities here; survival and self-interest were the eternal themes.
For a moment, no one answered.
The Deputy didn’t seem to be in a hurry either, simply waiting in silence.
And Sefina was waiting precisely for this moment of silence and deadlock.
The outline of her consciousness shifted slightly, as if she were undergoing fierce inner turmoil. A few seconds later, a cool, clear voice spoke:
“I’ll go.”
“Oh?”
A hint of clear surprise finally slipped into the Deputy’s voice.
That was unexpected. The shadow seemed to ripple slightly—clearly, the Ninth Seat volunteering had caught him off guard.
With the danger plainly in sight, a cadre was actually willing to risk their life?
Sefina knew this would raise suspicion, but she had to accept this task.
Only by becoming the direct executor of the mission could she “legitimately” report information to the Deputy, feeding him those carefully screened, processed, or even completely fabricated pieces of “intelligence.”
This was the key step in her plan to divert the Deputy’s and the Organization’s attention down the wrong path.
However, pure “dedication” would look too fake within the Organization.
She needed to present a condition—one that fit the persona of a “shrewd cadre” and was genuinely beneficial to herself.
“But…”
Sefina’s tone turned at just the right moment, carrying the calm of calculated deliberation.
“The Fourth Seat’s fate is right before our eyes. His mastery of dark magic was already top-tier in survival and concealment, yet he still fell.”
“If I go deep into the tiger’s den without sufficiently powerful means of self-preservation, I’m afraid I’d only be going in without coming back, needlessly depleting the Organization’s combat strength.”
Sefina paused briefly, as if weighing her words, then stated clearly:
“I need some support… such as a copy of the ancient text on the Teleportation magic research method in the Organization’s collection.”
The words “Teleportation” seemed to make the very “air” in the consciousness space freeze for an instant.
That was one of the forbidden magics rumored to belong to the ancient Demonkind, involving profound laws of space.
Its legacy had been nearly severed across the entire eastern and western continents’ magical traditions. Records were extremely rare, and its value was beyond question.
The Ninth Seat wasn’t asking for ordinary “support”—she was demanding a treasure that would make countless high-tier mages green with envy.
From beneath the Deputy’s shadow, a silent sneer seemed to emanate.
“Heh. That fits the Organization’s logic. Without profit, what motivation is there? Using mission risk as leverage to exchange for a leap in personal power—this trade… fits the Organization’s logic quite well.”
The Deputy let out a low laugh.
“The Ninth Seat certainly thinks things through. Indeed, compared to the secrets the Church might be hiding, a copy of this magic codex is nothing much. The Organization isn’t lacking in that regard.”
He agreed.
“The extraction location and method for the codex will be delivered to you separately through an encrypted channel later.”
The Deputy’s voice returned to business:
“Seventh Seat, eighth seat, you’ll be responsible for external support, intelligence coordination, and providing cover and backup for the Ninth Seat’s operations when necessary. You may coordinate the specific division of duties among yourselves.”
Finally, he looked toward Sefina’s consciousness outline, his tone carrying a clear deadline pressure:
“Ninth Seat, I’m giving you one month. Within one month, I need to see valuable preliminary intelligence on the Church’s core area. At the very least, it should give us a relatively clear assessment of the nature and scale of the potential threat.”
“Understood.”
Sefina’s reply was concise and firm, betraying not a trace of hesitation.
Provide intelligence?
She was already prepared to redirect the Deputy’s and the Organization’s attention toward the “enemy situation” she had meticulously woven.
That was exactly what she wanted.
The meeting ended in silence, with each party lost in their own thoughts.
The consciousness link severed, and an invisible vortex pulled Sefina’s awareness back to reality.
In her bedroom, Sefina slowly opened her eyes.
Outside the window, the night was as dark as ink—the deepest hour. Only cold moonlight filtered through the window, casting vague shadows on the floor.
She sat up from the bed, leaning against the soft headboard, her wine-red eyes gleaming with calm, sharp light in the darkness.
The first step of the plan had been taken.
She had successfully accepted the investigation task and, with a reasonable justification, secured the opportunity to study the Teleportation magic.
This wasn’t just a trump card for survival—it might prove invaluable at critical moments in the future.
The Deputy’s wariness and calculation were expected, but the one-month intelligence deadline actually gave her room to maneuver.
Sefina could easily “manufacture” leads that seemed plausible yet were deliberately misleading, steering the Organization’s investigative forces in the direction she wanted.
Sefina’s fingertips unconsciously traced the magic ring belonging to Black Utopia, her mind racing with countless thoughts.
If everything went smoothly…
Perhaps this would be more than just an investigation into the Church.
Perhaps Sefina could find an opportunity to turn this against the one who had kept her…
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