“That legendary organization?”
Cecil looked at him with some surprise.
The Secret Gold Reclamation Institute.
She had heard of the name but had never actually dealt with its members.
Supposedly, they had once forced their way into another church's containment zone just to reclaim a piece of out-of-control technology. Some even said that as long as they deemed a technology a threat to the alchemical system, even the inventor themselves might be listed as an “object to be reclaimed.”
The truth of these rumors was hard to discern.
But one thing was certain.
The other party's presence here proved that what Wayland was researching in this sanatorium went far beyond simply expanding spiritual circuits for a few ordinary people.
“The patients and criminal files can be left to the Seventh Agency,” the man in the brass half-mask said calmly, as if reading from a handover checklist. “But the spiritual circuit cores, transmission parameters, and all research findings related to the Fifth Element must be reclaimed by us.”
Cecil’s gaze fell upon the black metal case in his hand.
Heat was still radiating from the gaps in the case.
This thing had just come from the basement; whatever was inside was clearly not a change of clothes.
“Taking evidence from a scene sealed by the Seventh Agency has a much simpler name under the laws of the Kingdom,” she raised her voice from behind her teacher. “Robbery.”
“You may record it as such.”
The man did not argue.
His businesslike attitude made the temples of several investigators throb. It was as if he hadn't come to rob them of evidence, but rather because the Seventh Agency had filled out the wrong requisition form.
Orphal stretched his shoulders and took half a step in front of Cecil.
“Leave the case, and you may go.”
“Roland Ted Orphal.”
The masked man accurately called out his full name. “The Institute has evaluated you.”
Orphal raised an eyebrow. “And what was the evaluation?”
“Direct confrontation is not recommended.”
“The report was well-written,” the old man grinned. “It's just that your execution is lacking.”
The masked man fell silent for two seconds, seemingly giving the comment genuine consideration.
“It seems there is nothing to discuss.” He shook his head with slight regret and set the black metal case down by his feet.
In the next instant, the ten brass puppets looked up simultaneously.
The sound of gears meshing rang out in unison.
Four of them suddenly scattered, rushing toward the four corners of the sanatorium's courtyard. Their arms split open on both sides, and each drew a metal spike stained with dark red marks, driving them heavily into the ground.
Thud!
Four dull thuds echoed almost simultaneously.
Bloodstains lit up along the carvings on the metal spikes, and the surrounding air instantly grew stagnant.
Several investigators who were about to activate space scrolls felt a sudden heaviness in their hands as the spiritual circuits inside the scrolls went dark.
“【Dimensional Anchor】!” Sir Vere warned loudly.
The remaining six puppets had already opened their chest cavities.
Spell-storing chips embedded between their metal ribs quickly lit up.
Dark green acid arrows flew out first. Immediately after, the weapons in the tactical team's hands turned red as searing heat rapidly spread upward along the metal. A large quantity of alchemical grease was splashed onto the ground, covering the area in front of the sanatorium's entrance in the blink of an eye.
Acid, fire, and grease lunged forward simultaneously.
Orphal raised his right hand.
A heavy force field of spirituality expanded out of thin air, shielding the investigators, the patient evacuation corridor, and the sanatorium's main entrance behind it.
The strong acid slammed into the invisible barrier, producing a dense, corroding hiss. The alchemical grease slid down the force field before being ignited by the white-hot metal.
Flames erupted with a roar.
Standing behind the barrier, the rookie investigator stared at the fire right in front of him and silently withdrew the foot he had stepped forward with earlier to kick the door.
Kicking down that door today was turning out to be quite expensive.
“Teacher, I can help you,” Cecil said, her eyes fixed on the ten puppets as several arcane circuits materialized in her hands.
“I know,” Orphal replied without turning back. “So keep an eye on the patients and the evidence. Don't let someone rob our house by the time I'm finished fighting.”
Cecil understood his meaning and immediately dispelled her offensive spell.
“Vere! Take some men and guard all the evidence boxes. Move the patients to the east corridor and add another seal to the underground exit!”
“Understood!”
Vere quickly retreated with the tactical team. Cecil also raised her hand, casting several arcane wards over the patients and the evidence.
The masked man watched this unfold without making a sound to stop it.
The next round of spell-storing chips lit up.
This time, Orphal parted his hands outward simultaneously.
The fire in front of the sanatorium was suddenly pulled by some force, converging in front of him along with the spells that had not yet landed.
The deep blue color rapidly intensified.
In the blink of an eye, a nearly black arcane vortex expanded on the ground.
【Arcane Devour】.
The moment the acid arrows drew near, they were torn apart into fine green points of light.
The spiritual circuits of the white-hot metal were also forcibly stripped away.
The burning grease, losing the magic that sustained it, dwindled significantly.
All the devoured energy compressed into an unstable ball of blue light at the center of the vortex.
Orphal cradled that ball of power in his left hand while lightly tracing a line in the air with his right.
A simple blue geometric shape formed instantly.
Ripples swept across the courtyard.
The blue light in the eyes of the ten brass puppets died out simultaneously.
The spell-storing chips in their chest cavities also fell silent at the exact same moment.
“【Dispel Magic】?” The masked man glanced at the immobilized puppets. “Interesting.”
After a brief silence, the sound of mechanical mainsprings tightening suddenly echoed from inside the puppets.
Click.
Click, click, click—
Their extinguished eyes did not relight, but their limbs rose once more, driven by gears and connecting rods.
Six of the puppets abandoned casting and stomped directly across the burning grease, closing in on Orphal.
“A pity, Lord Orphal,” the masked man said, raising his hand. “They do not rely on the Origin Web; they can operate just fine without it.”
“Indeed, not bad,” Orphal remarked, watching the incoming brass fists as two pinpricks of blue light ignited deep within his eyes.
The spell circuits in the Origin Web had fallen silent.
Yet, deep within the chest of each puppet lay a prefabricated clockwork core that did not belong to the temporary animation structure.
Independent instructions, mechanical drives, and spell-storing structures had already been embedded together when 【Fabricate】 was cast.
The animation spell merely made them more agile.
The clockwork core was their second life.
“But having a bunch of tin cans surround a mystic to cast spells...” Orphal raised his hand to block a heavy punch, the floor tile cracking beneath his feet. “...is a bit disrespectful to a man's pathway of faith.”
The masked man did not reply.
He pressed his five fingers downward, and the stone slabs beneath Orphal's feet instantly softened.
The mud collapsed downward, swallowing the old man's soles in the blink of an eye.
Two brass puppets pintered him from the sides, while the other four blocked his retreat.
Yet, Orphal's body suddenly grew weightless.
He broke free from the mud and floated straight up into the air.
“How thoughtful,” the old man muttered, looking down at his feet. “Knowing that an old man's legs aren't what they used to be.”
No one noticed that the black metal case the masked man had placed by his feet gave a slight tremor.
The bottom of the case split open silently.
Six slender mechanical legs extended from it, crawling toward the inside of the sanatorium along the rubble and charred remains.
It did not go near the evidence boxes.
Instead, it hugged the base of the collapsed wall, slipping toward the spiritual pipelines in the basement that had just been severed by the tactical team.
At the same time, the power Orphal had accumulated with 【Arcane Devour】 began to contract rapidly.
Deep blue arcane energy converged in his left hand.
Between the fingers of his right hand, blinding blue electric arcs crackled.
【Arcane Evocation】 forcibly rewrote the chaotic spell residues.
The two forces merged in his palm, turning into a crackling blue-and-white ball of lightning.
“Since you lack respect,” Orphal looked down at the ten puppets below, “let's speak in a language you actually understand.”
The lightning ball crashed into the ground with a roar.
The courtyard was instantly illuminated.
The lightning first struck the foremost puppet, then rapidly spread along its metal arms, the damp ground, and their interlocking bodies.
All ten puppets froze simultaneously.
The prefabricated clockwork cores hidden deep inside their chest cavities overloaded one after another.
Bang!
The chest of the first puppet exploded.
Immediately after, a dense succession of explosions crackled across the courtyard.
Broken gears and red-hot brass shards flew in all directions, only to be completely blocked by the barriers Cecil had set up in advance.
The masked man was also blown back by the shockwave, his back slamming heavily against the sanatorium's outer wall.
A crack split his brass mask, and blood slowly dripped from his chin.
Orphal floated back down to the ground. The moment his left foot stepped into the mud, his smile stiffened slightly.
But he quickly pulled his foot out as if nothing had happened.
As long as his movements were natural enough, no one would notice that his shoe had just gotten slightly stuck.
“It's over,” Vere said, raising his gun as he led his men to close in on the masked man.
But Cecil suddenly heard a faint metallic scraping sound coming from underground.
She whipped her head around.
The black metal case had already folded back into itself. Its six mechanical legs gripped the severed pipelines tightly as it squeezed deep into the conduits like a beetle burrowing into a corpse.
Only the very tip of a brass leg remained exposed.
“Teacher, the case!”
By the time Orphal turned around, the brass tip had already vanished.
A brief mechanical chime echoed from underground immediately after.
The masked man stood up against the wall, a soft chuckle escaping from beneath his cracked mask.
Orphal's expression darkened, and he raised his hand, preparing to rip the underground pipes and the case out together.
But another sound of turning gears ground beneath his feet.
It wasn't the black case.
A disc-like creation that had been hidden beneath the floor tiles for some time extended its serrated teeth, instantly severing several surrounding load-bearing structures.
The ground collapsed downward.
The masked man's body plunged into the darkness along with the falling rubble.
This was not a spatial spell.
【Dimensional Anchor】 had not been broken; he had simply dug himself an escape route in advance.
Orphal whipped out an arcane chain.
The chain grazed the man's trench coat, tearing away only half of its hem.
“You won, Lord Orphal,” the man's voice echoed from the expanding hole. “But the reclamation is complete.”
“I'll take my leave now!”
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