Chương 25: Unfortunate Fortune

The building of the Nether World sect's branch was surrounded on all sides by grey, enormous stone walls, with an entrance featuring an equally large gate topped with a black wooden plaque bearing the name at its center and the branch number in the lower right corner. It was the seventh branch of the Nether World sect.

But in reality, according to the locals, it was actually the tenth branch the sect had established, about twenty years ago, after an upheaval at their headquarters, where one of their core elders had gone berserk and squared up for a four-on-one duel. To this day, the reason behind that turn of events remained unknown to mortals. Except that right after the chaotic event, the Nether World sect headquarters issued a sect branch to be built at the seventh circle.

Nero waited outside for a bit and observed his surroundings. He'd never really set foot around here, so he took some time to get used to the peaceful, almost strict atmosphere, which was nearly worlds apart from the environment he usually lived in. In front of the gate stood two guardsmen, one on either side of the doors, dressed in black and ash-colored clothing, spears in hand. Currently, they were eyeing him with suspicion. Nero sighed at the possible hassle he'd have to deal with and approached them.

The guardsman on the left made a clicking sound against the concrete flooring of their station.

"State your business," he demanded, voice curt. Nero felt relief at not being addressed strangely. Then again, he'd come dressed in a set of white robes, hair brushed neatly. The clothing belonged to old man Saru, whose height was nearly the same as his, so it fit rather well. It also made him look decent enough not to be mistaken for a slum rat.

"Umm, I've come here on behalf of the former direct disciple of the sect, Zyran." He produced the letter and showed it to the guardsman. A set of coded words marked its surface, which he felt fairly confident these men would recognize.

"I've been instructed to hand this over to one of the great elders of the sect." The guardsman squinted at the letter and gulped, before the two of them exchanged a glance. Both nodded to each other, communicating something wordlessly, then dipped their heads toward him at once. Nero smiled inwardly, feeling a touch smug at the implication. Direct disciples are no joke, huh.

The guardsman promptly pulled the door open with a creak of wood grinding against concrete and dashed inside, while the other guardsman ushered him in. Nero obliged and entered the sect compound for the first time. Inside, the whole compound was indeed built of concrete and stone, just as the rumors described, with a wide staircase leading up to a larger hall with an open entrance. He could see the guardsman who'd run in first climbing the stairs almost effortlessly.

Within seconds, he'd scaled over a hundred steps and vanished into the hall. The guardsman behind Nero shut the doors and guided him through the compound. Disciples in blue uniforms trimmed with white went about their work nearby. Large gardens flanked both ends of the compound, and the one to the left featured a dirt-filled ground fenced off by wooden beams, with chairs and large water jars set to the side, alongside all manner of wooden weaponry on display. The guardsman caught his gaze and chuckled.

"That's our sect's training facility you're looking at, sir guest." Nero gave the man a dubious look. Sir? Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. He continued.

"As you can see, it's mostly empty right now, since most of the outer disciples are busy with their daytime chores. Come evening, that place gets crowded. It's where most of us practice and refine our Cypher Arts." Nero nodded along as the man led him to a single white stone pavilion at the center of the garden. A table sat at its center, flanked by a chair on either side. Climbing up into the pavilion, the guardsman gestured for him to take a seat, offering a cheerful smile.

As Nero sat, the guardsman turned to leave, but Nero stopped him.

"So, you're an outer disciple too?" The guardsman nodded, a self-deprecating smile on his face.

"That I am, and this is my 'daytime work.'" Nero asked the one thing he actually wanted to know.

"What's the pay? Also, can any outer disciple get this job, or do you need connections?" The guardsman gave him an odd look.

"It pays extremely well, for a job an outer disciple can land—ten spirit stones a month. As for the other part, yes, you need one." Nero nodded as the man left the pavilion after another polite bow. From the question he'd just asked, he could practically watch his own worth drop in the guy's eyes. Not surprising. After all, who with a good connection to a direct disciple would ever bother asking such a low-class question? Still, he'd gathered firsthand information about the pay.

Ten spirit stones typically went for ten whole gold crowns, especially the high-quality ones a sect this large would provide. On top of that: access to all kinds of Cypher Arts, lessons from actual masters, and entry to their Grand Library, home to one of the largest collections of Cypher Arts in all twelve circles. Nero felt genuinely envious of those disciples. His growing envy was interrupted by the arrival of an elderly man who looked to be in his fifties.

His blue robes were trimmed with glossy silver at the cuffs. As the man entered the pavilion, Nero rose at once and walked over to greet him. The man raised a hand and settled into the chair across from him. His expression looked almost tense. With a flicker of anxiety, Nero sat back down. The elder stayed silent for a while. Another white-robed disciple soon arrived with a tray of tea and snacks. Only after gesturing for Nero to take a sip of tea, and taking one himself, did the elder finally speak.

His voice was nearly neutral, though Nero caught a trace of sadness beneath it.

"So, Zyran's dead." It wasn't really a question, but Nero nodded anyway.

"Explain to me what managed to kill a man like him within the seventh circle." The elder's voice sharpened. Nero began recounting the whole story. …. It took nearly half an hour, the elder sipping his tea as he listened.

The altered version, that is—Nero had deliberately left out the part where he'd consumed the lesser Oni's gene talent, mentioning instead only that he'd been knocked unconscious after getting beaten by the lesser Oni, and that by the time Elder Zyran had healed him, his life had nearly reached its end. Zyran had thanked him for helping his village before disappearing to see his daughter one last time, the Oni nowhere to be found.

This implied that Zyran had in fact killed the Lesser Oni, and that its body had simply vanished by the time Nero woke up. It also lined up neatly with the story he'd already spread at the seventh circle's administration office. Naturally, the elders were no fools—they'd certainly inspect Sylvia's body once she was brought in, since, as the elder had informed him, that letter was indeed a referral for Sylvia to be accepted as a disciple.

They wouldn't find any gene talent in her, which would only reinforce his story. But that still wasn't quite enough. If he simply told them everything outright, it would indirectly imply that Zyran had given the gene talent to his daughter. But what if it had actually gone to him instead, and he was pointing toward Sylvia just to slip away scot-free? Which was exactly why he made the following outrageous request of the elder.

Just as the elder was about to leave, having told him that Sylvia would soon be brought to the sect, Nero abruptly stood and dropped straight to the elder's feet in a kowtow.

"Please, great elder, take me in as an outer disciple!" he shouted. The elder turned slowly. Nero couldn't see his face, but he was certain it was twisting in disdain. A swift refusal seemed inevitable. And what criminal would ever want to linger around a knights' headquarters? None! With a swift refusal from this old man, he'd be free to go on his way without suspicion!

"Hmm. Disciple Chang, take care of him for me." He told the disciple who'd brought in the tray of snacks. Yes! Nero rejoiced internally. [Half an hour later]"What the fuck?" he cursed, drawing raised eyebrows from the blue-robed disciples around him.

"Junior Nero, such foul language is unbefitting of our esteemed sect's disciples," the senior outer disciple chided him.