Marcus's breath hitched as the blade pressed deeper into his skin, the cold steel a stark reminder of his precarious situation. His mind raced, desperation clawing at his thoughts. He had always been a man of words, not violence, and now, faced with the very real threat of death, his carefully constructed composure crumbled.
"Wait! Wait!" Marcus blurted out, his voice trembling. "I—I deal with one of the envoys! He's from the Holy Order, the one who's from the South Cathedral! That's all I know, I swear!"
Xin's eyes narrowed, his grip on the blade tightening for a moment before he eased the pressure slightly. "The Holy Order?" he repeated, his tone sharp. "What does Lyon Inc. have to do with them?"
Marcus shook his head frantically, beads of sweat rolling down his temples. "I don't know the details! I just know the envoy handles some of their dealings. That's all I can tell you!"
Belial stepped forward, his presence looming in the dim light. "Where can we find this envoy?"
"I don't know!" Marcus cried, his voice cracking. "He contacts me, not the other way around! Please, I've told you everything I know!"
Belial exchanged a glance with Xin, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he withdrew the blade and stepped back. "If you're lying, we'll find you," he said coldly. "And next time, I won't be so merciful."
Marcus slumped in his chair, his hands trembling as he clutched his throat. "I'm not lying," he whispered hoarsely. "I swear."
Without another word, Xin and Belial slipped out of the room, leaving Marcus to his fear and the shattered remains of his wine glass. The hallway was still empty, the unconscious guard still slumped against the wall. They moved quickly and silently, their footsteps barely audible as they made their way out of the hotel and into the cold night air.
The streets were quiet, the faint hum of the city's nightlife a distant murmur. The two made their way back to the transport circle, the cold air tinged with the scent of impending rain. The magical device hummed softly as they stepped onto it, and in an instant, they were transported back to the guild. Despite having a lead, their path was uncertain.
As they stepped into the dimly lit guild hall, Belial couldn't shake the unease gnawing at him. "The Holy Church," he murmured, his voice low. "I've only heard of it from Cole, but I don't know where it's located."
Before Xin could respond, Belial's Oracle chimed in, its voice calm and mechanical. [Update: I was able to map out Sylvania's capital, Silver City. Do you need directions? Yes/No]
Belial raised an eyebrow, his surprise evident. 'You could do that?' he asked mentally.
[Yes.]
'Yes, then!' Belial responded eagerly. 'Also, do you think there could be information on that angel there?'
[It is quite possible.]
Belial turned to Xin with a confident nod. "Wait… I know where it is! I remember now! It's not that far from here, only twenty minutes by train, but it's closed off by guards."
Xin's curiosity piqued, but he said nothing as they made their way to the train station. The compartment was nearly empty, save for a few late-night travelers, and the rhythmic clatter of the train wheels provided a soothing backdrop. Xin couldn't help but glance at Belial, his mind racing with questions. 'That's odd,' he thought. 'How would he know where the church is? When I met him, he looked like he had just arrived in town. He's been living with me for two months and hasn't really been going anywhere else but the guild and some restaurants.'
Unable to contain his curiosity, Xin finally asked, "How did you know about the church's location?"
Belial hesitated for a moment, his expression flickering with unease. "Ah, about that… Cole told me about it."
Xin's suspicion only grew. "You know, earlier you mentioned Cole gave you that information, and I realized you've been meeting him more often than any other guild member."
Belial forced a laugh, his mind racing for an excuse. "Haha… A while back, he knew my parents before they passed."
Xin's expression softened, a flicker of guilt crossing his features. "Ah, sorry."
"It's fine," Belial said, a hint of relief in his voice. "We're here anyway."
They stepped off the train into the town, the streets of Silver City quieter at this hour. The streetlights cast long shadows over the cobblestone roads, and the grand architecture of the city stood tall and proud against the night sky. The air was cool, the faint scent of rain still lingering, as they made their way toward the heart of the city.
The Holy Church loomed in the distance, its spires reaching toward the heavens. It was an imposing structure, its stone walls weathered by time but still radiating an aura of power and reverence. The guards stationed at the entrance were vigilant, their eyes scanning the area for any signs of trouble.
Belial glanced at Xin, his expression determined. "This is it. If there's any information about the envoy or Lyon Inc., it'll be here."
Xin nodded, his eyes narrowing as he studied the church. "Let's hope so. But we'll need to be careful. If the Holy Order is involved, this could get complicated."
As they approached the church, the weight of their mission settled over them. The answers they sought were within reach, but the dangers ahead were greater than ever. In the shadows of Silver City, where secrets and power intertwined, Xin and Belial would need every ounce of their skill and resolve to uncover the truth—and survive the night.
...
The Holy Church loomed in the distance, its gothic spires piercing the heavens like jagged teeth biting into the night sky. The moonlight bathed its ancient stone walls in an ethereal glow, casting long, ominous shadows across the courtyard. The high wrought-iron fence surrounding the church seemed more like a prison barrier than a boundary, its sharp tips glinting menacingly in the dim light. Guards patrolled the perimeter with military precision, their lanterns swinging like pendulums, casting fleeting beams of light that danced across the cobblestones. The air was thick with tension, as though the very ground beneath their feet was holding its breath.
Belial moved like a shadow, his black cloak blending seamlessly with the darkness. His steps were deliberate, each one calculated to avoid the crunch of gravel or the snap of a twig. Xin followed closely, his heart pounding in his chest like a war drum. The weight of what they were about to do pressed heavily on his shoulders. He had trusted Belial this far, but the man's confidence was unnerving. How did he know so much about this place? Why did he seem so... familiar with its secrets?
As they approached the side gate, Belial raised a hand, signaling Xin to halt. The gate was smaller, less conspicuous, but no less fortified. Two guards stood nearby, their voices low and muffled as they exchanged idle chatter. Belial's eyes narrowed, and he gestured for Xin to crouch low. "We'll need to be quick and silent," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rustle of the wind. "Follow my lead."
Xin nodded, though his mind raced with doubts. He had no choice but to trust Belial now. They were too deep into this to turn back. Belial moved first, slipping through the shadows like a wraith. Xin mimicked his movements, his boots barely grazing the ground as he crept forward. The guards were close—too close. One wrong move, one misplaced step, and they would be discovered.
Belial paused at the gate, his fingers deftly working a set of lockpicks. The faint click of the lock releasing was almost imperceptible, but to Xin, it sounded like a thunderclap. The gate creaked open just enough for them to slip through, and they disappeared into the shadows of the church grounds.
The side door of the church was their next obstacle. It was old, its wood warped and weathered, but the lock was sturdy. Belial knelt before it, his hands moving with practiced ease. Xin watched him, his unease growing. Who was this man, really? A thief? A spy? Or something far more dangerous? The lock clicked open, and Belial pushed the door inward, revealing a sliver of darkness beyond. They slipped inside, the door closing behind them with a soft thud.
The interior of the church was vast and cavernous, its high vaulted ceilings disappearing into shadow. The air was heavy with the scent of incense and old wood, and the faint glow of candlelight flickered against the stone walls. Stained glass windows loomed above, their vibrant colors muted in the darkness, casting fractured patterns on the floor. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional drip of water echoing from somewhere deep within the building.
Belial led the way, his movements fluid and precise. Xin followed, his senses on high alert. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of their cloaks, seemed amplified in the stillness. They moved down a narrow hallway, the walls lined with ancient tapestries depicting scenes of divine judgment and salvation. Xin couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched, though he saw no one. The church felt alive, as though its very stones were aware of their intrusion.
"We need to find the archives," Belial whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. "That's where we'll find what we're looking for."
Xin nodded, though his mind was a whirlwind of questions. What *were* they looking for? Belial had been vague about the details, speaking only of "information" that could change everything. But what kind of information was worth breaking into the Holy Church for? And why did Belial seem so... driven? There was a fire in his eyes, a determination that bordered on obsession. Xin had seen that look before, in men who had nothing left to lose.
They reached a large wooden door, its surface carved with intricate symbols and sigils. Belial paused, his hand hovering over the handle. "This is it," he said softly, his voice tinged with something Xin couldn't quite place—anticipation? Fear? "The archives are behind this door."
Xin's heart raced as Belial pushed the door open, revealing a room that seemed to stretch on forever. Rows upon rows of shelves filled the space, each one laden with ancient tomes, scrolls, and artifacts. The air was thick with the scent of parchment and dust, and the faint glow of a single lantern cast long shadows across the room.
Belial stepped inside, his eyes scanning the shelves with a hunger that made Xin's skin crawl. "Stay close," he murmured. "We don't have much time."
As they moved deeper into the archives, Xin couldn't shake the feeling that they were not alone. The shadows seemed to shift and twist, and the faint sound of footsteps echoed from somewhere in the distance. He glanced at Belial, but the man was focused, his attention fixed on the task at hand.
And then, from the corner of his eye, Xin saw it—a flicker of movement, a shadow that didn't belong. He froze, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his dagger. "Belial," he whispered urgently. "We're not alone."
Belial turned, his eyes narrowing as he followed Xin's gaze. The shadow moved again, and this time, there was no mistaking it. Someone—or something—was in the archives with them.
The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with the promise of danger. Xin's grip tightened on his dagger as he and Belial exchanged a silent glance. They had come too far to turn back now, but the stakes had just gotten higher.
Somewhere in the darkness, a voice whispered, low and menacing. "You shouldn't be here."