Rewind time a little bit.
Just before Elias turned into a ruthless human excavator.
Hope County, North District.
The other side of the city, deep underground.
Branch Manager Guardian's military boots stomped heavily into a puddle of foul-smelling black sewage.
Water splashed everywhere.
The stout veteran investigator stood in the seemingly endless sewer maze, his face darkened with annoyance.
A bright white sphere of light, roughly the size of a basketball, floated quietly above and behind him.
The white light illuminated this underground space as bright as day.
Naturally.
It also clearly revealed various unidentified objects floating on the water's surface.
Among them were more than a few things that looked suspiciously like human fragments.
“Ugh—”
At the back of the team, a young investigator couldn't help but gag.
No one laughed at him.
Even Guardian himself was barely holding it together.
The stench was eye-watering.
Guardian pulled the pure silver pocket watch from his vest pocket and pressed the latch with his thumb.
It had been several hours since he led the team to follow the trail left by the killer from the Golden Rose Hotel, tracking the clues all the way to the North District.
The journey had been anything but peaceful.
Following the clues, they had first taken down a hideout for the Mist Veil Society cult.
Forced entry.
Spell bombardment.
The execution was seamless.
Afterward, in the basement of that hideout, they found a hidden, rusted iron door.
They found this secret passage leading directly into the depths of Hope County's underground water system.
He couldn't help but wonder if these lunatics who worshipped evil gods had some kind of mental illness.
Why was it always the sewers?
This was only possible because they were in Hope County.
As a major industrial hub, the underground tunnels here were built wide enough for several people to walk side-by-side upright.
If this were some remote little town.
These cultists would probably have to hold their meetings while soaking in waist-deep filth.
What made Guardian even more speechless was the state of the surrounding facilities.
Darkness.
Deathly silence.
The sewers in the North District were a completely different world compared to the Central District.
Guardian let out a cold snort in his mind.
He knew exactly why the government hadn't installed gas lamps here.
It was a matter of safety, of course.
The North District was a residential area for nobles. If a gas leak occurred in the pipes here...
And it blew up the capitalists living on the surface or the noble lords having afternoon tea in their gardens...
The officials at City Hall could announce their collective resignation the very next day.
A draft blew through the tunnel.
Guardian rubbed his bald head.
To ensure combat efficiency for this raid.
He had deliberately chosen not to wear the expensive custom wig he had ordered.
Now, that decision seemed a bit hasty.
When the cold wind blew.
He felt a chill on his scalp.
Along the way, they had encountered plenty of “merits” that practically delivered themselves.
As they pushed deeper, they faced wave after wave of cultist resistance.
These rats hiding in the darkness tried to use their familiarity with the terrain to stage ambushes.
Unfortunately.
They had run into the elite squad of the Seventh Agency led by Guardian.
No talking.
They attacked immediately upon contact.
Incessant skirmishes broke out one after another within the pipes.
Those unlucky cultists often barely had time to poke their heads out of the shadows.
Before they were greeted by control spells.
Usually, before they even realized what was happening, they had already collapsed into the sludge.
Then.
They were pinned to the ground with their hands behind their backs.
Locked down with special shackles designed to suppress spirituality.
As for the hard cases who resisted to the end?
Guardian didn't give them any chance to struggle.
With over twenty well-equipped transcendents brimming with spirituality.
Lethal spells were hurled like worthless stones.
Through sheer numbers and firepower, they blasted those cultists into scattered piles of meat paste.
It wasn't a battle.
It was a one-sided slaughter.
Those meant to be arrested were properly packaged.
Those killed on the spot were spared the step of body recovery.
They were simply left to be washed away by the sewer water.
The number of prisoners captured alive and shackled had reached a staggering thirteen!
And that was after they had deliberately minimized the arrest process to maintain their advance speed.
Of course.
With such a high-intensity push, their own side couldn't be completely unscathed.
Fortunately, however.
The core members Guardian brought along hadn't consumed much of their overall spirituality.
He never expected this.
He originally thought that following the Golden Rose Hotel lead would catch a few lurking big fish.
Who would have thought it would be like kicking a cultist nest!
And as they probed deeper.
The negative spirituality permeating the air grew increasingly dense.
Relying on his years of experience in handling cases, Guardian keenly sensed that the situation was spiraling out of control.
This was no longer a scene that his twenty-odd men could easily handle.
Thus.
Not long ago, he had decisively called Ms. Cecil.
Requesting that she immediately bring the rest of the branch's investigators to rendezvous with them.
As for the thirteen unlucky prisoners they had just captured.
Guardian had issued a strict order.
The peripheral personnel left behind at the branch were to meet the transport squad at various sewer exits.
Lock everyone in the deepest level of the black cells.
Then guard the headquarters tightly, allowing no one in or out.
It could be said.
Guardian was betting his entire livelihood to prepare for the upcoming battle.
Aside from the minimum number of caretakers required to stay at the branch.
And the secret sentries he had forcibly assigned to guard sewer exits across the city to prevent the rats from escaping.
The twenty-plus elites behind him.
Plus the dozen or so fresh reinforcements Ms. Cecil would soon bring.
This was nearly every investigator the Seventh Agency's Hope County Branch could currently deploy for high-intensity combat.
They were out in full force.
“Chief.”
Blaine's voice came from behind him to the side, interrupting Guardian's tactical calculations.
“All injured personnel have received healing.”
“The wounds are fine, and the curses have been purified.”
“We have an ample supply of spirit restoration potions.”
“Good.”
Guardian nodded slightly, his tense expression softening a bit.
Logistical support was the foundation for winning a hard fight.
He clicked open his pocket watch again, glancing at the hands on the dial.
The appointed time was approaching.
“If Ms. Cecil hasn't arrived by eight o'clock...”
Guardian's voice echoed in the vast pipe network, carrying an unquestionable decisiveness.
“We'll leave a special mark for them.”
“After indicating the direction, we move immediately.”
“We can't give the cultists a chance to breathe.”
“The suspected high-risk containment object is in their hands.”
“No one is to let their guard down!”
“Yes, sir!”
The group stood at attention and responded.
After making these arrangements, Guardian turned his head toward another investigator.
“Locke.”
“Bring the sewer map.”
“Yes, Chief.”
Locke hurried forward a few steps.
From a waterproof leather tube he carried, he pulled out a hand-drawn map of Hope County's underground water system.
Guardian took the map.
He spread it directly across Locke's back.
The floating light ball above them obligingly lowered itself by half a meter, illuminating the details on the map with perfect clarity.
Guardian extended a thick, short finger, slowly tracing along the parchment.
He followed the route they had fought through, extending it further forward.
Eventually.
His finger stopped at the central area where the lines converged.
Directly ahead of the passage the group was currently in.
A massive, circular blank area was drawn on the map.
The surrounding dense, small waterways all gathered here like a hundred rivers flowing into the sea.
It was an underground junction space that was almost absurdly large.
“Chief...”
Locke stared intently at the massive circular structure on the map, swallowing hard.
The corners of his eyes twitched uncontrollably.
“I have a bad feeling about this...”
Indeed.
The last time they fought that completely out-of-control mutated siren.
It seemed to be in a similarly massive space at an underground water junction.
This kind of open terrain with nowhere to hide was practically a custom-made home field for giant monsters.
Moreover.
One didn't even need to look at the map.
From deep within that pitch-black tunnel ahead.
A wave of negative spirituality, so massive it was nauseating, was continuously surging outward.
It was impossible not to overthink things!
“Don't say things detrimental to morale.”
Guardian didn't even look up, bluntly cutting off Locke's wandering thoughts.
They had already come this far.
Even if it were a mountain of knives and a sea of fire ahead, they had to push through.
However, at that moment, he noticed a passage at the edge of the map.
Located in the upper right corner.
“Where does this lead?”
Guardian's finger tapped heavily on the end of that passage, his eyes looking up at Locke.
Locke was startled for a moment.
He quickly leaned in.
“Uh...”
“The West District?”
“Toward the Lily of the Valley Convent?”
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