Chương 371: Chapter 357

When Sam reached the small ladder, he held himself there – still invisible thanks to the bandolier filled with metal plates – and listened carefully for anyone approaching, while his mana sense spread outward, brushing across the entire area. There weren't many people nearby, which made sense; from what he could tell, this was some kind of private docking zone reserved for the wealthy and their leisure boats.

Guards were present in decent numbers, but their attention was focused outward, more concerned with preventing unauthorized entry than monitoring anyone leaving. Not that he had any complaints. If anything, it made things easier. This was perfect.

He hauled himself up the ladder in one smooth motion, letting the clean magic strip the seawater from his form without letting a single drop fall onto the dock, then, still invisible, he crouched low and began moving toward the nearest building with quick, controlled steps. Through his mana sight, he identified it as a fairly standard warehouse – part storage, part workshop – likely used to house repair materials and tools for ships.

A few side rooms contained beds and desks, but they appeared neglected, as though rarely used. Within seconds, he crossed the open stretch and reached the double doors. He paused, considering simply opening them, but discarded the idea almost immediately. Instead, he traced the building's layout through mana perception until he found a smaller, more practical entrance, then slipped along the wall toward it. At the door, he paused again and conducted a thorough scan for traps – both physical and magical. Nothing.

Aside from the lock itself, the door was completely unprotected. Sam frowned, then checked again, more carefully this time. The frame, the hinges, the surrounding wall, even the ground beneath his feet – everything came up empty.

'Really?' he thought, faintly amused.

'An army outside, and nothing on the warehouse door? That's just asking for trouble.' Raising a finger, he directed a thin, precise thread of void mana into the lock, erasing the internal mechanism as cleanly as if it had never existed. Then, with deliberate care, he eased the door open just enough to slip through and immediately closed it behind him, leaving no sign of entry. Inside, he paused to orient himself. The warehouse was dim, though not entirely dark.

Thin slivers of light filtered through the gaps in the wooden walls, revealing a cluttered interior. Crates stacked beneath tarps, thick coils of hemp rope, heavy chains that looked as though they hadn't been touched in decades, and all manner of miscellaneous harbor equipment filled the space. Everything was coated in a fine layer of dust, and the air carried that unmistakable harbor scent – a blend of spices, sweat, alcohol, fish, and sewage.

Shaking off the distraction, Sam moved deeper inside, weaving between the clutter toward one of the smaller rooms on the ground floor. The ritual didn't require perfect precision, but this room aligned well with his mental map, making it an ideal starting point. And given the state of the building, he doubted anyone would stumble across it anytime soon. At the inner door, he repeated the process – void mana, precise erasure, silent entry.

Inside, the room contained several metal bunk beds stripped of mattresses and a row of open lockers filled with nothing but cobwebs and abandoned insect nests. Grinning faintly, he released his invisibility. The metal plates in his bandolier appeared slightly singed, the strain of channeling sustained mana leaving its mark despite the specialized alloy. He stored the bandolier away, then brought his hands together with a soft clap.

"Time for shenanigans…" he whispered. Before he could begin, however, the persistent blinking at the edge of his vision finally demanded attention. With a quiet sigh, he opened the notification. A large system window sprang into view. [New quest acquired!] [Salacious Sunny Shenanigans!] [You have chosen to attempt the unthinkable. After infiltrating a heavily fortified city, you now intend to construct the Sunburst Runic Circle. Whether this is brilliance or madness remains to be seen…] [Tasks: Place the seven SUNBURST devices in the correct positions: 0/7 Engrave the necessary runic circles at the correct positions: 0/7 Complete the Sunburst Runic Circle: 0/1 Survive 0/1] [Time Limit: None] [Penalty: Death, Ritually Sacrificed,???] Accepting the quest, Sam dismissed the screen and got to work. He pulled out his notes, then began shifting the bunk beds aside until he had cleared a workable space.

Kneeling, he placed his palm against the rough stone floor and used earth magic to hollow out a precise cavity for the first SUNBURST device. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. Carefully, he retrieved it and lowered it into place, letting it sink slightly deeper before channeling a brief pulse of mana through it. The runic inscriptions flickered to life as a small pulse of mana ran through the surface of the device.

With another controlled exertion of will, the stone sealed itself over the device, followed by a smoothing pass that erased any sign of disturbance. Then came the delicate part. While he could shape the larger patterns with earth magic, experience had taught him that true runic efficiency required manual carving. Magic could imitate the form, but not the intent. So he worked by hand. Twenty minutes later, he was still kneeling, finishing the final rune. The moment he completed it, he felt the shift.

Faint at first – a faint current of mana was drawn toward the circle, causing it to glow with a dim, warm, golden light. The air above it shimmered slightly, the temperature rising just enough to be noticeable in the cold room. Satisfied, he took out the bracelet he had prepared and aligned it with the newly created circle. The inset obsidian pulsed once, a small golden spark appearing in its depth before going dark the next moment. Connection established.

Then he set about restoring the room, carefully repositioning the bunk beds and scattering a few items across the circle to make the space look long abandoned. A final burst of wind sent dust swirling into the air, which slowly settled back down like a thin, gray snowfall. Only then did he step out and close the door behind him. A quick glance at the quest confirmed his progress.

[Place the seven SUNBURST devices in the correct positions: 1/7] [Engrave the necessary runic circles at the correct positions: 1/7] Nodding to himself, he turned toward the rickety staircase leading upward. This had been the easy part. Now he just had to do it six more times. Without getting caught.

"Child's play…" he murmured. Thankfully, the runic circle wouldn't degrade anytime soon, so there was no immediate rush. The real pressure came from a simpler concern: the longer he stayed inside Roserun, the higher the chance someone would notice something was off. From the upper floor, he peered out across the area and quickly identified a neighboring building with a flat, unobstructed roof, which made it an ideal path for traversal without needing to descend back into the open.

After taking a few extra seconds to sweep the surroundings with his mana sense and carefully observe the sluggish, almost indifferent patrol patterns of the guards below, he decided the timing was as good as it was going to get and moved. One smooth, controlled leap carried him cleanly across the gap, and from there he continued forward without hesitation, transitioning from the private dock area toward the denser sprawl of the city proper. As expected, the guards offered little resistance to his passage.

Most of them were far more interested in their conversations or in passing the time with casual games of cards than in maintaining any real vigilance, and while their presence created the illusion of security, it did very little to actually enforce it. Outside the city, the Blood Army had shown a level of readiness that bordered on paranoia, prepared for nearly any conceivable threat, yet within their own walls, that same caution seemed to dissolve into complacency.

There were patrols, certainly, and he could sense the presence of higher-level NPCs and even players moving through the streets, but beyond that, the city felt strangely unguarded. The only consistent precaution came in the form of occasional mana sweeps, wide and deliberate, though they were so easy to detect from a distance that avoiding them required little more than a moment of patience and a careful suppression of his own presence. It unsettled him. Deeply.

Because there were only two explanations that made any sense to him, and neither was particularly comforting. Either their defenses were so advanced, so far beyond his perception, that he simply could not detect them… Or they were genuinely this careless. He was not sure which possibility he disliked more. Had they not recently organized an infiltration into one of the most heavily defended cities in the Emerald Kingdom? Had they not proven, through their own actions, how effective such tactics could be?

So why, then, would they assume no one would turn those same methods against them? The lack of foresight was baffling. Sam continued moving across the rooftops, maintaining a steady pace while remaining mindful of his surroundings, occasionally flattening himself against the surface to avoid the line of sight of a passing patrol or pausing entirely to let a mana sweep pass harmlessly overhead before continuing on his way. For the most part, his progress remained unchallenged.

Ironically, the most persistent obstacle he encountered came not from guards or magical defenses, but from the local wildlife. Seagulls. The creatures had an unfortunate tendency to react loudly to sudden disturbances, and more than once he had to adjust his path or halt entirely to avoid triggering a flurry of irritated squawking that would have drawn attention to his position. When avoidance failed, he resorted to a more permanent solution. A brief, precise pulse of void mana, and the problem ceased to exist.

No more flying rats. There was, however, one moment that came uncomfortably close to going wrong. He had just landed on a narrow balcony when, at that exact instant, the wooden window covering beside him swung open, forcing him to react without thought. He twisted sharply to the side, pressing himself out of sight as his heart began hammering against his ribs with sudden intensity. For a second, he remained completely still, barely daring to breathe.

"Huh, I thought I heard something?" came a voice from inside, laced with mild confusion.

"Damn cats…" Sam waited a heartbeat longer before slowly exhaling, the tension easing from his body as the danger passed. He did not linger. Pulling himself up and away from the balcony, he resumed his route along the rooftops, making a mental note to avoid such exposed positions in the future while his pulse gradually returned to something resembling normal. Within a few minutes, he had slipped into an attic space in a modest building.

It was filled with old boxes and bird droppings, which, while unpleasant, made it an excellent hiding spot.

"I am vengeance, I am the night…" he muttered in a gravelly voice, then paused to sniff.

"And I smell like owl poop." Peering through a narrow opening, he observed the streets of Roserun below. The population looked rough – few women, fewer children, and almost no elderly. The children he did see moved like shadows, darting between alleys and occasionally glancing up at him with knowing grins before vanishing. Sam chose, very deliberately, to ignore that. He just hoped the fey would find whatever he was doing amusing and not cause any issues. His focus shifted to clothing.

His current armor was far too recognizable, and while he could alter his face, that alone wouldn't hold up under scrutiny. Even if he changed his face and pretended to be cosplaying, that would only work until he met someone with larger than room temperature intelligence. Fortunately, he had prepared for this.

After half an hour of observation, he turned away from the window and began pulling out clothing from his inventory, assembling a rough, worn outfit that matched the locals – cloak, leather armor, fitted trousers, and a hood. Technically, he could have put the clothing on before entering the city, but while there were numerous pictures on the net about the inside of the city, he wanted to make sure with his own eyes that they had chosen the correct pieces.

Then, maneuvering around in the small space, he put it on until he looked like everyone down the street. Rough cloak, leather armor, tight pants, and a hood, ready to be raised in case the wind changes and begins to bring in the rough sand from the outside. Nothing new. Everything convincingly used. Once dressed, he activated his Chameleon Mask. His features shifted into those of a middle-aged man with a scruffy beard, tangled curls, and a permanently irritated expression. Perfect.

After double-checking the attic for anything left behind, he waited for the right moment, then dropped down to the street. There, he retrieved a compact ladder, slung it over his shoulder, and set off with a purposeful scowl. After all, some truths were universal. Nobody stopped the annoyed guy carrying a ladder.