The Report

The deacon frowned upon hearing the word “cult.” Without asking further questions, he gestured for Roger to follow, leading him through the foyer and into a small reception room to the side.

The room contained only a wooden table and a few chairs, with portraits of past archbishops hanging on the walls. The deacon gestured for Roger to wait and turned to leave.

A moment later, the door opened again, and a middle-aged man dressed in spotless white robes walked in.

“I am Brother Elliot, in charge of heresy investigations. I heard you have information to report regarding cultist activity,” the middle-aged man said, sitting down across from Roger.

Roger nodded and began his account. He claimed to be a commoner living in the slums named Sam.

“Over the past few days, some suspicious individuals have been loitering near my home. They have purple scars on their wrists and claim they can help the people here escape poverty. They also gave us this.”

As he spoke, Roger took out the packet of Hallucinogenic Powder he had looted from the leader and placed it on the table.

Brother Elliot stared at the paper packet. Although he did not open it, his brow furrowed deeper. He had clearly seen its contents before.

“Have you consumed any of this?” Elliot asked.

Roger shook his head, and the brother continued, “Very good, Sam. May the Lord bless you for resisting their temptations and choosing to report them here.”

“We will investigate these suspicious individuals. If your claims are verified, the Church will reward you accordingly.” Brother Elliot stood up and extended his hand to Roger. “Thank you for your trust in the Church. The Holy Light remembers everyone who fights against evil.”

Roger shook his hand, then took his leave.

Brother Elliot picked up the paper packet from the table and walked out of the room.

He walked through the side corridor of the cathedral, stopping before a large door inlaid with a golden holy emblem.

After confirming his identity, the two guards at the door stepped aside to let him through.

Inside the office, a white-haired elderly man sat behind a mahogany desk, an open holy book resting before him.

“Archbishop Aldrich, I have an urgent matter to report to you.”

Brother Elliot stopped in front of the desk, bowed slightly, and placed the paper packet on the Archbishop's desk.

“This morning, a young man calling himself Sam came to the Church, claiming that cultists are active in the slums...”

Once Elliot finished recounting “Sam's” words, Archbishop Aldrich unwrapped the packet and pinched a small amount of the purple powder.

“Fifty years ago, when these cultists were causing chaos on the border, they used this cheap drug to control villagers and drive them to act as the vanguard of their riots. Those controlled never even knew who they were throwing their lives away for.”

Aldrich looked up, his gaze sweeping across the portraits of past archbishops on the wall, before summoning the guard at the door:

“Summon all senior brothers. We will hold an emergency meeting in half an hour.”

Half an hour later, all the brothers gathered in the circular conference room on the top floor of the cathedral.

Archbishop Aldrich sat at the head of the table, flanked on both sides by senior brothers responsible for various functions.

Brother Elliot first gave a detailed account of the report he had received earlier that day. Once he finished, silence fell over the conference room, only broken after several seconds:

“The slums are the most easily overlooked corner of this city. If someone specifically targets these uncared-for groups, they could indeed amass a considerable amount of manpower right under the city guard's nose.”

Another brother took up the conversation: “But the evidence we currently have is not sufficient. A single informant's testimony and a small packet of Hallucinogenic Powder can only confirm traces of cult activity in the slums at best. We still need to determine the scale of their organization and the identities of their leaders.”

“I don't recommend waiting any longer,” a young brother spoke up. “An ancient sage once said: ‘If you spot a single cockroach in a room, it means there are already too many of them to hide.’”

He pressed both hands on the table and leaned forward. “These cultists might not just be recruiting followers; they could be building a force that can be mobilized at any moment. If we wait to gather all the evidence before acting, it will likely be too late.”

The brother sitting opposite him shook his head:

“We still don't know where their hideouts are located. Rashly sending paladins into the slums will only scare them away. I am not against a purge, but we must ensure we wipe them out in one fell swoop. Letting even one escape will lead to endless trouble.”

The meeting lasted for nearly an hour. The brothers repeatedly exchanged opinions on the credibility of the intelligence, risk assessments for the operation, deployment plans for the paladins, and whether they needed to notify the royal family.

Ultimately, Aldrich slowly stood up from the head of the table, and all voices in the conference room fell silent at once.

“First, send a few people to infiltrate the slums to map out their meeting points, the scale of their organization, and the identities of their core members,” Aldrich said.

“Brother Elliot will be in charge of this matter. Draw reliable personnel from the Inquisition and the paladins—they must have faces that won't arouse any suspicion in the slums.”

“Begin the operation after dark. No one is to disclose any content of this meeting to the outside world.”

...

Two days later.

“Alchemy Specialization upgraded to Lv2.”

Using Water Control, Roger poured the potion from the crucible into a glass vial and stored it in his system inventory. He then manipulated the clean water in a nearby bucket to wash the crucible clean.

After tidying up the workshop, he channeled a small amount of mana into the long-range warning magic circle set up at the door before heading out to the Alchemist Association.

Even though he was going to Count Augus's gathering later, he still planned to wear only his simple gray robe.

He arrived at the Alchemist Association on time and met with Vice President Pepis.

The two of them rode in a carriage arranged by Pepis, passing through the main streets of the inner city and crossing the stone bridge that marked the boundary between the inner city and the noble district, before coming to a stop in front of Count Augus's manor.

After stepping down from the carriage, Pepis led him to the large iron gates, handed the invitation to the butler at the door, and explained Roger's situation.

The butler nodded expressionlessly and stepped aside to gesture them in. There was no cliché drama of being looked down upon or mocked.

The banquet hall was a rectangular hall spacious enough to accommodate over a hundred people. Giant oil paintings hung on the walls on either side, and long dining tables were lined up along the walls, laden with food.

Roger walked slowly behind Pepis into the banquet hall, his gaze sweeping through the crowd as he observed each of the attendees.

There were so-called respectable people dressed in formal attire, but also some whose dress and appearance clearly did not belong to high society.

At least on the surface, titles and backgrounds were indeed blurred here.

Pepis quickly fell into conversation with a few acquaintances. Roger did not rush to join the chat, simply standing behind the Vice President like an NPC while quietly activating Scout's Eye.

The brown-haired man soon entered his field of vision.