“Now that is an interesting claim. I believe you have evidence to back it up?” The general broke another moment of silence. Intense, but short.

  “If only my observation could be used as evidence, then no. But I believe this is significant enough that the council should be aware of,” Hiina said, her voice sharp and crystal clear, filling the room with even more tension.

  “Go ahead.” Her boss flicked his hand.

  “Dakrua can attest to this, as we had failed to locate the main lair of the cultist after spending almost a month in the forest.” She paused until the chef gave his nod. “In this period, we made contacts with some hunters in the forest, and used them to get a lead on the cultists. This allowed us to assault one of the cultist’s hideouts, but Wagenner and his right-hand man, Hatillup, slipped away from our encirclement. After that, we started to lose contact with the hunters, which at first we thought that they were just unhappy with the payment, but no, later we found out that they were being caught and imprisoned by the cultists.”

  His heart started to pound, not with excitement, but rage, as he started to realize what was going on. A bait. This particular word coming from the ice mage still stuck to his head. And the timing of the rescue from the enforcers back then after the summon of that stag, which he was so thankful for. No, they tracked him there. But how?

  Zalanir tapped his green robe where a smudge of blood-red was still vaguely visible. This one? Could also be the gray pants or the pair of treads which were hugging his feet at the moment. These three prizes that he had thought to be a generous payment from Hiina could be what they used to track him. But didn’t she pick them up randomly from the reinforcement cart?

  A bubble of light popped, blowing away doubtful clouds inside his mind. His fingers wormed into the small segment under his robe, where a particular brocade bag stayed out of sight. It was the only item that Putrieta had given him. No wonder the man went out of the way to help him back then. The scent. Faint, but still a trace. And it could’ve been all what a huntress like the woman standing next to him needed.

  He smiled wryly, ridiculing himself for being na?ve. Enforcer. And a captain, on top of that. Not regular ones. Still, no less than a bunch of assholes and a despicable occupation.

  “I’m okay. Don’t mind me.” He ignored the apology from Hiina, who just admitted their wrongdoing exactly the same as what he had discovered.

  No reaction from the council or Dakrua, except for the persistent gaze from the woman sitting next to the old man on the right. Her lips even curled up at some points during the report. What was that for? Mocking? Pity?

  “Continue!” the general commanded.

  Shaking his head, Zalanir continued to listen to what Hiina had to say. He would pay back this debt. For sure!

  “As a level 91 genius who had the strongest combat power in the field, and the fact that Wagenner wasn’t known for being a formidable fighter, I believe Putrieta was stalling in finishing the cultist boss. Not once, but twice, if we take into account our first assault as well. This hunt should’ve been a sure victory, but with some unknown and personal motives, he had allowed the massacre to happen. Even without Zalanir’s rampage, I am certain that the casualties would still be high. That’s all I have to say. Please have your own judgement.” Hiina bowed and kept her back bent for a few seconds.

  Zalanir heard a soft sigh coming from his left. Not the first one, but this breath was particularly long from the chef. Up to this point, Dakrua had said nothing. He was just standing there.

  Another dead period where there was minimal sounds inside the room. If one was to ignore the natural respiration process, there were only the clacks from the general’s fingers pattering the table, and the footsteps of the old man having left his chair to come near the pantry table in a corner. Then came a symphony of splashing, lapping, and clinging sound from there, followed by an earthy, novel scent wafting around in the air.

  “Dokun, any idea how the captain died there?” The one who broke the silence was the woman in the middle chair. An illusion or hologram only, but her voice still sounded very real.

  The general stopped his tapping and said, “I think everything hinged on the death of the black bear, which, as Hiina had mentioned, had released the soul vortexes and captured everything in its vicinity. Something must’ve happened there. What it was, I don’t know. Putrieta was a strong man, so theoretically that soul explosion shouldn’t kill. I am also as curious as you are on how my subordinate died.”

  Zalanir could feel the general’s eyes lingering on his spot at that last sentence before they moved toward the holographic woman, though he stayed calm. The passing-out excuse and the detail of the skill he had given was perfect, so even if they doubted him, what could they do?

  “I trust that you will give us a satisfying answer soon?” The woman returned the general’s eyes with confidence and a bit of authority, as if she was above him in the ranking inside this council. Who was she?

  “Don’t worry, I will dig into this.” Though without losing his ground, the leader of the enforcer answered with conviction. Then, the man shifted the topic back to the massacre. “From their testimonies, I think we are clear of this for now. Intentionally or not, the man right there had killed nearly one hundred people, including thirty enforcers and several hunters who were also our residents. Yebin is the main stronghold guarding the north, peace and rules have to be maintained. Every enforcer lost is a blow to that stability. Our stability. That sin is grave enough to pass him the highest level of punishment: DEATH!”

  Stolen story; please report.

  Both Dakrua and Hiina took two steps back, making him the center of attention.

  “Who are you to decide my life? Remember, you ask for my help first, not the other way around. Right, Hiina?” Zalanir kept his calm, not wanting to show the anger bubbling inside his mind. Did they just talk about killing him? What were they? He was invited here to retell what happened. A punishment, perhaps, but death?

  No sound came from Hiina’s spot, but suddenly, as if gravity was increased by ten-folds, his knees slammed into the rough granite floor, bursting the skin on the impact and splashing onto the white floor some red circular dots. It was hard for him to even twitch any of his muscles, but he fixed his gaze onto the source of the pressure: the general.

  “Know your place. This isn’t where you can blabber. Who, you asked? By me, who could kill you right now without even lifting a finger.”

  Zalanir squinted his eyes, trying to withstand the pressure and take everything about the general into his memory. Clean shave, well-cut short hair, dense eyebrows, and a tiger tattoo on the neck where the claws were three aged scars. Those piercing eyes signaled someone who was battle-hardened. A war veteran. But that didn’t matter. Looked like he had made an enemy even before even setting foot in this city. His time here, perhaps, wouldn’t be long.

  “The tea tastes bad now. Too cold.” A voice came from the direction of the pantry table. A dull clank sound of the cup finding the saucer registered in Zalanir’s ears.

  Then, the pressure was gone, as abrupt as how it had appeared. Without the enormous weight pressing on his back, Zalanir slowly got onto his feet. His knees burned with pain, but he endured. His eyes found an old man in the white robe in the corner, stopped there for a second before returning to the man in blue armor.

  He would remember this.

  Time ticked away. Air condensed and oppressed. He could even hear a chorus of the light taps of snow on the windows above.

  Now, what would the other councilors have to say, especially the old man who was supposedly the one just helped him? Would they be on the same page as the general?

  Zalanir diverted a bit of his attention to the huge lantern settling in a corner of his mind. He had just recovered, but seemed like he would need to let that soul lion come out again if he wanted even a chance to escape. He would have to act fast.

  He didn’t like this. Not a bit. This was inside the city. If he could survive these five — seven if he was to count the hologram and the old man who might be on his side — then the residents here could be in big trouble. He had no control of the soul at this moment, and he had no confidence at all versus what the general had just exerted.

  With the words of the old man, no one made any move. A signal. Everyone was waiting for the oldest person in this room to continue.

  “We as the council of the city have to protect the city, both its rules and its tradition.” The expected voice came up again after a whole minute. “The northern border is a dangerous place. Enemies were encroaching on us all the time, chipping away our manpower and waiting for the decisive moment. This is a man who has killed that betrayer, avenging the death and uprooting the disease of a cult that had been causing us trouble. We have to be fair in our assessment. Otherwise, we risk losing the trust that unites us in this very city.”

  Zalanir curled his fingers inward. A wise man. He had thought of arguing about this topic too, but having this notion spoken of from a third person was in every way no doubt a better solution.

  “You only say so because the deaths weren’t your elite students,” the general scoffed.

  “But there is no if. What happened happened. We need to look toward the future, don’t we?” The old man smiled, his hands stroking the silky white beard.

  “In the same vein to what you just said, punishment is also needed to maintain the trust, else killing will become escalating. Not that we care, but as a local, I want to protect our city and take the bloodshed to other places.” The masked man returned to the conversation for the first time since his first question to Zalanir. It was amusing hearing the man representing a mercenary guild talking about keeping peace. How many pit fighters had they killed in that recruiting show?

  “Indeed.” The old man nodded after setting himself on his chair again. “I don’t oppose punishment. I just advise you to take into consideration the whole picture, not just his one single action.”

  “Lowering the punishment one level could do. How does an exile sound?” the holographic woman said. Except for her exchange of the gaze earlier with the general, she had just been sitting motionlessly there in that middle chair, as if moving would ruin whatever magic she was using to project herself here.

  “Where?” The general was about to open his mouth, but the masked man had stolen the turn.

  “The northern border. Let him be a guard there to atone for his sin, and to redeem himself. If he handles the responsibilities of thirty enforcers there, aren’t we good?”

  “Hah. As if it would be that easy. A mere infant C-grade?” the general snuffled a sneer.

  “If he dies, doesn’t it solve what you want? Him being dead? This way, perhaps he could be able to take down one or two enemies. Make his downfall worth something, even insignificant as it is.”

  “Sounds good to me.” The man representing Zerkshi cast his vote.

  “It’s my idea, so ...” The hologram woman smiled.

  “Death right away. No need to waste the time of our comrades on the border,” the general shouted.

  “Now, my fellow councilors, I would want us not to rush the decision—”

  “Before we conclude the matter, how about—”

  At the same time, both the old man and the woman in the black dress spoke up, and immediately, without finishing their sentences, both of them locked eyes with each other.

  The room fell into another moment of silence, as everyone, including Zalanir, awaited what those two had to say.