Chapter 150 – The Pieces Off the Board.

Handing Alber over to the quarry guards had concluded the alley incident, but the quiet of that dawn in the Bastion brought no rest to Diana's mind.

The Commander sat behind the cedar desk on the second floor of the house. The pine lamp cast a yellowish glow over a thick sheet of parchment where Diana had drawn a meticulous timeline with the tip of her black claw, connecting dates, locations, and names with sharp ink strokes.

Her 237 Intelligence was active at the peak of analytical perception.

And the numbers did not add up.

Diana tapped the tip of her obsidian nail over the first notation on the paper:

First fact: The Steel Titan in the Sanctuary of the Fallen Titans possessed tampered gears with occult forge welds, engineered specifically to nullify magical barriers and pierce heavy shields.

Second fact: The crater opening beneath her feet had not collapsed like an ordinary cave-in. The stone gave way in a clean cut that hurled her directly into the Abyss of the Exiles, the single clandestine tunnel circumventing Beelzebub's border.

Third fact: Alber was a bankrupt clerk from the Quicksilver Guild who had lost everything in the Second Circle. How did a bureaucrat without resources, without a high level, and without military connections manage to cross an official portal guarded by Level 60 inquisitors, carry thirty silver coins in his pocket, and track down an underworld contract broker on the exact same day Diana settled into the Lower Cauldrons?

Diana stared at the parchment.

Too many coincidences fell into place far too easily in the span of a single month.

***

Diana rose from her chair, stepped to the office door, and called Seraphina and Zarek in a low voice.

Rhea was already awake, sitting on the rug beside the desk with silver ears perked upright.

Two minutes later, Seraphina climbed the stairs adjusting her spectacles, and Zarek entered through the balcony window with a silent vault, perching on the windowsill with two of his chitin hands resting on his knees.

Diana pointed to the diagram on the parchment:

“You two know the bureaucracy and underworld of this place better than I do. Explain to me how a bankrupt clerk crosses Beelzebub's border without getting tossed into a slave cauldron by customs guards.”

Seraphina leaned over the desk to read the notes beneath the lamp's glow:

“It is impossible to slip through in hay wagons without clearance,” the young summoner said with the firm authority of someone who had studied customs treaties. “The inquisitors use arcane scent hounds at the Second Circle gate. Anyone attempting to cross without a Level 50 seal is sniffed out in ten seconds... unless someone of high rank inside the garrison itself gave orders for the wagon to pass uninspected.”

Zarek chuckled softly, scratching the side of his gray jaw with a claw:

“This wasn't personal revenge from a broke merchant, Diana.” The swordsman of Wrath crossed his primary arms over his chest. “In the Seventh Circle, when a noble house wants to confirm if a new Candidate has awakened in a distant province, they never dispatch a Level 80 hitman right away. They grab some desperate wretch, hand him a pouch of silver, and have him sic an apprentice with a shiv in the dark.”

Zarek met Diana's dark eyes with golden rings:

“If the mark is just some weak human, she dies and that's the end of it. But if the mark snaps the assassin in half, vents fire from her horns, and displays the aura of a Sin... the scouts watching the alley from afar take down every detail: reaction time, mana type, and the weapons you deploy.”

***

—The arachnid is entirely right, Diana.

The System's voice resonated in her mind in dense black gold, devoid of its usual levity.

—Malakor's death in the Second Circle sent out a wave of soul resonance. Someone in the Third Circle felt his fall and used that Alber as a stick to prod the water, watching to see what kind of predator lurked at the bottom of the Outpost.

Diana remained motionless.

She felt a clear, calm chill run down her Archdemon spine.

The boy's pathetic attack in the flour barrel had not been an isolated accident. It had been a reconnaissance probe.

Whoever was operating from the shadows wanted to confirm whether the new presence of Greed occupied the south sector of the city and determine the full extent of her power. And the Red Cauldron Tournament next week would be the perfect stage where those very observers would sit in iron luxury boxes to spectate the final bracket.

Diana drew her black steel dagger and tapped the center of the diagram on the parchment:

“They wanted to know who I am,” Diana said, her voice dropping into dangerous serenity. “Now they know I have claws and leave no loose threads.”

She looked at Seraphina:

“First thing tomorrow, you and Aurelia will buy runic silver powders and scrying ward crystals at the magic market. We are sealing the windows and ventilation flues of this manor against any remote surveillance spells or inquisitorial clairvoyance.”

Diana pulled three pure silver coins from her dimensional bag and set them on the map to cover the costs of the warding reagents.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

[SCRYING WARD WARDING EXPENSES]

- Runic Warding Crystals + Sealing Silver Powder: -3 Silver Coins (300 Bronze).

[NEW NET WORTH IN VAULT: 540 SILVER COINS (54,000 Bronze / EXACTLY 54 PURE GOLD COINS!)]

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Five hundred and forty silver coins kept safely in the faction vault. Exactly Fifty-Four pure Gold Coins.

***

Diana took the edge of the timeline parchment and held it to the flame of the pine lamp.

The dry paper caught fire slowly.

Black smoke curled toward the ceiling as the ink bearing the names of Alber, Vane, and the inquisitors crumbled to ashes within the stone tray on the desk.

She turned toward the open balcony window.

Outside, the chimneys of Vaelor's fortress threw reddish sparks against the dark sky of the Third Circle.

If someone was watching her movements from the shadows, they would soon discover that prodding Greed with sticks in the dark carried a price tag no treasure in Hell could ever pay.

Diana smoothed the collar of her coat, her eyes blazing with pure gold.

The stage of the Red Cauldron was set. And the Commander intended to collect every single cent of that debt.