It took Marcus a few seconds to recover from the daze caused by the blinding light.
By the time his sight returned, his surroundings had changed.
The whispers had gotten clearer to an extent, but he still couldn't make sense of them.
Now he was standing in an empty expanse of space.
Before him, a cube the size of an adult's head floated.
Its body was a work of metals and formations built to work together, intricate and precise in its calculations to the point of insanity.
Just by looking at it, Marcus felt his mind shaking. Caving into a power he couldn't comprehend.
The more his mind shook, the louder the whispers grew, and the more attracted he became to the cube.
Raising a hand to touch the box, Marcus suddenly felt a sharp object from the cube cut through his gauntlet and then his hand.
"Argh!"
He quickly withdrew his hand as the pain snapped him out of the spell of the cube.
His hand bled as though his blood was being drawn.
Suddenly, the whispers ceased like a string snapped. Marcus found himself back at the altar.
"What the…?"
Looking at his hand that was cut, Marcus noticed that there was no cut on his palm again.
Even his gauntlet seemed intact.
"Was that an illusion?"
The question crossed his mind, but the sharp pain he felt and the effect the cube had on him all felt very real.
Marcus removed his gauntlet and rubbed his palm. There was no mark, but for half a second, he did feel some pain there.
But he couldn't be sure whether it was a thing of his mind or physical.
"Lord Marcus!"
Marcus turned to face his worry-stricken knight. His face was covered with sweat while he panted heavily.
"Are you okay, Milord?"
"I think so."
"We've been calling for you but you didn't seem to have heard us."
Marcus frowned. He was indeed in a trance. How and why it happened, he had no idea, but all of that made him feel anxious.
It was at this point that Marcus noticed that the Faceless Humanoids were nowhere to be seen.
"Wait, where did those creatures go?" Marcus flinched and his stomach dropped as he looked around.
Brown frowned, confused by this question.
Is the Young Lord losing his mind again? Brown wondered as he couldn't recall seeing any other being apart from Marcus ahead of him.
Seeing his Knight's expression, Marcus realized that something was very wrong.
Only he had seen the creatures on the altar, and now, they were nowhere to be seen.
The pressure that threatened to suppress everyone under its grasp had vanished, alongside the bloody river.
It was as though all of those, just like the cube, were figments of his imagination.
If it wasn't for the altar that remained, Marcus would have questioned his sanity.
Marcus stared at the square on the altar again and used his [Inspect] on it again.
This time, it consumed a lot more mana from his reserves.
[A play on Cause and effect: tricking Laws and making simple actions ritualistic. Karmic threads sewn onto two to carry many, the bond. The die has been cast and the tokens have been accepted. Noble blood has been drawn, sealing the Laws of Causality.]
Even though he had received more information about the square, the entire thing remained cryptic.
Karmic threads? Could this be referring to the crimson threads that extend from me to this place?
Surely it was. To Marcus, there was no other explanation.
But he didn't understand why.
He unconsciously rubbed the palm that was supposedly harmed.
Marcus searched for hours looking for clues, however, in the end, he left with nothing but a deeper feeling of unrest, weariness, and a belly full of questions.
***
A few days had gone by since Marcus's visit to the auction house.
Seated in his office reading the reports of his men, he sighed and leaned onto his chair.
"Just as I thought. This thing hasn't ended."
He glanced back at the report and shook his head.
"Though it happened later than before, Agard has been sealed by us boarders. Maney must still be active and the Kingdom knows it."
Leaning forward, Marcus ruffled his hair in a fit of frustration.
"But why can't I make sense of what's going on!? We've been developing smoothly over the last few months. There have been no reports of fights against any cult Order. There's food, shelter, peace, and a growing society. But I still can't shake this feeling that we are on a tight rope."
Bang!
Marcus banged his table, causing it to break into pieces.
His knights outside the door rushed in to see a vexed governor.
But they said nothing, only exchanging looks.
Lately, the young lord has been easily irritated with everything.
This was not the first thing he had destroyed.
"We will let the carpenters know that a new table is needed, Milord."
They saluted and stepped out.
Their expressions and lack of comment didn't go unnoticed, but Marcus didn't care for it now.
Just then, a hurried voice came from behind his office door.
"Is the young lord in?"
"Yes."
The owner of the voice didn't even wait for permission before barging in.
It was one of the medics he hired a few months ago.
A blonde, light-skinned man, Benicci.
"Milord, we have a huge problem in our hands."
Are we out of materials?
"What is it?"
"There's an epidemic breakout."
"What!?"
"We had the first case this morning, with more than thirty people infected." Benicci swallowed. "Just some minutes ago, all of them died."
Marcus shot up from his seat and a wave of dizziness hit him.
"Right now, there's more than two hundred people in the infirmary who are showing similar symptoms to those who passed away."
The more Benicci spoke, the harsher the flush in Marcus's ears became.
His eyes became dilated and his face turned pale. The worry in his heart intensified more than ever.
How could this be? It's not even winter yet.